United: An Alienated Novel Page 6
“Yes, sir.”
“As for the rest of you,” Rutter continued, “no one sets foot outside that penthouse without an armed shadow. Understood?” He glanced around the group until he found Syrine, and then his no-nonsense tone went softer than a butterfly’s wing. “Why don’t you ride with me, hon? I’ve got a box for you in my car.”
Syrine darted a glance at Aelyx while she fidgeted with her pear-seed pendant. Colonel Rutter had been David’s commander, the one who’d assigned him as their bodyguard last winter. David hadn’t left any family behind, so the box probably contained his possessions.
Syrine managed a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
Aelyx slid an arm around her. “I hope his deck of trick cards is in there. It was his favorite thing in the world, aside from you.”
“Trick deck?” she asked. “You mean …”
“Every time he guessed your card, he was cheating,” Aelyx finished with a grin. “I can’t believe you never noticed.” He leaned down and whispered, “Are you going to be okay? If not, you can ride with me in the shuttle.”
“I’m fine,” she whispered back. “I want to see what’s in the box.”
Colonel Rutter clapped his palms together. “All right, folks. Let’s roll.” He gestured at the shuttle. “Or fly, as the case may be.”
The shuttle arrived in Manhattan well ahead of the SUV caravan, and Aelyx began circling the penthouse building while searching the adjacent streets for the most secluded place to dock the craft. He eventually settled on an alleyway between two restaurants, then landed the shuttle in front of a Dumpster overflowing with black garbage bags.
As soon as Aelyx climbed out, the stench of rotting food assaulted his nostrils. Cara and Troy jogged away from the Dumpster while he stayed behind to finish the docking process. Holding his breath, he pushed a button on his key fob, and in response, the shuttle rose fifteen feet into the air and stopped, invisible and safely out of reach.
Two soldiers were already waiting at the sidewalk. They led the way to the penthouse building, and Aelyx took Cara’s hand and followed with Troy bringing up the rear. Aelyx kept his head down and his eyes trained on the pavement. He could almost pass for a human with his light brown skin and hair, but his silver irises gave him away every time. He wished he’d worn sunglasses for concealment. His fans meant well, but they didn’t always respect personal boundaries, and he was in no mood to dodge undergarments thrown at his face.
He’d nearly reached the building’s entrance when Cara stopped suddenly and dragged him to a halt. He glanced behind and found her gazing at a stack of magazines on a nearby newsstand. Arranged in rows, each copy was an identical edition of Squee Teen, featuring both of their faces on the cover and promising readers a look “Inside the Star Couple’s Perfect Life on the Colony!”
Cara let go of his hand and picked up a magazine. As she thumbed through the glossy pages, Aelyx recognized the pictures they’d posed for months ago, when she’d agreed to the exclusive interview to entice more immigrants to the colony. There was a wide-angle photo of their living room and another that showed them cuddled on the futon, gazing into each other’s eyes from above their mugs of spiced h’ali. She’d refused to allow the shoot in their bedroom, but the magazine’s centerfold oozed romance in a montage of couple shots—the two of them strolling hand-in-hand on the beach; wading in the ocean with their bodies silhouetted against the sunset; pausing beneath a canopy of trees to share a kiss in the rain.
Aelyx’s heart turned heavy. It truly had been a perfect life.
He caught himself using past tense. Is, he corrected. It is a perfect life.
The newsstand owner, an ebony-skinned man with spectacles perched on the end of his nose, glanced up from his cell phone, and his eyebrows twitched. He looked from Cara to the magazine and back again, then nearly dropped his phone in his haste to stand up from his stool and fish a pen from his pocket.
“Will you sign it to my daughter?” he asked, waving a black marker back and forth between them. “Her name is Talya. She’s your biggest fan. She’s going to die when she finds out I met you!”
When Cara couldn’t tear her gaze away from the magazine, Aelyx picked up another copy and took the man’s pen. He scrawled: For Talya. Much l’ove, Aelyx and Cara and then handed it back as the man snapped a picture with his phone.
From behind, Troy muttered, “We can’t stay here.”
Aelyx noticed they’d drawn the attention of several passersby, and he cupped Cara’s elbow to move her along. She patted herself down with one hand as if looking for money to buy the magazine. The man told her, “Take it—I insist.”
She thanked him, and they made their way to the penthouse building. No one spoke during the elevator ride to the top floor, but Aelyx knew Cara well enough to understand what she was thinking. Of all the obstacles they’d overcome to be together—prejudice, distance, violence, hate—this hurdle seemed nearly too high to jump. It chilled him to the marrow to imagine losing her now.
He squeezed her hand, as much to ground himself as to comfort her. When she raised her freckled face to his, he swore, I won’t stop fighting for us. Not ever. That life is still ours.
She tucked the rolled-up magazine beneath the elevator handrail. You’re right. I don’t need this.
Troy exited the elevator first and glanced up and down the hallway before waving the rest of them forward. He told his fellow soldiers to stand guard in the hall, and while the men saluted one another and exchanged words, Aelyx knocked on the door.
The ambassador answered, looking much the same as he had last winter—his withered form stooped but his eyes as sharp as ever. Welcome back, Aelyx, Stepha said. It’s good to see you again. I only wish it were under better circumstances.
As Aelyx led Cara and Troy into the foyer, his senses prickled and his footsteps slowed. Something about the ambassador’s greeting struck him as odd. Stepha had called him by his given name instead of using the L’eihr term for brother. But more than that, the ambassador’s mind seemed different. Aelyx was still puzzling about it when he turned around and discovered Stepha with a com-sphere in one hand and an iphal in the other—the same weapon that’d stopped Aelyx’s heart several months ago.
“They’re both here,” the ambassador said into his sphere, then tossed it to the carpet while aiming the weapon at Aelyx’s chest.
Aelyx dove for the floor, yelling for Cara and Troy to run. The iphal made no sound, but its energy pulse distorted the air above him like waves of heat rising from asphalt. He scrambled on all fours to take cover behind the sofa as the ambassador shuffled across the rug in pursuit. Aelyx’s pulse throbbed in his ears. He darted a glance around the sofa but couldn’t see Cara or Troy. In desperation, he peered behind him for a weapon he could use, but it was too late. Stepha had reached the front of the sofa, and he leaned over it to take aim.
Aelyx thought fast. Gripping the base of the sofa, he flipped it over, knocking the ambassador backward and skewing his shot. Stepha’s frail body crashed to the floor, and Aelyx trapped him there beneath the upended piece of furniture. Troy quickly reappeared and began prying the iphal out of Stepha’s hand. The ambassador struggled to free himself and regain his weapon, even as his breaths rattled within his chest. Then the door burst open, and two soldiers stormed inside with their pistols drawn.
“Don’t shoot,” Aelyx yelled. He noticed Cara peeking out from behind the kitchen wall and told her, “Call an ambulance. Something’s wrong. I think he might’ve punctured a lung.”
“A punctured lung?” Troy repeated. “That’s what you think is wrong?”
Aelyx shook his head to clear it. His adrenaline was still surging, making his limbs tremble. “Stepha’s not in his right mind. I sensed it when he answered the door. It’s almost as if someone got inside his head and …” He trailed off with a gasp. “Jaxen.”
“Don’t forget his sister, Aisly,” Troy added with a note of disgust.
“Doesn’t matter. That bitch has skills.”
“But Jaxen is the only one who wants me dead,” Aelyx pointed out. He recalled the message Stepha had sent right before he’d fired the weapon. They’re both here. “Either way, whoever did this is probably coming here now.”
Troy radioed Colonel Rutter to tell him the area wasn’t secure, and the colonel replied with instructions to meet him at a safe house. Troy pocketed the iphal he’d confiscated and ordered, “Let’s go.”
Aelyx lifted the sofa off the ambassador. “What about him?”
“The men will stay with him until the ambulance arrives.”
Aelyx backed away from the scene, unable to take his eyes off of Stepha until Troy delivered a rough shove that sent him stumbling into the foyer. Cara grabbed his hand, and the three of them jogged back to the elevator.
During the ride down, Cara rubbed a hand over his chest. “I thought I was going to have to use a defibrillator on you again.”
“It’s a new record,” Aelyx said. “Less than an hour on this planet, and already someone’s trying to kill me.”
When the elevator stopped on the ground floor, Troy stepped out to scan the lobby. Finding it clear, he ordered them to follow, and they darted out the building doors and into the light of day … where they immediately stopped short at the sight of a thousand fans clogging the street.
Word had spread about Aelyx’s return.
The sidewalk was so thick with people that he couldn’t see a path along it. L’annabes dressed in low ponytails and mock gray-tan uniforms bounced in place, waving magazines and signs that read Take me to your leader! and Probe me, Aelyx! There were plenty of protesters, too. He’d long ago learned to recognize the vitriol in their shouts. Police worked to keep the crowd behind temporary metal barricades, but the masses surged forward, making the bolts creak. Then someone spotted Aelyx and cried his name, and all hell broke loose.
A chorus of screams filled the air while cameras flashed, forcing him to shield his eyes. In front of him, Troy spread both arms and took a step back, prompting him to do the same. He was about to take Cara’s hand and retreat into the lobby when something happened that defied the laws of science.
Abruptly, hundreds of people at the front of the crowd went hurtling backward, as if an invisible broom had swept them into a dustpan. Their bodies collided with those behind them, setting off a domino effect that resulted in half the mob lying on the pavement.
Voices went silent, and Aelyx blinked in shock.
What had just happened?
The masses began untangling their limbs and standing up, trading empty glances with one another. Some of them looked to the police for guidance, but those men were busy hauling their own bodies off the ground. There was a general murmur of confusion, and then a whooshing noise sounded from above.
Aelyx turned his gaze skyward, and things began to make sense.
Jaxen glided toward them, his long ponytail rippling in the breeze as he stood atop a hovercraft that bore a slight resemblance to a human surfboard. Aelyx didn’t recognize the technology as anything that existed on Earth or on L’eihr, and he wondered where Jaxen had obtained it. The instant Jaxen met Aelyx’s gaze, his face broke into a manic grin that made him appear deranged. There was something new in Jaxen’s eyes, a recklessness that prompted Aelyx to tuck Cara farther behind him.
“You’re alive,” Jaxen bellowed, hovering nearly within reach. “Good. I’ll do the honors myself. You tried to kill me once, and as humans say, one good turn deserves—”
Troy fired his pistol at Jaxen in three quick blasts.
Aelyx flinched. All around him, heads ducked and bystanders screamed. But when he opened his eyes, Jaxen was still standing above them, his grin impossibly wider than before. That’s when Aelyx noticed the object in his hand, a staff supporting a softball-size orb that glowed milky white. The orb seemed to have absorbed the bullets, or at least shielded him from them. Aelyx had never seen anything like it. There was no chance Jaxen had built this weapon on his own. Either he’d stolen it, or someone had armed him.
“Handy device, don’t you think?” Jaxen said. “It’s a Nova Staff, given to me by our mutual friend, Zane.” Aelyx barely had time to process this revelation when Jaxen spoke again. “It harnesses energy and stores it, so I can do this.” Then he pointed the orb at Cara’s brother, and Troy flew back several yards, where he collided with a cluster of police officers and flattened them like bowling pins.
Cara screamed and tried to run to him, but Aelyx held her still. The safest place for her was inside the penthouse building. If they could make it to the elevator, they could hide on any number of floors. He inched her toward the door, but Jaxen stopped them with another sweep of his staff. Aelyx felt a blow to the chest, and the next thing he knew, he slammed against the concrete.
He heard shouts from the crowd, fans crying his name. Someone yelled, “Oh, my god! That guy’s trying to kill Aelyx!” and in the span of two heartbeats, the crowd broke through the barricades and attacked Jaxen. They leaped up and grabbed his hovercraft, tipping it to and fro. Jaxen tried to strike back, but each time he raised his staff, he was forced to flail his arms for balance.
Aelyx didn’t waste another moment watching. He pushed up from the ground and grabbed Cara’s hand. The two of them raced for Troy, and after helping him to his feet, they half limped, half ran around the corner and didn’t stop until they reached the shuttle.
Once they were safely inside, floating high above the chaos and cloaked by an invisible shield, Aelyx sat back against the pilot’s seat and tried to steady his shaking hands. The relief of cheating death twice in the span of ten minutes caused him to laugh—a bizarre response, as he found nothing humorous about the situation. Quite the contrary, it disturbed and confused him to learn Zane had armed Jaxen. How had such a partnership formed, especially considering Jaxen had once intended to use humans in a war against the Aribol?
Only one thing was certain. Aelyx would never again complain about unwanted attention from the L’annabes. They were his heroes.
Chapter Six
In the movies, government safe houses were depicted as grubby apartments with sagging furniture and bad lighting that made everyone look jaundiced. For some reason, the feds were always playing poker in these films, or maybe reading the newspaper, while mafia informants paced the floor, twitching at every sound. Cara knew she wouldn’t find any of Colonel Rutter’s men playing cards—not unless they craved a boot up the tailpipe—but she hadn’t expected the safe house to seem so … homey.
Nestled on a heavily wooded lot outside the city, the two-story log cabin looked more like an off-season ski lodge than a government hidey-hole. The house was shaded by a canopy of tree branches, and even offered a wide wraparound porch, perfect for watching the sunset and sipping lemonade. Maybe the armored Humvee parked on the driveway didn’t scream nature, but if Cara closed her eyes and ignored the chattering soldiers on patrol, she could hear cicadas and birdsongs high in the trees, and detect notes of pine on the breeze, mingled with hints of musk from the bay.
“This is better than summer camp,” she told Aelyx as they crossed the front lawn. “I should let the military hide me more often.”
He huffed a dry laugh and kicked aside a pinecone. “Be careful what you wish for. The last safe house was a motel room the size of a closet. Six people, one toilet, twelve hours of tedious small talk.”
Maybe the movies were more accurate than she’d thought.
Inside the cabin, her parents and a few others were standing in the living room, huddled in front of a flat screen television mounted on the wall. The TV’s sound was muted, but Cara recognized the newsreel at first glance. In slow motion, the footage showed Jaxen wobbling on his hovercraft until he finally stabilized well enough to knock the crowd back with his staff. The caption along the bottom of the screen read ROGUE ALIEN WREAKS HAVOC IN MANHATTAN!
Cara watched Jaxen zoom off into the distance. “I guess that answers my question. He got away.”
Her dad glanced over his shoulder at her, then turned off the screen. He went quiet for a moment, a surefire sign he was upset. “It’s playing everywhere.”
Cara gave her parents an extra peppy grin so they wouldn’t worry. “I’ll bet. It’s not every day an alien hybrid gets his ass handed to him by a mob of angry fangirls.”
Her casual act didn’t fool them. Mom latched onto Dad’s side and pressed her cheek to his chest while he stroked her hair and rubbed her lower back to comfort her. Her parents tended to become … physical … during times of stress, and the way they clung to each other told Cara she’d better claim the bedroom farthest from theirs before it was too late.
Some noises couldn’t be unheard.
“I’m more interested in the weapon he used,” Larish said, wrist-deep in a bag of pork rinds. It was an odd contrast to see someone of his generation—stiff and unemotional, not a hair of his graying ponytail out of place—munching on fried pigskins. Cara wondered if he knew what he was eating. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Aelyx rubbed the knot on the back of his head. “Wait until you hear who gave it to him—our ‘mutual friend’ Zane.”
At that information, Larish posed a question Cara had already asked herself: Why had the Aribol sent Jaxen to do their dirty work? More than that, she thought Jaxen had seemed … off, for lack of a better word. A few months ago, he’d been so obsessed with her that he’d stolen her DNA and asked her to rule by his side. Today he’d barely looked at her. Not that she was complaining; it just didn’t make sense.
Nothing about this did.
“I studied the probes that landed on Earth,” Larish said. “They’re identical to the others, so that’s no help.” He paused with a pork rind suspended an inch from his lips. “When was the last time Jaxen and Aisly were seen on Earth?”
“The day of the alliance signing,” Cara told him. “Why?”