MIKAELA LOOKED COMPLETELY different.
For one thing, she wasn’t wearing glasses or a short skirt. Instead, she had on a loose-fitting karategi tied with a bright red belt, which, by the way, is even higher than a black belt in many martial arts. I noticed that the pants and top of her white karate uniform were done in the kata cut-style, the design choice for elite competitors. She was also bathed in a warm incandescent glow that followed her every move as if she were being tracked by a sunbeam.
Mikaela was definitely playing for the Legions of the Light, just like Xanthos, who carried the same kind of golden aura when he galloped across that open pasture back at the Judges’ ranch.
“So, Mikaela,” I said, folding down the Tusk and tucking it my pocket, “I take it you’re not really a teenager?”
She smiled. “Only when I need to be.”
I couldn’t tell you exactly how old she was, but even though her face was as smooth and creamy as an infant’s, I had a feeling her soul was as old as that meteorite back at the American Museum of Natural History.
“Just out of curiosity,” I said, “did you get off the train in Philly or Baltimore?”
She grinned. “Somewhere in between.”
“And you were my father’s backup spiritual advisor?”
“I like to think that Xanthos and I worked together as a team to aid Graff in his work as a torchbearer and protector of all that is good. In the same way, I would like to assist you, Daniel. Your reactions in fight-or-flight situations intrigue me. They intrigue all those who dwell in the light.”
“How so?”
“Your choices, much like your father’s, seldom make logical or analytical sense.”
I couldn’t disagree. I guess a lot of what we Alien Hunters do is totally illogical. Going up against alien creeps and their minions when we’re hopelessly outnumbered. Turning into flies, cockroaches, or household appliances just so we can stay in the game. Giving up any shot at a normal life so we can protect the lives of others.
Okay, you could even call us crazy.
“Where is the nearest clustering of human creatures?” Mikaela asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Where is the closest earthling population center?”
I shrugged. “Stafford, I guess. It’s a small town about twelve miles southwest of here. Why?”
Mikaela didn’t answer. She just nodded knowingly.
That’s when the sky began to darken into a greenish-black swirl of angry thunderheads.
The low-hanging clouds started to rotate. Dust and debris whirled on the ground as a sudden torrent of rain pelted us. But just as quickly as it had started the rain stopped, leaving a dead calm.
And then I heard the roar and rumble of a jet-powered freight train tearing across the sky.
A monstrous funnel cloud appeared on the horizon, its tail dipping down to churn up the earth.
It was a twister; a tornado headed south-by-southwest.
Heading straight for Stafford, Kansas.