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.
Kara wished she could be that calm, that composed. Her hand still shook slightly as she lifted her wine glass and drank. But if Persephone could somehow manage to face Grayson and address him as if he were any other dinner guest, Kara supposed she 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?” Kara and Grayson demanded simultaneously. Then they exchanged an embarrassed glance before Kara forced herself to look away from that green stare, to focus on the food on her 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.”
Kara didn’t want to believe it, but she’d seen too much evidence of Persephone’s powers and knew the other woman wouldn’t be making any of it up. “So…you’re trying to say he’s been out in the desert for the last five months? How could anyone possibly survive that?”
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 were 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 Kara wanted to look away from it. She’d seen his unclothed body, had been as intimate with him as another person could be, and yet she suddenly felt as if she was observing something she 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. Kara could tell Grayson didn’t want to believe it. She didn’t want to believe it herself. 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.
Kara began to half-rise in her own chair, but Persephone’s words stopped her. “Don’t. He needs to be alone for a while.”
That somehow didn’t feel right, but Kara did as Persephone instructed and resumed her 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 more or less faced Kara. “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.” Kara finished off the last half-inch in her glass and wished the bottle of cabernet was in arm’s reach so she could pour herself 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 — ” She shook her head, feeling like a complete idiot. How could she confess to Persephone and Paul that she’d thought Grayson might finally be the one, when she’d only known him for a few days? Maybe if she were alone with Persephone she’d have the guts for that, but not with Paul watching her, too, even though his expression seemed sympathetic enough. Anyway, she’d already proven herself to have completely failed in judgment when it came to Grayson. No point in making it 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 them, but Kara 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?”
She wanted to say she didn’t know, let it all fall on them, let them take care of it. Suddenly she was so very, very tired. The events of the past week seemed to be catching up with her all at once. But she 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, she described their 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.”
Kara had the feeling that Persephone had almost said “killed,” substituting the other word at the last minute. Although the psychic 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, but I’m home all the time. And Michael and Lance can take turns in providing any necessary defenses.”
It sounded logical, but Kara found herself unwilling to agree. So she would 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 she do? She certainly didn’t want to abandon Grayson to the mercies of his former masters. On the other hand, she knew they couldn’t go on as they had. Even now the thought of him touching her made her…well, not sick, not the way she’d been less than an hour ago, but she couldn’t help shivering a little. He wasn’t who she’d thought he was…what she thought he was.
And she really didn’t want to think about what Lance would say when he found out what she’d been up to…and with whom. Her cheeks flushed, but thankfully she’d dimmed the light over the dining room table as she’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.
Kara 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 Kara to have her sister back in town. Kiki wouldn’t condemn. She, who knew more than anyone else how much Kara had given up over the years, might just begin to understand.
“Just for a few days,” Kara 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,” she faltered, hearing in his voice an echo of the cold, flat intonation he’d used while under hypnosis at Janelle Russo’s office. Had her 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 she couldn’t say anything else of a personal nature, not in front of Paul and Persephone. Maybe later she and Grayson could find some quiet time to talk, but at the moment she thought maybe it would be best if he simply went away. She couldn’t seem to think clearly with those green eyes, now hard and cool as polished jade, staring at her.
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.”
* * *
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 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.
CHAPTER TWELVE
After everyone had left, Kara wandered back into the living room and sat down on the couch, her hands hanging limply over her knees. She found herself wishing Persephone had left her with a pile of dirty dishes, but her friend, trying to help, had made sure the kitchen was spotless before she and Paul led Grayson out of the house and into Persephone’s Volvo. So now here Kara was, in an empty house with nothing to do.
Gort nudged her with his nose, and she reached down to ruffle him behind the ears. He whined a little, as if sensing her disquiet. “It’s all right,” she said. “My heart’s already been broken once. I know it can heal. But the process may require many quarts of Ben & Jerry’s.”
The dog cocked his head to one side. He was a fiend for ice cream, since she let him lick the bowl of anything that didn’t have chocolate in it.
She had a feeling this might require more than a bowl of Cherry Garcia, though. This was…she didn’t even know how to articulate the feeling inside her. Hurt, yes, of course. But beneath that, something else. Betrayal? Maybe. Stupid, really. It wasn’t as if Grayson had purposely set out to deceive her.
Or had he?
No. She refused to believe that. Whatever else happened, however things ended up between them, she knew he’d truly not known who…or what…he was. Besides, Persephone had flat-out stated that she didn’t feel anything bad coming from him. And she would know. She’d tried once or twice to describe to Kara how it had felt to touch the consciousness of the aliens and the hybrids, and even that bit had been enough to tell Kara she was glad not to have that sort of perception, not if it meant being exposed to that kind of evil.
Grayson wasn’t evil. She’d know it.
Wouldn’t she?
The doorbell rang and she started, even as Gort gave a short, sharp bark and dashed toward the entry. His tail was wagging, though, which indicated he knew who was waiting on the other side of the door. Persephone, coming back to babysit despite Kara’s protests to the contrary?
She let out a breath and stood, automatically pushing her hair back off her shoulders. This was an argument she really didn’t feel like rehashing, but if Persephone needed to be told for the fifth time…
Kara opened the door. One the other side waited Lance, for once without his mirrored sunglasses.
“Oh,” she said lamely. Lance was about the last person she really wanted to see right now, for a variety of reasons. “Aren’t you supposed to be standing watch over the alien captive or something?”
The keen gray eyes didn’t blink. “I wanted to talk to you. Can I come in?”
Since she couldn’t refuse without sounding completely rude, she lifted her shoulders and stepped aside. Gort looked up at the intruder with wary eyes, but because he recognized Lance’s smell he moved out of the way and went back into the living room to occupy his favorite spot on the rug, the one that in the winter was touched by the heat of the fireplace.
Following his lead, Kara took her own place on the couch, pushing herself back into one corner as she stared up at Lance, her arms crossed. “I hope you’re not here
to read me the riot act. I know I screwed up, okay?”
His brows drew together. “That’s why you think I came over here?”
“It’s not?”
“No.” With a restlessness quite unlike him, he paced over to one side of the coffee table, hands jammed in the pockets of his cargo pants. “How could you have known?”
What he said was true enough, but Kara couldn’t quite figure out what to make of his words. Lance wasn’t exactly known for his gentle, forgiving nature. And seeing him here like this, after everything that had happened — well, she hoped she’d be able to hold it together long enough for him to speak his piece and be done with it. She had a hard enough time concealing her feelings from him on a normal day; right now, with all her nerve endings flayed and raw, the thought of looking at him as if he didn’t mean anything more to her than anyone else of her acquaintance made her feel almost physically ill.
Or maybe that was just echoes of her reaction to Grayson’s true identity.
“Okay,” she said, uncrossing her arms and cupping her palms over her jeans-clad knees, “so why are you here? It’s been kind of a rough night, and I’m wiped.”
“I didn’t like the thought of you being here alone.”
That comment made her lift her head and look up at him sharply. The expression on his face was so unexpected that at first she didn’t even recognize it. Worry, yes, but something else. It couldn’t be need. Not from Lance. All the day’s shocks must really be getting to her.
“I’m fine,” she said, those two words of denial that had gotten her through so many things — her mother’s abandonment, Alan’s betrayal, her grandparents’ deaths. By now the phrase hardly meant anything anymore.
“No, you’re not.”
She didn’t like how he stood there, looming over her. Without replying, she rose and moved past him to pause a few feet away from the mantel. Absently, she thought she had the air conditioning turned up too high. That must be what was making her feel suddenly chilled.
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