sedona files - books one to three

by Christine Pope

  The daybed in the guest room wasn’t particularly comfortable, but that wasn’t the real reason why I had trouble falling asleep. I lay there, feeling the emptiness of the bed, wanting Martin next to me. Not that the two of us probably could have squeezed into the narrow twin-size bed, but its very narrowness only served to remind me that tonight I slept alone.

  How it could be possible to miss someone so much after spending only a few nights together, I didn’t know. I’d never experienced anything like this before. As much as I hurt from his betrayal, I still wanted him, needed him. Surely if I could just see him, he’d be able to tell me why he’d disappeared without a single word.

  Across the hall Grace began to wail, and a minute later I heard Kara hurry in and murmur soothing noises. A few hiccups and whimpers, and the baby subsided. I lay there, wondering if she was going to start crying again, but she didn’t make any more noise. Kara padded back down to the master bedroom, and I let out a sigh. Grace was a good baby, but I knew she wasn’t sleeping through the night yet. Not surprising, considering she was only a month old.

  Maybe I should have crashed on Michael’s couch.

  Sighing, I rolled over on my side and scrunched the pillow, trying to get it into a shape that more or less matched what I was used to. I needed to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be — well, I couldn’t really imagine what tomorrow was going to be like, but I did know that it was going to be much worse if I didn’t face it with at least seven hours of sleep under my belt.

  I shut my eyes, trying to clear my mind of all doubt, all worries, envisioning that pale gold light surrounding me, creating a protective cocoon.

  Sleep…sleep…

  The drift into darkness was so gradual I didn’t even notice it. No dreams, nothing but that calm, still place where I could gather my strength, where yesterday and today and tomorrow all blended, washing away the burdens I felt I had been carrying for far too long.

  It began as a pressure on my throat, my chest. Drowning in sleep, I tried to move, but all my limbs were pinned in place, held down by an invisible force. Icy waves of terror flooded through me as his voice penetrated my skull.

  Stupid girl. You should have stayed where you were safe.

  Again I attempted to free myself from whatever hideous power kept me immobilized, but I might as well have been trying to lift Bell Rock. Now I could feel the cold strength of scaled fingers wrapped around my wrists, feel the weight of him on top of me. And I could do nothing but lie there, paralyzed by the force of his will.

  You cannot win. You wished to know what will come tomorrow, with the solstice? Then see.

  I couldn’t close my eyes, because they were already shut. And I saw fire and storm sweeping down on the town, blowing away houses and trees and people and cars, looking like the onslaught of a nuclear blast, only I knew this wasn’t nuclear. No, it was the power of the vortexes, twisted and perverted to the aliens’ purposes. All destroyed, all dead. Save one. I saw them tear Grace from Kara’s lifeless arms, and knew they wanted the baby because they were going to experiment on her, find out what was buried in her DNA, how Grayson’s hybrid chromosomes had mingled with Kara’s human ones.

  And Grace was screaming, screaming, and I could do nothing to save her, because he still held me, fingers like ice across my throat, across my breasts, and his voice was in my ear, saying, If you are good, then perhaps I will keep you as my pet.

  Then it wasn’t just Grace screaming, but me, a ululation of no, no, no, NO bursting forth, erupting from me as I gasped for air, gasped to be free of his touch, and then Kara and Lance were there, shaking me, telling me to wake up, to wake up now.

  My eyes opened, and I saw their worried faces hovering over me, illuminated by the light pouring in from the hallway. I drew in a shuddering breath. It had only been a dream. I was safe.

  But I knew it hadn’t been a dream. Not exactly. An intrusion…a vision of what could happen. Would happen, if we didn’t prevail tomorrow.

  More crying filled my ears, and I realized Grace was screaming from her crib, ear-splitting shrieks that were completely unlike her. Lance muttered something under his breath and hurried off to her room, leaving Kara to stay with me, to push the sweat-soaked hair off my forehead and ask, “What was it, Keeks? A dream?”

  The use of my old nickname almost started me sobbing again, but I made myself suck in a deep breath, then another. “Not — not a dream. Them.”

  Her eyes widened, and her hand stilled, resting near my temple. “How?”

  “I told you — they have ways of getting in. I tried to protect myself, but it wasn’t enough. I should have stayed up at Forest Houses. I would have been safe there.” As I spoke, deep shudders started to wrack my body, as if I’d been thrown naked out into the cold night air.

  “Shh,” Kara said, trying to soothe me. “It’s all right.”

  “No, it’s not.” I pushed myself up and clasped my knees to my chest, trying to still my body’s shaking. “If you won’t take me back up to Forest Houses, then at least let me sleep over at Michael’s. It’s safer there.”

  “I don’t — ” she began, then stopped herself after she got a good look at my face. “Okay. Let me make the call.” And she got up from the bed and went out toward the kitchen, presumably to get the phone.

  I glanced over at the clock, at the red numbers glowing in the semi-darkness. Three-thirty. So I had gotten some sleep, although not enough. Not by a long shot. I had no idea whether I’d sleep at Michael’s, either, but at least there I knew the power of the creek’s waters would keep him out of my brain, if only for a while.

  Grace’s wailing began to subside. Was she only crying because she’d heard me screaming, or had they invaded her thoughts as well, sending terrifying visions of what they hoped would come to her with the solstice? I didn’t know, and although she was an exceptional baby, it wasn’t as if she could tell me what had just happened.

  I heard the murmur of Kara’s voice on the phone and crawled out of bed, my rubbery legs making the procedure a lot harder than it should have been. The clothes I’d worn the day before were still draped over the back of the desk chair, so I grabbed them and pulled them on. I hadn’t unpacked anything except my laptop, so I thought the move to Michael’s place should be easy enough. Well, physically, anyway.

  Kara came back and paused in the doorway. “Michael said to come on over. Jeff’s already on the couch, but Michael has a cot he’s putting out for you in the spare room.”

  “Okay.” My voice quavered a little, and I swallowed. “Sorry about the disruption.”

  Incongruously, she laughed. “Kirsten, I’ve got a month-old baby. Nighttime disturbances are pretty par for the course around here.” A pause then, as her expression clouded and she looked at me more closely. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Sure.” That was a lie, but I knew they were all depending on me; I couldn’t let Kara see me fall apart. “I’ll just feel better once I’m at Michael’s.”

  Lance stopped outside the doorway. He was dressed, wearing a brown leather jacket and a scarf wrapped around his throat, and I realized he was going to be the one driving me. At first I didn’t like that idea, not at all, because I wanted my sister with me, wanted the comfort of her presence. A second later I realized that of course Lance would be the one to take me. Lance had a chance of fighting them off. Kara was too easy a target.

  I swallowed again, and bent to pick up my suitcase. “I’m ready,” I said, glad that some of the shakiness had left my voice.

  He nodded but didn’t reply, just led me past Kara, who gave my hand a quick squeeze, and then on into the garage. In silence we got in the Jeep and backed out into the dark night. Overhead the stars blazed down on us, cold and indifferent. Well, I supposed the stars would still be around even if the rest of us weren’t, but that was cold comfort.

  And I realized, as I looked at the clock on the dashboard, that at this same time tomorrow I’d be out in the dark and the chill night air, making
a stand with Lance and Michael, three against I didn’t even want to know how many. Maybe the number didn’t matter so much. From what I could tell, only one of them seemed to be in charge.

  I shivered, and Lance sent a quick look over at me before returning his attention to the empty streets around us. “Bad, right?”

  “Very bad.”

  He made a sort of “hmph” sound deep in his throat. What that was supposed to mean, I didn’t know, but I was glad he didn’t ask any other questions. Bad enough that I’d woken up screaming like a banshee. I knew I’d never want to divulge some of the details of that hideous nightmare to anyone, let alone the grim-faced man who was my brother-in-law in all but name.

  I heard Martin’s voice in my head. …For dominance, for cruelty — these things are part of their nature…

  Yes, they certainly were.

  I stared out the window, and tried to think of nothing. Everything else hurt too much.

  * * *

  Jeff wasn’t even asleep on the couch when I got to Michael’s, but instead was hunched over his laptop at the ancient drop-leaf table. He looked up as Michael let me in, eyes shadowed with weariness, but he stayed silent.

  Lance said nothing before leaving, except “Sinagua Plaza, three o’clock,” which I assumed was going to be our rendezvous point the next day. Today. That’s right. Today was Saturday.

  So tired. I let Michael guide me into his spare room, which seemed to be mostly a repository for the excess junk that wouldn’t fit in the living/dining room areas. But he did have a cot set up for me, and I settled down on it, so exhausted that all I did was pull off my coat and boots before collapsing on the thin, lumpy mattress and drawing the old wool blanket over myself.

  I slept, and this time nothing disturbed that sleep.

  * * *

  Hours later I rolled over and stared up at the water-stained ceiling above me. It took a few seconds for me to remember where I was, and then I sat up, heart beating a little faster as I realized that I had less than a day to go before…

  …well, before.

  I got off the cot and knelt down, scrabbling through my suitcase so I could find my hairbrush. Maybe it was silly for me to care what either Jeff or Michael thought of how I looked, but brushing my hair made me feel better, made me glad I could exert just that tiny bit of control over my existence.

  When I went out to the living room, Jeff was still glued to his laptop, appearing not to have moved since the last time I’d seen him. But this time sunlight was pouring through the living room windows, showing a day of serene beauty, not a cloud in the sky. The flash of white I caught at the edge of my vision was only the last bits of snow remaining on the ridge tops.

  The smell of coffee filled the air. Michael emerged from the kitchen, a mug in his hand. “I can get some tea for you, if you want. I know you don’t drink much coffee.”

  “Actually, coffee is fine,” I replied. “Today I feel as if I could use something with a little more kick.”

  Michael nodded, then looked over at Jeff. “Refill?”

  Jeff mumbled something I guessed was supposed to be an affirmative. Quietly, Michael reached down and retrieved Jeff’s mug from the tabletop, and took it into the kitchen. I followed, mostly because I could tell Jeff was making a concerted effort not to look at me, and his avoidance just made the whole situation that much weirder.

  Although the kitchen was just as cluttered as the rest of the house, it was sparkling clean. I wondered how Michael kept all the copper Jell-O molds and decorative earthenware dishes and baskets hanging on the walls so free of dust and grease.

  He went to an old-fashioned cowboy-style coffee pot sitting on the stovetop and filled a heavy stoneware mug with the brew. “Milk? Sugar?”

  “Both, please,” I said. I knew I’d only be able to swallow the stuff if I watered it down to the approximate color and flavor of coffee ice cream.

  Not quite smiling, Michael got me a carton of milk from the fridge, and pointed to where a little bowl of sugar sat. I noted the bowl was a souvenir, probably ’50s vintage, from the nearby Meteor Crater national landmark. Somebody probably would have killed for that thing on eBay.

  After I finished doctoring my coffee, I leaned against the counter and blew on it. I was acutely aware of Jeff working away out in the front room and figured the kitchen was neutral territory, someplace where Michael and I could talk more or less privately, as at least Jeff had his earbuds jammed in.

  Michael refreshed his own coffee before asking, prosaically enough, “Do you want a bagel? There are some in the fridge.”

  I nodded. “Sounds good.” I realized I was sort of hungry, as if my body knew it needed the sustenance even though my brain was occupied with other things. I watched for a minute as Michael got a bag of bagels out of the refrigerator, split two apart, and stuck them in a toaster oven that looked older than I was. Just as he was closing the toaster door, I blurted, “Michael, don’t you ever get scared?”

  He set the timer before turning and regarding me with a pair of very calm dark eyes. “Of course I do,” he said easily. “Everyone does.”

  “Even Lance?” I asked, only halfway sarcastic. He’d been steady as a rock this whole time. Special Forces training, I guessed, but rather than his steadiness being reassuring, sometimes it was downright irritating.

  “Especially Lance.” Michael drank some coffee and added, “You think he’s not frightened for Kara, for Grace…for a life he never thought he’d get to live?”

  I hadn’t really considered that angle. There was some rough stuff in Lance’s past, no doubt about it, and although inwardly I might grin at his newfound domesticity, I knew from some things Kara had let drop that he considered it a minor miracle he’d ended up where he was now.

  “Okay,” I allowed. “So…how do you manage it? Because right now I’m scared so shitless I don’t know what I should be doing.”

  He set down his coffee mug, and leaned over and laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. It was firm and heavy, something about it as permanent and enduring as the red rocks that ringed the town. “It’s okay to be scared. Just don’t let the fear become bigger than you are.”

  Martin had said something similar once, as we shared the cabin up at Forest Houses. Thinking about him wasn’t a very good idea, though, because I could feel my throat begin to close up with the realization that in about eighteen hours I’d be facing down the aliens without any help from him. That he’d left me.

  As if noting my mental struggle, Michael said softly, “We’re all here for you…for each other. Remember that death is nothing to fear. Persephone would tell you the same thing if she were here. She knows a new life waits for all of us on the other side.”

  “Okay, as a pep talk, this isn’t really doing it for me,” I told him, my voice shaky. “I mean, if you start talking about death, then I just begin to automatically assume that you think we’re not going to make it.”

  “I don’t think that at all. I just want you to know that the thing you fear the most isn’t as terrible as it seems.”

  Oh, but you don’t know what I fear the most. It’s not death — whether that’s going to a new plane of existence or just a long black sleep — but enslavement, torture, the agony of knowing you’ve lost everything and everyone you care about.

  Despair.

  But I realized I couldn’t tell Michael that. I didn’t want him to know the depth of the evil we faced. If he did, then he might decide he was pretty damn scared after all.

  * * *

  It was a very long and a very strange day. Eventually I showered in Michael’s cramped bathroom and got cleaned up and dressed and all the normal things you’re supposed to do. We had a place and a time, and there wasn’t much to do except wait around until we could leave.

  Jeff still didn’t want to talk to me, which was just as well. I didn’t think I could have managed the awkwardness of that conversation, given how depleted I felt. He kept working away, his laptop’s screen filled with a
ll sorts of strange numbers and symbols, lines of code so complex even I, who thought she had a handle on that sort of thing, couldn’t begin to decipher what it all meant.

  We ate sandwiches for lunch, watched some flickering TV — Michael didn’t have cable and relied on an aerial on his roof — and waited. There was no point in me trying to prepare myself, because I still didn’t know exactly what I was supposed to do. Yes, Martin had trained me to recognize the vortex energies, but he’d stopped short of explaining how to use that knowledge to stop the aliens. I had to hope that when the time came, the strange powers within me would know what to do.

  Put that way, it didn’t seem like a very good plan.

  At two-thirty we gathered up our things. I was taking my suitcase, since we were supposed to look as if we were staying at the Enchantment Resort, and Michael had a duffel bag — with what in it, I wasn’t quite sure, since we weren’t actually staying there, only using it as a convenient place from which to stage our assault on Boynton Canyon.

  I paused by the table where Jeff was working away and cleared my throat.

  He didn’t look up.

  Typical. I tapped him on the arm. “Jeff.”

  With an exaggerated sigh, he stopped typing and kind of lifted his gaze from the screen, although I noticed he still didn’t look at me directly. “What?”

  “We’re going.”

  He stared at me without replying.

  Man, he wasn’t going to make this easy, was he? I took a breath and said, “Look, I don’t know — I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I’m sorry we argued, and I — I’m sorry if I let you misinterpret things between us. Keep in touch with Paul if you come up with anything.” And before I lost my nerve, I bent down and kissed him on the cheek, trying not to notice the expression of startled hope that crossed his features.