sedona files 05 - falling angels

by Christine Pope

  They were both dressed and ready to go, it looked like, in warm sensible clothes and sturdy hiking boots. Luckily, I’d known that the base was out in some rough country even though I’d never been there myself, and I’d outfitted myself in pretty much the same way — after a frantic dig through my closet to find the hiking boots I’d left behind when I moved in with Raphael. His description of going to gallery openings and restaurants and concerts had made me think I might not need those boots for much, so I’d left them back at my parents’ house, along with an assortment of other odds and ends that I knew I’d need to move eventually.

  “Taryn’s meeting us here,” I said with ceremony. “She said she thought it would be a good idea if she came with us.”

  My father’s eyebrows lifted. “A premonition?”

  “She didn’t say it in so many words, but that was the impression I got.”

  “Does Persephone know about this?” my mother asked, her expression troubled.

  “Taryn didn’t say.” Then, since I could tell my answer hadn’t done much to mollify her, I added, “I suppose that’s her business. She is a grown person, you know. It’s not like she has to ask her parents’ permission to do something. Well, not exactly anyway.”

  Taryn did still live at home, so I supposed she’d have to offer some sort of reason as to why she was leaving the house at a little past seven in the morning. When we’d texted the night before, though, she hadn’t mentioned anything along those lines, which meant she’d probably already come up with some sort of excuse for today’s excursion. Because she did work as a psychic part-time at several of the various shops in uptown, her schedule tended to be kind of screwy, although not screwy enough to justify an early-morning departure hours before any of those shops actually opened.

  My mother lifted her shoulders, then said, “I suppose you’re right.”

  I relaxed a little, glad that she didn’t seem too interested in pressing the issue. Noticing that both she and my father held mugs of coffee, I recalled my own tea, still steeping in the kitchen. I mumbled something about going to get it, then headed back so I could extract the tea bag and pour a little honey in.

  While I was doctoring my tea, the doorbell rang. I knew it had to be Taryn; she was always on time, although I’d hoped she’d run a little late this morning just so I’d have enough time to get something to eat. Breakfast didn’t seem to be in the cards, though, so I snagged an energy bar from the pantry and took it and my mug of tea out to the living room.

  Taryn stood there with my parents. Like me, she was wearing jeans and hiking boots, and had a warm down-filled coat on over her denim shirt. She flashed me a quick smile, but I sensed something almost tentative about it, as if she wasn’t sure exactly how it would be received.

  I thought I understood her diffidence. We’d only texted the night before, so she hadn’t had much of a chance to see me or hear the tone of my voice to gauge how upset I really was by the whole Raphael situation. As far as I’d been able to tell, her actual mind-reading talent only seemed to work if she was in the same room with someone. Besides, she wasn’t the sort of person who’d go tromping around in your mind without asking permission. She’d told me once that she couldn’t always keep out people’s thoughts if they were upset and broadcasting everywhere, but that wasn’t the same thing as sneaking a peek under cover of darkness.

  My mother asked, “Does Persephone know where you’re going?”

  I wanted to make a face, but Taryn said quietly, “I told my parents I was coming over to help Callista with something. They didn’t ask any questions. So it’s not like I’m sneaking around or lying to them, but at the same time, they didn’t have to know everything.”

  Whether that was really what either of my parents wanted to hear, I didn’t know, but they didn’t pry further. My father asked Taryn is she wanted a cup of coffee or some tea. She shook her head and said that she’d had some coffee before she left the house.

  Apparently that question had exhausted my parents’ delaying tactics, because my father said, “Okay, then I guess we’d better get going.”

  I took a couple of large gulps of my tea before setting it down on one of the coasters on the coffee table. The energy bar would have to wait until we were en route.

  Because it was only four of us, we took my parents’ SUV. No one said much of anything as we drove through the town’s quiet streets, heading out to West Sedona and the road that led toward the Secret Canyon wilderness area. On that weekday morning in early February, it was quiet enough, so we didn’t have to deal with much traffic as we made our way to Dry Creek Road and began to wind our way through neighborhoods where the lots got gradually larger and larger until it was only open land on either side, snow still gleaming in the shadows of the juniper trees and in the leeward sides of rock formations.

  Eventually we came to the turn-off that led to one of Sedona’s numerous trailheads, but a hiking trail wasn’t our true destination. We bumped along on a rutted dirt road, the Mercedes managing mud, snow, and rocks without batting the proverbial eyelash. Judging by some of the signage, we really weren’t supposed to be driving out this far, but I decided it was probably a good idea to hold my tongue and let my father do what he wanted. My guess was that he was trying to save us from having to do too much hiking.

  But even the SUV finally met its match, coming to an area strewn with boulders that had probably rolled down from the hills above during that last big storm. Everyone climbed out.

  “This way,” my father said, leading us away from the car and off toward the northeast, where I could see a sheer cliff face rising right into the sky. Even though I knew it must be an optical illusion, that the clouds had only dropped low enough to obscure the top of the mesa, I still had to suppress a shiver that didn’t have much to do with the brisk morning air.

  We hiked along in silence, our breaths rising in little mist-white puffs. By some unspoken agreement, my parents were in the front, while Taryn and I brought up the rear. That made the most sense, since they’d been here before and of course neither Taryn nor I had.

  As the cliff loomed closer, I began to sense a growing tightness somewhere in my midsection, as if my body was reacting to the growing proximity of the Reptilian base. I took in a breath and told myself I need to relax. The place had been deserted for years. Anyway, I’d stood in the same room with a bunch of Reptilians and lived to tell the tale. Friendly they most definitely were not, but I knew it was entirely possible to survive an encounter with them.

  Beside me, Taryn was looking around with wide eyes, but she didn’t say anything. If the place was giving me the willies, I could only imagine how it must have been affecting someone with her particular sensibilities.

  “Here,” my father said briefly, pushing past a gnarled manzanita bush, its pale twisted shape looking as if it had grown out of the sheer rock. Behind the manzanita was a metal door with a wheel set into the center.

  Even though I knew that wheel had been turned recently, by my cousin Grace, I still couldn’t help letting out a little shocked breath as my father grasped hold of it and began to rotate it. The sound of metal grinding against metal seemed to pierce my eardrums, but I clenched my teeth and endured. A few more turns, and then he was tugging on the door, opening it.

  A black rectangle yawned in the hillside. Both my parents pulled compact flashlights out of their pockets. “There’s emergency lighting once you’re actually on one of the levels,” my mother explained. “But the stairwells are dark, so we’ll need these until we get where we’re going.”

  Fair enough. As we all went inside and began to descend those stairs, though, I had to wonder how Grace had managed to cover this same ground all alone and with no real idea of what she was heading toward. I had people surrounding me, and I still wanted to turn around and run back to the safety of daylight and my parents’ SUV.

  I wouldn’t do that, of course. This was for Raphael, and I’d gladly suffer a lot more than a creepy stairwell to mak
e sure he was safe and far, far away from the Reptilians.

  “Which level, do you think?” my mother asked. Her tone was hushed, as if she didn’t want to raise her voice and possibly wake up something that had been sleeping here for more than a quarter of a century.

  “I’m not sure, but probably the fourth or fifth,” he replied. “The labs and hybrid training areas were deeper than that — they always tended to put the most sensitive stuff the farthest away from the surface, while transportation equipment tended to be closer up top. So let’s stop on the fourth level and see what we can find.”

  She nodded, and another of those uneasy silences fell. We descended one more set of stairs, and then my father opened the door at the next landing and led us out into the hallway.

  The place was eerily familiar, mostly because it seemed to be an exact duplicate, in design if not actual layout, of the Mars base. Or I supposed the base on Mars was the duplicate, since this one had existed first. Either way, the sensation of déjà vu that swept over me was as strong as it was unwelcome.

  Swallowing, I followed my parents down the corridor, which was lit with the same reddish lights I’d seen at the Mars base. Taryn followed a pace or two behind me, her steps lagging as she kept glancing all around, taking it in. Had she seen this place in a vision? Was she now trying to match what she’d glimpsed with that strange inner eye of hers with the reality that surrounded her now?

  I didn’t have time to ask her, because my father’s strides had lengthened as he hurried us toward a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. On the wall next to them was one of those flat panel-looking objects the Reptilians used as their biometric locks, and I wondered how my father planned to get past it. I knew he didn’t have one of those jewel-like devices to open it the way Raphael had.

  But then I realized that one of the doors was partly ajar. Only by an inch or less, as if someone had meant to shut it, but it hadn’t caught all the way. No real surprise there, if the base had been evacuated as quickly as my parents had made it sound.

  Without an ounce of hesitation, my father reached out for the door, then grasped it by the edge so he could pull it open all the way. We began to follow him into the chamber.

  And stopped dead, because the room was far from empty. The Reptilian delegation stood there.

  With them was Raphael.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Without thinking, I began to move forward, but my mother caught me by the bicep. “No, Callista,” she whispered fiercely.

  I almost wrenched my arm from her grasp. But then I saw Taryn staring at me, eyes wide, pleading. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

  All right, I’d consider myself warned. I stopped where I was, my gaze moving across the room to meet Raphael’s, relief sweeping over me as I took in his appearance.

  He didn’t appear to have been harmed. His clothes looked a little rumpled, as if he’d slept in them, and his hair was likewise messier than I’d ever seen it, but physically, he appeared to be more or less intact. But his dark eyes seemed to bore into me, worried, intense.

  Callista, what are you doing here?

  We came to try to save you. We thought we’d use the communications equipment to contact the Reptilians —

  I stopped there, though, because my father spoke.

  “Lir Shalan,” he said. “That is your name, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” the leader of the Reptilians said in his hissing voice. In English, too, unless he had some sort of translator device stashed on his person. He glanced past my father to me, and I had to keep from flinching at being on the receiving end of that baleful, ruby-tinted stare.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Lir Shalan’s mouth twitched. By that point, I’d guessed that the strange grimace was the Reptilian equivalent of smile. It just looked very different on someone who didn’t have any real lips. “Why, making things easier for you, Martin Jones. You were coming here to contact us, were you not?”

  My mother shifted her weight from one foot to the other, but she remained quiet. No one could have ever accused her of being a shrinking violet, but she also knew when she was out of her depth.

  “Yes, we were,” my father replied, tone steady. “We want to sue for Raphael’s release. You had no right to take him — ”

  “We had every right,” Lir Shalan cut in. “He was the one who orchestrated the attack on our base, even if it was your daughter who actually committed the act of murder.”

  “I told you, it was an accident!” I burst out.

  My love, do not provoke him.

  I wanted to retort that I wasn’t going to keep myself from telling the truth, but the naked pleading in Raphael’s eyes stopped me. The situation was already tense enough. I didn’t need to make it worse by going off half-cocked.

  Another one of those stretches of Lir Shalan’s mouth that might have been a smile. “So you constantly assert. I see you have already conveniently forgotten that the Assembly ruled in our favor.”

  “So they did,” my father said, still in that almost too-calm voice. I realized then that he was forcing himself to remain steady, that if he allowed his emotions even the tiniest rein, he could make matters far worse than they already were. “But I doubt the Assembly intended for you to make Raphael part of your reparations. Even if taking him hostage was what you eventually decided on, you would still have had to submit your request to the Assembly.”

  “A request that would have been denied,” Raphael said, speaking aloud for the first time. “As our good friend here knows all too well. So he decided to take preemptive action.”

  I didn’t think I could love him any more than I already did, but something about seeing him standing there, mussed and rumpled and yet with his chin high and his dark eyes flashing fire, made me ache for him with even greater strength. He’d done nothing wrong. He shouldn’t be a captive.

  Taryn had been hanging back a foot or so behind me, but right then she stepped forward so we stood more or less shoulder to shoulder. Her gaze seemed to be fixed with a kind of awful intensity on the Reptilian delegation. I supposed I couldn’t blame her; she had to have seen them on television, but those images couldn’t really communicate their size or the sort of suffocating dread that seemed to surround them. As I watched, she looked from Lir Shalan to the strange greenish-skinned hybrid — or whatever he was — who stood behind him and off to the left. Something flickered in her eyes, but I couldn’t begin to guess what the emotion I glimpsed might be.

  “You may remain silent, Raphael,” Lir Shalan snapped. “You have been meddling in affairs that were none of your concern for far too long as it is.”

  “Indeed?” Raphael replied, his voice almost a drawl. “For I believe the Assembly has a strict policy of non-interference, and so the few times I have been called on to intercede, it was for a very good reason. But I will admit that your idea of a good reason and the Assembly’s are probably quite different.”

  “All right,” my father broke in. “I think we all have to agree to disagree on that point. But surely you have something you do want to discuss with us, Lir Shalan, or you wouldn’t be here now.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Now he was just messing with us. I could see it in the glint in his red eyes. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d confessed in the next moment that he planned to kill us all, right before his henchmen pulled out their blasters, or whatever it was that Reptilians used.

  My father appeared to have thought more or less the same thing. He didn’t exactly step forward, but he shifted in such a way that he was partially blocking my mother, and Taryn and me as well. “You mind answering a question?”

  “It depends on what it is.”

  “Why save the astronauts? What’s in it for you? Just curious.”

  Lir Shalan narrowed his eyes. “I thought you might be. But I also thought it should be obvious.”

  “Well, give us slower thinkers a clue.”

  Something that mig
ht have been a chuckle. To me, it sounded more like Lir Shalan was trying to cough up a hairball. “Gratitude is a powerful thing. It can cause one to overlook certain things. Also, since the humans now view us as their saviors, let us just say that they are less likely to look favorably on any other aliens who might try to present themselves as being the ones in the right. I doubt very much if they’d be pleased to learn that other aliens had been living among them for years, gathering intelligence and sending it back to their masters. There could be unfortunate consequences of such information leaking to the general public, don’t you think?”

  So that was it. Blackmail. If we created too much of a fuss — if we threatened to expose him and the rest of his people for what they truly were — then he would make sure the identities of any benign aliens here on Earth would be released, with the addendum that of course they weren’t the good guys, because otherwise wouldn’t they have stepped in a long time ago to help cure some of humanity’s woes?

  My father. My mother. My grandfather Gabriel, one of the gentlest souls I’d ever encountered. Possibly Grace and Logan, although that might be dangerous, since their alien blood was hybrid and not Pleiadian. And of course I had no idea how many more of my father’s people might be here on Earth right now, whether gathering data, or acting as a guide the way Raphael had. What I did know was that all those people were good, and didn’t deserve to be exposed in such a way.

  There could even be others like me, children of Pleiadians who’d been stationed here. My father had never mentioned them, if they did exist, but I couldn’t discount such a possibility. All of them would be vulnerable, unless we kept our mouths shut and did exactly as the Reptilians said.

  They can’t do this, I thought desperately at Raphael.

  They can, and they know it. Why else would they force a physical confrontation such as this? They wanted to see your expressions as you recognized the extent of your defeat.

  I can’t accept that.

  It is a difficult thing to accept. A pause, and when he continued, his mental voice was heavy with sorrow. It is a terrible choice, to weigh the safety of those you love against the greater good. Are you strong enough to go up against them in order to save humanity from their depredations, knowing that they will expose your family for what they are?