by Fiona Roarke
They were lucky.
Maybe someday she’d find someone to love. But not today. Time to work.
She focused on her mission to find the guy who had deserted his family, running far away. Part of her understood his escape. She’d done much the same thing, although her maternal family wasn’t looking for her.
Across the room, Warrick entered the ballroom with his wife, Bianca, on his arm. Ruby smiled. They also spent lots of time staring goofily into each other’s eyes. Only she and Vilma were still single. Ruby liked it that way. Didn’t she? Well, if the perfect guy came along, she’d give love a chance. Probably. Maybe. She didn’t hold out hope for any relationship for herself, at least nothing long term. She didn’t trust easily. It was a problem when dating.
Warrick spotted her and waved, as did Bianca. They were dressed as angry mob townsfolk complete with pitchforks and fake torches. It was amusing, since he was a dragon shifter and she was another alien from Alienn, Arkansas. Likely either species could have been chased by angry townsfolk, given the right circumstances.
Her eyes landed on the man who entered the Black and Orange Ball behind Warrick and Bianca. He was dressed like a lumberjack, complete with an impressive axe that looked as though it had been designed to lop off heads instead of branches. He stopped in the doorway and looked around as if searching for someone. He was big, blond and attractive. Very attractive. The simple brown tunic wasn’t formfitting, but it didn’t leave his muscles to the imagination. The short sleeves exposed nicely contoured arms dusted with golden hair, while dark green pants flowed over sturdy thighs to disappear into the tops of tall black boots. Her lips parted of their own accord.
He looked in her direction and Ruby turned away. She didn’t need to get caught slack-jawed and staring at some pretty boy. She had a job to do. She forcefully stayed turned away, looking in the opposite direction because she didn’t trust herself not to gape. Time to do another sweep of the place.
Her quarry had a tattoo on his right ring finger. It was five capital letters, MCVIV. She didn’t know what it meant, nor did she care. As soon as she found him she would make a date to deliver the package with the message, get his response and collect the remainder of her triple fee. Financially, she’d be set for quite a while.
Ruby glanced over her shoulder in the direction of where the gorgeous guy had been, but he was no longer there. Good. She didn’t need to stare at him anyway. Another cursory search of the ballroom showed the gorgeous blond guy near the refreshment table talking to two older women who looked like they had taken quite an interest in him.
Was he some sort of gigolo or something? She shook her head at how easily he seemed to divert her from her work. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t interested anyway. She scanned the ballroom again, purposefully avoiding the vicinity of the refreshment table.
Then it occurred to her she’d have to find a way to walk past the blond woodsman to see his right hand and search for the lettered tattoo, just to rule him out. Her heart skipped a beat at the mere idea.
Ruby groaned and told herself again that she wasn’t interested.
I’m not interested, she lied.
Chapter Two
<^> <^> <^>
Max Vander—as he currently called himself—strode into the Black and Orange Ball in this strange but very fascinating town. Dressed as something called a medieval huntsman, carrying a battle-axe he’d borrowed from a new friend, Max hoped to make his outing a quick one so he could return home. The loft-like place he’d rented was smaller in square footage than even the canine kennels of his childhood home, but the ceilings were generous, the place was clean and, best of all, it suited his lifestyle reboot.
The human descriptor of being “in the doghouse” wasn’t exactly his circumstance, although it likely summed up his new life. Then again, living in a doghouse was still far and away better than merely surviving in a gulag.
He had only been in Nocturne Falls for a couple of weeks after spending nearly three months in Alienn, Arkansas, licking his wounds from what he referred to as the incident back home on Alpha-Prime. Moving to a planet two galaxies away had been a marvelous idea, as it allowed him a hideaway to recover, regroup and refresh.
The Earth colony turned out to be the perfect place to start his life over.
Max scanned the large, wildly decorated ballroom for his new boss Bubba Thorne so he could check in, get seen and then leave as soon as possible. Folks in ornate costumes several degrees more elaborate than those worn daily in town filled the room, dancing or chatting.
Halloween decorations spilled forth absolutely everywhere. Too bad he wasn’t in the mood for a big fun party. They reminded him of his former life, the one he’d relished, the one he’d loved—the one he’d lost, never to be recovered.
Parties were on a long personal list of things he never wanted to experience again. Not since, well, the incident that had reshaped his life in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Carefree partying, for example. How many parties had he been to, helped organize and enjoyed immensely before the incident? Too many to count.
Once gregarious and outgoing, he’d cultivated the desire to keep to himself and stay away from all people. Humans called it being a hermit. Max didn’t think there was an Alpha-Prime term to match it. Maybe outer rim dweller was close. It described folks who left polite society to live without rules or near any others.
However, hiding away on Alpha-Prime like a human hermit had been the only way he could get through each and every depressing day. Relocating to Earth was better, but hadn’t improved his mood to the cheerful level it had been before, in what he now thought of as his carefree days.
The move was precipitated by a chance meeting with an old friend. Riker Phoenix didn’t seem to hold any ill will because of what had happened. More, The Calderian even seemed happy to see him. The non-judgmental attitude was a soothing balm to his battered soul after being treated like he was an outer rim dweller come to live with polite folk. During their evening together, Riker talked quite a lot about his recent visit to the Alpha colony on Earth.
Humans didn’t know extraterrestrials existed. It seemed like the perfect environment for an Alpha in desperate need of a new life. No one on Earth would know him or about his difficult past. No one would judge him or have preconceived notions. The possibilities sounded perfect. The very next day, he started making arrangements to head for the colony in Alienn, Arkansas. His parents hadn’t bothered to hide their joy. That had been the final twist of the knife in the crushingly depressing circumstance his life had become.
Once on Earth, living below stairs at the Big Bang Truck Stop, Max saw the advertisement in the local Alienn newspaper looking for alien “psychics” to move to the unique community in Nocturne Falls, Georgia.
Max jumped at the chance for total anonymity. Alienn, Arkansas was great, but a popular destination for Alphas looking for a rustic getaway. Many people he used to know quite well visited the Earth colony. He didn’t ever want to see anyone from his past, especially not any members of his family. Then there was the fact he needed a job. Since long-term positions for Alphas like him weren’t exactly thick on the ground in Alienn, the opportunity to use his telepathy to pose as a psychic for human visitors to the quirky Georgia town seemed custom made for someone looking for a non-challenging career change.
He knew how to run meetings, as he’d been on several charity and professional boards on Alpha-Prime. He knew how to seat people at an event, large or small, to keep the peace and ensure everyone had a good time, even if frenemies attended the same affairs. He knew where to get the best food and beverages and had hosted many gatherings at his parents’ home.
Unfortunately, good party host and purveyor of high-end food and drink didn’t translate to basic skills for any of the jobs available on the colony planet.
The Nocturne Falls gig was truly his best option.
His application to relocate to Georgia was accepted with gratifying speed despite his honesty about
the incident and his limited Earth job skills. Max was an official employee of Bubba’s Psychic Readings. Business was booming, so much so that Bubba and his wife operated two locations. Max worked in the main storefront.
While he didn’t particularly enjoy mind-reading humans, it paid the bills, he respected the folks he worked for and the town of Nocturne Falls was continually intriguing. He never knew what he was going to see as the town celebrated a holiday called Halloween every single day. A rushed Earth history and knowledge course in Alienn touched on the human holiday called Halloween, but Max’s understanding hadn’t fully taken root before his arrival in Nocturne Falls.
His first day in town, he walked past a toy store and glanced in the window, only to do a double take. It was snowing inside. Snowing! He couldn’t resist going in. Little bits of cold, wet fluffs of icy moisture fell around and on him and he found himself actually smiling in wonder. He bought a little stuffed Earth creature because he was so astounded by the display.
There was always a gargoyle at the fountain, essentially also hiding in plain sight, interacting with tourists who thought it was nothing more than a sophisticated animatronic model. Plus, vampires mingled with human pedestrians in town. He loved every single thing he saw. While his career goals had been sidelined—awesome host wasn’t really a job, was it?—he felt he’d made a very good decision to move to Nocturne Falls for his do-over life.
Plus, Bubba Thorne and his wife Astrid were the best. Without them and the full-time position with Bubba’s Psychic Readings, he’d be facing a return trip to Alpha-Prime. He couldn’t bear the thought of once again enduring damning looks and whispers he didn’t deserve. The best he could do in Alienn was part-time employment, filling in for summer vacations, and that wasn’t enough to let him stay on Earth.
He had worked at something called a car wash. Messy, bubbly, wet work, but sort of amusing once he got the hang of it. He took tickets at a movie theater for a short time. He drove a large passenger van around, dropping off and picking up old folks when they needed to go to the store in town or doctors’ appointments.
He’d even spent a day with a woman named Dixie Lou Grey trying to learn how to clear dishes off tables in the Cosmos Cafe. His only experience was directing that task, not performing it. After dropping—and shattering—a small dish, a water glass and then a whole tray of dirty dishes, cracking every single thing that could possibly break, Dixie told him perhaps being a busboy wasn’t for him. He’d been sent to the kitchen to wash dishes. It was fine while it lasted, but the regular dishwasher came back from vacation and Max was left looking for work again.
The psychic opportunity in Georgia was a fateful boon. The other staff at Bubba’s place were awesomely friendly and accepting, even once they discovered his identity and the truth about his past.
The female-to-male psychics was a ratio of about five to one, so he quickly became a favorite with the women clients who visited Nocturne Falls. It was fine, even though he found the job a bit tedious. It was still a very good life and certainly better than being back home on Alpha-Prime, dodging the disgusted looks directed his way when he was recognized by 90 percent of the people he passed on the streets each and every day.
Max spotted his employers and their costumes made him laugh. Astrid was dressed in lots of sparkly silver with a space-age looking gun on her hip. Bubba was costumed similarly in his own space alien costume.
No one was supposed to know they really were aliens from another planet, but this was the perfect place to hide in plain sight. Dressing up for the Black and Orange Ball was mandatory.
Max glanced down at his huntsman costume. Black boots came to his knees, where dark green breeches tucked into the tops. Over that, he wore a simple, hip-level brown pullover tunic. The axe was real, but had a blade guard so he didn’t accidentally chop the limbs off any unsuspecting partygoers who got too close to his weapon.
Safety first his new friend had said, whatever that meant.
Bubba lifted a hand to him and Max headed in that direction. Before he got too far, two older ladies ran right into him. It looked like they’d done it on purpose, but he wasn’t about to get huffy about it.
They were giggling and likely had been drinking something potent. Maybe he should look for a strong drink, as well.
“Hello there, handsome young man,” the taller of the two said. She had black hair—perhaps a wig—cut very straight and short just below her ears, with bangs almost in her eyes. She wore a white headband sporting a plumy gray feather, and a dress that looked like it was made of lots of beaded strings. Unusual. He didn’t know what her costume represented, but it looked fun.
“Oh, he’s a big one,” the shorter woman said. She wore a similar dress with a different color of beaded strings, plus a ring on nearly every finger. She carried a lacy black fan in one hand.
“Yes, he is,” the other replied and grinned wildly. “He’s perfect.”
Max didn’t know what he was perfect for and suspected he didn’t want to know.
He flashed them his best dashing smile and tipped his head in a courteous nod. “Nice to meet you, ladies. Hope you have a wonderful night.” He started to walk away, but was stopped when they each grabbed an arm and held on.
“Wait! We need to talk to you,” they both said at the same time and then laughed when they realized it.
Max kept his smile in place. “What can I help you two ladies with?” He tried to read their minds in an attempt to anticipate what they could want, without any luck whatsoever. He saw nothing. Unusual. Perhaps they were witches. He’d been told witches had some kind of natural shield that made them impossible for Alphas to read. Whatever they wanted, he guessed they’d have to tell him.
They looked at each other and their grins widened. The taller woman explained, “We are having a private contest between just the two of us to determine which of us is the better witch.”
Max frowned and glanced furtively around to ensure no one was listening to their conversation. Despite the ball’s tongue-in-cheek theme, they weren’t really supposed to talk about that sort of thing out loud, were they? He mentally shrugged. Perhaps the normal rules were suspended for the ball. After all, it was much more likely that the few humans in attendance would think open talk of witches and werewolves and vampires was all part of the wink-wink fun.
“How are you going to determine that?” he asked.
The shorter witch patted his arm. “By each of us putting a spell on you, of course.”
Max had his doubts that anyone would be able to cast an actual spell on him. Still, he played along.
“Okay. What sort of spell are you talking about? I’m not about to be turned into a toad, am I?” He’d watched a lot of movies and human television while in Alienn, Arkansas. Very amusing.
“Oh no, nothing like that.” They giggled again.
The dark-haired witch with the feathered headband straightened up, closed her eyes and theatrically chanted several words he didn’t understand. She ended with, “Poof!” Her eyes opened and she smiled dreamily up into his face.
The woman with the fan pointedly stared deeply into Max’s eyes and whispered several more words he didn’t understand, finishing with, “Shazam!”
The other woman rolled her eyes. “Shazam, really? Are you drunk, Matilda?”
Matilda giggled. “Maybe. Besides, I like shazam. Shazam is awesome. What’s wrong with shazam?”
“Nothing, I suppose.” Her friend pointed to a spot at the end of the refreshment table. “Let’s go over there to watch what happens.”
Matilda nodded. As if they’d forgotten all about Max, they freed his arms and started to walk away, stumbling together and laughing uproariously.
The taller witch practically sang, “I’m going to win. Just wait and see.”
Matilda responded quickly, “No, you aren’t. Love is always more powerful than truth. Everyone knows that.”
Max shook his head as they wove an unsteady path to the refreshment
table and dipped up glasses of punch. He hoped it was the unalcoholic kind. It seemed they had imbibed more than enough of something quite potent. Drunken women pretending to cast spells on him at an over-the-top Halloween costume party was likely par for the course in this town. He had his own agenda. He needed to reach his employers, make some small talk and then he was out of here.
With an eye partly on the women watching him from afar and fighting the urge to visibly roll his eyes at the absurdity, Max spun on one heel—and ran smack into someone carrying a champagne flute. Several droplets from her glass showered his forearm and dribbled to the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
Max stared down, intending to utter a blithe apology for his clumsiness, and froze, suddenly unable to articulate the words. Her dark blue eyes were lovely, deep and mesmerizing. Better yet, she had a pouty mouth just made for kissing. What is wrong with me?
She lifted her lovely hand and swiped at the spatter of champagne on his arm with an already soaked cocktail napkin, her eyes darting away from his intense gaze. “It didn’t get on your shirt, did it?” she asked, pressing the sodden napkin against his forearm, likely leaving as much champagne as she wiped away.
Max wasn’t angry. Party mishaps like this one happened at every engagement he’d ever attended or planned. He inhaled, taking in her lovely scent. He opened his mouth to dismiss the incident as of no consequence.
“I love you,” he blurted. He felt his jaw sag in shock.
What in the space potato farm ever possessed him to say that? He had tried to say, “Don’t worry about it,” but instead three much more powerful words came out.
The beautiful creature stared at him in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”
“I meant to say…” He paused, unsure of what would come out of his mouth next.
He shook his head and rolled his eyes, chuckling in an attempt to pretend he’d only been joking. It wasn’t a joke. He’d been compelled to say it. He shot a glance at the two older women who’d triumphantly crowed, “Poof!” and “Shazam!” just seconds before. They stood at the end of the refreshment table, holding each other up, grinning like fools, watching every moment of this mishap like they’d planned it.