sedona files - books one to three

by Christine Pope

  Those storm-blue eyes scanned my face carefully, as if looking for his own answers there. “I expect you to defeat them.”

  I couldn’t help it. I let out a laugh before I realized he was being deadly serious. “Okay, Agent Jones — ”

  “Martin.”

  Not sure exactly what to do with that, I stumbled on. “Okay, Martin, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

  “I expect you to tap the powers within yourself to drive them from here once and for all.”

  This conversation was not going the way I had expected it to. All right, I actually didn’t know for sure what I had expected, but somewhere in the back of my mind I had probably hoped that he’d offer assistance, would say the entire MIB brigade was about to descend on the town at any minute to do a clean sweep of the alien horde. Nice fairy tale, but it didn’t seem to bear much resemblance to my current reality.

  I shoved my hands in the pockets of my coat. “And how am I supposed to do that? I have to warn you that I’m not a very good shot. Just last month when Lance took me shooting at the range over in Prescott, he told me I couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.”

  Incongruously, Martin smiled at that remark. But the smile faded quickly enough, and he turned away from me to gaze down at the creek as it burbled and chattered a scant yard beneath our feet. “It won’t be that kind of battle. Because of the powers you’ve inherited from your father, you’re the one who must confront the aliens. This is your world, your place…and your fight.”

  As reassurances went, that one was a little lacking. “What powers are they, anyway? And how come you seem to know all about them? Or is this sort of thing common knowledge at Man in Black Central?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment, just kept staring into the clear waters of the creek as if they would somehow provide their own answers. Finally he looked away and faced me once again. His expression was bleak, as if he knew he had to tell me something important but worried I might not react all that well to it.

  “No, it’s not,” he said, the words slow, as if he was turning each one over in his head before he let it escape his lips. “You see, I haven’t been entirely truthful with you — or even the people who think I’m working for them.”

  “The people who — ” I broke off and peered up into his face, trying to understand what he was saying. “Are you telling me you’re not a Man in Black?”

  “I’ve been working for that organization, but only as it suited me…suited the situation.” Another hesitation. I could see the muscles in his jaw tense before he went on, “You see, I’m of the same race as your father.”

  It was too much. I stared at him, thinking he couldn’t possibly mean what I thought. “You’re — you’re an alien?” Even as I asked the question I couldn’t believe how silly it sounded.

  But he nodded. “Yes. We’ve been observing your world for many years now.”

  If my father was really the same race as “Agent” Jones, then I wanted to retort that dear old dad had been doing a bit more than just observing, if you know what I mean. All I said, though, was, “Then why not help us? You’ve got to have more of these ‘powers’ than I do, if I’m half human.”

  Martin let out a very human-sounding sigh and shook his head. “It’s not that easy. We are supposed to observe, and occasionally instruct — as Otto does with Persephone — but we can’t interfere directly.”

  “Oh, great, Otto’s one of you, too?” I didn’t wait for him to reply, since the answer seemed clear enough. “So you’re just going to be my Obi-Wan Kenobi or something and show me the ways of the Force so I can defeat the evil Empire?”

  “If you want to put it in those terms, then yes.”

  I almost stormed off the bridge then and there. No way had I signed up for anything like this. But something in his eyes kept me rooted on the spot, something that looked almost like pleading, as if he knew I wanted to call the whole thing off.

  Don’t give up on me, that look said.

  But…an alien? Then again, as Grayson had proved, there were aliens and then there were aliens. Of course anyone who’s made a study of UFOs and the races people had encountered while dealing with them knew it wasn’t just the Greys or the Insectoids or the Reptilians. Many people had reported being visited by aliens who looked like extremely beautiful human beings. I’d always halfway dismissed those stories as wishful thinking, but maybe there was more truth to them than I’d realized.

  I gripped the wooden railing of the bridge, almost as if I knew I needed it to keep me there, to prevent me from staggering under the burden Martin had just placed on me. Keeping my own gaze fixed on the ever-moving water, on the little moss-covered stones and the creek bed of red mud, I asked, “If you’re not supposed to interfere, then why was one of your people club-hopping in Scottsdale and banging random women? Scientific research?”

  “Kirsten.”

  His tone was gentle. Too gentle. I didn’t look up, but just stood there, fingers clenched on the rail. The bridge creaked a little as he stepped toward me and came to stand beside me, very close. I could almost feel the heat of his body, a welcome relief from the chilly air.

  “It’s difficult to explain. My people — your people, too — can see the shifts and twists of time itself, of possible futures. We don’t pretend to predict it, because one chance decision can change everything. However, that doesn’t mean we can’t see the most probable future. Your father saw this day coming, knew that humanity’s best hope was to have a defender who shared both worlds…and he paid a very great price for it.”

  At those words a chill went through me that had nothing to do with the frosty December air. I tilted a sideways glance at Martin. “What do you mean?”

  He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “The penalties for interference are harsh, even if the interference is spurred by good intentions.”

  “They didn’t…” I let the words trail off, not wanting to say out loud what I was thinking. Funny how I could be so worried about this father I had never met, who hadn’t bothered to stick around to see if I would be okay.

  “Oh, no,” Martin said quickly. “My people don’t believe in capital punishment. But many feel that what happened to him might as well have been death.” His mouth tightened, and I had a feeling he wouldn’t give me any more information on that subject even if I asked for it.

  “So…this,” I ventured, guessing it was time to redirect the conversation away from my father. “Isn’t what you’re doing the same thing as interfering?”

  “No more than what Otto does when he sends a suggestion Persephone’s way. Guiding and instructing is permitted. Personally dropping the hammer on the intruders in Secret Canyon is definitely forbidden.”

  And what about the way you looked at me last night, held me? Isn’t that getting a little close to fraternizing? No way I’d ask Martin that, though. Since I didn’t have the alien etiquette handbook on me, I didn’t know if a half-breed like me was off-limits or what.

  I found myself hoping that I wasn’t, which was probably crazier than anything he’d yet told me. Now I knew he wasn’t of this world…and I found myself not caring all that much. He looked too human, sounded too human. Those arms that had held me last night definitely felt human, too, no matter what his DNA might have to say on the matter.

  He was probably waiting for me to respond, but I couldn’t find the right words. I knew I should probably ask him what the first step in this “training” was, and how on earth he was going to awaken powers that had been dormant in me for years. But asking those questions would push me over a threshold, put me on a path that would lead to…what? A kind of confrontation I’d never dreamed of, that was for sure.

  Just the smallest shift of weight, and my arm was brushing against his. His hand reached out for mine, gloved fingers twining around one another, and then he was pulling me against him, his mouth coming down to touch my lips. His flesh was warm, so warm compared to the icy breeze that tugged a
t my hair. And his touch was like a shockwave going through me, sending heat down into my chilled limbs, making my whole body almost cramp with need.

  Before then I’d never really believed the myth that when you kissed the right person, you’d know it. I’d kissed a random sampling of guys, some of them better at it than others, and while it was fun, I’d always had a sort of “take it or leave it” attitude about the whole thing.

  What an idiot I’d been.

  Because kissing Martin Jones — if that was even his real name, which I sort of doubted — made me understand at last how another person’s touch could set your blood on fire, make you feel as if you’d been sleepwalking through your life up until that point. I tasted him, smelled some kind of smoky spicy scent on his skin that could have been wood smoke or cologne or just tantalizing alien chemistry. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered, except that I never wanted this to stop.

  But of course it did. A minute later he lifted his mouth from mine, very gently.

  “Was that part of my training?” I asked, and that flash of a grin came and went again. It lit up his whole face, making him seem almost like a different person.

  “No,” he replied. “That was me doing something I shouldn’t have but very much wanted to.”

  A little of the afterglow faded. “Are you going to get in trouble?” What a stupid question. It sounded as if I was asking whether he was going to get detention.

  “That’s nothing you need to worry about.”

  Which was a fairly elegant way of sidestepping my question. “But — ”

  He smothered my mouth with his again, this second kiss having an urgency about it that made my body respond even more. I wrapped my arms around him, pressed myself against his chest, opened my mouth to his, and let him kiss me hard, kiss me in a way that made my head seem to buzz and the world tilt around me.

  The consequences of what we were doing — if there were even going to be any — seemed very far away at that moment. It didn’t matter who he was or where he’d come from, only that I wanted him with every cell in my body.

  “Oh, wow — sorry!” came an unfamiliar voice, and Martin and I broke apart.

  Somehow I managed to focus, and saw an older couple bundled up in puffy coats and mufflers hesitating on the path. Obviously they’d wanted to cross the bridge, but we’d been, well, blocking it.

  The heat in my face then had nothing to do with passion. “No problem,” I mumbled, and took Martin by the hand and dragged him past them, back up to his suite.

  As we went I thought I heard a whispered convo of disapproval, something about a man his age messing around with a girl like me. I supposed it did look sort of bad, especially since Martin was still wearing his long wool coat over his black suit and looked way more “official” than I did. We sure didn’t fit the profile of a vacationing couple.

  I waited until we were back in his room before I said, “Guess that path isn’t quite as private as you thought it was.”

  He shrugged and began unbuttoning his overcoat. It was fairly warm inside. “I suppose more than one suite here has access to that path. The probability of someone going down there in this cold was fairly low. A miscalculation.”

  “Oh, really?”

  His eyes took on a wicked glint. “Yes, really. Are you embarrassed?”

  “No,” I replied. “I’m not the one they were calling a dirty old man.”

  Instead of smiling, he sobered abruptly. “I am a good deal older than you.”

  “So what? Lance is twelve years older than Kara.”

  “It’s not quite the same thing.”

  No, I supposed it wasn’t. Persephone had always spoken of Otto as this apparently ageless being, and he’d been visiting her for almost twenty years. Going by appearance alone, Martin looked as if he had the same dozen or so years on me that Lance had on Kara, but that didn’t mean much.

  I realized I didn’t want to ask Martin how old he was. That might change everything, and I didn’t want it to. I only wanted him.

  Something in my face must have shifted, because he dropped his overcoat on one of the side chairs and came to me, pulling me close, holding me against him. I felt his lips brush the top of my head before he said, “We can stop this here, if you wish. This must all be very strange to you — ”

  “Well, that much is true,” I said, interrupting him. “But you can hold up right now with this talk about stopping things. Don’t kiss a girl like that if you don’t mean to follow through.”

  A small chuckle. “I have to say I’m glad you feel that way.”

  I wanted to stay there in his arms forever, but I knew we didn’t have forever. Not even close.

  After pulling away slightly, I asked, “So what’s next? I mean, I’d love to plop down on that couch there and spend the rest of the afternoon making out, but I’m guessing that’s not going to help much when it comes to booting those aliens out of Secret Canyon.”

  “No, probably not.” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets, seeming to think. “I have a backup plan. I chose this place because of its proximity to the creek and to your apartment, but I also reserved another location, just in case.”

  “Where?”

  “A place called Forest Houses.”

  I knew exactly where that was. Forest Houses was a collection of cabins about six miles out of Sedona proper, up along 89A as it wound its way toward Flagstaff. For isolation it really couldn’t be beat — and since the cabins themselves ranged up and down the creek itself, there wasn’t much chance of alien eavesdropping. I’d never stayed there, but Lindsey’s former boyfriend got them a cabin for New Year’s there once. Supposedly it had been pretty romantic. Not romantic enough, however, since they’d broken up about a month later, although I doubted their stay at Forest Houses had much to do with that.

  Being holed up in a cabin alone with Martin Jones didn’t sound too bad. But…

  “I need to be back at Kara’s by six,” I said, then added, “or wherever we’re having our meeting.” It probably would be a good idea if I texted her or something to tell her it would be safer if we all got together at Michael’s house.

  If he was surprised by my non sequitur, he didn’t show it. “That’s not a problem. It’s just a little past noon now.”

  His mention of the time made me realize I was hungry. “Well, if you’re going to take me up there to teach me to walk on water, could we get something to eat first? It sounds like I need to charge my batteries before we start into this ‘training.’”

  “Sure,” he said easily, and his eyes glinted a little. “I’ll just expense it.”

  I grinned, because I knew he was getting me back for my “taxpayers” comment earlier. “Well, in that case, you can take me someplace fancy.”

  The gleam didn’t leave his eyes, even as he said in tones of mock concern, “Fancy? For lunch?”

  “It’s okay,” I told him, as he gathered up his coat and put it back on. “I have a cunning plan.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Actually, I did have a plan. Although it’s great to live in a small town where your family is sort of a fixture and a lot of the locals know you, it can be a real pain if you ever want to do anything on the down-low. So I decided it would be best to eat in uptown Sedona, mostly because it’s the really touristy part of town and there’s a good deal of “churn” in the wait staff at the various eating establishments. My chances of being recognized were a lot lower there. And while I wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with Martin per se, I knew people would start chattering if they saw me having lunch with an older man…especially one who looked like a younger, handsomer Blues Brother. Minus the hat, that is.

  I explained as much of this as I felt comfortable with to Martin, who agreed that discretion was always preferable. He followed me back to my apartment so I could leave the Night Tours van there, and then I climbed into the front seat of his black Ford Taurus.

  “Seriously, have you guys ever thought of driving something that doesn�
�t scream ‘unmarked law enforcement vehicle’?” I asked as I buckled my seatbelt and Martin pulled out of the parking lot, heading north toward uptown.

  His brows drew together. “This is the vehicle they assigned me. It seems adequate, given the limitations of your technology.”

  I reminded myself that he must have a seriously different perspective on this world and everything in it than I did. “Well, I wouldn’t know that much about ‘adequate,’ but you should really try changing it up sometime. Maybe a Camaro or something.”

  “I’ll pass that on,” he said, and even in profile I could tell he was amused.

  So many things I wanted to know. Exactly how long had he been a mole in the MIB department? I supposed a being from a race as advanced as his wouldn’t have any trouble faking the background checks and physical tests required to have a job like that, but still, it didn’t sound like much fun.

  “What happened to your partner?” I asked.

  “I told you. He was reassigned.”

  I shifted in my seat, then arched an eyebrow at him and gave him my best “don’t bullshit me” look.

  A lift of his shoulders under the heavy overcoat. “I knew he shouldn’t be here this time. Frankly, he’d only get in the way.”

  “So he’s not…one of you?”

  “No. Human, born in Gary, Indiana, actually.”

  “And he never guessed you weren’t who you claimed to be?”

  “Would you have guessed, if I hadn’t told you?”

  He had me there. “Probably not.”

  “Well, then.” Martin shrugged. “In Agent DeSalvo’s case, it was easy enough to manufacture a situation where he’d be assigned a new partner and sent elsewhere.”

  “Elsewhere being?”

  “Lake Okoboji, Iowa.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “Like in the X-Files episode?”