by V. E. Lemp
A twinge of panic made her stomach somersault. “It seems so … rushed.”
“Well”—Mark covered the phone with his hand—“are you going to change your mind in three months?”
“No.”
“Six months? A year?”
“No,” she said decisively.
“Go ahead, Thea, plan away. As long as all we need to do is send a guest list and show up.” He listened for a moment. “Yes, and get the license. I do understand that much.” He winked at Karen, who was fighting laughter. “No, Thea, Karen can’t come back on the line. She’s having some difficulty speaking. No, I’m not doing anything to distract her. Should I?” He glanced over at Karen. “Thea says I should be distracting you, if I’ve any sense. Very well,” he spoke into the phone, “I’ll take that under advisement. Karen tells me you usually give good advice. Yes, goodbye, Thea, and thank you.”
Mark turned to Karen. “I’m supposed to distract you, and I think I will. Never let it be said I ignored advice from Thea Christopher Jones.”
Karen shook her head. “You’re in trouble now. Once Thea gets a hold of you there’s no escape.”
“I have no intention,” he said, reaching for her, “of going anywhere.”
They spent the night before the wedding at Thea and Aaron’s house. After the children had gone to bed, the four adults gathered in the living room.
“I received responses from everyone on your list,” Thea said, “so there’ll be something of a crowd tomorrow, I’m afraid.”
Karen, nestled up against Mark on the sofa, gave him a sly grin. “You didn’t invite Pandora O’Drury, did you?”
“No, I thought that might be …”
“Awkward?”
“Exactly.”
“Well,” Thea said, “of course your families will be here, and some of those Morpheus Project people, and someone named Myron Tarrow?”
“And his daughter?” Karen asked.
“Yes, and at least one person,” Thea glanced suspiciously at Mark, “who needs Secret Service protection?”
Mark lifted his hands. “Business associate.”
“The agents were nosing about the house today. Though they were quite polite, I must say.”
“So what about your investigation?” Aaron asked. “Done with all that now?”
“No, not at all,” Mark said. “We’ve only just begun. Actually, I want to talk to you two about our plans. We may call on you for a little help from time to time.”
Thea examined him gravely. “Karen told me a bit more about what you’re dealing with, and I told Aaron. So you needn’t beat about the bush. You’re planning to expose these alien beings, aren’t you? And their earthly collaborators?”
“If we can,” Mark replied. “Not entirely sure how to do that yet, but we’re working on some ideas.”
“Myron Tarrow has a following on the internet and the radio,” Karen explained. “He’s going to slip some information into his blogs and live shows.”
Mark nodded. “And despite the fact that many of his followers are one card short of a full deck, they do have influence, if only within their numbers.”
“And the Morpheus Project students, those still with us, are determined to assist as well.” There was a measure of sadness in Karen’s voice. “Not to mention Lee Oshima’s abductees group. They’ve promised to help in any way possible.”
“Well, you know you can count on us,” Thea said. “Though I don’t know what help we can offer.”
“Always a place for those who want to support our efforts,” Mark said. “It may take some time, you understand. This isn’t a short-term project.” He wrapped his arms around Karen. “Of course, we do have Karen. She spoke directly with the Oneiroi in a recent dream.”
Thea stared at Karen. “Really? What did they have to say for themselves?”
“They think our efforts could be an interesting experiment. They seem more fascinated than angry, to tell you the truth.” Karen rested her head against Mark’s chest. “Though I’m not sure I trust anything they say.”
“Quite right,” Aaron observed. “Judging by their history.”
“Well, we may be few, but we’re determined,” Mark said. “And, despite what Ian Vance and his sort might think, not easily frightened or discouraged. I wouldn’t bet against us.”
“I wouldn’t either,” Thea said. “Especially with the two of you leading the charge.”
Karen patted the arm Mark had wrapped around her. “Oh, we’re just doing our best. Like everyone else.”
Thea smiled. “But a more stubborn, dedicated, honest pair I can’t imagine. And I suspect”—she reached for Aaron’s hand—“Vance and company can’t imagine that either. Which is all for the best.”
“True. I’m counting on their lack of imagination.” Mark’s eyes were quite serious behind his glasses. “And their tendency to underestimate those they do not value.”
The wedding ceremony rushed past Karen in a blur of faces and flowers and music. She only recognized a few of those sitting in the audience, including her parents and Mark’s family. The rest of the ceremony swirled around her, like some holographic projection, until the moment the minister pronounced them husband and wife. At that point Karen looked into Mark’s eyes and read the meaning of the vows there. She leaned into him as he bent down to kiss her, for the first time, as her husband.
Thea had arranged a simple but elegant reception. Karen, wearing a pale-jade gown, walked through the crowd, greeting the guests while Mark talked for some time with the woman who’d required Secret Service protection. Karen didn’t ask him who this woman was, or what they needed to discuss. She didn’t need to know.
That was trust. That was what she’d never felt before, with any other man.
Karen paused beside the table holding the champagne glasses and wedding cake and gazed out over the crowd. Lee Oshima was deep in conversation with Pilar, while Ingrid laughed and demonstrated a proper curtsey to Lee’s daughters and Carol spoke with Lee’s wife. Max McCormick was assisting Aaron in setting up microphones as Thea provided some final, and what appeared to be quite specific, directions to the three-piece jazz combo. Karen smiled at the busy scene and caught Myron Tarrow’s eye. He raised his champagne glass in a salute. Karen bent her head in silent acknowledgement.
At that moment Bradley ran up holding out an envelope. “The man said this was for you, Aunt Karen.”
“What man?” Karen took the envelope as Mark walked up behind her. He rested one hand lightly on her shoulder, and his breath stirred the tendrils fallen from her chignon.
“Some man with brown hair. Never seen him before,” Bradley said. “He was right outside the yard, by the gate. Told me to give you this and left.”
“Can you show me where?” Mark asked.
“Sure, this way.” Bradley dashed off.
Mark followed him, casting one backward glance at Karen. He mouthed the words “be careful.”
Karen stared at the envelope. Her name was written in a spiky script she didn’t recognize. “Karen Foster,” it said. But that was wrong. It was Karen Foster Hallam now. She tapped the envelope against her hand, wondering why the writer was apparently unaware of the wedding and yet knew where to deliver a message to her on this day.
Karen opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. The same sharp-edged handwriting covered the page. She scanned the letter, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. When she finished reading she walked over to the buffet table and tipped the sheet of paper into one of the Sterno flames under the hot food trays. It caught on fire immediately. She pulled it away, holding it out as far as her arm would reach, until the letter burned down to her fingers and she had to toss it to the ground and grind it underfoot.
“Nothing there.” Mark strolled over to stand beside her. He glanced from her face to the charred paper under her heel. “What are you doing? What was in the envelope?”
“Just a letter.” Karen linked her arm through his. “
It appears, my darling husband, we may have one additional, quite unexpected, ally. That is, if it’s possible for him to join us.”
“Really? And who might that be?”
Karen tipped her head to look up at Mark. She lifted her free hand and gently stroked the side of his face, as if tracing its contours into her fingers.
“Well, my love,” she said, “it seems Dr. Alex Wythe is ready to come home.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wish to thank the following people for their contributions to this book:
My editor, Annie Cosby – thank you for your editing expertise and wise advice.
Frances Black of Literary Counsel, my insightful and supportive agent – thanks for always being there to answer my questions, as well as for your hard work on my behalf. Special thanks for being supportive of my self-publishing efforts.
Many heartfelt thanks to my critique partners – Lindsey Duga and Richard Pearson. You are wonderful authors and I love adding your books to my shelves. Thanks for the sage advice and unwavering support.
Authors Judith Hillman Paterson and Adina Gewirtz – thanks for your expert advice when this was just a draft.
My cover artist, Anne Drury – you are the brilliant artist I imagined Karen to be. Thank you for the stunning cover.
My cover and interior formatter, Veronica Bartles of VBartles Design – thanks for making this book look beautiful and professional.
Last, but certainly not least, my husband Kevin G. Weavil – thank you for being my best beta reader and fan. Your belief in me and your support of my writing mean the world to me.
Coming Soon!
Book Two in THE OTHERS Trilogy
Older than our recorded history, and far superior in knowledge and technology, the Oneiroi are too alien to ever step foot on Earth.
Yet, aided by powerful human collaborators, they invaded Karen's dreams, stole her art, and shattered her life.
Now Karen must prevent them from destroying her planet.
The Oneiroi, extraterrestrials who’ve studied Earth for centuries, consider humans their lab rats. But a contingent of this ancient race—seeking to halt all experimentation—has launched a rebellion. Their mission, while just, is poised to ignite a battle that could blast Earth to a cinder.
With the planet tossed like a ball between fearsome forces, hope lies with a small band of humans and sympathetic aliens. Pursued by ruthless collaborators happy to sacrifice millions to silence the truth, Karen and her allies discover that only evidence bought with blood can expose those trading Earth’s autonomy for wealth and power.
It's time the world knew --
We’ve never been alone.
Look for this, and Book Three:
coming from White Tulip Press in 2017-18.
Add both to your Goodreads TBR list now!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
V. E. Lemp is a librarian turned author, and a lifelong science fiction and fantasy fan.
She loves speculative fiction in all formats, including books, television, and film. She also admits an unhealthy obsession with television shows that document extraterrestrial encounters and UFO sightings, and enjoys programs that present mind-expanding examinations of scientific discoveries and theories.
She believes the most important question is always: “What if?”
V. E. Lemp, who also writes in other genres under the pennames Vicki L. Weavil and Victoria Gilbert, is represented by Frances Black of Literary Counsel, NYC.
You can find and follow V. E. Lemp online here:
Website/blog: vickilweavil.com/
Twitter: @VickiLWeavil
Facebook: facebook.com/VickiLempWeavil
Goodreads: goodreads.com/author/show/15507408.V_E_Lemp
Pinterest: pinterest.com/vickilweavil/
Table of Contents
PART ONE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
PART TWO
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
