Until Midnight

by Melissa Landers

  Cara giggled. The old Eric was still in there. “Hey, let’s play Total Zombie Massacre—battle to the death, just like old times.” When he shook his head, she pleaded, “C’mon. I’ll go easy on you.”

  “I have a better idea.” Grabbing her wrist, he gave a mighty tug, sending her careening into his lap. The pungent odors of musky cologne and sweaty boy pummeled her nostrils, and then his mouth was at her ear, his fingers dancing up the length of her inner thigh. “Let’s go to your room. Your dad’s not coming up for air anytime soon.”

  Palming his damp chest, she pushed away and tried to breathe through her mouth. Why couldn’t he understand that all this pawing only pushed him further from his goal? “Unh-uh. Tori’s coming over.”

  He heaved a sigh against the side of her throat while his fingers halted their advance toward third base. “Great. Just what I need. Why can’t the clinger get her own life?” He pushed Cara away and moved to the other end of the sofa, but not before she slugged him in the bicep.

  “She has a life. She’s skipping student council for me.” And Tori hadn’t missed a meeting yet—mostly because her longtime crush, Jared Lee, was class president.

  “Why’d you ask her over?” Eric said, rubbing his arm. “Trying to get rid of me?”

  “Maybe I should.” Heat rose into Cara’s cheeks. The endless groping, the insults—she couldn’t take much more of the new and “improved” Eric. Closing her eyes, she counted backward from ten to one and tried to recall the bulleted list of suggestions in Anger Management for Imbeciles. Deep breath in…deep breath out. Oh, to hell with it. If this didn’t get rid of him, nothing would: “I signed the contract.”

  “What contract?” It took a few seconds for her words to sink in, and then Eric’s lips parted with an audible pop. “That LEAP thing you talked about at lunch?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’re screwing with me, right?”

  “Nope.” Stiffening her resolve, she added, “We bring him home in two weeks.”

  “Are you insane? You’ll have to actually go there! No amount of money’s worth that!” Eric reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wet, crumpled leaflet, but his hand froze in midair before it reached her. “Wait. Did you say him? It’s a guy? No effing way!”

  Three sharp knocks sounded at the door, and Tori let herself in, turning their attention away from the argument for a few seconds.

  Tossing her long black braid over one shoulder, Tori dropped her goalie gloves haphazardly onto the floor before tugging her Midtown soccer T-shirt over her head and using it to wipe her sweaty face. Then she slung the shirt around her neck and stood in her sports bra and shorts, gripping her waist like Wonder Woman.

  Tori shot daggers at Eric. “Hey, culo.” She flipped him the bird, and he returned the gesture. Their hatred had always been mutual.

  She was the yin to Cara’s yang—teakwood skin, jet black eyes—an academic underachiever with ten tons of nuclear energy driving her miniature four-foot-nine-inch frame. But they had one thing in common: they didn’t hold back.

  In an unusual move, Eric spoke directly to Tori, waving her over to the sofa. “You’re not gonna believe this.”

  “Let’s see. Something I’d never believe…” She tapped one finger against her chin. “You finally took your nose outta Marcus Johnson’s butt crack?”

  “You won’t be laughing when a L’asshole crashes your next slumber party,” Eric said darkly. “Have fun braiding his hair, or whatever you girls do at those things.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Tori pulled a chair up to the sofa, then turned it backward and straddled the seat while Cara filled her in on what she’d missed.

  “Puta madre! Slow down. You gotta read this before you decide for sure.” Tori held one hand forward while using the other to pull a sweaty wad of paper from her bra. She smoothed it out against her thigh and handed it to Cara. “They were giving ’em out after practice.”

  “Us, too,” Eric added, flinging his leaflet onto the sofa cushion. “Marcus’s dad is president of the local chapter. I already joined.”

  Cara held the nasty thing at a distance and glanced at the front cover. HALO: HUMANS AGAINST L’EIHR OCCUPATION. THE PATRIOTS OF EARTH. “Seriously? Since when does anyone listen to HALO?” The kooks had thousands of members in every nation, but they were known extremists—the kind of people who stockpiled weapons and looked forward to the apocalypse. “Did they offer you any Kool-Aid? I hope you didn’t drink it.”

  “You’re the one swallowing poison.” Eric grabbed his pamphlet and held it in the air like a gospel. “If you believe what the government says.”

  Tori leaned forward in her chair and pointed one purple fingernail at the opening paragraph. “This part’s kinda scary.”

  With a resigned sigh, Cara scanned the sheet. “The L’eihrs, at least the few we’ve been permitted to see, possess technology, intelligence, speed…blah-ditty-blah-blah-blah…And that begs the question: What could they possibly want from us? Their freakish physical advances are the result of an ancient breeding program, and now that we know humans and L’eihrs are genetically compatible, we believe it’s our women they’re after, to spawn a race of mutants.”

  What utter lunacy. She could teach HALO a thing or two about proper persuasive writing techniques. “Oh, come on,” she said. “This is total propaganda. Who takes this stuff seriously?”

  “This isn’t a joke.” Eric’s jaw clenched and his eyes hardened in a way she’d never seen before. It sent frost skittering down her spine to see the boy she’d once loved disappear inside the furious stranger glaring at her now. “They won’t talk about anything, especially not their weapons, and that telepathy crap they do is—”

  “Creepy as hell,” Tori finished.

  “Look, it’s done. I already signed—”

  “It’s not the only scholarship in the world, you know.” Eric pushed off the sofa, propelling himself to his feet with the force of his anger. “This program’s only for valedictorians. So if you say no, the freak goes to another school. But if you say yes, we’re all stuck sitting next to him in class, in the lunchroom, sharing a bathroom.…What if they let him play sports?” He raked a hand through his hair, setting it on end. “Think about it. Everyone’ll hate you for bringing him into our lives. And they’ll hate us”—pointing to himself and Tori—“by association.”

  Cara studied both of them in shock. “You won’t want to be seen with me?”

  Eric’s hot gaze darted to the scuffed hardwood floor between his feet.

  “I’m not gonna ditch you, but think about it.” Tori rocked back in her chair. “We don’t know anything about them. What if they’re up to something? What if they don’t let you come home when it’s your turn?”

  “They healed my mom. Why bother with that if they just want to wipe us out?”

  “Oh, grow up, Cara.” Eric charged to the door and snatched his cleats off the front porch. “They want something for that cure. Nothing’s free. It’s time to take one for the team. Shred the contract or whatever. Undo it.”

  “No!” How dare he order her to do anything? “This could make my whole career.”

  “No? Just like that? God, you’re so selfish!” Eric was shouting at her—for the first time in all the years they’d known each other. “Putting yourself and the whole town at risk, and why? So you don’t have to take out student loans?”

  “I’m the selfish one? You arrogant pri—”

  “What’s the problem?” Dad strolled in from the kitchen, his hair wildly tousled from Mom’s fingers. He gave Tori’s shoulder a playful squeeze, then scowled at Eric and offered a curt nod of acknowledgment. “Bet you’ve got some homework to do.”

  Eric took the hint. “Yeah.” He leaned in to kiss Cara’s cheek, but instead delivered a whispered warning in her ear. “You better figure out what’s important.” And then he turned and left without saying good-bye, pulling the door shut so softly it barely made a sound. Somehow it stung h
er ears worse than a slam.

  Eric’s HALO pamphlet had fallen to the floor, and Cara picked it up, glancing at the last lines. It is better to die proud Patriots of Earth than to live in quivering supplication to an alien race. Take care that you recognize the L’eihr enemy. He may look human, but he is not.

  She shook off a chill. It terrified her to think Eric actually believed this drivel and that Tori wasn’t far behind. What if he was right about the whole student body despising her for bringing Aelyx to school?

  Cara pulled a deep breath in through her nose and held it. No, she couldn’t believe that. Reasonable people would have doubts, just like she did, but they wouldn’t come after her with pitchforks and torches. And Tori was crazy to think the L’eihrs wanted to lure her to their planet and trap her there to make babies. If that was their goal, why not abduct her now? They had the technology to do it—easily.

  So why did her palms feel clammy again? Why was her heart trying to escape her body by way of her throat?

  Cara released a loud puff of air and tried to ignore the prickles of dread that tickled her skull—the same ones she felt mid-debate when she realized she’d picked a losing argument.

  Chapter Three

  Narrowing his eyes, Aelyx peered at the lofty banquet hall ceiling, where thousands of faceted chandelier crystals refracted the light and illuminated the hall in prisms of color. How completely garish. Just as the spaceport vendor had claimed, humans were fixated on shiny objects to an extent that bordered on delirium. And that was just the beginning.

  The smoky scent of meat permeating the air was rank and unfamiliar. Between the click of shoes against polished marble floors, echoes of conversations and laughter, and clinking champagne glasses, the noise overwhelmed him. It seemed humans had made overstimulation a way of life.

  He leaned against the wall—an extravagant tile mosaic depicting soldiers mounted on horseback—and observed his host family from a distance. They hadn’t been formally introduced yet, and he already dreaded sharing a home with these people. Bill Sweeney, the father, laughed loudly with his wife and pinched her rear end when he thought no one was looking. Troy Sweeney, the family’s oldest child, seemed intent on eating his weight in an appetizer called shrimp cocktail. It certainly didn’t look appetizing.

  He recognized Cara Sweeney easily from her photograph. Tonight, however, she wasn’t smiling. She stood rigidly with her arms crossed over her chest while casting hostile glances at her brother. Considering what he’d learned about her hobbies—solitary activities such as reading classic novels, video gaming, and journalistic writing—her closed-off body language came as no surprise. This female seemed to prefer isolation to the company of others, possibly a defense mechanism resulting from her mother’s near death. All the better. That meant she might not follow his activities too closely.

  Was this girl truly the best the humans had to offer? He supposed Cara was an attractive female, a bit tall perhaps, but her blazing copper hair and blue eyes assaulted his senses. Vibrant colors didn’t exist naturally on L’eihr, and she reminded him of how alien this new world was. When his retinas couldn’t tolerate any more abuse, he glanced away and found Syrine in the crowd.

  Syrine wore the same tan and gray uniform that he did, but she appeared far less relaxed in it as she conversed with her host student, a lanky Frenchman with deep black hair. While Syrine’s shoulders tensed so visibly they crept to her ears, the boy propped one hand against the wall and leaned toward her in an obvious mating ritual.

  Sacred Mother, how disgusting. The imbecile either failed to notice or simply didn’t care that Syrine had no interest in pairing with him. No L’eihr of their generation would sink to sharing genetic material with a human, not even if The Way demanded it.

  As if called, Syrine glanced toward him. She ducked beneath the human’s arm and scurried to where Aelyx stood, concealed in an alcove.

  Locking eyes with him, she complained, Great gods, I can almost see the hormones rolling off his filthy body. I nearly vomited my supper.

  Establish boundaries now, Aelyx advised, before it goes too far.

  Have you seen him? She glanced over her shoulder at the boy, who’d already moved on in an attempt to entice a new female. Tipping back his head, the Frenchman honked a laugh through his hooked nose. He doesn’t understand nonverbal social cues.

  If all else fails, an “accidental” knee to the groin should deliver the message.

  At least your human seems tolerable. Quiet and reserved.

  Aelyx studied Cara Sweeney, feeling his brows pinch together. A pained expression distorted the girl’s ivory features, and she pressed one hand against her stomach as if she might become physically ill. Tolerable? He doubted it.

  And Eron, Syrine continued. His female observes personal boundaries. Such luck!

  They peered across the room at Eron’s host, who stared at the floor, both hands clasped behind her back as if meditating. Her parents spoke above her head while a young boy pushed a die-cast vehicle across the marble tile at her feet. The child bore a slight resemblance to the girl, but considering China’s population restrictions, he probably wasn’t a sibling. Too bad Earth’s other nations hadn’t implemented similar policies. With their limited resources, humans were mating themselves into extinction.

  Don’t worry, Aelyx told Syrine. If the sh’alear works, we won’t be here long.

  It’ll take one month at least, Syrine complained. And if we’re caught…

  If we’re caught, we die, he warned. Failure’s not an option. He could feel Syrine’s unease seeping to the surface, eroding her courage. Perhaps they’d better go over the plan again—all three of them. Go tell Eron to keep his com-sphere close. I’ll contact you both in three days.

  Don’t lose faith in me. I can do this. Syrine placed her fingertips against the left side of Aelyx’s throat in a farewell gesture of esteem. For the Sacred Mother.

  And her children. Aelyx returned the gesture and pulled his hand away, then backed into the shadows of the alcove.

  Once, when Cara was ten years old, she and Troy had gone exploring in the woods behind their house. He’d held a tree branch out of the way for her, and then—thinking it would be hilarious—he’d let it go too soon so it smacked her right across the belly. She’d had to breathe in tiny gasps for the next hour. Kind of the way she was breathing right now.

  Like the leather pumps contorting her toes, her black cocktail dress was a size too small, and Mom had bought inexpensive Spanx to avoid paying for a new outfit. Unfortunately, the spandex was three sizes too small, and she hadn’t been able to sit down (or inhale) all night.

  “Are you gonna stop giving me the stink-eye and talk to me yet?” Troy had finally torn himself away from the buffet station, and he had shrimp between his teeth. Some things never changed. “I won’t see you for another year.”

  Cara opened her mouth to speak, but then shut it again as a tug-of-war raged inside her. She wanted to throw her arms around Troy’s neck and beg him not to leave, to tell him how the house was too clean and quiet when he was gone. Crazy as it seemed, she missed his white tube socks scattered across the living room floor and the way he finished all the milk so she had to eat dry Cheerios. She wanted to demand he find another job, one that didn’t require a Kevlar vest and an anthrax vaccination.

  And she wanted to punch him in the stones for abandoning the family once again.

  Instead, she asked, “Are you scared?”

  “What, of going to L’eihr?” He snorted and flashed an easy smile. “Hell, no! I can’t wait. I get to be the first person to travel at light speed. That’s huge, Pepper.”

  “Don’t call me that. I’ll be seventeen next week.” When she was a newborn, Troy had taken one look at her red hair and compared her to a chili pepper. The nickname had stuck ever since, despite her repeated efforts to kill it.

  “Hey, I just thought of something.” His blue eyes widened in amazement. “If Einstein was right about light speed,
then you’ll be older than me when I come home to visit.”

  She thought that would be fitting but didn’t say so. Instead, she nodded toward the other side of the ballroom where three L’eihrs stood huddled together: the official ambassador, who lived in Manhattan, and two visiting students. The third student had wandered away more than thirty minutes ago. “They haven’t opened their mouths once—I’ve been watching. They just look into each other’s eyes. I’ll bet L’eihr’s a really quiet place.”

  Troy shrugged and began picking his front teeth with his pinkie nail.

  “I wonder which one’s mine.” She hoped it was the short one “talking” to the ambassador. He was the only one who smiled—the only one who looked human.

  “Go find out.”

  Part of her felt like she should, but the way they tipped their heads and stared at one another seemed so intense. She got the feeling they didn’t want to be interrupted. And maybe it made her a speciesist or whatever, but watching them together made her wonder how Troy would tell them apart once he got to L’eihr.

  All of them, men and women alike, wore their shoulder-length light brown hair tied neatly behind the neck. It blended perfectly with their russet skin, and when combined with the tan uniforms, they were a monochromatic solid wall of brown. Like walking paper bags.

  Supposedly, their planet was way older than Earth, and all races sort of blended together thousands of years ago. Then they started evolving. Or mutating. Scientists claimed the same thing would happen here one day, but she doubted it. And anyway, why did they try so hard to look alike, right down to their six-inch ponytails?

  Before she had a chance to ask, the inside of Cara’s throat tickled. She tried to cough, and the elastic band digging into her waist practically spliced her liver in half. “Ow!”

  “What’s with you?” Troy ran a hand over his cropped black hair and cocked an eyebrow. “Female problems?” He whispered “female” like it was a dirty word.

  “No,” she said with an eye roll. “This underwear’s killing me.”