Persephone didn’t seem convinced. “I don’t know. I’m not getting any clear signals, but…” She lifted her shoulders, which were as pale as her face. Even so, there was something about Persephone’s looks that turned heads whenever she walked in a room. She was exotic, with her curly dark hair and hazel-green eyes, making Kara wish she herself weren’t quite so all-American girl-next-door in appearance. “There’s something…like that sensation you get during a thunderstorm when lightning’s about to strike. Like a smell of ozone. And besides, didn’t Lance tell you?”
“Didn’t Lance tell me what?” Despite herself, Kara could hear a hint of acid seep into her tone. Lance had always been quicksilver, but lately he’d seemed even worse, dropping out of contact for days at a time. Maybe he thought with the aliens gone, their little group of UFO-busters didn’t need to keep in touch all that often.
Persephone’s gaze shifted upward, as if piercing the shabby acoustic tile of the ceiling to watch the skies above. “They’re back.”
“What?”
“That was about my reaction. Paul and Michael and Lance went out last night to see the orbs. I guess they saw a little bit more than they bargained for.”
Kara finally recalled the T-shirts she was holding and set them down more or less in place before she hurried over to her laptop and lifted the lid. Fingers poised over the keyboard, she asked, “Where exactly was it? What type? Was there any contact, or — ”
“They were out in Boynton. Triangular. No contact.” Persephone shrugged again and waited for Kara to finish typing before adding, “It shot off to the north and disappeared. Paul said he didn’t know if it had spotted them or not, but they weren’t doing anything to hide themselves, so who knows.”
Persephone’s tone was deliberately casual, but Kara could tell she was trying to hide her own worry. Here they’d thought they’d successfully vanquished the aliens. Obviously it wasn’t going to be as easy as that. Kara supposed she should have known; after all, even aided by Persephone’s unexpected talent for wiping out hybrids and alien-infected humans alike, the UFO hunters were still just a small group of very fallible human beings. Of course the aliens would return at some point to try to pick up where they’d left off. Kara supposed she’d just been hoping that it wouldn’t be quite so soon.
“Guess I’ll have to stay on my toes, then,” she replied lightly.
“I’m sure you’ll be safe here in town…”
“What about my tours? I don’t have anything tonight, but I’m booked both Friday and Saturday.”
“Then make sure you take either Michael or Lance with you. Preferably both.”
Persephone was serious, Kara could tell. Michael, sure, but she could just imagine Lance’s reaction if she tried to get him to babysit one of her tours on a Friday or Saturday. He never talked about his personal life, but Sedona was a small town. Word got around. Kiki once derisively referred to Lance as a “man-whore,” and although Kara wasn’t quite ready to admit that about him, she also knew he didn’t spend much time at home on weekend evenings.
“They could just be, I don’t know, reconnoitering.”
“I suppose so. But they could also be regrouping.” Persephone pulled her sunglasses off her head and dangled them by one of the arms. “The timing on this couldn’t be worse, but I know Ginger would have my head if I begged off matron-of-honor duties just because Paul saw some lights in the sky. But we’ll back late Monday night.”
“I’ll be fine,” Kara said. She was glad for Persephone’s concern, but really, she’d been doing this sort of stuff for years now. She knew how to take care of herself.
All the same, she knew she’d be calling Michael for backup just as soon as Persephone left. No sense in taking any unnecessary risks.
They made their goodbyes, and then Persephone left, squinting a little as she stepped out into the sunlight, glaring even at barely ten-thirty in the morning.
Kara drummed her fingers on the countertop, then sighed and began to reach for the phone. She’d barely wrapped her fingers around the receiver before the door opened and Kiki came sailing in. Probably not a coincidence — Kiki had already promised Kara that she’d drop the van off at the shop before she left town, and so she and Persephone had no doubt arranged to meet here. Why Persephone hadn’t stuck around, Kara couldn’t say. Actually, she could. Persephone most likely wanted to make herself scarce in case the two sisters exchanged any choice words on the subject of Jeff Makowski before Kiki left.
But Kara had already been down that road with Kiki, and she didn’t see any point in going back over it now.
“Here are the keys,” Kiki said, setting them down on the counter. “And I filled it up on the way over.”
It was Kiki’s way of offering an olive branch, and so Kara smiled. “Thanks. You guys heading out now?”
“Yep. We’re going to swing by and collect Paul and then get on the road. We should make it into L.A. around five, five-thirty.”
And probably at the height of rush hour, but that was Persephone’s problem. Or maybe Paul’s, depending on who was doing the driving. At least it wouldn’t be Kiki.
Thank heaven for small favors. Kiki behind the wheel in L.A. traffic was not something Kara really wanted to contemplate.
“Well, have a good trip,” she said.
To her surprise, Kiki maneuvered around the counter so she could give her sister a quick, fierce hug. “Persephone told me about the sighting last night,” she said. “You going to be okay?”
“Of course,” Kara said automatically. Why was her throat so damn tight? Kiki was going away for five days, not forever. “I’ve got Michael and Lance, and the whole MUFON crew if I need them. I’ll be fine.”
A short honk sounded from the parking lot, and Kiki said, “That’s Seph. She went to get gas while I stopped in here, but the lines weren’t too long this morning. Gotta go! ’Bye!” And she heaved the embroidered linen backpack she used for a purse over one shoulder and dashed out.
Well, that was that. Kara wouldn’t let herself sigh — that seemed a little melodramatic — but this was this first time since she’d moved back to Sedona that she and Kiki had been separated for more than a few days. Kiki had moved out of their grandfather’s house almost a year ago, true, although they spent so much time together between the shop and the tours and the MUFON meetings that it hardly seemed as if Kiki had her own place.
Kara glanced up at the clock. Not quite a quarter ’til. She usually took her lunch around one, and with Kiki gone, that meant seeing if Michael could spell her at the shop for that hour or so. Half the time she just ordered in and didn’t stir until it was time to hang the “Closed” sign on the door, but she had to go home today. She’d told the stranger she’d be home for lunch, and so she would.
If he were even there. Sure, Gort seemed to like him, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t get home and find the place cleaned out, right down to the flat-screen TV she’d splurged on a few months earlier.
This time she did allow herself a sigh, right before she picked up the phone and finally made that call to Michael Lightfoot.
CHAPTER THREE
The first thing that greeted Kara when she opened the door that led from the garage to the house was the scent of the all-natural lemon verbena cleaner she used to mop the floors and spray down the countertops. Wrinkling her nose, she looked around and noticed that everything in the kitchen was sparkling clean. The chrome faucet practically glittered in the fluorescent light from overhead.
“What the…”
Gort came bounding up to her, mouth open in a doggy smile as he headed toward the bag of sandwiches she held.
“No chance in hell, Gort,” she chided him. “It’s kibble time, and you know it.” After setting the bag on the unnaturally gleaming counter, she went to the top shelf in the pantry where she kept his big bag of dog food. It was the only place she knew it would be safe. She took it down, still looking around in confusion. Now, she was a more or less neat perso
n, because she hated clutter. However, her schedule was hectic enough that her cleaning routine mainly consisted of wiping things down and hoping for the best. It had definitely been a while since the house looked as if a professional had gone over it.
The stranger appeared around the corner between the kitchen and the dining room, a roll of paper towels in one hand and the spray bottle of verbena cleaner in the other. “Hello.”
She startled and dropped a few stray pieces of dog food, which Gort happily pounced on. “Um…hi.” Pointing with her free hand at the model-home perfection of the kitchen, she asked, “Did you do this?”
“I hope it’s not a problem. I felt as if I should be doing something besides sitting and watching the television.”
A problem? No, having a stranger who looked like an underwear model doing maid duty while she was at work was definitely not a problem. “That’s — that’s great. Really. I just haven’t had much of a chance to clean lately…”
The slight frown that had creased his dark brows erased itself. “Good. I got the idea from a commercial.”
It figured. Daytime television tended to be dominated by advertising geared toward stay-at-home moms — cleaning products, educational toys, the odd ad for a vocational college for those who might decide that getting out of the house sounded like a really good idea after the umpteenth diaper change that day. She found herself staring at the swell of his biceps below the baggy Hawaiian shirt, and forced her gaze upward. Not that that really helped, either; those eyes were the most amazing green she’d ever seen.
“I brought some sandwiches,” she said hastily, recalling the bag on the counter. “Hope you like chicken pesto.”
“I — I don’t remember.”
“You’ll be fine.” If his appetite this morning as he put away all the remaining multigrain waffles was any indication, he’d most likely devour pretty much anything she put in front of him. Not that she’d met anyone yet who turned up their nose at the Wildflower Bread Company’s sandwiches.
She took the bag over to the small cafe-style table next to the window, then went back to retrieve a couple of glasses and the pitcher of sun tea from the refrigerator. He seemed to understand what she had planned, and so he took one of the seats and waited for her to sit down as well. After she pulled one of the sandwiches out of the bag and handed it to him, he said,
“Grayson.”
“Excuse me?” Kara paused with one hand still inside the paper bag.
“You can call me Grayson.”
A little thrill went through her. Maybe he was finally starting to remember something. “That’s your name?”
He shook his head. “No. I saw someone named that on one of the shows on your digital recorder, and I thought it sounded like a good name.”
Good thing she didn’t have anything more incriminating than old episodes of Drop Dead Diva on her DVR, episodes she refused to erase even though the show had been canceled. Then again, it wasn’t a bad choice. After all, the fictional Grayson was also tall, dark-haired, and gorgeous. “So…Grayson…you still don’t remember anything?”
Another head shake. She noticed he was careful to finish chewing before he replied, “Nothing. Just darkness. Everything was black…and then I saw the lights of your house, and I followed them.”
Pouring iced tea for both of them gave Kara time to think. “So nothing at all…no explosion, or bright light, or anything like that?”
“No.” He frowned as he reached for his glass of tea. “That is…I’m not sure.” The frown deepened. Up close like this, she could see a few more traces of the damage he’d incurred in the desert, the smallest patch of flaking skin on his forehead, a slight redness in his eyes. Still, he had shown remarkable powers of healing. If those powers continued at this rate, by tomorrow there shouldn’t be any trace left of his time in the desert.
She remembered that she had a sandwich to eat and took a few bites of her own. “You’re not sure? So maybe there’s something?”
“I — I don’t know.” He set down the glass of tea and stared across the table at her, eyes like chips of green glass against the browned skin. “There was…a light? I don’t know if that’s the right word. Something that burst over me…everyone around me…and then darkness. I don’t remember anything after that.”
It could have been a crash of some sort. True, she hadn’t heard anything about an accident like that, but that didn’t mean much. Just because the aliens had been scared off didn’t mean the government wasn’t still testing all kinds of crap in the deserts of Arizona and New Mexico. Grayson could have been part of some sort of failed test flight or something. But she’d never heard of government agents leaving one of their own behind, especially if the person in question was a highly trained pilot.
“It’s okay,” she said in soothing tones. The look of distress in his eyes was real, and she suddenly wished she hadn’t tried probing into his origins quite so soon. Yes, at some point they’d have to track down who he was and where he came from, but for God’s sake, the guy had just collapsed in her living room the night before.
“I don’t know,” he replied, and that green gaze seemed to shift from her to some indeterminate point down the hallway, beyond the front door. “I don’t know if it is.”
* * *
Lance hadn’t really intended to go into the UFO Depot today, but after last night’s sighting, he figure he owed it to Kara to at least give her the straight scoop in person. Paul of course had already told Persephone, and Lance guessed she’d passed the information on to Kara. If he didn’t go in and tell her what he’d seen with his own eyes, he knew she’d be more than a little put out. Michael she’d let off the hook because this was the high season for him as well — he was off this afternoon conducting one of his “spirit walk” tours of the vortexes. Even shamans had to pay the rent.
The roughly paved lot outside the store only had a handful of vehicles parked in it, one of them Kara and Kiki’s garishly painted “UFO Night Tours” van. It made good advertising, but Lance knew Kara hated it, and only used the van when actually ferrying tourists out to one of the tours. Kiki, on the other hand, loved driving it all over town. Subtle, Kiki was not.
A pair of tourists chattering away in Japanese pushed past him as he entered. They clutched multiple shopping bags against themselves as they went, so it seemed at least Kara had made a decent sale. Good. Maybe that would put her in a better mood.
As he entered the store a blast of cold air greeted him. With the monsoon rains had come their accompanying mugginess, and he was glad Kara had decided to put comfort ahead of her electric bill. This type of conversation could be tricky enough without dripping with sweat into the bargain.
“Hey, Kara,” he said, knowing it was probably better to launch a preemptive strike rather than let her get the first word in. “I suppose you heard about last night.”
“Persephone might have mentioned something.” Her expression didn’t seem particularly irritated, but he knew her well enough to realize that certain lift of her chin meant she was more than a little annoyed.
“Well, I figured the grapevine would get to you first, so I could take my time. Not as if anything was likely to change between now and then.” Which was more or less true. The aliens in general were active at night, using the darkness to conceal their doings.
“I suppose.” She made a show of tucking a credit card receipt under the money tray and then closing the cash register. “Seph thought I should ask you to come along tomorrow night, but Michael already said he would.”
Hell. It would make more sense for both him and Michael to be there, since there was no telling what the aliens might be up to. Kara was smart and tough and could both drive and shoot pretty well, but those skills might not be enough when push came to shove. When going up against extraterrestrials, you stood a better chance if you had something a little extra yourself to bring to the table.
But dragging a bunch of rubes out to Boynton or up Schneebly Road on a Friday
evening wasn’t exactly what he had planned for the weekend. Then again, after going ten rounds with Ms. Newport Beach the night before, he thought he might be okay for a while.
He said, surprising even himself, “I’ll come, too.”
Kara’s blue eyes widened before she recovered herself and gave a quick lift of the shoulders. “I don’t need a babysitter, Lance.”
“It’s not babysitting. More like…running interference.”
She raised an eyebrow. He had the stray thought that she was looking particularly good this morning, despite her obvious annoyance. If he didn’t know better, he’d have said she’d gotten laid. Kara wasn’t the type for casual flings, though, and he hadn’t heard that she was seeing somebody. Still, she seemed somehow changed, as if something — or someone — had happened along to give her life some spice.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Actually, he knew exactly how he felt about it, but he didn’t want to deal with it at the moment. Brushing away the unexpected stir of jealousy, he continued, “You weren’t out there at Secret Canyon — ”
“You’re right. I wasn’t. I never get to be, do I?”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t have wanted to be there.”
“But I’m never given the choice.”
She didn’t even sound petulant, like a child begging for something she didn’t understand. Her tone was calm enough. Maybe it was because she knew she was right. They never did give her the choice. She didn’t have his or Michael’s…skills…and Kiki was always jumping in feet first and worrying about the consequences later. Kara had to be the sensible one, the person who kept everything going. It couldn’t be easy for her, always standing back, but also knowing she was the public face of their group, knowing that the computer at the shop and the desktop she kept at home were probed routinely by agencies so secret they didn’t have names. She kept enough on those computers to make sure the snoops had something to look at, but all the important stuff lived in the MacBook Air she carried with her everywhere in her oversized purse.
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