by Sarah Wynde
“A pretty fancy, but impossible. A child could never…” Gaelith’s voice faded away. She must have been moving.
Face hot, Fen turned and hurried toward her room.
A curiosity.
Like, what, some lower-class zoo animal? A tattooed sideshow freak?
Safely in her room, she leaned against the door and took a deep breath. Someone had been in the room while she was out. The bed, already made, had been perfected, sheets and light coverlet drawn taut, not even the hint of a wrinkle disturbing the smooth surface. She knew without looking that the adjoining bathroom would be spotless.
It was creepy.
She felt an urge to bounce on the bed, to go into the bathroom and spit in the sink, messy toothpaste spit, and not rinse it down. Something, anything, to break the perfection.
But she didn’t.
Instead she placed her crystal on the dressing table and sat on the stool in front of it. She stared at her reflection in the mirror but she wasn’t seeing herself. She was remembering her mother, her beautiful mother, laughing, happy, soothing, sweet, one day taking her on adventures to the park, watching her do her homework, cooking dinner—and then ranting and raving, delusional, hallucinating.
Was that going to happen to her?
Covering her face with her hands, Fen took a deep breath, fighting the desire to cry.
She couldn’t think about this now. She didn’t have time for it. She was supposed to be getting dressed for lunch, to sit at a table with Kaio and his snobby sister, and not—definitely, seriously, really not—ask any stupid questions.
She stood, crossing to the wardrobe, and pulled open the door. Her mouth dropped open. The wardrobe was full. Next to the simple cotton dresses Eladio had found for her hung several others, plus skirts and blouses, a lightweight jacket, pants, even a lacy cocktail dress.
“Shit,” she said out loud, staring at the clothes in shock. “How long does he think I’m staying?”
There were even shoes. Three pairs of sandals, black flats, and a pair of elegant, high-heeled pumps that she’d never manage to walk in. She bent and picked up the pumps. Her size with a name that sounded vaguely familiar and seriously expensive.
She looked at the dresser. Delicately, as if they might bite, she pulled open one drawer after another. Underwear. Pajamas. Tank tops and t-shirts. Shorts. Lightweight sweaters. Cotton capris. Enough clothes that she wouldn’t need to wear the same outfit for a month.
She dropped down onto the bed.
What was she doing here?
So Very, Very Nice
Fen paused in the doorway of the dining room, nervous about entering.
She was not going to panic.
She was not going to make a fool of herself.
She was not going to blurt out anything truly stupid.
“By the way, are you from outer space?” would never cross her lips. Never, never, never.
But her heart was racing as she stepped into the room.
Kaio rose from the table immediately, as though he’d been watching for her. Luke, seated on his left, followed him and—much more slowly—so did a woman seated on his right.
“Luke?” Fen exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“Doc said I could start coming down for meals,” he answered, grinning at her. “I’m doing great.”
Fen forced her feet to start moving across the room to join them as Luke pulled out the chair next to him. The table was covered in a white cloth, set already with plates of patterned china, ornate silverware, and sparkling glass goblets, all looking far more formal than the casual meals Fen had been eating in the breakfast room.
How the hell was Luke so much better? She’d seen him that morning. He’d been pale, hollow-eyed, suffering while he waited for his next dose of painkillers.
“Are you guys aliens?”
Oh, shit.
She’d said it out loud.
Luke’s eyebrows shot up, Kaio hid a smile, and the woman said, “Aliens?” in a voice that sounded confused, but almost as seductive as Kaio’s.
“Like E.T.?” Luke said. “Outer space?”
Fen couldn’t bring herself to answer. She wanted to die. That metaphor about the floor opening up and swallowing her? She wanted it to have teeth. Big, jagged, crushing teeth that would rip her apart and then spit her out scornfully.
Dammit, she’d repeated the same mistake she made with Zach’s friends, reacting on instinct instead of thinking.
“I—” Fen started, not sure whether she was going to apologize or pretend she’d been joking.
“No,” Kaio interrupted her. “No, we’re not.”
“But wouldn’t that be fun?” The woman next to him pressed her hands together as if in prayer. “To travel the stars? To see other worlds?”
“Only you would say so, Gaelith,” Luke responded. He beckoned to the seat beside him. “Come sit, Fen. You need to meet our sister and I’m starving.”
Wordlessly, Fen joined them at the table.
She intended to hate Gaelith. The woman had called her a curiosity. Okay, not to her face, and Fen shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but that was beside the point. But when Gaelith smiled at her, eyes dancing, and held out her hand, saying in her rich voice, “I’m so delighted to meet you, Fen,” Fen couldn’t help but smile back.
Nothing about Gaelith resembled the wealthy, spoiled prima donna of Fen’s imagination. She wore a plain blue caftan-style dress, loose but fully covering her, and while she was beautiful, it wasn’t a beauty bought by expensive make-up and regular maintenance. Her features looked like those of her brothers—straight nose, high cheekbones, full lips, firm chin. Faint lines around her eyes suggested she was the oldest of the siblings, while her hair color was the flat black of a bad dye job.
“You’re having quite the adventure,” Gaelith continued. “I’m so sorry such a terrible thing happened to you. You must have been so frightened.” Gaelith’s voice held the same lilts as Kaio’s, the same hint of an accent, but unlike his, her tone was full of warmth and concern.
The sympathy was too much. Below the cover of the table, Fen took a pinch of her skin and twisted, hard, letting her fingernails bite into the flesh to bring her back to herself.
She was used to being alone. Or at least alone in a crowd. After her mom died, she’d gone into foster care, into houses always filled with kids. She’d spent time in a group home, more time living rough on the streets, usually finding squats packed with fellow homeless teens. She’d drifted from place to place, avoided jail by the skin of her teeth, avoided pimps and dealers by the grace of God.
But there were people, people, always more people. She’d craved solitude like it was the holy grail, while being lonelier than she’d ever conceived of.
And then she’d found Theresa. The used bookstore had been a place of occasional refuge—a way to spend a warm hour for the price of an old paperback. When Theresa offered her a job, Fen had been suspicious. Hey, suspicion served her well during those brutal years. But Theresa meant it. She’d given Fen work, wages, helped her find a room in an apartment with three roommates, provided bracing advice and cookies when needed. The day she’d trusted Fen with the key to the store had been the best day of Fen’s life.
The last four days—they hadn’t been the worst. Nowhere close. But they’d been lonely and isolating and yeah, scary.
“It was unpleasant, yes,” Fen said, keeping her voice cool. Kaio and Luke were still standing, but Gaelith took her seat and gestured toward an empty chair to indicate that Fen should sit. Fen sat. Kaio and Luke followed suit.
“Thank goddess,” Luke said. “I’m so hungry. What took you so long?”
“Luken!” The name was the same, but the protest was a gentle remonstrance from Gaelith, a firm objection from Kaio.
“I’m sorry,” Luke said immediately. “I meant no offense.”
“None taken,” Fen said, a reluctant smile curving her lips. “I apologize for delaying you. I was… distract
ed.” Her eyes met Kaio’s. “The clothes.”
“The right sizes, I hope.”
“Oh, yes.” She looked down at the dress she was wearing. She’d considered wearing her own clothes, the grey tank top and dark skirt he’d found at her apartment. It could have been a statement of independence. But she hadn’t.
“Did Kaio procure that for you?” asked Gaelith, sounding dismayed. “But how… how very… how very lovely.”
Fen bit back the hysterical laughter that wanted to burst forth. “Thank you,” she said instead, as if Gaelith actually meant the compliment. She brushed her hand down her midriff, smoothing the black cotton chiffon. She loved the dress, the softness of the fabric against her skin, the full skirt brushing against her legs. And it fit as if it had been made for her.
“Gaelith doesn’t like the color black,” Luke said as Eladio came in, carrying a tray.
“’Tis not a color, but the absence of color,” Gaelith responded, “I prefer a brighter palette.”
Eladio served each of them with a small bowl of fruit and disappeared again.
Fen unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap, surreptitiously watching the others. Gaelith picked up a utensil first, a two-tined narrow fork. Kaio and Luke followed suit, so Fen did the same. God, this was nerve-wracking.
Her solitary meals in the breakfast room looked more desirable by the minute.
She stabbed a piece of pineapple and started to bring it to her mouth when the mural behind Gaelith’s head caught her eye. Ugh.
Who wanted to eat with a scene of bloody battle in front of them?
At least it was fruit. No way was she eating meat while staring at severed heads.
“Do you gaze at me so balefully for my preference in colors?” Gaelith asked. “Indeed, I meant no criticism. The world is made more interesting by diverse tastes.”
“Oh, no, sorry,” Fen said, dropping her eyes to her plate. “I was distracted by the painting behind you.”
“Ah, indeed.” Gaelith made no attempt to look at it. “I’m familiar with the work.”
“It seems an odd set of paintings to have in a dining room,” Fen said.
The murals covered the walls. Five panels, two on the wall to the left of the entrance, one behind Kaio’s seat at the head of the table, two more on the right wall, seemed to tell a story. The first panel was a peaceful, pastoral scene of an old-style village. The second was the battle scene in front of Fen, as graphic in its depictions of gory death as any video game, if less photo-realistic. The third and fourth were of natural disasters, a volcano and a tsunami. They wouldn’t have been so bad, except for the expressions of the clearly doomed people running to escape. The last mural showed a wasteland, skeletons left in blackened ground. All together, they were as depressing a set of scenes as Fen could imagine.
The three Delmars exchanged glances.
“A family tradition of sorts,” Kaio murmured. “But let us talk of more cheerful matters. Perhaps your reading material?”
Fen stared at him. He was changing the subject, she could see. But was he also making a joke? She was starting to suspect Kaio had a very weird sense of humor.
A family tradition?
“Indeed, yes, more pleasant conversation,” Gaelith said firmly. “I would know of your new clothing. Did my brother provide you with all the essentials or is there more you need?”
“He was very thorough.” Fen resolutely did not look at Kaio. She really hoped that he’d delegated the task of purchasing her clothes to some competent minion, preferably female. She didn’t want to think about his fingers touching the underwear she wore or sorting through bras, looking for the right size. She could feel her skin starting to heat at the idea, so she added hurriedly, “Some make-up would be nice, though. Mascara, eyeliner.”
“Some—?” Gaelith glanced at Kaio uncertainly.
“My apologies,” Kaio said, his voice deepening. “I’ll see that’s taken care of by morning.”
Fen pulled her mouth closed and stabbed another piece of pineapple.
Gaelith didn’t know what make-up was?
Aliens, they were definitely aliens.
Shit.
“You don’t need make-up,” Luke said. “You’re beautiful as you are.”
Fen shot him a sideways glance.
An alien was flirting with her.
A young alien.
But maybe Luke wasn’t young. Maybe he just looked young. Maybe he was like a Doctor Who alien, a creepy monster zipped inside a human-being suit.
She chewed her pineapple and swallowed. She wasn’t wrong. She knew she wasn’t. But the silence was starting to feel oppressive. “Thank you.” She took a careful bite of her melon, eyes on her plate. “To both of you.”
The silence lasted a moment longer, before Kaio began chatting with his sister, easily and about seemingly inconsequential matters, Luke chiming in occasionally. Fen wasn’t sure what unspoken cue they’d exchanged, but much to her relief none of them addressed her.
Fen didn’t know what to do. She also didn’t understand why she wasn’t having a full-blown panic attack, the kind where death seemed inevitable and imminent. Seriously, her brain dumped crazy-sauce all over her psyche when someone got too close to her on the El and it was going to let aliens and hallucinations slide?
Maybe this numbness was shock. Maybe she’d used up her body’s entire supply of fight-or-flight hormones in the last few days and it wasn’t capable of being scared anymore.
Or maybe these aliens didn’t seem threatening?
As Eladio removed the fruit bowls and returned with plates of grilled shrimp, rice and beans, Fen glanced from one face to another. She knew better than to mistake looks for virtue. The fact that they were pretty didn’t mean shit. She’d encountered more than one handsome jerk in her life.
But Luke had saved her, risking his life in the process. Kaio, despite his dangerous air, had been more than generous in sheltering her. And Gaelith—well, Fen had never met anyone like Gaelith but she found it impossible to imagine that the older woman could want to hurt her. Or anyone, for that matter.
Aliens.
But not necessarily bad guys.
Gaelith caught her gaze and smiled, seeming to welcome her back to the conversation. “My brother tells me you have art. Is it functional?”
“I—I beg your pardon?” Fen paused, a bite of shrimp halfway to her mouth.
“Ow.” Gaelith winced, indignantly turning to Kaio. “What—oh. Yes. I remember.”
The three siblings exchanged glances and Gaelith turned back to Fen. “Your job. What is your function?”
Fen let her eyes drop to her plate again, suppressing a desperate desire to burst into hysterical laughter. She’d heard Gaelith’s first question. She hadn’t understood it—functional art?—but she’d heard it. Someone should have given Gaelith better lessons in not being an alien.
“I’m a clerk in a used bookstore,” Fen answered, as her brain started working again, the numb blankness wearing off. “I sell books to people and buy from them. And I keep the bookshelves organized and the store neat.”
Luke was better. Healed, the difference dramatic. And Gaelith was clearly unused to dealing with earthlings. Had they summoned her to take care of Luke? How had she arrived? Maybe that was why Fen hadn’t heard the plane. Maybe it was an alien spaceship, technology so ahead of humanity’s that it was completely silent. Or maybe they had a transporter, like on Star Trek.
“And does it give you pleasure?” Gaelith tilted her head in clear interest.
“Yes, it does,” Fen said. “I love the store.”
“And books? They are wonderful, yes? Filled with stories and knowledge and ideas?”
“Absolutely.” Fen’s smile was genuine. Any alien who liked books was all right by her.
“I should like—” Gaelith paused and glanced at Kaio, before continuing, “to visit your bookstore someday. It is in Chicago, yes? I have never been there. Do you like it?”
; “It’s the only place I know,” Fen answered. For the rest of the meal, they discussed Chicago, its good and its bad, Luke and Kaio contributing, Gaelith asking questions and acting charmed by their answers.
By the time they’d finished the delicious caramel flan, Fen felt in harmony with the world and her alien hosts.
“This has been a most pleasant diversion,” Gaelith said, her smile warm. “Would that I could stay longer and share more hours with you, but I must away.”
Away? But they’d just gotten here. Was Kaio leaving as well? He rose, pushing his chair back and taking Gaelith’s hand.
“But wait,” Fen protested. “You haven’t told us anything about what’s happening at home yet. Did the police find Zach? What kind of drugs was he dealing? Have they learned who shot Luke?”
“I’m afraid I have no information to share,” Kaio responded.
Fen stared at him. That sounded like a brush-off to her. “This isn’t some ‘don’t worry your pretty little head about it’ thing, is it? Because I want to know what’s going on.”
“The police investigation continues but they have not seen fit to update me on their progress.” Kaio didn’t look like he was lying, but Fen didn’t believe a word of it.
“That’s bullshit.” Fen dropped her napkin by her empty plate and stood. “There’s no way they wouldn’t tell you what’s happening.”
Kaio spread his hands, a gesture of graceful helplessness. “And yet…”
“That’s ridiculous. You’ve got their witnesses!”
Next to her, Luke rose to his feet, putting a hand on Fen’s shoulder. “I’m sure they’re doing everything they can.”
She shrugged his hand off.
Aliens, she reminded herself, over the rising tide of her accelerating heartbeat.
Watch your step.
Danger, danger, Will Robinson.
But the fear curdling her stomach wasn’t about horror movies or extra-terrestrials. Fen wanted her life back. She wanted to know when she got to go home, when she’d see her apartment again, when she’d open the bookstore. Okay, maybe her life wasn’t much, but it was hers.
Keeping her voice steady, she said, “You had my crystal. What about my cell phone? And the rest of my belongings? My messenger bag?”