by L A Warren
"Who?"
"The Vendel. Is anyone else sick?"
Dale blinked bleary, red-lined eyes at her, overhearing her conversation. "What?"
"We don't know," her grandfather said.
Chapter Five
Friday morning, February 4, 2035:
The day began with a dull drizzle. Gramps’s head cold settled into his lungs. Elise worried over him, playing nursemaid, bringing hot tea and sandwiches, while he set up for an important meeting of state. Unsettled thoughts of Elenor flashed in her mind as she listened to him cough.
Her hand shook as she placed the tea on the table beside him, and she tried to remember what he’d said about last night. Elenor had been fine at the banquet, then she didn't feel well. There was something about bloody tears.
Elise cast a sideways glance at her grandfather as he finished his preparations and held back the urge to feel his forehead. When she suggested they call a doctor, he shooed her out with a glare.
Moving to the guest wing, she checked on Dale. He refused to leave his rooms and come down for lunch. He too, coughed.
Fisting her hands, she made a decision, and returned to her grandfather's study. Holo-mist filled the air, framing the faces of the world's leaders. Her grandfather pressed his lips into a hard line at her interruption and almost had her turning on her heels, but this couldn't wait.
He muted the video feed with his finger. His red-lined eyes showed his intense fatigue, and the finger sandwiches she brought earlier remained untouched.
"Elise, I'm very busy."
"Listen, I think the Vendel made Elenor sick."
A few of the faces hanging in holo-mist turned their attention to her, but none showed any surprise. She recognized some of them from the various state dinners she'd attended over the years. Her grandfather pointed to the door. "We can't be sure of that."
"But…"
"We're investigating all the options." He flicked his fingers in dismissal. His deep sigh turned into a fit of coughing.
A step forward to comfort him was met with his raised hand. Palm out, he halted her advance. "Please. I need to pay attention to the meeting."
"Gramps?" Why wouldn't he listen?
"Why don't you call one of your friends? Or go to the flight line and practice your flight drills. Don't you have a competition coming up?"
He wanted her to go stunt flying? Or call one of her friends? The last thing she wanted was to waste the day with fake trust-fund friends. While fun, the Air Race World Championships weren't for another four months. Her instructor was out of town on his honeymoon, and it wasn't like she would practice her aerobatics without him. While she loved maneuvering her small Corvus Racer through the air gates, how could she think about that when her grandfather was sick?
Although, being stuck inside all day, knowing he'd be busy in his study with his meetings, made her want to leave. Dale wasn't helping matters either, not with shutting himself in with grief. Getting out was probably the best idea.
Another name came to mind. This might be the perfect opportunity to meet up with Alice. She would take Elise's mind off aliens and the heavy miasma of grief settling over Comwell Estate. It took digging to find Alice's contact info. Soon though, the holo-mist formed into an image of her friend's round face and shock-white hair.
"Elise! Hey! What's up?" Alice leaned toward the screen and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Have you been following the news? The bigwig Global Corps folk met the aliens at this uber-posh banquet. Now they're talking about sharing their technology. It's all biotech. Can you believe it?" Her bright blue eyes widened with excitement.
"Well, I suppose…"
Mention of the Vendel brought back an image of Gregor and an itching at her wrist. She rubbed the skin of her inner wrist remembering the odd electricity she felt every time he touched her.
"Oh, come on, you're not even a little interested? Have you seen the vids? Talk about drool-worthy man-meat."
"Where did you see pictures of the Vendel?"
Not that her identity was a big secret, but people treated her differently after they found out her grandfather headed Global Corps. For once, she wanted to just be an ordinary person. Fingers crossed, she prayed there weren't any vid-feeds of her circulating out in the Internet at that event.
"They posted them from the banquet," Alice answered. "It's all over the news."
Strange. She remembered no reporters inside the banquet hall.
Alice caught her confused expression, misinterpreting it. She rolled her eyes. "Here, I'm sending you some links."
The holo-mist flared green with the incoming message. Her finger hovered over the link. She squeezed her eyes and activated it.
Her breath hitched as she stared at the Vendel Emperor's face. Silver-gray eyes smiled warmly at the camera as the Emperor shook the hand of her grandfather.
With a sigh, she realized why she didn't remember. She fled after her brief meeting with Gregor, missing all the ensuing speeches and obligatory press. She remembered the champagne, his toast, and the perfume.
The itching in her wrist intensified.
"What do you think?" Alice asked. "Pretty hot, huh?"
"I suppose." Her dreams had been filled with sensual images of the man.
"You suppose? No supposing about it. That man is hot. And did you look at the others? I mean… yowza!"
Her apprehension surged. "Don't you think it's all too friendly? They left Earth like a couple thousand years ago. What do we have that they need?"
Alice laughed. "Oh dear, are you one of those?"
"One of those what?"
"A doomsayer!" Her friend laughed and sent her another link. "Here, check these out. Lots of people are talking doom and gloom and conspiracy theories. That they're here to destroy us, enslave us, take Earth's resources. You name it, the list goes on."
"I'm not a doomsayer. Just cautious." Lots of people were cautious, she wasn't the only one.
Alice waved her hand. "Oh, I'm just kidding with you, but Comwell has thought about all of that. I mean, he's handling it."
The absolute assurance Alice had in her grandfather astounded Elise. She wanted to scream.
"I'm sure if there was anything to worry about, they'd already be on top of it," Alice continued.
Elise didn't buy it. She tried to move the conversation forward, hoping to distract herself from anything to do with the Vendel, or her current issues at home.
"Listen, are you interested in going out tonight? Maybe we could hit some bars and find a couple of hot bodies for ourselves?"
"Actually, I have plans."
"Oh." Her shoulders sagged.
A wicked gleam lit up her friend's eyes. "You want to join me?" Her brows arched up.
"Are you kidding? I'd love to." Anything to get out of the house.
"Perfect!" Alice clapped her hands together. "I'm going to be a judge at The Spot in B-town. Come with me and be a judge as well."
"What kind of judge?" The Spot was well known for a hopping night life.
"It's a surprise. Here, give me your address and I'll pick you up."
"Better idea. Give me yours and I'll come get you." No way was Alice going to pick her up at the Comwell Estate.
Chapter Six
Friday night, February 4, 2035:
Elise picked Alice up just before seven. "So, what's the surprise?"
Her friend giggled. "We're going to be judges."
"I know, you told me that much. Judges at The Spot… but what are we judging?"
Alice rubbed her hands together and leaned forward. "Chest and Abs."
"What does that mean?"
A grin spread across Alice's face.
"Oh God," Elise said with a start.
Her night took a turn for the better. A night of judging hot bodies might result in an evening under the sheets with one. What might the Vendel Emperor's body might look like under the sheets? With an irritated shake of her head, she tried to erase that image. Thoughts of him po
pped up all the time. So distracting.
"Now step on it. It starts right at the end of Happy Hour, and if we're late, we lose our spot as judges."
"I'm not going to ask how you got picked for this." She poked Alice in the ribs, giggling. "But I like it."
"Good. Now drive."
Less than an hour later, Elise sat on a tall barstool in the middle of the dance floor at The Spot. The techno beat the DJ had blaring drowned out all conversation. Her voice was already hoarse from screaming.
Alice swayed to the beat of the music on the stool beside her and looked on with interest at the row of eager contestants who were busy shedding their shirts. Elise admired the rock-hard abs and sculpted chests, licking her lips as one hot guy gave her a wink.
She leaned over and yelled into Alice's ear. "How does this work?"
A man handed each of them a long ribbon of silk.
Another grin cracked Alice's face. "Did I forget to mention we judge by feel?"
Elise could barely hear over the music. "What?"
Alice pantomimed what was expected and Elise burst out laughing. This would be so much fun. She was so happy to have run into such a fun person like Alice during that charity walk. This was something she never would have done on her own.
The thumping of the music drove deep into her body as the contestants stepped onto the dance floor. The men grinned. She wasn't sure who would enjoy the judging more. When they handed the men the body oil, she found her answer. The glistening bodies swayed to the beat of the music.
At a signal from the MC, Alice tied on the blindfold. Elise took one more glance at the row of bare male chests before tying the black silk over her eyes.
Rough hands lifted her wrists, startling her. The male pressed her palms to an oiled chest. She jumped the first time, then let her hands roam until he stepped away. The next set of hands startled her with the following contestant, and the next, but she powered through, enjoying the slide of sculpted pecs and abs beneath her palms.
Her hands ran across more male flesh than she had ever dreamt possible. By the end, she'd lost the ability to blush, although her cheeks ached from the constant grin on her face.
She wasn't sure how, but they announced a winner. Unknown hands removed her blindfold. She blinked as she stared down the row of half-naked male flesh. Three of them winked at her. They awarded prizes to all the men.
Alice pulled her off the dance floor and to the bar.
Several of the men came over and bought them drinks. They chatted before the next competition of the night. As the men gathered on the dance floor, Elise leaned over to yell into Alice's ear.
"What now?"
Another wicked grin. Alice even licked her lips. "Buns and Thighs."
"What?" Her head whipped around to the dance floor and at the twenty-odd men standing in a ragged line. "How do they judge that?"
Her friend arched a brow and gave her an are-you-kidding-me look.
Her jaw dropped as the guys stripped out of their pants, revealing a remarkable array of boxers, briefs, and tighty-whities. When the girls who'd signed up to be the Buns and Thighs judges looked too drunk to continue, Alice popped up from her barstool like a Jack-in-the-box waving at the manager.
"Andy! Andy, we'll do it." She tugged Elise back to the dance floor.
They didn't leave empty handed. In her pocket, she had twenty numbers scrawled on napkins. Alice thought it strange she didn't hand out her personal number. When pressed, Elise refused to explain, instead, she made a game of it. For each guy who wanted her number, she demanded a kiss. Then she had them write their numbers on a napkin and hand it over. Definitely one of her top ten nights out ever, although, it was morning when they left.
Chapter Seven
Saturday morning, February 5, 2035:
Dawn broke the morning sky when she returned home. All she wanted was to sleep off her hangover, however, an all too familiar white van parked in front of the mansion gave her pause.
Men in white biohazard garb walked out the front door. She flew out of the car and staggered to the men carrying a body bag between them. Her heart lurched as the ground tilted beneath her feet. A shaking began in her chest, turning to tremors as it reached her fingertips.
Another man encased in a protective suit tried to hold her back.
Tears flowed down her cheeks. Memories of Elenor crashed in her mind.
"Gramps!"
The men sidestepped with the body bag. Respirators on their backs stressed their heavy breathing. The bag bowed between them, crinkling as it bent. Her stomach heaved as she fought down a wave of nausea.
The stranger held her when she lunged for the bag. "Miss, you can't be here."
"Just try to stop me." Her fingers clawed at the zipper of the bag. "Gramps!" Please, don't be in there. Don't be in there.
Familiar footsteps. A hand squeaking over a banister. A cough. A sneeze.
Those sounds drew her attention through the doorway and had her spinning out of the stranger's grip. Her gaze flew to where her grandfather leaned against the entry hall column for support. Pink tinged tears stained his cheeks.
She ran up the broad marble stairs, her legs strong and steady. "Gramps!" Well, mostly steady.
He held out his arms and folded her into a hug. "Hush."
"What happened?"
There was no doubt who lay inside that body bag. Five more men encased in white biohazard suits stood in the foyer. Canisters hung on their backs. Each had a small black case in their hands. The small red biohazard sign unmistakable.
"Sir, I'm sorry," the man said who had restrained her. "I tried to keep her away."
Her grandfather looked with bleary eyes. "Doesn't matter. This is my granddaughter. She's already exposed."
She took a shuddering breath. Exposed? She'd kissed all those men last night.
His body trembled and his shoulders slumped. "Come, let's go into the parlor." He started down the hall leaving her questions unanswered.
She followed, feeling deflated and very sober.
Three of the five men joined them while the others headed upstairs.
"Miss," one man said, his voice distorted by the respirator. "Please, I need to take a blood sample and a swab of your mouth." He gestured for them to sit.
She collapsed onto an ottoman, too numb to take the extra five steps to the overstuffed leather chair. "Tell me what's going on."
"Director Comwell, I need to ask a few questions." The man spoke with deference, shifting back and forth on his feet while adjusting the respirator over his face through the fabric of his hood.
"Go ahead." Her grandfather rolled up his sleeve as one man opened his case and rubbed alcohol on her grandfather's arm.
"Sir, I need a list of everyone you've come in contact with since Wednesday night."
He sighed. "Everyone at the banquet, Director Armstrong, and his wife, Elenor." He stopped while the assistant inserted a needle and withdrew his blood. Her grandfather jerked his chin toward her. "My granddaughter. We were all at the banquet. And the estate staff."
The man transferred the blood to a vial and then brought out a cotton swab. "Open your mouth." He scribbled on his tablet and then turned his attention to Elise.
Her answer was different. Last night had been exciting, but detailing her adventure with her grandfather sitting right beside her turned into one of the most mortifying experiences of her life.
The assistant taking her blood blushed as she recounted the crowded club. The man in charge pressed for details on how much physical contact she had with the men.
She stared at the floor and twisted her hands. "I ran my hands over their chests for the first contest…" She cast a sideways glance at her grandfather. Her breathing hitched as she continued. "… and then over their butts and the backs of their thighs."
The interviewer paused and cleared his throat. "Did you have intimate contact with anyone at the club?"
She groaned and buried her head into her hands. Across the r
oom, her grandfather wouldn't meet her eye.
"Kissing."
"We will need his name," the man whispered.
Her head shot up. "There was more than just one." She did the math. Twenty abs and chests, twenty buns and thighs, and a few more. She'd kissed well over fifty guys the night before, spreading her contagion to those men. Those fifty would spread it to how many more by the time night fell? And those?
"I need all their names." A look of dread passed over the man's face.
Elise fished out the thick stack of napkins from her purse and thrust it at him. She shrank when her grandfather turned away.
"Was that all?" he pressed. "Nothing more… intimate?"
"No." She stood and walked over to her grandfather forcing him to look into her eyes. "Oh, get over yourself. I'm not innocent. Tell me what's going on."
"Dale's dead."
"I figured." The harshness of her words made him wince. Immediately regretting it, she knelt down, placing her hands on his knees.
Fatigue hung heavy in his eyes as he stared at her.
"I'm so sorry, Gramps. I know how close you were."
A sharp intake of breath and pain flashed in his eyes. "He and Elenor are not the only ones." He leaned forward and cupped her head in his hands. "More than a hundred from the banquet are dead. Twice that are sick with the sniffles, a head cold, sneezing. Nothing serious until they bleed." He sniffed and rubbed his nose leaving a pale pink tinge on the cuff of his shirtsleeve.
"Now do you believe me?"
Her attention lingered on the cloth and the stain. Her mind whirled. What had the Emperor said? An eidetic memory was great, but her auditory recall was crap.
"Have you spoken to the Vendel? Asked them?"
He looked down and his voice grew cold. "They cut off communications."
"Dear God." She gripped his hands hard. "They did this."
His stony gaze confirmed her fears. "I've been trying to reach you, but you forgot your phone… again." His voice broke. "It's spreading fast."