“Alteration of the — ” She broke off, staring at him. “Grayson, I’m carrying your child. How can you be so — so — ”
“So what? Cold? Detached?” That grim smile had never left his lips. “We both know I won’t be here to see this child grow up, so what do you expect me to say? I’ll admit I’m a little surprised — you’d think the aliens would have made sure all their hybrids were sterile — but maybe they simply thought the opportunity for one of us to interact sexually with a human female would never arise.”
The wave of sickness passed as quickly as it had come, and Kara made herself breathe deeply several times before she dared to say anything. “So don’t — don’t you feel anything at all about this?”
“Are you going to keep it?”
“Yes.”
For the first time the mask of indifference slipped a little, and she could see the desperate hope there, the realization that this one part of him would somehow survive. She took a little heart from that, and let go of the tree and moved toward him. Without stopping to think, she reached out and took his hand, placed it against the still-flat contours of her stomach.
“Whatever happens, some part of you will always be with us,” she said.
He moved his fingers against her, wonder in his eyes. She realized then that what she’d feared was a regression to the behavior and personality — or lack thereof — from the time when he was only a simple drone for the aliens was really not that at all. It was only a desperate defense against the fear gnawing at him, the knowledge that he would have to give up the humanity he’d gained so as to make the world safe for everyone else.
“Thank you,” he said.
She stared up at him.
“Thank you for not hiding this from me. It would have been easy enough. In a few days…” The words trailed off, the resulting silence lying heavy between them. “I already knew what I was fighting for, but this just strengthens that idea.” He took her hands in his. “They can’t ever find out about this child, Kara. If they did — if they knew such a thing was possible — I don’t want to know what they’d do with that information.”
Such a thing hadn’t even occurred to her, but as she gazed into Grayson’s taut, strained features, she realized he was right. The aliens had already shown they were more than happy to pervert the natural order of life on earth. What use they could make of a human/hybrid child she had no idea…but she did know she would do whatever she must to conceal her child’s origins.
“They’ll never find out,” she told him, voice firm even though worry had already begun to gnaw at her. True, Lance and Jeff and everyone else were expert at keeping secrets, but a baby wasn’t something you could exactly hide. She’d just have to trust that they would come up with something. “We can take care of things. I promise.”
He nodded, although he didn’t look all that convinced. “Does anyone else know?”
“Just Persephone. I — I needed a friend to talk to. But I knew I should tell you before I talked to anyone else.”
His fingers tightened around hers, just for a second or two, and then he let go. “I wish….” He shook his head. “Never mind. I’m just glad I could know you, if only for a short time.” He bent down and kissed her very gently on the forehead. Before she could respond, he had turned and begun moving swiftly up the path, back toward Michael’s house. It was abrupt, but she thought she understood.
She had never been all that great at goodbyes, either.
* * *
Lance left the Olivers’ place just after seven, declining an invitation to stay to dinner — “We’re getting takeout from New Frontiers, so no worries about Persephone’s cooking” — at which comment Persephone had shot Paul a mock-evil glare but then shrugged. After so many hours sequestered in Paul’s office, though, Lance needed a change of scenery. Besides, he hadn’t heard from Kara all day.
He called the house, since he figured that was where she should be at this time. The shop closed at six, although sometimes she got stuck there late if she had enough of a crowd at closing time and wanted to see if she could squeeze a few more bucks out of the tourists at the end of the day. But the house phone just rang and rang before rolling over to the answering machine, so he called her cell.
Kara picked up on the third ring. “Hi, Lance.”
She sounded tired. No, she sounded drained, as if whatever she’d gone through that day had put her through the wringer.
“You all right?” he asked.
A pause. “Yes, I’m okay. It’s been a long day.”
“Apparently. I thought you’d be home by now.”
“I’m almost there. I was planning to call you when I got in.”
Her conversation still felt strange to him, as if she were saying the things she thought he expected her to say and not what she was really thinking. “Do you want me to swing by India Palace and get some takeout?”
A little sigh. “Um, sure. Actually, that sounds great. Chicken korma?”
“You got it.”
“Great. I’ll see you in a little while.”
He pushed the “End” button on the phone and tossed it on the passenger seat, wondering exactly what was going on. Well, he supposed he’d find out soon enough.
India Palace was crowded — apparently he and Kara weren’t the only people with a yen for takeout that evening — so he didn’t arrive at her place until almost half an hour later. He parked the Jeep in the driveway and got out. It had rained late that afternoon while he was at the Olivers’, and the warm air had the peculiarly pungent smell of damp asphalt, overlaid with a sweet scent that must have been the roses blooming in the neighbor’s front yard.
He went to the front door and rang the bell. Kara hadn’t offered him a key yet, and he hadn’t asked. Too soon, probably, and it was a step she would have to take. He wouldn’t presume anything, no matter what might have passed between them.
Gort barked on the other side of the door, and a minute later Kara opened it. Surprisingly, she didn’t look as wrung out as he’d been expecting. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail, which was unusual for her, but otherwise she seemed to be more or less herself. Maybe she’d gotten her second wind.
“Dinner,” he said, and raised the bag of takeout in a half salute.
“Great,” she replied, moving out of the way so he could come inside. “I’m starved. Gort, get out from underfoot.”
The German shepherd obliged by moving a scant ten inches off to one side, his nose working overtime as he tried not to be too obvious about sniffing at the riches of chicken korma and brown rice and naan and samosas.
“Not a chance in hell, Gort,” Lance said, and the dog backed away a little bit more.
Kara looked almost guilty. “Well, sometimes I let him lick the takeout container afterward. Korma isn’t spicy enough to bother him.”
That was Kara for you. The way she spoiled the dog was nuts, but also sort of endearing. Or maybe he thought it was endearing now because of the way he felt about her.
He wasn’t sure what to think of that, so he just followed her into the dining room, where she’d already set out plates and silverware. A wine glass sat by his place setting at the head of the table, but he noticed Kara didn’t have one for herself.
“Not drinking tonight?”
For some reason she flushed slightly. “No — I’m so tired I think I’d pass out with my head in my food if I tried to drink anything. But I’ve got a bottle of pinot grigio already open in the fridge, so if you want some…”
“Sure,” he replied, mostly because he couldn’t think of a good reason to say no.
She went to get it, and he got the takeout set up using the large serving spoons she’d already laid out on the table. Gort took up his position on the rug, perfectly centered between their two chairs. Lance smothered a grin.
“Here you go,” she said, coming back into the room. She poured him a little more than half a glass, then sat down in her own seat.
He watc
hed her as he settled the napkin in his lap, took his first sip of wine. On the surface she seemed fine, but he noticed the way her movements looked just a little jerky, as if she were filled with some sort of nervous energy that had nothing to do with her overall level of weariness.
“So how was the council of war?” she asked, before spearing a chunk of chicken and putting it in her mouth.
“I think we have things mostly worked out,” he replied carefully. If there were any way of keeping the details of the mission from Kara, he’d try to do so…but he sort of doubted she’d let herself be kept in the dark for too long.
“And you all are just fine with sending Grayson off to his death?”
The set of her jaw told him she was a long ways from giving up on the subject. “Kara, you don’t know that’s what’s going to happen. None of us know.”
“But it’s a distinct possibility.”
“Yes.”
She didn’t reply, instead stabbing at the korma with sharp little movements of her fork. Her eyes were suspiciously bright.
He really hadn’t wanted this confrontation, but he knew he’d have to have it out with her sooner or later. “Kara, he’s the only one who can do it.”
“According to you.”
“According to all of us. The aliens know what Paul and Michael and I look like. They know what Persephone looks like. None of us are going to get within a hundred yards of that place, and you know it. Hell, I doubt we could get within a half mile. Grayson can because he looks like every other one of their soldiers.”
“But not his eyes.”
“Colored contacts. Luckily the biometric scans are for the hybrids’ thumbprints, not their eyes. It should work.”
She didn’t reply, but reached out for a piece of naan and tore it viciously in half, dunking a piece in the korma sauce and then pausing with it partway to her mouth. At length she said, “Should work.”
“Nothing is guaranteed. But it’s the best shot we have. And we should all be glad that Persephone apparently made them more than a little cautious about us and what we’re capable of, or we’d be having to worry about alien-infected agents roaming the streets of Sedona. They’re not here, which means they’re not really surveilling us. Not yet. But if we let them keep going, let them build things back up to where they were in March — well, we’re all going to be in a world of hurt. Not just you and Paul and Persephone and Michael, and probably Kiki and Jeff, but everyone in Sedona. Everyone in the world. Grayson seems to understand that. So why don’t you?”
Her shoulders slumped, and she dropped the piece of naan on her plate. Then he saw a tear roll down one cheek, followed by another. They dripped onto the tablecloth, making dark muddy-looking splotches on the clay-colored fabric.
Oh, shit.
It wasn’t her crying. He wasn’t one of those men who freaked out if a woman dared to shed a few tears over something. No, it was that those tears must mean she still felt a lot more for Grayson than she’d let on. That she hadn’t really let him go.
Even though he hadn’t meant it to, his voice hardened a little. “You’re not over him, are you?”
She looked up then. Her nose was a little red, but otherwise she didn’t appear to be the type who completely fell apart when she cried. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
A pause. Then she stared straight at him and said, “I’m pregnant.”
It really didn’t sink in at first. He gazed back at her, noting how the tears had already begun to dry up, that her full mouth was uncharacteristically tight. Then it hit him, those two words that could change your life in a way no others could. “You’re what?”
“I went to Prescott today, to Planned Parenthood. They confirmed it.”
“But we — it’s only been — ”
“It’s not yours, Lance. It’s Grayson’s.”
He’d been through too much in his life to let anything completely unnerve him, but even so he had to force himself to sit still, to let himself absorb the idea. Kara, carrying the child of a human/alien hybrid.
“Even so — ” he began.
“Accelerated development,” she said, in a tight little voice that didn’t sound very much like hers. “At least, that’s what Grayson told me.”
“So he knows.”
“Of course. He has a right to know.”
Probably he did, but what would this knowledge do to the hybrid? Would he be able to follow through with their plans, knowing that he’d be leaving behind the woman carrying his child?
Something in his face must have betrayed his thoughts, because Kara shook her head and said, “Don’t worry, Lance. It hasn’t changed anything for him. If anything, it’s only made him more determined.”
“It has?”
“I guess he wants to make the world is safe for his child.”
“So you’re…that is….” Lance stopped himself before he could complete the sentence. Jesus, how was he supposed to ask her if she was going to get an abortion?
“I’m keeping the baby, if that’s what you mean. I don’t expect you to understand.”
Proud words, but as he looked at her he knew she wanted more than anything for him to understand, for him to tell her it was all right and that he’d stick with her no matter what happened. And, crazy as it might sound, he knew he would. He’d never expected to have children, thought all that business about having someone to carry on the family line was just stupid. If Kara had had a child with that jerk Alan, Lance would have accepted the situation. Everyone had their baggage. Some of it just weighed more.
He smiled at her, noting her surprise at the alteration in his expression. “Well, let’s hope the baby doesn’t come out green or gray or something. But if it does…”
“If it does….” she said, hope beginning to light those gorgeous dark blue eyes of hers.
He reached out and took her hand, felt how chilly her fingers were. She needed some warming up.
Soon.
Tone casual, he finished, “If it does, I can’t think of better place than Sedona to raise a pale green quarter-alien baby. Can you?”
In answer, she got up out of her seat and went to him, wrapping her arms around him, the soft scent of her perfume or her hair or whatever it was filling the air. He held her, pulled her close, tried to let her know by his embrace that he wouldn’t lecture or condemn, wouldn’t do anything except show her that he would be there for her.
By the quick, jagged little breath she took, and the tightening of the embrace, he thought she did.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
They had designated Sunday as the day to infiltrate the alien base, partly because Lance wanted more time to go over the plan, but also because Kara put her foot down and told everyone in no uncertain terms that she refused to be stuck at the store while something so important was going down. She knew she could have closed the shop on Saturday if necessary, but it would have looked suspicious after so many closures in such a short amount of time. The thought of Agent Martin Jones hanging around, asking more questions, did not appeal. Never mind that Kiki thought he was cute. Cute or not, he didn’t need to be poking his nose into their business any more than he already had.
By that time everyone knew about Kara’s situation, and luckily, no one had really commented on it…maybe because Lance made it clear that he’d make things extremely unpleasant for anyone who tried to question her too closely. Kiki had been flabbergasted, but apparent she saw from her sister’s expression that she wasn’t going to be talked out of her decision.
“So I’m going to be an aunt,” she mused. “‘Kiki’ doesn’t sound very aunt-ish. I’ve been thinking about going back to Kirsten. Maybe people will take me more seriously as a Kirsten.”
“Maybe,” Kara said cautiously. What she really thought was that a small child could manage “Kiki” better than “Kirsten” — her sister’s nickname had come about in the first place because as a toddler she kept lisping her given name. But Kara wasn’t going
to worry about it. For all she knew, the baby would emerge with its intellectual development far ahead that of a normal human infant’s and would be doing differential equations during potty training.
All that aside, she did feel better now everyone knew about her situation, especially after Paul informed her that he was acquainted with a woman in New Mexico who “specialized in this sort of thing.”
“That is, she’s an RN with midwife certification who’s helped other women who’ve had half-alien children.” His voice was matter-of-fact as he told Kara this, as if such a thing wasn’t completely nuts. Thank God for scientific detachment. He hadn’t bother to add, Those women who were allowed to keep their children. They both knew that for every woman who actually managed to bear such a child and raise it, there were many more whose pregnancies were mysteriously terminated, or who remembered giving birth but never saw their children. He said, “I’ll make contact with her after — that is — ” And here he broke off and looked almost confused, for him.
After the mission is over and Grayson is dead, she thought, but of course she didn’t say the words out loud. No, she managed to smile and reply, “Thank you, Paul. Obviously this isn’t going to be a normal pregnancy, so knowing that I’ll have an expert to help me through it makes me feel much better.”
Not that she really felt all that great. The nausea came and went, along with spells of weariness that seemed to drag down her every movement. If it was this bad now, when no one could even tell she was pregnant, what was it going to be like as the baby got bigger and bigger? Such accelerated development would have to take its toll somehow. But even though she relayed this information to Paul, who passed it along to the R.N. in New Mexico and got in reply that these things were perfectly normal, all things considered, and that she should switch to prenatal vitamins and get plenty of rest, she couldn’t help worrying. She was in uncharted territory now, and even though she instinctively felt she was doing the right thing, she couldn’t help being more than a little freaked out.
Thank God for Lance. She hadn’t expected him to be so understanding, so seemingly free of jealousy over her carrying another man’s child. And when she’d tried to press him on the issue, he’d only shrugged and said, “I want you, Kara. I’ve wasted enough time already. I won’t let this come between us.”
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