Inalienable: Book 7 of the Starstruck saga

by S E Anderson

  “Ouch,” I shivered. “Every night?”

  “Everyone gets nightmares, I s’pose. Everyone is haunted by their past in a place like this.”

  “What about you, Peter?” asked Zander casually.

  “Slept fine,” he replied, meek as ever.

  “Really?” I pushed. “No dreams?”

  “Nope,” he said, as he reached a hand up to push some of his hair out of his face, curving his fingers around his ear and exposing the skin there for barely a second.

  I snorted my orange juice loudly in surprise as I saw the bare patch of skin there with a small, penny-sized, white mark that seemed to fade and blend into the skin, even in the split second that the mark was exposed. Impossible that it had healed so quickly since I had last seen it.

  “You sure?” I urged. “Storms can really mess with your head.”

  “I slept right through it,” he said. “Though come to think of it, I did dream of Santa Claus parading around the roof.”

  “Santa Claus. That’s the imp in the red suit, right?” asked Blayde.

  “Don’t tell her he’s fictional,” Zander whispered in my ear.

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to be able to hear her?”

  Daisy-May got up, stretched, and ushered for us to follow. According to the schedule, our entire morning was free, so we made our way to the rec room where the girl took out a box of Connect Four, setting it up at the table so that we could take turns playing. I went along with it. To be honest, I wasn’t wanting to do anything with crayons, and Connect Four was at least slightly challenging.

  Though there were roughly two dozen patients in the room at the moment, it felt oddly empty. The sun had finally come out, rays of actual sunlight flooding in and warming us all. Josephine sat by her window like she had the day before, watching the world evolve and revolve around her as she hugged her knees to her chest. Many of the patients I hadn’t had the time to meet yet meandered around the room, chatting amongst themselves, trying to find something interesting to do.

  It didn’t feel like a mental institution anymore. The people seemed less like criminals and more like people I could relate to. Scary thought. If I had told myself only a year before that I would be traveling the universe with an alien, that I would be immortal, of all things, I would have looked for psychological help as well.

  Then again, maybe that was exactly what had happened. I glanced up at Zander, his hair glowing in the early morning sun. It was absurd that I had ever managed to catch his attention, let alone have him fall in love with me as I had with him. Maybe, at some point, my mind had snapped and made this whole mess up for me.

  I took one look at Blayde, who was drawing literal battle plans with her crayons and tossed that thought away. There was simply no way my mind could conjure up someone like her.

  “Phone call for Sally Webber. Sally Webber, can you come over here, please?”

  I was jolted back to reality at the sound of my name. I stood robotically before realizing I had no idea what to do about this.

  Daisy-May tapped my arm. “Go to the main door, the one with the grate on it,” she said, still beaming. I was starting to think she was like a glow stick. That, one day, she had cracked and was just emitting light ever since.

  “Thanks!”

  I awkwardly waved Zander and Blayde goodbye, getting an encouraging thumbs-up for yours truly. Daisy-May was practically squealing in delight. I got the feeling that phone calls rarely happened in this place.

  “I’m Sally,” I said as I approached the grate. “There’s a call for me?”

  The woman on duty nodded. She pushed a button on the control panel in front of her, the grate slid open with a noisy buzz, and it closed behind me as soon as I was through. Another grate in front of me slid aside with yet another loud and grinding buzz.

  It had to be my parents calling, unless Foollegg had decided to go old-school and buy minutes. Not that I wanted to talk to either of them. It went without saying that I didn’t want to have a cozy chat with the woman who had framed me for murder. As for my parents, you’d be embarrassed, too, if you’d just told the whole world you were an immortal space traveler and aliens had made you kill somebody. Even if every word of it was true.

  A nurse was waiting for me on the other side of the grate, politely smiling as if she had no idea what I was in for.

  “Sally Webber?” she asked, as if I could be anyone else. I nodded. “You have a phone call.”

  She spun on her heels, walking forward without another word, expecting me to follow. I glimpsed back at the rec room, the grate blocking most of my view. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Blayde, her gray eyes riveted on me, expressionless, one red crayon clutched tightly in her grasp.

  I followed the nurse to another room, this one about the size and shape of a broom cupboard. Overly lit, furnished only with a small IKEA table with a lone, old-fashioned rotary phone resting on top. I took my cue, sitting down on the worn chair provided and picking up the phone as the nurse who led me there left me alone, which was pretty nice.

  I had no delusions about the fact this was probably being taped, though. Not that anyone would believe a word of what came out of my mouth.

  “Hello?”

  “Sally?” the voice on the other end said.

  “Who is this?”

  “Oh, sorry. Bad reception. Hold on.” Heavy footsteps filled my ears, the line becoming clearer until the fuzziness was completely gone. “Do you hear me now?”

  “James?” I felt a smile creep up my cheeks. “Is that you?”

  “Yeah, it’s me,” she said. “Good god. Where do I even start?”

  “It’s good to hear your voice,” I said. “I was so worried about you. When I saw you in the courtroom …”

  “Worried about me?” She let out a hearty laugh. “Sally, you really do need that psych eval. You’re the one who was arrested on a trumped-up murder charge! I’m the least of your worries.”

  “I’m not sure you’re any safer where you are. The Agency knows who you are, knows you were involved. The only reason they didn’t frame you, too, was because they needed leverage against me.”

  “Wow, your ego needs reduction surgery.”

  “Felling, I’m not joking about this.” I clutched the receiver so hard I felt the plastic begin to give. “Foollegg came to me.”

  “At the institution?”

  “No, in jail, right after we got arrested. She had this whole plan to extract us from prison, so we found a way out of prison.”

  “That explains your sudden candor,” she replied. “I swear I tried to get rid of their files on you. One day, they had barely anything on you. The next, you had a criminal record.”

  “Barely anything? You mean they had that blood-test thing. Enough for midnight SWAT teams.”

  “I’m starting to think it wasn’t our people who ordered them on you that night.” Her tone had gone so cold my ear was freezing against the receiver. “Sally, my own partner was an extraterrestrial, and I didn’t even know. How am I meant to trust anyone there ever again, knowing what I know now?”

  “I wish I had an answer. I really do. Anyone here could be working for them.”

  “This is so wrong.” She was angry now, her icy tone beginning to heat up. That same fury that was rippling through my belly was growing in hers too. “This is our planet. They have no right to do with it what they wish.”

  “The Agency is just the tip of the iceberg,” I agreed. “The entire Alliance needs to be put in their place. This is our home. Either they protect it or they get the hell off.”

  “Get out of that place,” she hissed. “And this is coming from a federal agent: Get out of there. Get Zander and Blayde to do whatever they can to get the Agency off Earth. Promise me you’ll do that, Sally. No one else can.”

  “You think we don’t want to?” I said, shaking. “Why do you think we’re still here? They have my parents, Felling. My mom and dad are going to die if I go anywhere the Ag
ency can’t keep an eye on us.”

  “She threatened your family?”

  “Without missing a beat.”

  “Shit.”

  For a second, I thought she had ended the call. Neither of us said anything, but her steady breath was a reassuring reminder she was still there.

  “We did the right thing,” she said. “With Cross. We couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

  “We did the right thing,” I agreed.

  “I’m sorry. For everything. He was my partner; I should have seen him for what he was so much earlier. If I had, maybe you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “You couldn’t have known, James. You couldn’t have.”

  “He was a monster, Sally. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, in a puppet body. He solved cases with me! And anyone in my department could be the same. Wearing their human skins and moving pieces in a game I didn’t know existed until a week ago.”

  “I know.”

  “You told me that you get used to it,” she said. “But how? How do you get used to it?”

  “You don’t, James,” I said, and it physically hurt to get the words out. “I was just rolling with the punches. Now, it’s like the entire world is made of fists.”

  She let out a heavy sigh. “Great. Just great. New partner today. Could be an alien and no way of knowing.”

  “Throw some water on them,” I offered. “See if they melt?”

  “Very funny. This is serious, Sally.”

  “You’re not listening to serious.”

  “Right. Roll with the punches. Expect the worst from everyone. Got it. Are they treating you all right, at least?”

  “We’re fine, all things considered.” My fist relaxed a little. If I kept thinking about my hatred of the Alliance, I would corrode from the inside out. “The food is worse than I remember in high school, though everyone is addicted to their oatmeal. Better than being en route to Pyrina in a prison ship.”

  “And Blayde? I know she’s probably not taking being locked up well. How’s she holding up?”

  “You can’t even imagine. I’m glad mom won her over with those brownies or she’d have nothing keeping her from exploding and taking the whole place down with her.”

  “Great. Tell her I said hi. And Zander too. Do you need me to do anything out here? Seeing as how I can’t exactly help with potential breakouts.”

  “Just keep an eye on my parents for me, if you can,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. “The Agency is sure to have people on them. It would be nice to know someone is indeed on their side.”

  “Of course, count on it.”

  A knock on the door of the small phone room told me that it was time to wrap it up. I sighed, angry I didn’t have more time to myself.

  “I’ve gotta go,” I said, frustrated. “Anything you need me to pass on to the siblings?”

  “Tell them I said hi, okay? And don’t worry, your parents will be fine.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  “No problem. I’ll call back soon. Please, do ask Zander if there’s any way I can tell if my partner’s an alien.”

  “I’ll ask.”

  “See you soon.”

  “Bye.”

  The hospital felt like a different world as I was led back through into the rec room. I knew James didn’t want me to worry about her, but I did. If I hadn’t used her stolen ID when meeting with Foollegg, the Agency might not have known about her involvement with us.

  So much for us making a difference. Rather than just helping James solve her case, we also murdered her partner, put her on the Agency’s radar, and revealed an actual alien conspiracy to keep Earth ignorant about extraterrestrial life.

  A conspiracy we were now a danger to. Anyone here could be an Agency spy; anyone out there could be an Agency spy.

  Everyone I knew could be in danger.

  And I couldn’t do anything from in here.

  “How did it go?”

  Zander was the only one left at the table, politely waiting for me while Blayde and Daisy-May were who knows where. I sat across from him, letting him see the weight on my shoulders.

  “James called,” I replied. “She says hi. We’ve also destroyed her trust in everyone on the planet, so she’s not doing the best right now.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” he asked. “We shattered her illusions.”

  “Honestly, I would rather not know about how deep the Agency’s roots go, but that’s just me.”

  Zander nodded as he folded over his paper, hiding the golden sunshine he had been doodling there. I was just reaching for my own sheet when Dr. Smith appeared above us, smiling with motherly tenderness that had been all too absent when we’d first met.

  “Good morning, Sally,” she said. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Morning,” I replied, slightly put off. Her perfume was on too thick, wafting over me and blocking my sense of smell. “To be honest, the bedsheets feel like paper. Sorry.”

  She ignored me, placing one hand on the back of my chair, the other on the table, leaning in toward me, her sickly-sweet perfume heavy in the air. I leaned away from her as she loomed over me like a vulture over its dinner. My head conked against Zander’s shoulder.

  “We’re going to get started on our talk this morning,” she said. “I’m excited to get to know you.”

  “Likewise.” I gave an awkward smile, and that seemed to be enough.

  “Zander, we’ll meet this afternoon,” she said, though her eyes never left me. “I hope you have a pleasant morning.” She marched away just as casually as she arrived, but her perfume lingered.

  “I guess I’m off,” I said. “Though I feel like I only just sat down.”

  “At least you won’t get bored. I’ll start probing for possible Agency plants. Keep an eye on that doctor, just in case.”

  I swallowed hard. Just a few minutes ago, I’d been talking with James about how anyone could be an off-worlder, and already, I was letting my guard down. I had to be more cautious.

  Even Blayde was playing her part. As I followed my doctor through the rec room, I spotted her in the corner with Daisy-May and Peter, completely loose and relaxed. An act, to be sure. Probably pumping them for information, whatever they could give.

  She flashed her drawing at me on the way out—a fully fleshed-out, 3D map of the institute with details too small to read. I shouldn’t have worried at all.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Therapy sounded like a good idea but now I’ve got questions

  I followed Smith through the maze of the institute, away from the common areas and into a hallway segmented with heavy oak doors, the whole while fretting about whether or not I appeared to be fretting enough. I was silently hitting the refresh button on my brain, begging for my anxiety to speak up.

  She led me into her office, open and warm with a thick, soft, chocolate brown carpet. A complete change from the sticky, white linoleum floors and artificial lights I had just come from. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined opposite walls on my left and right, while the back wall was curved and entirely made of windows. I had a clear view of the wild, semi-tropical plants on the grounds that made the state so spectacular bending in the wind. How many gators were out there right now, ready to munch on escaping patients?

  Ah, there you are, anxiety. Good to see you again. Can’t say I missed you. Ready to help me look like I belong here?

  An oak desk sat before the window, topped with an old-fashioned brass lamp illuminating the two green armchairs and the classic psychiatrist’s sofa that stood dead center in the room.

  “Sally,” she said, closing the door behind us and locking us in, “I’m glad to finally have this time to chat. How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” I replied quickly, still taken aback by the room. Warm cedar wafted through the air, reaching my nostrils and making me feel safe and relaxed, covering the horrible smell of the woman’s perfume.

  She waved me over to the patent leather sofa. It was almost straight out of an 80s
movie. “Please.”

  I did as I was bid. The leather creaked under my clothes.

  She shook her head. “Please, lie down.”

  Oh. She was one of those doctors. I said nothing, lifting my legs off the floor, wondering if she gave it a good clean between patients. None of my past therapists had ever asked me to lie down before; I usually sat in their well-worn armchairs.

  “Do you know why you’re here, Sally?” She took out her clipboard and pen, the click filling the silent room.

  I nodded. “We’re doing a psych eval.”

  “A mental health evaluation, yes. But beyond that. Do you understand why the judge sent you to me?”

  “So you can tell the courts whether I seriously believe what I’m saying or if I’m making it all up to get away with murder?”

  She wrote something down on her notepad, the pen scratching hard against the paper. Or maybe my ears were just getting all that much better. “You have nothing to worry about from me. I just want to hear the truth. I just want to talk. Seeing from your file, this isn’t the first time you’ve met with a psychologist, is it?”

  “I met with one regularly after my brother died.” Who knew what she already knew. Whether she was working for the U.S. courts or the Agency, she probably had access to more data about my life than I could ever know. “Freak accident. It wasn’t pretty. Car lost control and crashed into him, sending him over a cliff. It was horrible. I was diagnosed with clinical depression shortly after that. I’d had depressive episodes off and on before his death, but it was only when his passing allowed me to meet with a psychologist that I got a diagnosis. I’m sure that’s in my file.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, taking further notes. “I’m worried about your recent treatment history. Though recently your symptoms have been subsiding, you haven’t been taking your medication.”

  My blood went cold. “How do you know that?”

  “Your therapist.”

  “But what about doctor-patient confidentiality?”

  “She was court-ordered to give up all pertinent information that could inform this case. She wants to help you, Sally.”