Michael leapt to his feet and stood without moving, the sound of that voice ringing in his ears. He looked at the empty desert in front of him, but he didn't really see it. He was too busy grappling with what he'd just heard. Or, rather, who. He knew it couldn't be real, that his mind had created it as a part of his dream, but still...
The voice came again, louder this time, repeating its insidious message in a sickeningly sweet tone. Killer. Killer.
It figured. He'd finally made the decision to stop obsessing about Pierce's death, to shove it and its implications aside and get something accomplished, and he couldn't do it. The voice wouldn't let him. It was reminding him with every syllable of what he'd done. How he'd reached a hand out and seconds later the agent was dead.
Michael shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. No. This time, he wouldn't let the voice get in his way. This time, he would do what needed to be done, regardless of what else was happening. He wouldn't run from it, but he wouldn't listen to it either. Not now. He wouldn't let it affect him so it might as well stop.
And he told it so. Looking defiantly into the sky, he commanded it to shut up. To leave him alone. This time he didn't get caught up in it; he fought it. "Shut up!" he said more loudly, then raised his voice even further. "Shut up, damn you! Shut up!"
But the voice refused to listen, repeating its incessant, hateful message. It grew louder and louder, pounding in his head, making his ears ring, unrelenting.
A sharp pain pierced through Michael's skull, dropping him to his knees in the sand.
He would not give in. He would not give in.
His hands flew up to cover his ears in a futile attempt to block out the sound. To no avail.
He wouldn't give in. Please let him not give in.
Two small hands closed over his, and he looked up, only half seeing the stupid silver antennae in her blond hair and her worried green eyes as she stood in front of him. She seemed to be saying something, but he couldn't hear over the roar of the voice. As if she understood his confusion, she repeated her message, carefully shaping each word. His eyes fastened on her lips as he struggled to understand.
With a sudden feeling of triumph, he recognized one of the words she was repeating. His name. No one said his name like she did. He'd heard it in a hundred different tones, a thousand different moods, but her lips always moved the exact same way, shaping the word with exquisite care as if it were of vital importance.
And once he made out one word, the others became clear as well. It was only two more words, after all. Two lone syllables. Six letters, no more. His mind spun, dancing the words around, unable to take in their meaning. Pulling his hands roughly from his ears, Maria stretched herself up as far as she could go. Taking a deep breath, she tried to remember everything she'd ever learned from singing about projection and diaphragmatic breathing; then she shouted as loudly as she could, directly into his ear.
"Michael! Wake up!"
* * * * *
Letting fly with a string of curses, Michael bolted upright in the middle of his apartment. He was breathing hard, from shock and effort rather than from physical exertion. Looking wildly around the dark room, he tried to absorb the implications of what had just happened. If it had happened, and it wasn't just some dream-created hallucination of his scattered brain.
But it had seemed very real. At least, the voice had. He knew the whole thing with Pierce becoming an incandescent figure of light wasn't real. But the voice--it didn't seem any different from all the other times he'd heard it.
Except this time he'd fought it.
He would have lost, if Maria hadn't screamed at him to wake up.
Maria.
His head swiveled immediately over towards the couch, looking for her. In the darkness of the room, he couldn't make out her small figure. He swallowed as a hundred panicky thoughts filled his head.
What if she was still stuck in his dream? What if he'd woken up but she hadn't? What if she had disappeared, like she had before? He shot to his feet, the rose-covered afghan pooling on the floor, and raced to the door. He flicked the switch up and blinked in the sudden lamplight.
All his energy drained away as relief swept in. She was there, on the couch, propped up on an elbow and looking at him.
"Michael?" she whispered. "Was it real? Was I really back in your dream?"
"Yeah. You were," he managed.
"And we found Pierce's body, and it turned into...into light?"
"Yeah."
She hesitated, and then said carefully, "What happened to you, Michael? You were...you were really starting to scare me."
He looked at her, a scowl on his face. "Didn't you hear it?"
"Hear what?"
"I couldn't tell if it was in the dream or in my head again. But if you didn't hear it, that question's answered."
"What? You heard the voice? What?"
"Yeah."
Her eyes narrowed. "Michael. I know you. There's something you're not telling me."
Michael looked up at the ceiling. "And how would that be different from usual?" he said, trying to deflect her questions.
It didn't work. She gave a little shrug. "It's not. But tell me anyway."
He ran a hand through his hair, acquiescing. "This time, when I heard it, I recognized it. You were right when you said it was familiar." His voice was hollow.
"Who?" she gulped out.
His eyes met hers. He spoke one word. "Topolsky."
Maria stared in shock at the tall alien in front of her. "T..Topolsky?" she stuttered in disbelief. "As in Agent Topolsky, fake guidance counselor and crazy dead person?"
"Yeah."
Maria sat up on the couch. "Okay, that's just wrong. The woman is dead, Michael."
"I know."
"So what are you thinking, that her ghost is haunting you or something? Come on, Michael. And why would Topolsky be calling you a killer, anyway? You didn't have anything to do with her death."
He looked away. "I didn't meet her to get the orb, and she disappeared. And then she was dead."
Maria's voice rose indignantly. "That is not your fault!"
"I'm not saying it is, okay?" he burst out. "It's just...It happened, that's all. Pierce...had her killed."
Maria shook her head. "This is just too bizarre, Michael. I mean, I don't even believe in ghosts." Her lips curved into an amused smile. "Of course, up until last year I never really believed in aliens either."
"Yeah, well, I guess we proved you wrong," Michael said dryly.
"You sure did. I mean, it's hard to argue with living, breathing proof, especially when it's a lot taller than you and can blow things up with its mind." She grinned as he acknowledged her point with a wry nod. Playing with the edge of the blanket, she continued, slowly, "There's another explanation for the voice, though, Michael."
He raised an expectant eyebrow. "Shoot."
"Don't freak out over this, okay?" He folded his arms and looked at her sternly. "You could be making the voice up in your own head, Michael. You know, convincing yourself that you heard Topolsky instead of someone or something else." His lips pressed together stubbornly. "I don't mean that you're crazy, or that you didn't hear it, but you've already shown that you have a talent for coping with things in...well, unusual ways."
"A talent for--what's that supposed to mean, exactly?" he bit out.
"I don't know, just that...well, you split yourself in two and locked half of you inside your own head. That's not usual, Michael. At least not for the human part of you. I don't know about the other part--"
"And this is supposed to convince me I'm not crazy? Just how does that work, Maria?"
"I don't know! I'm just...I guess I'm just trying to see the big picture. You know, think logically," she explained, then mused, "Hmmm. Logical thought. Maybe I've been hanging around Liz too much."
Did she imagine it, or did his lips quirk upwards in a sudden brief smirk?
"You know," Michael commented, "I'm not so sure that you of all people are an appropriate judge of my sanity."
Maria's eyes narrowed, and she blurted, "And just what do you mean by that?" before she caught the slightest twitch of a lip in his otherwise impassive face. She rose regally from the couch and stalked over to him, placing one deliberate finger squarely in the center of his chest. "Look here, pally, you may as well stop messing with me, 'cause there's no way you're gonna win." Ha! Let him react to that challenge.
Instead, he totally disarmed her by saying soberly, "You know what? You're probably right."
Maria's jaw dropped. What the heck did he mean by that? "What the heck do you mean by that?" she demanded.
Shuttered brown eyes looked into green ones. "Why don't you go back to sleep?" he suggested, ignoring her question.
"But--"
"It's the middle of the night. You might as well get some rest. I'll wake you up in time for work," he promised.
"All right," she said slowly. "Are you--"
He shook his head. "No, I'm gonna stay up. Maybe work on the sketch. I've...I've got a lot to think about, anyway."
"Okay." She swallowed, then headed back over to the couch. Sitting, she grabbed the faded blanket and began to pull it upwards, then looked over at him as he headed towards the light switch. "Michael?"
"What do you want now, for me to tuck you in or something?" he asked sarcastically.
She pretended to consider his offer, then burst into laughter at the trapped look on his face. "No, no," she managed between chuckles. "I wouldn't want you to strain yourself, Spaceboy." She gave him a wide, perfectly open grin. "Good night."
He looked at her for a moment and then reached out to flick off the light. Settling back down under the blanket, she listened to the quiet sound of him padding back across the room. Another click and a dim light came on in the kitchen. Craning her neck, she watched as Michael sat at the counter, silhouetted against the kitchen light.
Resting his elbows on the counter, he leaned his head into his hands and sat, unmoving. Maria held her breath. In a moment, however, he straightened up and reached for the sketch pad and pencil in front of him. Maria smiled. He would be all right. She snuggled down under the blanket and closed her eyes. Maybe this time she would see one of her Dream Michaels...
* * * * *
Maria took a deep breath of cold air as she hastened down the sidewalk, a silent Michael by her side. He'd woken her, as he'd promised, pulling her out of one of the best sleeps she could remember having in a long, long while. He hadn't been very talkative, though--not like that was so unusual. He refused point blank to discuss the events of the previous night. Not talkative? Grumpy was more the word for it, actually. He'd nodded brusquely when she'd decided to head over to Liz's so she could clean up before the morning Crashdown shift started. At least there she'd be able to comb her tangled hair. Looking up at the alien beside her, she wasn't sure he even owned a comb. He'd just run his hands through his spiky hair, pulled on his boots and jacket, and indicated roughly that he was ready to leave.
"So," she said, to make conversation, "are you hanging around the Crashdown on guard duty today?"
"At least until Max or Isabel can get there," he responded in a gruff voice.
"Good. Then I can treat you to breakfast," she said happily. "What are you in the mood for? Eggs? Pancakes? What?"
"I don't want anything."
"Oh come on, Michael, you can't just sit there without ordering something. It'll blow your cover. I mean, it's a restaurant, not a park bench." His face tightened. Suddenly realizing, she stopped in her tracks. "What? You think this is some sort of charity or something?"
He didn't answer, continuing doggedly down the sidewalk.
Maria ran after him and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to a stop. "Well, what on earth was last night then? Letting me stay with you, giving up your bed and your blanket--was that charity?"
He refused to look at her. "No, that was coercion."
She let out a screech of frustration. He was just--just infuriating! "Look," she said through her teeth, "if you won't let me buy you breakfast as a friend--which Liz and I do for Alex all the time, by the way--then consider it payment for your hospitality last night. Or for your guard duty. You won't owe me anything, okay? God, you are so prickly sometimes, Michael." Her voice grew very, very firm. And the slightest bit shrill. "I am buying you breakfast, so you'd better start deciding what you're in the mood for before I decide for you!"
Michael closed his eyes. It looked like the only way he was gonna get her off his case was to give in. Figured. "Okay, okay. Fine. Don't make such a big deal about it."
"What? You know, if you hadn't slept on the floor last night, I would swear you got up on the wrong side of the bed," she seethed, turning and stalking down the sidewalk, all the while muttering under her breath about badly groomed, pigheaded Czechoslovakians with no manners. Michael quickly caught up to her.
"Pancakes," he muttered.
"What?" she said, pulled out of her rant.
"Pancakes. With maple syrup and plenty of Tabasco."
She smiled at him, her black mood instantly dissipating. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
He rolled his eyes as they turned the corner to the Crashdown's back alley. "You can wait in the back while I go up to Liz's room and get ready," she decided, pulling open the restaurant's back door. "It won't be long before we're officially open, anyw--" She stopped in her tracks. Michael, following on her heels, had to pull himself up short to keep from running into her. Looking over her head, he took in a distressed-looking Liz and a very serious Jeff Parker. What the--
"Maria Ursula DeLuca," said a cold voice. Michael blinked. Ursula? But in front of him, the girl stiffened, and he swung his eyes over to see--oh god. Her mother.
CHAPTER 41
Maria stood frozen, barely hearing the stifled "Shit!" from behind her. She gazed into her mother's furious eyes, eyes that were angrier than she'd ever seen them. Even more than when Maria had let Michael spend the night with her.
Her chin rose and she locked her eyes with her mother's. "Hi, Mom," she said coolly, stepping into the room.
Her mother did not look away as she said, "Jeff? Do you mind?"
"No problem, Amy. I think I need to have a talk with my daughter, anyway." With a stern glance at his daughter, Jeff Parker pointed up the stairs. "Come on, Liz."
Maria's eyes flashed to her friend. Liz looked intently at her, mouthing "Sorry," then shook her head helplessly before heading back upstairs after Jeff, leaving Maria alone with her mother. Oh--and Michael. Surprisingly, he hadn't moved from the doorway. Then again, he didn't really know her mother. If Maria were in his shoes, she'd have already bolted.
Amy's eyes followed Maria's to the tall boy; he shifted uncomfortably under the double gaze. "I think you'd better stay for this, Mr. Guerin," Amy said, her voice even more chilly, if that was possible. "I have a few things to say to you, too."
Even if she hadn't been looking at him, Maria would have known that Michael had tensed. But he came in, allowing the door to swing shut behind him.
She had to get him out of this. She'd promised Michael that her mother wouldn't find out, and now that was blown. So the least she could do was to try and spare him the flack that was about to hit. "Can't this wait until later?" she asked. "I've got to work, Mom. We'll be opening soon."
"No, it cannot wait. This is more important than work. And Jeff Parker agrees with me." Her mother's voice grew even tenser. "So. Maria. Would you care to explain what you were doing out all night, when you told me you'd be at Liz's? And with...him?" she added, her voice not concealing her dislike.
Maria's eyes narrowed, and her chin set obstinately. "No. I don't think I care to explain."
Even Michael, who'd had no real parental guidance in his life, knew that she'd just given the wrong answer. Massively wrong. Colossally wrong. Unimaginably wrong. He grimaced, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the ongoing confrontation. It was like watching a train wreck.
"No seventeen-year-old daughter of mine is going to stay out all night, god knows where, with some hoodlum!" Amy said sharply.
"He is not a hoodlum!" Maria shouted right back. Uh-oh. She shouldn't bother trying to defend him. He was a dead man anyway. The killer newspaper was beginning to look good. He watched numbly as Maria's mouth kept right on jabbering. "And just what are you doing over here, anyway, Mom? Spying on me?"
"It just so happens that you left your overnight bag at home. I was bringing it to you. And while you're under my roof, I have a right to know what you're doing!"
"Then maybe I shouldn't be under--" Maria began, at the top of her voice. Uh-oh. This wasn't just a train wreck any more. This was getting really ugly.
"Maria?" Michael broke in. She didn't pay any attention, she just kept ranting on. Maybe he should try the other DeLuca. Maybe she'd be more reasonable. He spoke again, louder this time. "Mrs. DeLuca?"
The woman at least looked at him. Her gimlet eye bored a hole into his head. "And you," she said. "I was going to cut you some slack. Give you a chance, because my daughter cares about you--or thinks she does. But you blew it big-time, buddy. Don't think you're ever going to lay eyes on my daughter again." Okay, so it looked like reasonable was not the word.
"You can't stop me from seeing him!" Maria said fiercely.
"Oh yes, I can, young lady," her mother replied. "Because you are grounded. Until you're thirty. You will go to school, but that's all. No job, no spending time with your friends--any of them. And you can forget about the play, too."
Michael watched the hurt flicker through Maria's eyes. Dammit. He might not have put it there directly, but once again it was his fault. He should never have let her stay with him. His fists clenched. "You shouldn't blame her, Mrs. DeLuca. It's not her fault."
"Shut up, Michael!" Maria protested.
He ignored her, looking her mother squarely in the eye. "I wanted to talk to her, and she wouldn't, so when I saw her on her way to Liz's, I took her to my apartment. She didn't want to go. It's not her fault," he repeated.
Amy looked at him skeptically. "And what kept her from leaving?"
He frowned. "I wouldn't let her. I...I locked her in."
Once again, Amy ignored her daughter's protests. "So you're basically saying that you abducted my daughter and held her against her will?"
He nodded.
Her eyes narrowed, an expression he'd seen before on Maria's face. "Do you realize how much trouble that would get you in? That you could go to jail?"
He closed his eyes and nodded again.
"Do you think I'm stupid, Michael?" she asked scathingly.
What? Fuck. His eyes flew open. "No. Ma'am."
'Ma'am' wasn't going to cut it this time. "Then don't lie to me. You are already in enough trouble here. Don't make it worse."
"I'm not lying," he lied.
"Michael--" Maria began again. Amy held up a hand to silence her daughter and then took a threatening step towards Michael. She looked coldly up at him.
"First of all, my daughter thinks she cares about you. She wouldn't have any problem whatsoever going to your apartment to...what did you call it? Oh yes, talk."
"Mom!" The air rang with Maria's horrified cry.
"Second, if you had tried to drag her there against her will, you wouldn't have gotten very far, because I know my daughter and she would have screamed her head off. So perhaps you'd like to stop lying to me before you get yourself in any further."
Shit. What could he possibly say to get them out of this? He could hardly tell the woman the truth. His brain raced, but came up with nothing, and she was standing there waiting for an answer. An answer he couldn't give. "It's still my fault. Not hers," he said stubbornly.
Amy turned to her daughter, who was staring in anger up at the tall boy beside her. Well, well. Maybe things weren't all so peachy in Teenage Lust Land after all. "You might want to tell Sir Galahad here that his efforts are worthless. His misguided attempt to blame himself is not going to do you, or him, any good."
"Tell me something I don't know!" Maria fumed. She looked pointedly up at Michael. "Just where do you get off trying to take the blame, anyway? It was my fault, not yours!"
He scowled. If he'd just listened to his gut instead of giving in to her like a total wuss, they wouldn't be in this mess. Never again. "I let you stay," he pointed out. "I knew I shouldn't, but I let you."
"I made you let me!" she yelled at him.
"Nobody makes me do anything I don't want to do!" he shouted back. He wasn't going to let some chick push him around. Or at least, he was damned if he'd admit it.
Her voice grew even more sarcastic. "Oh, so you're saying you wanted me over there? You wanted me to spend the night on your couch? You actually wanted to kiss me?"
"What? Yes! No--I mean--Hell, I don't know, all right?" he stumbled. Stupid girl, getting him all tied up in knots. He shook his head. "It doesn't matter what I wanted. I knew better. It's my fault."
Amy watched the two teenagers, so engrossed in their argument that they'd obviously forgotten she was there. Which was doing nothing to calm her ire. Enough was enough. She addressed her daughter. "So that's where you were all night. In the apartment of this...this delinquent."
Maria snapped. "Mom! Get off Michael's case already! Yes, I spent the night at his apartment! Now you know! Happy?"
"The car's out front. I suggest you get in it," Amy said coldly.
"Mom--"
"Car, Maria. Now."
Maria took a deep breath, visibly reining in her temper. "Fine." She turned to Michael. "I'll talk to you later."
"I wouldn't count on that if I were you," her mother put in dryly. "Car. Now." With one last look at Michael, who refused to meet her eyes, Maria pushed open the door to the main dining room and headed outside.
With narrowed eyes, Amy studied the remaining teenager, who stood stiffly with clenched hands. The warning in her tone was perfectly clear. "I don't want you anywhere near my daughter, you hear me?"
Michael's jaw tightened. "Yeah," he said roughly. "I hear you."
"Good." Amy picked up the overnight bag that she'd brought with her and strode out.
Michael watched her go, and then turned on his heel and slammed out the back door.
* * * * *
Max was rudely awakened from a pleasant little dream about Liz and science class when the pounding started. He looked around, momentarily disoriented, before realizing what was happening. This wasn't an unfamiliar scene. "God, Michael," he muttered as he headed towards the window, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "It's seven o'clock on a Saturday morning. Some of us actually like to sleep in, you know." Pushing the curtains aside, he stared at the tense expression on his friend's face, then unlocked the window and moved aside so Michael could climb in.
"Get Isabel," the spike-headed alien ordered.
Letting out a small laugh, Max asked, "Are you trying to get me killed, Michael? Because that's what she'll do if I ruin her beauty sleep, you know."
"Get her," Michael repeated, more urgently this time.
"No need," said a voice from the doorway. Isabel stood there in her pajamas and bathrobe. "Somebody already did that by banging on your window. Gee, thanks, Michael," she ended sarcastically. "What's going on?"
The tense look didn't leave Michael's face as he spoke one word. "Maria."
Isabel was instantly on the alert. "What happened? Is she all right?"
"I think so. In the sense that we weren't ambushed by her stalker or anything. But..." He looked down at his feet. "I can't watch out for her any more."
A frown appeared on Max's face. "Why not?" he asked.
"Because Mrs. DeLuca isn't going to let me anywhere near her daughter," Michael muttered.
"What? What did you do?" Max asked sharply.
"Nothing, okay? I didn't do anything. Mrs. DeLuca just found out about last night and went ballistic." He looked away, obviously not wanting them to read anything in his eyes.
Isabel raised a suggestive eyebrow. "Last night?" she inquired archly. "And just what happened last night that Mrs. DeLuca would get so upset about?"
Michael immediately knew what she was implying. "Nothing! I didn't touch her!"
She smiled, more than a little amused by his discomfort. "You didn't?" she teased.
He turned away and muttered something too low for them to hear.
"What was that?" Max asked.
"I said I kissed her, all right?" Michael burst out. Isabel and Max exchanged smiles. Michael ran a hand through his spiky hair as he looked out into the yard. His voice lost all emotion. "It doesn't matter. It didn't mean anything."
Isabel immediately crossed to him and put supportive arms around him, leaning her cheek against his back. "Of course it meant something, Michael. You care about her."
He shook his head in denial. "I can't."
"But you do."
"I shouldn't. It's all...wrong."
"But you do," she repeated.
Michael shook his head again, but didn't answer, and Isabel gave him a quick squeeze. "And she's pretty lucky," she said firmly, before she moved over and sat on Max's bed. She thought she heard Michael mutter a scathing, "Lucky," but he didn't turn around. "So," she asked, changing the subject. "What's the plan, then?"
"You and I will split the guard duty," Max told her. He turned to Michael. "It's not that I don't trust you with it, it's just that--"
Michael turned and nodded. "Yeah. If her mom catches me around, my ass is grass. I'll be in jail faster than you can say Czechoslovakian."
"But you didn't do anything," Isabel protested.
"She'll come up with something, believe me. You didn't see her, Isabel. You don't mess around with Mrs. DeLuca where Maria is concerned."
"But if you'd just tell her what happened, that you didn't..." Her voice trailed off as she tried to come up with a delicate way of saying it.
He ignored the pause. "And you think she'd believe me? Look at me, Izzy. Would you believe anything I said if you were her?" He shook his head, sneering, "I don't think so."
"She doesn't know you, Michael," she responded.
"Yeah, well, I don't want her to know me."
Max brought the subject back to their plans. "Michael, if Isabel and I are watching Maria, maybe you could work on figuring this thing out from the other end."
Michael nodded. "We need to sit down and talk about that. All of us. Well, the five of us, anyway, since Maria's under house arrest. There have been a few...developments."
Max and Isabel looked at him, surprised. Michael wanted to sit down and talk? Max shrugged. "Okay, how about we meet at the Crashdown for breakfast?"
Michael shook his head. "I don't think I can go there."
"Why not? What did you do?"
"Nothing. It's just that...well, that's where we were busted. Liz's dad was there, and I don't think he's going to be too happy if I show up again. Ever."
"Mr. Parker too? God, is there anyone who doesn't think you slept with Maria?" Isabel burst out.
Michael shrugged. "You. Max. And Maria."
"It isn't fair!" she said angrily.
"Not much is," said Michael with another shrug. "But I can't do anything about it, so forget it. Worry about the things we can do."
She stared at him. Who was the pod-person who had come down and possessed her almost-brother? Since when was he mature and reasonable? She kind of liked it. "Okay," she agreed. "Why don't you head back home? We'll call Alex and Liz and meet you at your place. Oh, and we'll stop off at the Donut Shack and bring breakfast, too."
Michael's face lit up. "Chocolate. Get lots of chocolate-covered ones."
She laughed. Maybe he wasn't so mature after all. "You got it."
He moved back towards the window, then stopped and turned. "Maxwell?"
Max looked at him warmly. "We'll work this out, Michael. All of us, together."
Michael nodded. "Thanks," he said, and then he was gone.
CHAPTER 42
Three aliens and two humans sat in Michael's shabby apartment a little later that morning, a couple of empty donut boxes and a bottle of Tabasco all that remained of their informal breakfast. With some embarrassment, Michael had once again described Mrs. DeLuca's blowup, and now Liz was in the middle of telling her part of the story.
"She just showed up with Maria's overnight bag, and that's when my dad found out she wasn't with me. I didn't tell anyone where she was, honestly." Her brown eyes pleaded with Michael to believe her. "I wouldn't do that."
Michael shrugged. "We should have gotten there earlier."
"Liz, are you okay?" put in Max. "Did you get in trouble, too?"
She shook her head. "Let's just say that I'm not in my father's good graces right now, but I'm not under house arrest like Maria, either. Actually, I'm surprised I didn't have to cover at the Crashdown since Maria isn't working her shifts."
Michael shifted uncomfortably, then said gruffly, "Sorry. Didn't mean to cause problems for you."
Liz smiled at him, surprised by this un-Michaelish behavior. "I know you didn't. And thank you." He looked at the wall across from him, suddenly not willing to meet anyone's eyes.
"One of us should probably get over there, Max," Isabel said. "We're giving the stalker a chance to slip through our defenses."
Liz shook her head. "It's not going to do you any good. She's not allowed to see anyone. She's barely allowed to talk on the phone. Her mother's really upset."
Michael began to pace across the small room. "Then how the hell can we keep her safe?" he muttered.
"Figure out who it is, and stop them," put in Alex reasonably. Michael and Isabel both rolled their eyes. "Anybody come up with a suspect?"
"That's not so easy, Alex," Liz pointed out. "We don't have enough clues, remember?"
"We might have one more," Michael said unexpectedly. All eyes fastened on him. "Last night, I tried to get a vision from the latest note."
"Did it work, Michael?" asked Isabel in some excitement. "Did you see something?"
"Yeah. But it wasn't what I thought I'd see."
"Well, don't just leave us hanging, explain!" she commanded.
He raised an eyebrow at her, but complied. "I thought I might've figured out who sent the note. But I was wrong."
"Who? What did you see? God, getting answers from him is like pulling teeth," she said to the others in an aside.
"Well, if you'd actually let me talk, maybe I could tell you," Michael said with a smirk.
"Get to the point, Michael!"
"I was thinking about who might've sent it, and I don't think they meant Maria to think it was from me. So I was thinking about people whose names began with M, who've been around lately, and I came up with--"
"Mark," Alex said, suddenly realizing where this was going.
"Yep." Michael crossed over to the counter and picked up his sketchbook, flipping it open to the page he'd spent most of the night working on. Once Maria had gone back to sleep, that is.
"But it wasn't him?" asked Liz. "You saw that in your vision?"
"Not unless he's taken to wearing fingernail polish," Michael announced. "It took me a while to figure out, but what I saw was a hand writing the note. And it was definitely a girl. Had that red stuff gooped all over her fingers. You know, Isabel, the one you wear a lot. More of a cranberry than a true red." He looked around to see their startled expressions. "So I remember colors. So sue me," he said rudely, tossing the sketch pad to Alex, who was nearest.
Alex studied the penciled drawing. It showed a distinctly feminine hand, holding a pen. "A girl, huh?" he mused. "Well, that narrows it down to about half the population."
"There's something else," added Michael. "Another reason I thought it was Mark was that I saw him. In the park. So I came back here to try and get some confirmation."
"But it wasn't him," Liz objected. "You just said so." She took the sketchbook from Alex.
"Yeah, but the point is, he wasn't alone. He had a girl with him. One of the chicks from the play."
"Brunette or blond?" asked Alex excitedly.
"Blond. Short."
"It's got to be Melanie Royer," Alex decided. "Debbie and Pamela are both brunettes."
"And there's your M," added Isabel. "But why would she be harassing Maria? She's just a regular girl."
"I don't know. But I'm gonna find out," said Michael with determination.
As she listened, Liz inspected the drawing. "This is really good, Michael," she commented.
"Let me see," said Isabel. Liz handed her the pad. "She's right," the alien said in a pleased tone. She started to flip through the pages, only to have it taken summarily from her hands.
"Off limits." Michael's tone was uncompromising.
"Why? What else have you got in there?" Isabel asked, her curiosity piqued.
Michael ignored her, closing the sketchbook firmly and carefully placing it on the counter behind him. Isabel raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Michael," she nagged. "You're only making me more curious. Hand it over."
Michael folded his arms across his chest.
"Leave him alone, Izzy," cautioned Max. "We have planning to do."
"Done," said Michael matter-of-factly. "You two and Liz get as close to Maria as her mother will allow. At the very least, keep the lines of communication open. Have her phone if something else happens. Before it happens, even. Alex, investigate that Melanie chick. Get on your computer and find out everything you can about her."
Four faces turned to him in surprise. "What?" he asked defensively.
"Well, what are you going to do?" demanded Isabel.
Michael looked her squarely in the eye. "I'm gonna go finish building me some plants." With a pointed look, he grabbed his sketchpad and headed out of the apartment.
"Wow," said Alex with a grin. "That's nowhere near the same Michael as even a couple of weeks ago. I'm kind of impressed."
His eyes on the door through which his friend had disappeared, Max said softly, "Yeah. Me too."
* * * * *
Liz pushed the hair back from her forehead and resettled the alien antennae on her head. She'd hardly been home for two minutes before her father had asked her to cover Maria's waitressing shifts. She should have known that he'd think of it. And of course, with him peeved at her, she could hardly say no. She was just lucky that he hadn't thought of it soon enough to keep her from that morning's impromptu meeting.
She wondered how Maria was doing. She knew her friend was probably going crazy from the enforced solitude. For the most part, Maria didn't deal well with no one to talk to. She didn't like being alone. And now to be sequestered away...she had to be completely bonkers by now. With a sigh, Liz decided that once the double shift was over, she would try calling Maria again. Maybe this time Mrs. DeLuca would allow her to spend more than two minutes on the phone.
Carrying over a bus tub, she began to clear the dishes from an empty table. She looked up tiredly as the bell rang and the front door opened. Leaving the table half bussed, she dumped the almost empty tub in the kitchen and ran for the phone in back. She knew Alex's line would be busy, his modem tying up the line as he hacked away at the school records and anything else he could find on Melanie, which left Max and Isabel. Inwardly debating for a second and a half, she dialed Isabel's cell phone.
The alien must have been expecting a call, because she answered it on the first ring. "You need to get to the Crashdown right away," said Liz urgently. "You'll never guess who just came in. Pamela Harris and Melanie Royer." A moment later the call was disconnected and Liz was heading back out into the main dining room.
Barely five minutes had passed before Isabel strolled casually into the restaurant. She spotted Liz instantly, and the waitress glanced over at a booth, signaling her target's location. Luckily the next booth was available, and Isabel slid into it, her back to the two girls.
"Hi, Isabel," said Liz as she carried over a couple of soft drinks. "I'll be with you in a minute."
"No problem," Isabel returned with a nonchalant smile. "You look pretty busy."
Obviously, the pair in the next booth overheard this exchange. "Yeah, we couldn't help but notice that, too," commented Melanie. "Where's Maria? Isn't she working today?"
"No, not today," responded Liz as she set down their drinks.
"Oh," said Pamela with disinterest. "I thought maybe she was sick or something."
"Nope," Liz said, shaking her head. "Ummm...I'll be back with your order in a minute." She headed back to the counter, trying to keep an inconspicuous eye on the pair as she worked.
Isabel approached her near the door to the break room about forty minutes later. "They're finishing up," she said in a low tone. "I'll give Max a heads up and he can tail Melanie to see if she strikes again."
"Did you overhear anything?" Liz queried.
"No, just mindless chat about clothes and things." Isabel frowned. "God, please tell me I was never that shallow."
Liz pretended to consider for a moment. "Well, only in public," she said with a small grin. Isabel gave her an exasperated look, but then laughed as she headed back to her booth. Watching her go, Liz bit her lip. She hoped this would be over soon. It had to be.
* * * * *
"God, I hope this is over soon!" Maria complained as she set her lunch down on the table in the cafeteria. "I mean, I'm practically living like a nun!"
"Maria, you're not even Catholic," Liz reminded her.
"I know. But the whole weekend was like being in a convent. You know, where everyone has taken a vow of silence." Her nose wrinkled up. "Or do I mean a monastery? Anyway, my mother barely spoke to me until last night."
"It's amazing you survived," teased Liz with a grin.
"Lizzy!" Maria pouted.
Liz looked sympathetically at her best friend. "No, really, 'Ria, how are you handling it?"
"Well, it's not as bad as I thought it was going to be," Maria admitted. "Mom and I had a very...well, let's just say painful conversation last night. But after hours of begging, I actually got her to listen to me."
An inquiring expression crossed Liz's face. "About...what, exactly?"
"Well, of course I couldn't tell her everything," Maria said. "I mean, some things are just not for public consumption, you know? Even if there weren't Czechoslovakians involved. But I think I finally managed to convince her that Michael and I did not sleep together."
"Really? That's good," Liz commented.
"Yeah. I told her he was a perfect gentleman the whole time. Although I don't think she bought that part. She really has it in for him." Maria frowned as she unwrapped her sandwich.
"Well, was he? A perfect gentleman, I mean?" Liz dared to ask.
Maria sighed. "Unfortunately, yes." Her face brightened. "Well, he did kiss me."
Liz pounced on this. "Really? When? Details, I want details!"
"I can't give you many, chica, because almost as soon as he started, someone burst into the room to make sure I was okay." Maria stared pointedly at Liz, who grimaced.
"Oooh. Sorry."
"Oh, it's not your fault. The others were with you too," Maria assured her. "It's just...it'd been months, and we were arguing and suddenly he was...kissing me...and it felt so good...and then the door started to open and he dropped me like a hot potato." She smiled ruefully at Liz's contrite expression and brought the subject back to her mother. "Never mind. Anyway, Mom's no longer caught up on the whole 'my teenage daughter had sex with a juvenile delinquent' kick, so things are looking up."
"What? You mean you're not grounded anymore?"
"No such luck. Let's see, I still stayed out all night with a boy--and it was Michael, which makes it even worse, if that were possible. And then there's the fact that I might just have slightly overreacted when she found out about it. Let me tell you, Liz, yelling at your mother is not the way to assure a busy social life."
"Slightly overreacted?" responded Liz in disbelief. "Michael did tell us what happened, you know." She paused. "Although I get the feeling he didn't tell us everything."
"Yeah, well, when does he ever?" complained Maria. "Oh well. At least Mom has calmed down enough to let me off the hook as far as the Crashdown and the play are concerned. Unfortunately, I still can't hang out with any of you guys. And--get this--she actually forbade me to so much as speak to Michael!"
"But now that she knows you haven't slept together--"
"It doesn't matter. She's still all ticked because she thinks I lied to her. And I didn't, Liz, not really. I mean, when I told her I was going to be at your house, I honestly meant it. I just didn't let her know when my plans changed, that's all. But she thinks I wouldn't have lied or stayed out all night if it weren't for Michael. Which is true, I guess. Except that she thinks he's a bad influence on me, which is not true. Anyway, she hates him, hence the whole 'forbidden to speak to him' thing."
"And you're going to just accept that?" Liz asked in astonishment, knowing her friend's feelings for the alien in question.
Maria's face darkened. "I don't have much choice," she said in a low voice.
"What do you mean?" said Liz in trepidation.
"Because when I said hello to him before English this morning, he turned his back on me and totally ignored my existence," Maria said. Her eyes began to shine, but a bout of rapid blinking kept the tears in check. "And, Lizzy? You know what really sucks? He does it so much better than I did."
A moment of unspoken sympathy between the two friends was interrupted by the approach of Isabel, Max and Alex. The lanky teen greeted Maria warmly. "So how's it feel to be let out of the tower, Rapunzel?" he quipped.
"Nice," Maria admitted. "I was going a little stir crazy."
"And Mrs. DeLuca has relented enough to let Maria do the play and go to work," Liz put in, "so no more make-up shifts for me!"
"Are you kidding? Once the play is over, I'm going to be begging your dad for extra shifts just so I can get out of the house, since I'm grounded until I'm thirty," Maria said with a sigh. She watched the others start in on their lunches. "Okay, so where is he?"
Everyone knew immediately whom she meant. "I think he's putting some finishing touches on the plant puppets. He did a lot of work on them this weekend, when he wasn't at the gas station. He wanted them to be ready for today's rehearsal," answered Isabel calmly. Maybe too calmly.
Maria's eyes lit up. "Really?" she said, excitement raising her voice. "We'll have them at rehearsal today? That's great!" Looking around at the four friends around her, she pointed out, "Hey, other than lunch time, the play's the only time when I'm actually allowed to enjoy myself nowadays. Don't blame me if I get excited about it." She took a sip of her bottled water. "So," she continued calmly, "Is he avoiding everyone again, or am I the only one blessed this time?" The guilty looks on their faces answered her immediately. "Fantastic," she muttered. "I'm the only one. Meet Maria DeLuca, Queen of the Lepers."
Liz immediately began to protest, and Maria cut her off. "Don't worry about it. His loss. Let's talk about something else, okay?" She looked around, trying to come up with a fresh topic of conversation, and her eyes lit on Isabel. "Hey, Isabel," she asked, "you done any dreamwalking lately?"
The alien shook her head. "No, not since we got Mi--not since you went with me the last time."
"Ha! I knew it was real!" Maria exclaimed. Seeing everyone's confusion, she asked, "Michael told you about the dream we had on Friday, didn't he?", totally ignoring the fact that she'd brought the topic back to the spiky-haired alien in less than ten seconds.
"'The dream we had'? Both of you?" asked Isabel sharply. "Michael dreamwalked you?"
"He didn't tell you." It wasn't a question this time. She should have known.
"He didn't tell us anything about that," Max said. "Just about the vision."
"The vision? He figured out what he saw in the vision?" Maria could hear her own voice rise in pitch with her agitation. "When did he figure it out?"
All four of them exchanged glances. Finally, Liz spoke. "Sometime Friday night, I think. He told us about it at breakfast on Saturday."
"I see," said Maria slowly. "So he knew about it on the way to the Crashdown, and he didn't even bother to tell me about it." No one spoke. "Well, what was it? What did he see?"
After a glance around at the others, Liz described the sketch and the conclusions they'd drawn from it. Afterwards, Maria sat quietly, obviously mulling this over. "Interesting," was all she had to say.
Isabel, relieved that Maria had taken it all so calmly, spoke up. "So what was this about Michael dreamwalking you?" she asked. "I didn't think he could do that."
"As far as I know, he can't," Maria responded. "When you dreamwalk, you go into someone else's dream, right?" Isabel nodded. "So if Michael had dreamwalked me, he would have come into whatever I was dreaming?"
"That's the way it works," Isabel said.
"Well, he didn't dreamwalk then. Because he didn't visit my dream. I was dreaming and went through a door, and then I was in his dream. With him."
"You dreamwalked Michael?" Isabel said in shock. "By yourself?"
"I guess," said Maria, gathering up her things as the bell rang.
"How is that even possible?" asked Liz.
"I don't know. Why don't you ask Michael?" Maria said. "Since he's so good at sharing things with people, you know." She smiled at them. "Look, I have to get to class. I can't afford to be late and get my mom even more pissed than she already is. Talk to Michael about it." She started across the cafeteria, calling back over her shoulder, "I'll see you at rehearsal, Alex." Liz followed hard on her heels.
"Wait, Maria," the brunette said as she pulled the straps of her backpack over her shoulders. "Are you okay?"
"Oh yeah, my life is just peachy," said Maria, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. "I'm under house arrest, I'm being sent threatening notes by a crazy person, and I'm in love with an infuriating, stubborn jackass who can't even be bothered to talk to me and share with me vital information about said threatening notes from said crazy person, even though it has a direct bearing on my well-being!" Her voice rose to a screech. A gleam appeared in her eye.
Liz looked at her apprehensively. "What...what are you going to do?" she fumbled.
Maria's grin was almost wolfish. "He may not be speaking to me, but that doesn't mean I'm not speaking to him. And believe me, I have a few things to say! He thinks my mother was bad? Well, he hasn't seen anything yet!" And with that, she headed down the hall to her next class.
Liz just stood and watched her. Oh lord. Michael had better watch out. Hurricane DeLuca was about to hit.
Continue to CHAPTERS 43, 44 and 45
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