by Delia Roan
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Contents
TITLE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
THE ALIEN PRINCE: KOVOS
Delia Roan
www.DeliaRoan.com
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© 2018 by Delia Roan
www.deliaroan.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Editing services provided by LY Publishing
www.lypublishing.com
Cover design © 2018 by Plumstone Book Covers
www.plumstonecovers.com
CHAPTER ONE
JENNA
The eerie sensation creeping down her spine began halfway through the second act of the dress rehearsal. Jenna Harlock tried to focus on delivering her lines and hitting the marks set out on the stage. All the while, the fine hairs on her arms rose.
The shadows in the back of the auditorium should have been empty. The seats sloping away from the stage sat vacant. The stage crew had set up, and headed home, leaving behind the skeleton crew necessary to change scenery between acts. The theater should have been empty, but Jenna felt strange eyes on her.
Jenna squinted against the bright spotlights. She raised her hand and shielded her eyes. Her skin prickled and her throat closed up. The voices of the actors surrounding her seemed to fade away.
No, it can’t be.
A sinister figure stood in the aisle. His hoodie hid his face, but he clenched his gloved hands at his sides. His neck seemed unnaturally short, making his head vanish into the slope of his shoulders. The stranger’s body vibrated with poorly concealed malice — malice aimed at Jenna. Jenna’s heart thumped and she stepped back in fear.
They’ve found me, she thought. They’re going to finish what they started, and this time he won’t be here to protect me.
“Jenna!”
Clinton’s sharp tone made Jenna jump. Guiltily, she dropped her trembling hand. The stranger couldn’t hurt her in public. Too many witnesses.
If he’s even really there.
“Yes, Clinton?” She shot a glance back into the dark. The figure was gone. She let out a shaky breath.
Maybe I’m going crazy again.
Her director slapped a rolled up script onto the side of the stage, making Jenna flinch. “Dammit, Jenna. Focus! You missed your cue again.”
Jenna dropped her head. “Sorry, Clinton.”
“I know this is your first major stage production, but you’re in every scene. This production will fail if you don’t stay in the here and now, Jenna. What is our motto?”
Jenna parroted back the words she’d heard a thousand times a day since joining the cast three months ago. “Stand together, or fall apart.”
“Precisely!” Clinton huffed, and wagged a finger. “Don’t make me regret giving you this role.”
Jenna flushed. “No, Clinton.”
Giggles erupted from the cast and crew around her. She wanted to kick herself. She sounded like a mindless bimbo. Yes, Clinton. No, Clinton. Sorry, Clinton.
Clinton rubbed his eyes. “Let’s try again. From Gustav’s entrance into the parlor. Go!”
Jenna took her position, nearly stumbling in her haste. As the cast muttered at the delay, Jenna gathered herself, trying to ease the tension from her shoulders. The auditorium remained empty for the rest of the performance.
When Clinton dismissed them, Jenna didn’t tarry. She rushed straight to the dressing rooms. Other female cast members chatted and gossiped while they changed, making plans to grab food or carpool. Jenna kept her head down, refusing to engage in conversation. Any other day, she would have made an effort, but not tonight.
After seeing the creepy figure, she wanted the safety of her own apartment, behind the reinforced door. She removed her heavy gown and carefully hung it on the clothing rack for the costume department to examine before the big performance tomorrow. She let her fingers linger over the lush fabric. Even with cheap glass beads, the gown sparkled.
The heavy greasepaint on her face came off with some cold cream and scrubbing. Under the makeup, she looked gaunt, with dark bags under her eyes: the face of a woman haunted by ghosts. She brushed out her thick hair, breaking apart her curls, and pulled it into a messy bun.
Ghosts aren’t anything new.
As she exited the changing room, she bumped into a petite woman carrying armfuls of fabric.
“Whoops! My bad!” Rachel pulled aside the satin blocking her vision. “Oh, hey, Jenna. Nice performance today.”
Jenna smiled. Rachel Lee worked in the costuming department, and was responsible for Jenna’s gown. Since she also did Jenna’s makeup and hair, they spent a lot of time together. Rachel was probably the only person working at the Vogel Theater Company Jenna considered a friend.
Or at least friendly.
“Thanks, Rachel. I hung up my dress for you.”
“Oh, you’re a lifesaver! I wish everyone else did, too. It’d make my job faster. I’ll take a look at it once I’ve got these sorted.” Rachel patted the pile. “Hey, a couple of us are going to grab a drink later. Wanna come?”
“Well…” Jenna trailed off. It sucked keeping Rachel at a distance, but Jenna knew making friends led to talking about complicated things like feelings and childhoods. Experience
taught her that nobody wanted to hear about Jenna’s past. It never ended well.
Rachel pulled out her trump card. “Mark will be there,” she said in a sing-song voice. “I overheard him say he wants to get to know you better.” Mark was the leading man, and underneath his fake beard, he was a good-looking man.
It should have been a given that Jenna wanted to hang out with Mark. That was what twenty-four year old single women in the city did: they flirted and dated. Even if they weren’t serious about a guy, they would give him a chance.
They didn’t worry about revealing their pasts to their love interests. If Jenna told Mark where she spent her teen years, he would run so fast he would be nothing but a dust cloud on the horizon.
If friends are dangerous, then boyfriends are worse.
Jenna stepped back. “Sorry, Rachel. I gotta get home.”
Rachel’s face fell, but she nodded. “Sure,” she said. “Next time. Bye, Jenna.”
Jenna bit her lip at the jolt of guilt she felt. Rachel had welcomed Jenna into the company and had helped a newbie actor learn the ropes.
It’s better this way, Jenna reminded herself. Rachel likes me. Why change that?
The apartment Jenna shared with her sister was a few blocks away. Any other night, she would have walked, but taking a cab made Jenna feel safer after her foreboding premonition. She sighed with relief as she locked the heavy apartment door behind her. A sound in the kitchen made her jump.
“Jenna?”
“Mel?”
Melissa Harlock popped her head around the corner and her long ginger braid swung like a pendulum. “Hey, kiddo. How’d it go?”
Jenna rested the crown of her head against the door and closed her eyes. She could be honest with Melissa. Her big sister was always supportive and would never judge her. Melissa hadn’t said a word about Jenna needing an apartment with additional security. She’d taken all of Jenna’s safety demands in stride. Even through her darkest times, Mel had been Jenna’s rock.
“It went fine.” There was no sense in worrying Mel.
Jenna couldn’t keep the stranger’s rage out of her mind, but nothing had happened. She was safe. The door was locked. Safe and sound.
Mel studied her younger sister for a moment. She stepped around the corner, and crossed her arms.
“You don’t look fine,” she said carefully. “Is something wrong?”
Jenna pushed away from the door. “No, everything is fine.” She gave a little laugh. “Clinton was just being a hard-ass today.” She deepened her voice, and flicked her fingers above her head in mimicry of her director. “Stand together, or fall apart.”
Melissa didn’t laugh. She stepped forward, and extended her hand. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
Jenna pushed past her hand and walked to her room. “I said I’m fine.”
She kept her head down, and resisted the urge to slam her door. That would make her no better than a petulant teen. Mel was concerned, with good reason.
Mel always worries.
Jenna’s room was cozy, and her haven from the world. The walls were lined with posters for movies and theatrical productions. Jenna grabbed the guitar from the corner and plucked at the strings, letting the notes calm her. She strolled to the bed and took a seat on the patchwork quilt.
Melissa leaned on the door frame while Jenna finished tuning the guitar and started playing a slow love ballad from the 80s. Years of experience had taught Jenna that Mel would stay there until she got her answers. The only tactic left was to change the topic.
“Why are you home, anyway? Didn’t you have a date with Paul?”
Mel sighed. “I know what you’re doing, Jen. But that’s okay. You know where to find me if you need me.” She crossed the room, and sat beside Jenna. “I’m always here for you, even when you’re being annoying.”
Jenna laughed. “Thanks, Garfield. I love you too.”
“Ugh, don’t call me that!”
“Okay, Garfield.”
“Whatever, Odie.”
Jenna smiled at the silly nicknames. Garfield because of Mel’s ginger hair, and Odie because, according to twelve-year-old Mel, eight-year-old Jenna was odious. Without breaking her strumming, Jenna laid her head on Mel’s shoulder.
“Tell me why you’re home,” she said. “Did Perfect Paul have an accounting emergency? His calculator need new batteries?”
“Paul broke up with me.” Mel wrinkled her nose and snorted. “Can you believe it?”
Jenna slammed her hand onto the guitar strings, cutting the music abruptly. “No!”
“Yup. He said I made him feel, and I quote, ‘unwanted and unneeded,’ end quote.”
“What does that even mean?”
Mel laughed. “I think it means he didn’t like that I paid for my own meals.”
There was a knock at the door. Jenna froze, but Mel patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Speaking of meals, that’s the Angelo’s pizza I ordered.” She hopped to her feet. “Help me drown my sorrows in cheesy goodness?”
Jenna swallowed back the lump in her throat. If an awesome woman like Mel couldn’t find love, what chance did she have?
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be right out. And Mel?”
Melissa stopped in the doorway. “Yeah?”
“Maybe he wasn’t the guy for you.”
“It’s the maybes that’ll kill ya,” Mel said, shrugging.
“Well, I know he didn’t deserve you.”
Melissa smiled. “Duh, that’s a no-brainer. Thanks, kiddo.”
Jenna heard Mel grab her purse and open the door. “Hey, you guys aren’t— Wait, get back! What—”
Melissa screamed. There was a crash from the other room, the sound of someone, or something, striking the door, followed by a thump as the door hit the wall.
Jenna sprung to her feet, dropping her guitar, and bolted to the living room. “Mel? Mel!”
She skidded to a halt at the sight in front of her. Her eyes widened. The stranger from the theater stood in her living room, and Mel lay in a heap at his feet. At Jenna’s gasp, he turned to face her and pulled his hood down. Jenna hissed. His - no, its - wide triangular head resembled a snake’s, with long tendrils dangling from its chin. Veins pulsed under its pallid skin. The wide mouth split open to reveal rows of sharp teeth.
Jenna remembered the sight from her nightmares — and from her past.
The creature reached a hand toward her. The fingers resembled twisted roots and ended in pointed claws. She stumbled backward until her spine pressed against the wall.
“No! Get away from me!” Bile rose in her throat as the creature’s scent reached her nose. Memories washed over her, filling her with horror. In her head, she heard the screaming of women. Her hands itched for the comfort of a knife.
“This can’t be happening.” A moan escaped her lips. “This isn’t real.”
Jenna grabbed a stack of magazines from the table beside her and threw them. The papers fluttered around the creature, and its grin grew. As she turned to run, it shot out an arm and seized her by the hair. Jenna shrieked as her head snapped back. Using her hair as a handle, the creature swung Jenna around, driving her into the wall head first.
Stars exploded behind her eyes, and then her world went dark.
***
Jenna woke to the sound of gentle beeping. Struggling to open her eyes, she sat up with a groan. For a moment, the world spun and she clutched her head. Slowly her vision settled, but pain radiated from her left temple down behind her ear and neck.
She sat on a cold metal table in an empty room with dim lights. Shelves lined the far wall, but they were bare. It was most likely an unused storage room.
A large door, big enough to drive a car through, filled the nearest wall. Dirt gathered in the corners and the metal hinges were rusty. A dark circle in the far wall allowed pale light to filter into the room from outside.
How long was I out? Is it stil
l the same night?
Jenna swung her feet to the ground, and her stomach lurched. Slowly she slid to her feet, and staggered to the window. Bracing herself against the frame, she peered through.
Her jaw dropped. Outside, as far as Jenna could see, lay nothing but the blackness of space, sprinkled with countless stars. She’d been camping enough times to remember their brilliance, but these pin-pricks of light were endless, unbroken by trees or horizon. The sight was breathtaking.
And terrifying.
Where is Mel?
The squeal of metal on metal made her turn. The door opened, revealing the creature from her apartment. Jenna cowered back. The hoodie was gone, and instead the creature wore loose fitting robes in a drab green. The creature didn’t make eye contact.
It carried a bundle that it placed on the metal table, then it pulled a small device from its robe and set it beside the bundle. Now that she’d had time to study it, Jenna realized it wasn’t the same creature. This one was smaller, meeker, and its facial tentacles were tinged with brown.
The creature opened its mouth, and a string of hisses and pops emerged. To Jenna’s surprise, a voice in her ear provided a translation. “Change your clothes and await further instructions.”
The creature turned and left. The door closed with another piercing squeal and then a solid clang.
Jenna walked to the bundle and peered at it. It appeared to be clothing. The white fabric was soft and shimmery, with tiny golden jewels embedded in the weave. When Jenna picked up the dress, it flowed like water through her fingers.
The device on the table beeped, and Jenna dropped the clothing. It slipped off the table and onto the floor. A voice boomed out of the flat box, and within a nanosecond, the translation arrived in her ear.
“Human, can you understand me? Speak to acknowledge my words.”
Jenna licked her lips. “Yes? I understand you. But how-”
The voice interrupted. “Excellent. If you wish to see your sister again, you will do as I say.”
