sedona files - books one to three

by Christine Pope

  Strangely, his using the “R” word made me feel a little stronger. At least this hadn’t been that kind of physical violation. It could have been worse. “So that’s all it was — mind games. Of course the aliens would never — ”

  I’d been expecting him to chime in and say oh, no, of course not, the aliens don’t have any interest in humans that way…but he didn’t. Instead, he drew away slightly and took both my hands in his.

  “No.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe that — ”

  He frowned. “Why is that so impossible to you? My people were aware of these things even before I infiltrated the MIB unit, but once I was there, I saw the reports, the case studies. With your own interest in ufology, of course you must have come across these reports as well.”

  “Well, yes, but — ” I pulled one hand from his and made a feeble gesture skyward. “I guess I figured that people had to be making that sort of thing up. Oh, sure, seeing lights in the sky and having physical evidence of UFO activity…of course I believed that stuff. But it just seemed so far-fetched to think that aliens were coming down here just so they could boink a bunch of abductees. It always sounded a bit too Mars Needs Women to me.”

  “It’s unfortunately all too true.” He spoke slowly, as if weighing every word before he let it escape his lips. “For dominance, for cruelty — these things are part of their nature. And human DNA is a very malleable, adaptable thing. They soon discovered that crossbreeding was possible. From there they took the problem to their labs, as those first human/alien offspring were often weak, not suited for their purposes. They wanted a race of soldiers who could pass as human, and those unplanned crossbreeds were anything but human in appearance.”

  Bile rose in my throat. I choked it back, not wanting to give the alien leader even that much power over me. Yes, the whole situation was sickening, but Martin had been here to wake me before things could progress any further.

  I wouldn’t let myself think about what might have happened if he hadn’t been around.

  “So what do we do now?” I asked, dismissing the aliens and their sexual perversions. If I let myself think about it too much, I really would get sick.

  “Obviously it’s not safe here, not even for one more night.” He got up from the bed and turned on the lamp on my bedside table. “We’re going back up to the Forest Houses. Pack enough clothing to get you through — ” A brief hesitation, and he continued, “ — well, to get you through the next few days.”

  Spent as I was from that horrible nightmare-that-wasn’t-a-nightmare, relief flooded through me at the thought of getting out of here, going someplace where the creek itself would shelter me, hide me from the aliens and their malice. “Good.” And I pushed back my bedcovers and got up, going to my closet so I could pull out the battered old suitcase I used for the rare occasions when I actually left Sedona. Funny how I’d barely been back a day before it was pressed into service again.

  Warm clothes, of course — jeans and sweaters and long-sleeved T-shirts, thick socks, a couple of scarves. I’d wear my waffle-stompers, and pack my favorite broken-in cowboy boots, which always felt as if they’d been custom made for me. After that, clean underwear and a couple of my flannel sleep shirts. I’d have to save the silky Victoria’s Secret stuff for warmer days…if I was around to see them, of course.

  As I went into the bathroom to pack up my toiletries and other necessities, Martin spoke. “You’re taking this very well.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” I asked, leaning into the shower so I could retrieve my shampoo and conditioner. “We both knew this was a possibility. Okay, I didn’t know brain-rape was a possibility, but you made it clear enough that we’d be ending up back at the cabin at some point.”

  “Still — ”

  I emerged from the bathroom with my cache of personal-care items, dumped them into the suitcase, and then latched it shut. “In a way, I’m relieved. Something bad happened, I survived it, and now we’re going on to the next phase.”

  He didn’t say anything in reply to that, but only gave a sort of grim, approving nod before taking the suitcase from me and heading out to the living room. I shut off the lamp in my bedroom and trailed after him.

  I didn’t have a cat or a dog, or even a goldfish, and my plants were of the type it was almost impossible to kill — pothos and snake plants, mostly. There was nothing here that couldn’t survive being left alone for days or even weeks.

  So why did it feel so weird to retrieve my purse and fish out my keys, then follow Martin as he went outside? As I locked the door, I had this odd sense of finality, as if I would never see the place again.

  Who knew? Maybe I wouldn’t…

  * * *

  We decided it would be better if I drove the Night Tours van to the UFO Depot and left it there in case Kara needed it for some reason. She had a spare set of keys, so it wasn’t as if I had to hand them off to her or anything. After that I slipped into the passenger seat of Martin’s black Taurus — we’d already stowed my suitcase in the trunk — and leaned my head back and watched the dark city pass by outside the car windows.

  Midnight had come and gone, so the streets were deserted. Even the places that stayed open late in uptown had shut down for the night by that hour, and so the place had a weird, almost post-apocalyptic feel to it, as if the aliens had already done their worst and eradicated the entire human population.

  I must have made some sort of sound, because Martin glanced over at me and asked, “You all right?”

  “I think so.” I shrugged and shifted in my seat. “Guess I just feel off, what with that dream and being out this late. I stay up late sometimes in the summer, especially if we’re running tours, but…”

  At first he didn’t reply, but only took us through the last stretch of shops and hotels before we got to the dark road that led up into the canyon. “You’ll feel better once we’re at the cabin. Fifteen minutes at the most.”

  That sounded good. Although some part of me didn’t want to fall asleep ever again — not if I had that waiting for me on the other side — I knew I had to get some rest, some real sleep. And Martin had promised me I would be safe once I was tucked back into the cabin.

  So I only nodded, and stared out the window, not seeing much except the little reflectors along the roadside, since of course there were no streetlights out here. Once a truck passed us heading south into town, and I wondered what business it was that took the driver into Sedona at this time of night. Heading home after a swing shift in Flagstaff? Possibly, although most regular commuters took the main highway because you could never count on the canyon road to be open at this time of year.

  These sorts of idle thoughts kept my mind occupied until we pulled onto the narrow lane that led down into the Forest Houses resort. Because of the way the place was laid out, we still had a slight hike from the parking area to the cabin, but I found I didn’t mind. The air was bitterly cold, but it felt fresh and clean in my lungs, helping to clear out the lingering dregs from my nightmare. Somewhere off to my left I could hear the creek chattering its way over the stones, and that reassured me as well. The creek would protect me. I was safe here.

  Martin unlocked the door and let me inside. The fire had settled down into barely burning embers, but it was still alive enough that he was able to stir it back to crackling goodness in a few minutes. I set my suitcase on the floor of the small closet and went ahead and took off my coat.

  Then I stood there and sort of awkwardly stared at the bed. Since I’d already done all the face washing and toothbrushing hours ago back at my apartment, I really didn’t have to do anything except climb into one of my nightshirts and try to get some real sleep this time.

  Except for the part where Martin stood there by the fire, seemingly occupied with setting it up so it would keep going through the rest of the night. Somehow I knew better, though, knew that he was also just a little tense about being here with me like this. Earlier in the day I might have thrown caution to the win
ds and pulled him down onto that bed next to me, but not now, not with that horrible nightmare still fresh in my mind. I didn’t want anyone touching me that way.

  Not even Martin.

  So I knelt down and opened my suitcase, dug out one of the shirts, and disappeared with it into the bathroom. Despite the fire, the place was still awfully chilly, and I wondered whether I should sleep in some of my socks or not. Then I told myself that was a terrible idea. You want to sleep alone tonight, but not for the rest of your life. Don’t scare him off!

  I grinned and shook my head at myself, then folded my discarded clothes and went back out into the room. By that point Martin had taken off his own overcoat, and even loosened his tie.

  “Well, guess I’ll try this again,” I told him, and casually turned back the bedclothes as if I’d done that in front of him a hundred times.

  “You should have a much better outcome this time,” he replied.

  I slipped in between the sheets and choked back a small yelp. They hadn’t had a chance to really warm up yet, and they felt like ice against my bare feet. “I hope so, because I get really cranky when I haven’t had enough sleep.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.” He came over to the bed and bent down, then placed a small, chaste kiss on my forehead. “Good night, Kirsten.”

  Okay, maybe I wasn’t quite as off sex as I thought, because I really wished he had kissed me on the mouth instead. But I also knew getting all riled up at this point was stupid. Tomorrow I’d need all my mental energy, and I was already up way past my bedtime.

  So I reached up and touched the sleeve of his coat, just a whisper of my fingers against the fabric, as if reassuring him that I still wanted him, and shut my eyes before saying, “’Night, Martin.”

  Whether it was because of his presence, or the quiet murmur of the creek just a few yards outside the building, this time I felt sleep come up around me in a wordless embrace. I fell into it, and hoped it would make me whole.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes the next morning was Martin, but I had to blink once or twice to reassure myself that it was him.

  While I’d slept — been comatose, to be more precise — he’d gotten rid of the perpetual black suit, black tie, and white shirt, and had changed into a dark gray sweater over a white T-shirt and a pair of faded Levi’s. He looked so different in this getup that I even shook my head, wondering if I were dreaming.

  A good kind of dream this time. Who knew the man could look so good in a pair of jeans?

  “Okay, where’s Martin Jones, and what have you done with him?”

  He actually laughed, a real laugh, with nothing forced about it. For the first time I noticed he held a glazed stoneware mug in one hand. Wisps of steam curled up from it.

  “I seem to recall you like tea,” he said. “There was only English Breakfast in the cupboard, not green. Hope that’s all right.”

  “It’s perfect,” I told him. And it was. I drank green tea during the day because it had just enough caffeine to keep me going without making me totally wired, but I preferred something stronger to kick-start me in the morning.

  He handed me the mug and I wrapped my fingers around it, glad of its heat. I’d been cozy enough under the covers, but as soon as I sat up I realized it wasn’t all that warm in the cabin. Not uncomfortable if you were dressed for it, like Martin was, but far cooler than I kept my apartment.

  His dark hair still looked a little damp, and I guessed that he must have showered and dressed while I slept. Normally I wasn’t that heavy a sleeper, but yesterday had been anything but normal. And I wondered then if he’d been watchful all through the night, making sure I had no more nightmares, or whether he’d allowed himself to slip into the “meditation” he said his people used instead of sleep. Hard to say for sure; he certainly appeared rested enough.

  I realized then that the sunlight coming through a crack in the curtains was bright and white, making it much lighter in here than it had been the night before, with just one table lamp lit. And I also realized the daylight was showing me in all my no-makeup, sleep-mussed-hair glory.

  Well, it couldn’t be helped. Setting down the mug and fleeing for the bathroom would only show I was worrying about stupid things like my appearance instead of the real matter at hand. So I lifted the tea to my lips and drank, and hoped Martin’s eyesight wasn’t as good as I knew it had to be.

  Hah.

  “So what’s on the docket for today?” I asked.

  “Today I want to show you how to block them, how to protect yourself. That’s necessary before we go any further.”

  That was for sure. I wished he’d showed me that little trick the day before, but apparently there was an order that had to be followed. “Breakfast?” I asked hopefully, because I’d hardly eaten anything since the lunch we’d shared the day before.

  “I thought we’d eat at the cafe down the road. Junipine?”

  “That’s only for guests of the hotel,” I pointed out. There wasn’t a hotel or restaurant within a twenty-mile radius of Sedona that I didn’t know the particulars of.

  The glint was back in those storm-blue eyes, which somehow looked even bluer now that he wasn’t wearing stark black. “You really think a detail like that is going to stop me?”

  “Mmm…probably not.” I took a large swallow of tea, then another. “Okay, let me shower and get ready.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I set down the mug and slipped out of bed, glad of the worn Navajo and oriental rugs that covered the wooden floor. A quick stop at my suitcase to get the necessities, and then I let myself into the bathroom and started the water running. The shower was small, so that quelled any thoughts of future hanky-panky in there. Probably just as well.

  It seemed strange to be climbing out of my clothes with Martin hovering in the next room, but it couldn’t be helped. I tried to focus on the feel of the water, the smell of my shampoo. The sensation of washing away the last vestiges of that nightmare, with the unclean feeling that had come along with it.

  At least the alien leader hadn’t returned to my dreams. I had no idea whether he’d even tried, but my sleep had been undisturbed, to the best of my recollection. One confused dream about chasing cows down the middle of Highway 179 in front of one of the posh art galleries there, and I kind of doubted that one had any secret meaning — unless it was my stomach trying to tell me that it hadn’t eaten for over twelve hours.

  I finished rinsing off and got out, then rubbed myself down with the towel. Clothes first, followed by a quick round with the blow dryer. In the summer I would have gone out with damp hair to save time, but doing that when the temperature outside is hovering above freezing is just asking for trouble.

  Even so, I was out of the bathroom in around a half-hour, which wasn’t too bad. I dug my watch out of my purse and strapped it on; it was a little before nine. So I hadn’t gotten a full eight hours, but the sleep I did get seemed to have done the trick, as I felt alert and refreshed enough. All I needed now was some food.

  “All ready,” I announced.

  Martin got up from where he’d been sitting in one of the room’s two arm chairs. His black overcoat had been draped on the other chair, and he reached down to gather it up and pull it on. I followed suit, getting my own coat out of the closet and buttoning it up even as I followed him out the door.

  It was a beautiful morning, the sky blue, but with fluffy white clouds drifting lazily along. Far above, on the ridge line, I saw the snow glint like fractured diamonds. Hard to believe that someone would be willing destroy all this loveliness.

  We were both silent as we got into the car and drove the scant half-mile down the road to the café. I still wanted to see how he intended to pull this one off, since I knew for a fact that they checked your name against a list of guests when you went to eat at Junipine. If you weren’t staying at the hotel, then forget about it.

  But after we’d parked and went inside the building,
Martin merely sailed up to the hostess and said, “Jones, room twenty-three.”

  She smiled. “Take any seat you like.”

  And off we went. Martin selected the last empty table by a window, where we shrugged off our coats and took our seats. Outside I could see a patio with an outdoor kitchen that probably got a lot of use during the warm months, but it was closed to guests right now.

  “How the hell did you do that?” I whispered. “Jedi mind trick?”

  A quick flash of those blue eyes. “You can call it that if you like.”

  “Okay, Obi-Wan.”

  He shook his head, smiling a little, and then a server came up and asked what we’d like. Since I’d already had tea, I asked for orange juice, while Marin ordered coffee.

  Neither one of us said anything. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but although I had more questions, I wanted to wait until the waitress — who looked like she was working through her holiday break from high school — brought our drinks and took our orders. True, Sedona was the one place where you could be overheard discussing aliens and UFOs and not get some serious side-eye, but it never hurt to be careful.

  Luckily, the waitress was fairly prompt; she took our breakfast requests and disappeared once again. The café wasn’t all that crowded; I saw a family of four finishing up what appeared to be a fairly chaotic meal, and the other two window tables had their own occupants — a married couple in their fifties and a couple of women who looked like they were doing a girls’ outing — but they appeared to be wrapped up in their own conversations. Well, mostly. I noticed one of the women at the table past ours giving Martin an appreciative once-over, and tried not to bristle.

  “So…” I said, and sipped at my orange juice. Now that we had a chance to talk, I really didn’t know where to start.

  Also, now that I was rested and sitting here across from him, I was struck again by how good-looking he was, how those black lashes circled his eyes and made them look that much bluer, how the heavy dark hair waved back from his forehead. His jaw was lightly dusted with stubble, indicating that he hadn’t shaved. Did godlike aliens have to shave, or did they just make their facial hair come and go at will, depending on their mood?