I shook my head, wanting to disbelieve, knowing the only way I could handle this was to deny what Persephone and Paul had just told me. “That’s not possible,” I said, my tone flat.
“We were there,” Paul stated, looking grim. He glanced over at Grayson, who had watched our exchange with an expression of complete bewilderment on his face. “We saw them. We know what they look like.”
“Oh, come on,” I protested. “He’s as human as you and I are.”
“No, he’s not.” Persephone continued to stare at Grayson, glassy-eyed, rather like a small desert rodent mesmerized by a snake. “He may look like it, but he’s really not.”
For the first time Grayson spoke. “What are you saying? That I’m…what? Some sort of science experiment?”
“You could put it that way,” Paul replied. He, too, was watching Grayson with extreme care, but more the way a cop might regard someone with whom he’d had questionable dealings in the past. “So, you don’t remember anything?”
“No.” Those brilliant green eyes were harder than I’d ever seen them, glittering with repressed emotion. Was it anger? Confusion? Could he even feel those things?
Had he ever felt anything for me at all?
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I whispered, and I turned from them and ran, ran down the hallway to the guest bathroom, where I dropped to my knees and vomited up the wine I’d just drunk and the little that remained of my meager lunch. I clung to the bowl and gasped, thinking of his hands on me, of him inside me, when all the time he’d been some alien thing, some construct —
I retched again, over and over, until it felt as if I was puking up my very guts, as if I was trying to expel the alien taint from within my body. Then I realized my frame was racked not just with sickness, but sobs, as I wept over the loss of what I’d thought I had with him, of what I’d thought Grayson had meant to me.
Someone’s hand then, gently stroking my hair. Persephone’s voice. “I’m so, so sorry, Kara.”
Doubled over with wretchedness, I could only continue to cling to the toilet, the cold porcelain under my fingers somehow holding me down, the only thing connecting me with reality. I choked, “I — I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t.” From somewhere, Persephone brought out a damp washcloth and began to wipe the heat and the sick from my cheeks. “I’m sorry I broke it to you like that. But when I saw him — it just came over me in a wave, and…it just sort of spilled out.”
“It’s all right.” Somehow, I found the strength to loosen my grip on the toilet bowl, to force my shaky legs into a standing position. “It’s better that I know.”
“Paul’s with him now. He seems a little…shell-shocked.”
As well he might, I supposed. If hearing the truth had been terrible for me, what must it have been like for Grayson? To find out that you weren’t you, not a real man, but something built by aliens for their own inscrutable purposes?
The nausea had passed, and now I only felt spent, as if I’d just spent a day running uphill in the heat. I got one of the little paper cups out of its dispenser and rinsed out my mouth, not once, not twice, but three times, and then pulled out another cup and drank down enough water so I wasn’t feeling quite so dehydrated. Now my body had been more or less taken care of.
I wished I could say the same thing for my spirit.
“What am I supposed to do now?” I whispered. “How can I go back and face…him? Is he a he? Or is he an it?”
Persephone gave me a look that seemed to say, You’d know that better than I would…. But she only replied, still in the gentle, soothing voice usually reserved for her clients, “He’s a he. Of course he is. And it’s obvious he’s not under their control…at least it doesn’t feel that way. Something very strange is going on.”
“Well, that’s Sedona for you,” I remarked.
A twitch of Persephone’s finely arched brows, as if she knew all too well the hurt I was doing my best to hide under a glass-sharp edge of brittle humor. “Do you want to wait here? We’ll figure something out if you don’t want to see him….”
I shook my head. What good would hiding in a bathroom do? I had to face him, face what he was. A convulsive spasm of my hand, and the little paper cup was crushed flat. I threw it into the trash. “I’m all right.”
Persephone didn’t look all that convinced, but she didn’t say anything, only nodded and let me exit the bathroom and head back into the kitchen. Grayson was sitting at the little table in the nook, head down, hands buried in his thick hair as if he was trying to feel his way through it to the secrets buried within his skull.
Seeing him like that, I felt a stab of pity go through me, unexpected as a knife thrust. It was fine for me to run to the bathroom and moan the loss of what might have been, but at least I was still myself. I hadn’t lost my identity, only to discover the truth in all its horror.
Paul looked over at us. The set of his mouth was grimmer than I’d ever seen it. “You okay?”
I nodded but didn’t quite trust myself to speak.
“You get anything?” Persephone asked.
A shake of the head. “He still claims not to remember anything.”
At that remark, Grayson finally glanced up. His green eyes glinted as he said, “I don’t remember anything. I don’t know what you people are talking about!”
“I know you don’t,” Persephone said, and her voice still sounded curiously gentle. She added, her gaze fixed on Paul, “He really doesn’t. I don’t know what’s going on, and I doubt we’ll figure it out tonight, but I’m not getting anything bad off him.”
“Except that he looks like about a hundred other men back at Secret Canyon who tried to kill us.”
Improbably, a dimple flickered into existence next to her mouth for about a second before it disappeared again. “Well, yes, besides that.”
The timer on the oven went off, and I started. Oh, right. The damn bread.
I hurried across the kitchen, glad to have something to do, glad I could busy myself with locating some pot holders to pull the bread on its cookie sheet from out of the oven. The watching eyes of the trio at the table in the nook felt heavy on the back of my neck, and after I set the cookie sheet down on the counter, I turned around and snapped, “Well, what was I supposed to do? Let it burn?”
“Of course not,” Persephone said, voice still calm, soothing. “In fact, I think we should all just sit down and have something to eat and try to figure this out.”
“You what?” Paul demanded, in tones that suggested he thought she’d completely taken leave of her senses.
“Yes,” she said serenely. “Kara, do you need help with anything?”
Not sure of exactly the best way to respond, I pointed at the refrigerator. “Um…salad?”
“Got it.”
And Persephone sailed over the fridge, got out the bag of romaine lettuce and the package of tomatoes and a bottle of Caesar dressing, and set to, since the salad bowl and tongs were already sitting out on the countertop. Grayson and Paul looked at each other in bemusement, as if they didn’t quite know what to do with themselves.
“Paul, darling,” she said, “can you get the wine glasses? And Grayson, the bottle of cab? Although I think we’ll probably end up needing more than just the one….”
“I’ve got plenty in the wine rack in the dining room,” I said faintly. I didn’t quite know what I should do, but I thought — after I’d forced myself to eat something — getting mercifully drunk might be a very good idea.
“Great.” Persephone sprinkled some Parmesan cheese on top of the dressing, added the succulent little grape tomatoes, and then finished off the salad with a handful of croutons.
The two men silently gathered up the wine and the glasses and headed out to the dining room. Persephone picked up the salad and followed them. Feeling as if I’d just been dropped into some bizarre alternate reality where it was considered perfectly normal to sit down to dinner with an alien, I took up a pair of pot holders and lifted the ceramic crock out of its metal housing and carried it over to the dining room. I’d already set down a trivet to protect the table from the crock, so I put the container of stew there, then murmured that I’d be back in a bit with the bread and butter.
They were all hovering around the table, as if unsure as to where they should sit. No surprise, I thought. Neither Paul nor Persephone probably wanted me sitting next to Grayson, but if we were seated across from one another, things could be even more awkward. I was pretty sure I couldn’t manage to make it all through dinner while staring into those green eyes and trying to decide if I still saw anything human in them.
But we also couldn’t all stand there like a bunch of overgrown partygoers in the world’s most awkward game of musical chairs. I cleared my throat and said, “Grayson, how about you sit at the head of the table, and Paul on your right, and Persephone on your left….”
They all hastened to take the places I’d indicated, and I sat down in the chair at the foot of the table. Yes, I’d still be across from Grayson, but since the table was a rectangle, there was a lot more space dividing us than there would have been if we’d taken the seats Paul and Persephone now occupied.
For a minute, none of us said anything. There was the food to occupy us, the ritual passing of the salad bowl, the breaking of the bread, the pouring of more wine. I forced myself to put a bite of salad in my mouth, then another. To my surprise, I found it tasted good. The sweetness of the tomatoes and the crisp flavor of the greens seemed to erase the last of the sick taste from my mouth. There was water in addition to the cabernet Paul and Persephone had brought, and I drank some of that, too, made sure I had taken at least three healthy swallows before I allowed myself to drink any of the wine.
But even so, there came the inevitable time when the salads were done and the empty bowls pushed aside. Ladling out the stew and passing around the bread took up a few more minutes, and at last Persephone said, “Since I know none of you know what to say, I’ll start.”
Paul lifted an eyebrow, and Grayson looked a little alarmed.
“Don’t worry — I don’t bite.” Her gaze slid to Paul for a second, and she added, with the faintest hint of a smile, “Well, unless you ask. Anyway, Kara’s probably mentioned that I’m a psychic.”
Grayson’s expression was still wary, as if he wasn’t quite sure that she wasn’t about to jump up from her chair and lay hands on him or something. “I had that general impression.”
“I hope you’re going to hold off on the mind probes until after dessert,” Paul remarked. He seemed to have relaxed slightly as he watched his wife. Since she appeared to have gotten over her initial alarm, he probably had decided to take a step back and see where things went.
I wished I could be that calm, that composed. My hand still shook slightly as I lifted my wine glass and drank. But if Persephone could somehow manage to face Grayson and address him as if he were any other dinner guest, I supposed I should try to do the same thing.
“You know I don’t work that way.” She turned back toward Grayson and gestured with her half-full wine glass. “I mostly work off vibes. And I’m not getting any negative ones from you, so….” She shrugged. “But I am seeing something.”
“You are?” Grayson and I demanded, pretty much simultaneously. Then we exchanged an embarrassed glance before I forced myself to look away from that green stare, to focus on the food on my plate.
“I am.” Persephone’s hazel-green eyes seemed to go blurry, as if she was looking at something very far away. “I see the base at Secret Canyon…the empty hallways, the bodies of the aliens and the hybrids. And then….” Her words trailed off, and her mouth tightened.
“And then….” Paul prompted, after an awkward few seconds had passed. He’d been there, seen the aftermath of Persephone’s psychic blast or whatever it was, and probably didn’t want her to dwell on it.
“And then I see one of them stumble to his feet, stagger down the hallway. He’s heading to the exit off Level Three, where the motor pool used to be. And then he’s out, moving into the darkness and away into the desert. After that, he disappears.”
I didn’t want to believe it, but I’d seen too much evidence of Persephone’s powers already and knew she wouldn’t be making any of this up. “So…you’re trying to say he’s been out in the desert for the last five months? How could anyone possibly survive out there that long?”
An expression of troubled pity passed over Persephone’s features. “But he did survive it, somehow. All those months, hiding by day, hunting by night…”
“…finding water when I could, sheltering in caves, hungry…always hungry.” Grayson’s voice was faint, almost as if he was reliving those days of agony all over again. Maybe he was. “I remember.”
Unexpectedly, Persephone said, “I’m sorry.”
The expression of anguish on Grayson’s face was so naked, I wanted to look away from it. I’d seen his unclothed body, had been as intimate with him as another person could be, and yet I suddenly felt as if I was observing something I shouldn’t.
“I don’t want to remember.” His fingers tightened around the fork he held. “What did you do to me?”
“Nothing. All I did was see, and when I told you what I saw, the words unlocked what had been hidden in your mind all this time.”
Easy for her to say. I could tell Grayson didn’t want to believe it. Honestly, I didn’t want to believe it myself. But Persephone’s visions, or feelings, or whatever you wanted to call them, were rarely wrong. Sometimes they didn’t come when she wanted them to, but once that peculiarly tuned muscle in her mind’s eye locked on them, they tended to be something you could take to the bank.
He set down the fork on his plate with a clatter, then stood. “I need some air.” And he went to the sliding glass door, opened it, and slipped out into the dark.
I began to half-rise in my own chair, but Persephone’s words stopped me. “Don’t. He needs to be alone for a while.”
It somehow didn’t feel right to allow him to wander around in the darkness by himself, but I did as Persephone had instructed and resumed my seat. “Is he going to be all right?”
“I don’t know.”
“What, your second sight suddenly desert you?”
Paul began, “Now, that’s not fair — ” but Persephone only shook her head slightly.
“It’s all right, Paul.” She shifted in her seat so she faced me. “You know I can’t see everything. I’m not sure I even want to. But he needs to come to terms with this on his own.” Her tone softened a little, and she added, “And what about you? Are you okay?”
“That’s a hell of a question.” I finished off the last half-inch in my glass and wished the bottle of cabernet was in arm’s reach so I could pour myself some more. “I’m…I don’t know what I am. I’ll live, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s just — I thought — I thought Grayson and I — ” I shook my head, feeling like a complete idiot. How could I confess to Persephone and Paul that I’d thought Grayson might finally be the one, when I’d only known him for a few days? Maybe if I was alone with Persephone, I’d have the guts for that, but not with Paul watching me, too, even though his expression seemed sympathetic enough. Anyway, I’d already proven myself to have completely failed in judgment when it came to Grayson. No point in making the situation even worse than it already was. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I thought. What matters is what we do next.”
“And what are we supposed to do next?” Paul asked. His words had been directed toward both of us, but I noticed that he was looking at Persephone as he spoke.
“I guess that depends on Kara.” Persephone pushed her plate away slightly so she could rest her hands on the tabletop. “What do you want to do?”
I wanted to say I didn’t know, let it all fall on them, let them take care of it. Suddenly, I was so very, very tired. The events of the past week seemed to be catching up with me all at once. But I managed to reply, “I’m not sure. But I do know we need to keep him safe.”
Paul’s gaze sharpened. “Are you saying he’s in some sort of danger?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” The words spilling out, I described our visit to the hypnotherapist, Grayson’s non-answers, that final outburst: They’re looking, and they’ll find me. I know they will. They won’t stop. They never stop!
After this revelation, Persephone and Paul both sat there, silent, appearing to absorb the unwelcome information. Finally, Persephone expelled a heavy breath and said, “Well, I suppose that’s not really unexpected. I mean, if nothing else, they’re going to want to find him to figure out why one of them survived when the rest were all…destroyed.”
I had the feeling that Persephone had almost said “killed,” substituting the other word at the last minute. Although she had done what she thought was necessary, it couldn’t be easy having all those deaths on your soul…even the deaths of hybrids and alien-infected humans. And maybe it was worse now that she’d found out not all hybrids were exactly created equal.
“I think we should have him stay with us for a while,” Paul said. “If nothing else, it’s probably safer that way — you have to be gone at the store for large parts of the day, Kara, but I’m home all the time. And Michael and Lance can take turns in providing any necessary defenses.”
It sounded logical, but I found myself unwilling to agree. So I was supposed to just kick Grayson out like that? Sorry, hon, it’s been great, but this whole alien thing has kind of put the kibosh on any romantic entanglements, you know?
Well, what else could I do? I certainly didn’t want to abandon Grayson to the mercies of his former masters. On the other hand, I knew we couldn’t go on as we had been. Even now, the thought of him touching me made me…well, not sick, not the way I’d been less than an hour ago, but I couldn’t help shivering a little. He wasn’t who I’d thought he was…what I thought he was.
And I really didn’t want to think about what Lance would say when he found out what I’d been up to…and with whom. My cheeks flushed, but thankfully, I’d dimmed the light over the dining room table as I’d set out the tableware, thinking it made for a more intimate setting. That was a laugh.
“So that’s that,” came Grayson’s voice from the sliding glass door.
I started, and Persephone looked a little troubled. But Paul only gazed at the half-alien man steadily and nodded. “I’m not proposing anything permanent. But from a security standpoint, it makes more sense, and I don’t think any of us can fault Kara for needing a little space.”
A little space. That sounded good right now. A chance to breathe, to think. And Kiki would be home the day after tomorrow. God only knew what she’d make of the whole situation, but if nothing else, it would be a comfort for me to have my sister back in town. Kiki wouldn’t condemn. She, who knew more than anyone else how much I had given up over the years, might just begin to understand.
“Just for a few days,” I began, but Grayson lifted a hand.
“I get it. Let me go pack my things. I assume you won’t mind if I take the clothing you bought me?”
“Of course not,” I faltered, hearing in his voice an echo of the cold, flat intonation he’d used while under hypnosis at Janelle Russo’s office. Had my suspicions then been true? Was this the real Grayson, or was he just trying to mask his own hurt and confusion under a veil of indifference?
Impossible to know for sure, and of course I couldn’t say anything else of a personal nature, not in front of Paul and Persephone. Maybe later Grayson and I could find some quiet time to talk, but at the moment, I thought maybe it would be best if he simply went away. I couldn’t seem to think clearly with those green eyes, now hard and cool as polished jade, staring at me.
The briefest of nods, and he moved past the table and down the hallway. For a few seconds, no one said anything. Then, finally, Persephone let out a little sigh. “Come on, Kara. I’ll help you get this cleaned up.”
Lance
So Mr. Muy Caliente had turned out to be a hybrid. Lance halfway wanted to laugh, but he guessed neither Paul nor Persephone saw anything too amusing in the situation. And it wasn’t, really. He knew he couldn’t begin to explain to them how he’d been wracked with jealousy over someone who wasn’t even human. Or maybe he could, but he really didn’t want to.
“And you just left Kara alone, after all that?” he demanded, after watching the so-called “Grayson” disappear down the corridor in the direction of the Olivers’ guest bedroom.
“She said she wanted to be by herself.” Persephone pushed a wayward dark curl off her forehead. In the uncertain light of the one torchiere lamp that illuminated the living room, she looked very tired. “I offered to stay with her, but she said no, that I’d just gotten back from out of town and that she didn’t need to be babysat.”
“That sounds like our Kara. Always has to be tough, even when it’s the worst thing for her.”
Both the Olivers looked at Lance in some surprise, as if they really hadn’t been expecting such an insight from him, nor the almost compassionate tone in which it had been spoken. He lifted his shoulders, annoyed with himself for revealing even that much. He must be slipping.
Good. He suddenly realized he wanted to be slipping. God, he was sick of the lies he’d told all of them…told himself.
Persephone sat quiet and still on the love seat, Paul just a few inches away from her. Their fingers were intertwined, resting along the crack between the two seat cushions, a casual intimacy that said far more about their relationship than a more showy display might have. Her eyes, watching Lance, were gentle and a little sad. He’d often wondered how much she really saw of what went on his head, although she’d never said or done anything to indicate that she knew anything more than any other acquaintance would. Still, feeling her gaze on him now, he guessed she knew everything.
Well, in that case….
He stood. “I’m going to go check on her.”
Paul said, “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Lance. She was pretty adamant about wanting to be left alone.”
“Yeah, well, after everything she’s been through, she might not be thinking very clearly. Besides, she’s already had one visit from a couple of MIBs. I don’t think any of us want them making a return trip while she’s in her current mental state, do we?”
As he’d expected, the Olivers exchanged a worried glance. Persephone looked back over at Lance, and something in her expression told him she knew exactly why he wanted to go to Kara now…and why she wouldn’t say anything to stop him.
“We’ll keep an eye on Grayson,” she told him, and he nodded.
Paul had a mystified expression on his face, but he somehow seemed to sense that now was not the time for any more protests. “Michael said he’d stop by after his talk was done.”
“Good.” And that seemed to be as good a sign-off as any. Lance nodded at the couple, then let himself out, his pace quickening as he crossed the neat stamped-concrete driveway and got into his Jeep.
He had no idea what he would say to Kara when he arrived at her house. He had to trust he’d figure it out in time.