"Uh uh uh," came a mocking voice from beside him. "A little something you evidently don't know about, boy. Where we come from, blood is very strong. Family connections and all. Get me near enough and I can read you."
If Michael had been moving, he would have stopped dead in his tracks. "You can what?" The words burst out of him before he made a conscious decision to speak.
"Read you. See inside your mind, know what you're thinking. We have a bond, boy. Your human side corrupts it, but it's there. Not as strong as the sib-bond or pair-bond, but a connection nonetheless. How do you think I was able to find you?"
"You...you said you'd followed the power-cell crystal," Michael blurted. Meanwhile his mind was trying to make sense of the unfamiliar. Sib-bond? Pair-bond? What the hell?
"Only as a beacon of sorts. It was still you I was focused on, a certain familiar resonance. The crystal enhanced that connection; it didn't create it." Michael's confusion must have been very clear; Bob cocked his head mockingly. "You don't remember a darn thing about our planet, do you?"
Refusing to give him any satisfaction, Michael gave an insolent shrug. The other alien narrowed his eyes.
"Just remember this: you can't hide anything from me. Any time I want to, I can see what's going on in that thick head of yours." A knowing smirk appeared on Bob's face. "In fact, while I was rummaging around, trying to jump-start your more useful instincts, I saw exactly what you were thinking. I know all about your ridiculous little scheme to get rid of me. Really, boy, now what kind of father would I be to allow you to play the martyr? I'm afraid that wouldn't do at all."
He knew? Fuck. Wasn't one stupid plan of his ever going to work?
Michael tensed as Bob turned to the DeLucas, but the other alien didn't seem to be threatening them at this particular moment; instead he addressed them in a wry tone. "My rather backward descendant has decided to steal your car and blow it up with the two of us inside it, thereby saving this world from the evil aliens," he added with a mock shudder. "Such a selfless and heroic act, don't you think? One for the annals. But then, it runs in his family, doesn't it?"
His family? Michael pounced on that statement. "What do you mean?" he demanded roughly. Surely there was someone a little more...sane...in his family, somebody other than a maniacal father and a dead sister. What about other brothers and sisters? And what about a mother? Unless his species reproduced in some weird way, he had to have a mother, right? Someone who would feel about him the way Mrs. DeLuca felt about Maria--
Maria. He was letting himself be distracted from the situation at hand. Her safety, and her mother's, was more important right now.... Shaking off his hunger to know more, he crossed his arms over his chest and moved back to his position in front of the two women. He wouldn't let himself get distracted again.
Bob didn't seem altogether pleased with this showing. "History lessons later," he countered. His voice grew colder. "I'm disappointed in you, boy. You should have come further than this by now."
Huh. For once his lack of achievement did him some good, if only to piss Bob off. Too bad it didn't keep the other alien from reading his thoughts. If only it had, his plan might've gone undiscovered. They'd be out of there by now, and Maria and Mrs. DeLuca would be safe. But they weren't, because he couldn't keep Bob out of his brain. Dammit! Where were his stone walls when he needed them?
Wait a minute.
His stone walls were never real--at least not in the physical sense. They were just a front he put up to keep himself from caring too much, to distance himself from being too human. From letting people in. Sure, he'd fooled people with them--even himself. But there were no bricks and mortar, nothing tangible.
But even though they weren't real, they were pretty effective. They'd lasted a good ten years before Maria started worming her way through the cracks. Mental walls, but they worked. And then there was another wall, the one he'd created in his mind. He'd accidentally imprisoned himself behind it, unable to deal with the dreams and voices he'd been hearing. He'd gotten stuck there--or at least part of him had--and he couldn't get out, even though he'd created it in the first place.
So if he could create a mental wall he couldn't get through, maybe he could create one no one else could get through, either. Maybe he could keep Bob out.
Except he had no idea how to do it. He hadn't done it on purpose the first time. Plus, giant plant puppets aside, he'd never been very good at building things. And those were due to physical effort, not mental. He was better at destruction than construction.
He had nothing to lose by trying, though. Maybe he could fake himself into doing it. Do some New Age visualization thing and hope that it worked. Imagine the wall, see the wall...be the wall...build the wall. Crap like that. But if he could bring himself to believe in it, maybe it would be real. Or real enough.
If he believed in it. He, who'd never willingly believed in anything. Yeah. This was really gonna work.
Closing his eyes, he pictured his empty hands, held palm-up in front of him. Big and clumsy, lacking the grace of Isabel's and Max's tapered fingers. Just his hands. Ordinary looking, even with the two silver bands he wore. But hands that had held a paintbrush, a pencil, and interpreted the pictures in his head into something real. Hands that had held Maria.
Hands that had taken a life, and by doing so, had saved one.
Hands that just might be able to accomplish something else, right here; that might help him save two more.
Okay. Time to stop fixating on what his hands could or couldn't do, and build the damn wall already. He just needed something to build it from, the stone of his imaginary stone wall. And suddenly something was in his hands, rough and solid. He looked down but couldn't see anything on his outstretched palms, even though he could feel its heft and texture. Well, it was an imaginary stone. Why be surprised he couldn't see it? But still, he felt stupid as he imagined bending down and placing the invisible stone or block or brick, or whatever it was, on the ground. Ground that was no longer the colorful rug from Mrs. DeLuca's living room, but flat and gray, stretching out endlessly in all directions. And as it touched the floor, the stone became as solid to the eye as it was to the touch.
He pictured a second, similar stone then, stacked upon the first. And there it was, growing visible; edges blurring, melting together to become one, solid. Then a third, fusing itself to the other two, then another, and another.... In his imagination, the wall rose quickly, reaching into the sky far above his head, spreading out to surround him. And as stone melded with stone, the wall took on a metallic sheen. Not quite the same as the circular room he'd imprisoned himself in, but similar somehow.
As the two ends of the wall began curving together to meet, Michael was relieved that the final few stones stayed separate, their edges still clear. The last time he'd been in something like this, he couldn't get himself out. So this time he had an escape route, just in case. A few unmelded stones as a fail-safe. If he got stuck inside, maybe Maria would be able to get him out. She'd always been the only one who could do anything with those stone walls of his anyway; hopefully this one would be no different.
If only it worked. It wasn't like there was going to be an actual, physical wall around him or anything. He wouldn't necessarily be able to tell if his efforts had paid off. He could only hope.
Opening his eyes, Michael found that creating his imaginary wall had only taken a second or two; Bob was still scolding. He looked at Michael, taking in his grim expression with superiority. "Obviously we'll have to do a little more work to prepare you. Work that can be better done elsewhere."
Michael's heart lurched in his chest. Was he going to be able to get Bob away after all?
A moment later his momentary hope plummeted as Bob continued, "But since you're still not ready to jump right into the game, I believe we'll take a little insurance with us. Something you value, to make sure you follow my rules. Something...important to you. Now what could that be?" He smiled cruelly and turned his head to glance in Maria's direction. "I know! How about your little girlfriend here? Can't blow up the car if the girl you love is in it, now can you?"
* * * * *
"Well?" Isabel cried impatiently as Alex hit the button to turn off the cell phone. "What happened?"
"They weren't there," Alex said tersely. "No answer at Liz's house or her cell phone, and Agnes answered at the Crashdown. She said they'd left the dining room already, but she didn't know where they went. She wouldn't even go check upstairs for me--said she was going on a cigarette break."
"Great. That settles it--I'm getting Max a cell phone of his own for Christmas," Isabel burst out. She threw on the turn signal and screeched around a corner without applying the least bit of pressure on the Jeep's brakes. An oncoming sedan swerved out of their way with a blast of its horn. Dropping the cell phone, Alex gripped the edge of his seat with both hands and glanced worriedly over at the alien. It wasn't going to do Maria any good if they couldn't even make it to her house in one piece.
* * * * *
"No!" Michael shouted. He couldn't let his father use Maria as a pawn. She had to be out of this, safe.... His mind was still scrambling for a plan when he heard himself say coolly, "Besides, I don't love her. Never did."
No one in the room was more shocked by this than Michael himself. He blinked once or twice as his brain translated what his mouth had just said. Didn't love Maria? Right. Well, maybe it would get Bob to forget about taking her along as a hostage.
Unfortunately, the other alien didn't seem to believe him. Nor did Maria, who let out a horrified "Michael!" in protest.
So much for that idea. Unless he could convince Bob.... He forced himself to turn to the girl he loved. "Sorry, Princess. You were a good time, you know? But that's all it was." He avoided her eyes, afraid his glance would give him away, but his whole body tensed. Fervently he hoped she'd catch on to what he was doing. And not believe it. She would know better, wouldn't she? Even with his being the complete asshole lately?
"How noble. Lying to protect her," drawled his father.
Dammit. The one person he wanted to convince, he couldn't. He was going to have to go for the jugular, even if it would chalk up yet another offense he could only hope Maria would forgive him for. Managing a careless shrug, he said, "Hey, a guy'll say anything to get laid, you know? Not my fault if she believes it. But to actually care about someone like her? Come on, I have better taste."
Finally daring to look in her eyes, he took in her shock; a moment later, tears rolled down her cheeks, and his heart clenched. "How can you say that, Mike? I thought we meant something to each other!" she wailed.
Mike. She'd called him Mike again. She knew what he was doing. He'd thank god if he believed in one. Swallowing his relief, he gave an indifferent shrug. "Nope. Sorry," he said, careful not to sound the least bit regretful.
In a flash, Maria was directly in front of him, looking absolutely furious through her tears. Without a word, she hauled off and swung at him, her palm landing on his cheek--the unmarked one--with a resounding crack! The surprise had Michael stumbling back a step; then he recovered and grabbed her by the upper arms. Strangely enough, the blow she'd delivered didn't really hurt. Either he was becoming impervious to physical pain--not likely, the way his head ached--or she'd given him a stage slap. She must've learned enough stage combat during play rehearsals to pull the punch without lessening the noise.
That evidently wasn't all she'd learned, either, because without warning, she let out a startled squawk and lost her balance, stumbling over her own feet as she was propelled backwards. Caught off guard, Michael didn't have time to steady her; his own arms went with her, stretching out to their fullest length until she slipped from his grasp. Scrambling awkwardly backward, she landed on the couch and into her mother's embrace. She buried her head into her mother's shoulder and sobbed; even as she comforted her daughter, the older woman shot Michael a venomous look. Ouch. But he couldn't blame her. If he hadn't known better, he would've sworn he'd just shoved Maria away from him.
But he hadn't. Maria had been in control the whole time. She was pretty damn good at it, too. Her mother had certainly bought the act.
Well, at least it had convinced somebody. Now if it had only convinced Bob....
Michael ran a hand through his hair, trying to look disgusted and maybe a little bored with the situation, and turned to glance at the other alien. For a moment, it seemed as if the little charade had worked; then Bob's mouth pursed and he stared, eyes widening slightly, at the boy in front of him. On Michael's right cheek, the tattooed symbol began to throb.
What the--was Bob trying to read him? Would his mental wall hold? Michael sucked in his breath and tried to look casual. If Bob was able to read him, he'd see that the little scene with Maria was fake. And Michael was pretty sure he wouldn't be quiet about it.
The smallest look of confusion crossed the other alien's face, and he shook his head. Michael's heart began to pound. Was his wall actually working? Had he actually done something right for once?
With a quickly growing, very unaccustomed sense of triumph, he realized he had. He'd kept Bob out. Finally, a tool he could use.
Now to finish it and get Bob out of there. He'd give the alien something else to believe--that Michael didn't care about Maria, other than for her body, because he was involved with someone else. Someone the other alien might be more willing to accept. Even as Bob shook off his doubts and stared intently at Michael for a second time, the teenager reached back into the recesses of his mind and summoned up the memory of the Tess-induced dreams he'd shared with Isabel, where they were together. Isabel and Michael on a rocky slope. Together in all senses of the word. The two of them, smiling, lighthearted...and a child. A child with brown eyes and tousled hair. A feeling of satisfaction and joy. He let the images filter through the mental wall he'd built.
He hadn't lied when he'd told Isabel he'd never been as happy as he'd been in that dream. If only it was enough to convince Bob....
A pleased look crossed the other alien's face. "So, the little dream-girl here isn't the only one you choose to dally with. The other one--who is she?"
"Just a girl," Michael bit out. He wasn't about to add fuel to the fire by mentioning that the girl in question was not only another alien, but the sister of the king Bob was so bent on destroying. "A little more worthwhile, wouldn't you say?"
"You certainly seem to think so. Well, if this one isn't going to be a worthwhile hostage, there's no point in bringing her along, is there?"
Michael's stomach unclenched so suddenly that he felt woozy for a moment. "Not really," he said coolly. But inside, he was feeling an unfamiliar swell of jubilation. Maria was going to be safe. It had worked.
Oh, goddammit all to hell! Bob had raised the gun once more, and was aiming it right at the girl's head. She began to shake. Michael had the distinct notion that she wasn't acting any more.
"Don't!" he cried out.
"We certainly can't leave them here, and they're too much of a bother to bring along," Bob pointed out in a reasonable tone.
Michael frantically racked his brain. "Mrs. DeLuca," he heard himself saying, "She's good friends with the Sheriff, and he knows about me and Maria. We hurt them--either of them--and he's gonna be suspicious." Actually, this was beginning to make sense to him. "Not to mention pissed off," he continued. "You want time to work on me, you don't need people running around getting in our way," he finished in a rush.
Tilting his head to one side, Bob seemed to consider this. "So what do you propose, instead?" he asked.
A test. And Michael had never been particularly good at tests. "Put 'em in a closet or something," he said, trying to conceal his desperation. Unfortunately, Bob didn't seem completely satisfied with this response. "Look," Michael said bluntly, "Leave them alone, and I'll go with you. Hurt them, and I'll fight you every inch of the way."
This seemed to amuse the other alien. "I believe you would, too," he mused.
"Besides," Michael added, "if they go and tell anybody about some alien takeover plot, who's gonna believe 'em, anyway? Only a bunch of UFO nuts nobody takes seriously. I mean, Mrs. DeLuca makes a living off of plastic aliens and New Age astrology crap. Everyone in town knows she's a real flake, just like her daughter." He looked at Bob, trying to keep an open expression on his face.
Finally, the other alien nodded. "And if I do this thing for you, you'll come without an argument?"
"Yeah." Michael hesitated for a moment, then added, "I'm not agreeing to help you, though. I'm still not gonna kill anybody."
Luckily this statement didn't have much of an effect on Bob. "I'm not worried about that. Given enough time, I can make you see things my way." He studied the two women. "I think we'll tie them up, though. Damsels in distress--such a nice clich�, don't you think?"
Michael didn't dare protest. "Whatever."
"Well then, don't just stand there. Go and find something to tie them up with." Bob's voice grew a little harder. "And I'd hurry, if I were you. You wouldn't want me to get bored and start target practice, would you?"
Michael looked at him for one moment, then bolted from the room. Within a matter of minutes he was back, an assortment of scarves, a belt, and the cord from the curtains in Maria's room in his hands. Gesturing with the gun, Bob followed the two women into the kitchen and sat them on the wooden chairs, then told Michael to bind and gag them.
Trying not to think about what he was doing, Michael knelt by Maria's side and began to tie her to the chair. After he finished her hands and feet, he looked up at her face. The tears had stopped, leaving tracks on her cheeks. He looked deeply into her green eyes for one fleeting second; her lips soundlessly shaped his name. His jaw tightened. With trembling fingers, he gagged her and rose.
"Do I need to check your knots?" asked Bob snidely. So he didn't trust Michael. It didn't matter though; Michael had tied the girl as firmly as he could without hurting her. The knots would stand up to Bob's scrutiny.
"Go right ahead," he answered calmly as he moved to Mrs. DeLuca and knelt by her chair. The woman shrank away from him. He couldn't blame her. "I'm not gonna hurt you," he muttered as he fastened her feet to the bottom rung of the chair. Moving around behind her, he fumbled for a moment with the curtain cord, then securely bound her wrists with it. His own hands lingered by the knot for just a moment; then he moved back around the chair. She watched him with wide eyes as he gagged her.
Finished, he straightened up and looked over at Bob. The gun was now pointed straight at him. He didn't even care, not as long as the others were safe, but he said, "You don't need that. I said I'd go with you, didn't I?"
A satisfied smirk crossed Bob's face. "So you did."
"We need their car?" Michael asked diffidently. Maybe if they took the Jetta, he could drive too fast and blow the engine like he did when he'd abducted Maria to Marathon. It might give him the chance to get away from the other alien....
But it wasn't to be. "No, I've managed to acquire a conveyance of my own," Bob answered. "Shall we then?" He tucked the gun away at the small of his back and gestured for Michael to precede him from the room.
Without a word, and without a backwards glance, Michael crossed through the living room to the front door. Throwing the deadbolt, he turned the handle and swung the door open...
...to find a very tense Isabel Evans, hand raised to knock.
CHAPTER 22
The street was fairly quiet as the red convertible pulled to the curb not far from Tess's house. It was a newer, family-oriented neighborhood, and most of the residents were inside having a family dinner or some such thing. Rows of houses containing rows of families playing rows of Monopoly games, Tess thought cynically. Well, she had her own family to worry about.
Kyle turned the key in the ignition, and the engine stopped without so much as a sputter, but he didn't move to get out of the car. With the top up, Tess, who was sitting in the back seat, couldn't get out until he did.
Somehow--she wasn't sure just how--she and Liz had ended up in the back with Max and Kyle in front. If she asked about it, Kyle would probably spout off something about the two girls being smaller, so they'd fit in the back better. She didn't buy that, though. She suspected it had something to do with an ineffable link between males and cars.
So Max sat beside Kyle, and Tess sat beside Liz. It was an odd foursome, if you stopped to consider. Before Tess came to town, Max had dated Liz, and before that, Liz had dated Kyle. Tess and Max were destined mates. Kyle had tried to go out with Tess before he found out about the whole 'alien conspiracy', as he called it. And over the last few days Tess had found it very easy to hang out with him. She felt comfortable with him in a strange way, one she wasn't used to. The feeling he gave off was different. It wasn't mistrust or dislike, feelings that she'd gotten from the other members of the group. Unfortunately it wasn't enough to break the mood between the four of them, and she wished Isabel, or even Alex, were there to break up some of the unspoken tension.
Tension mostly between Kyle and Max, and Liz and Tess. Tension that Tess rather regretted. If Liz hadn't attached herself so firmly to Tess's destined husband (and, Tess had to admit, he to her), Tess might have even grown to appreciate the human instead of resenting her. Things would be going so much more smoothly if they didn't have their mix-and-match histories hanging over them. They made an odd foursome, and she said as much.
"We have tried about every combination," Kyle commented dryly as he caught her eye in the rearview mirror. "Tell you what I'm looking forward to, though--when you and Liz get together." He gave her a sly, reflected grin.
That grin disappeared a moment later when Tess glanced speculatively over at her back seat-mate. "I don't know, Liz," she said solemnly. "Do you think we ought to let him watch?"
Liz stared at her for a moment, and then, surprisingly, played along. "I don't know. I usually like to keep my love life private. But maybe, if he's very, very good...." she trailed off suggestively. As one, the two girls turned forward and looked innocently at Kyle's reflection in the rear-view mirror. He was sitting there, stunned, his mouth hanging slightly open. Liz and Tess glanced back at each other and burst into laughter. It felt good.
From the front passenger seat, Max watched them. He looked surprised. Well, no more so than Tess herself. To think that prim, proper Liz Parker would unbend enough to actually joke with her rival. For that matter, think of Liz Parker even having a sense of humor in the first place, one that Tess could relate to. Maybe they had more in common than Max.
Max, who a blind man could see was uncomfortable with the situation. "So are we doing this or not?" he said loudly. "We still have friends to find, remember?"
"Hey, I'm just waiting for one of you to get out of the car," Tess pointed out. "You two hogged the front, so Liz and I are more or less stuck back here."
By this time, Kyle had recovered to some degree. A good thing, too; Tess had wondered if he was going to be able to force his mind away from the mental image their words had most likely created. She was rather pleased when he focused it on the situation at hand. "You're sure the shapeshifter's not home?" he asked, studying the house through the windshield.
"No, I'm not sure. We'll find out when we go in," Tess responded smartly.
"And if he is, we can just say we're working on a group project for school," suggested Liz in a determined voice. "But we're wasting time. Let's get this done so we can go find Maria, Alex and Isabel."
Rather hurriedly, the four of them piled out of the convertible. Kyle opened the trunk and pulled out an oversized duffel bag before following the others to the front door. Reaching into her purse, Tess pulled out her keys.
"Can't you just...you know?" asked Kyle with a wave of his free hand.
"Not in front of the neighbors. We're trying to blend in, remember?"
"Oh. Right."
Stepping inside, Tess waited for the others to follow, and shut the door behind them. "Wait here," she ordered before doing a quick walk-through of the house. Although she had hidden her tension before, she allowed herself to relax when she returned to the foyer.
"He's not here," she announced.
Kyle frowned and pressed, "You're sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure," she responded confidently, then joked, "Unless he's shifted into a houseplant."
"He can do that?" the jock asked, startled. He glanced warily around him, as if expecting to be attacked by a six-foot spider plant.
Dropping the teasing, Tess considered his question more seriously. She'd seen Nasedo appear from the wall in the pod chamber; he could shift into rock. So why not a plant? "I don't know," she said honestly. "He mostly does people. Maybe their shapes are easier to maintain. But I'm pretty sure he's not here. His car's gone."
"Let's get started, then," Liz said, taking charge. "Tess, there are only two doors into the house, right?"
Tess shook her head. "Three, actually, but the one into the garage and the one into the back yard are both in the kitchen. One person could watch both."
"Then you and Max should stay downstairs and keep an eye out," Liz decided. "Kyle and I will head upstairs and see if we can find the secret room."
"I don't like it," objected Max. Tess didn't either, but she suspected it was for different reasons. He was obviously torn between wanting to help his best friend and worrying that something would happen to Liz. "If something goes wrong...."
Liz looked at him firmly. "Believe me, Max, I don't want anything to happen to us, either. But whatever's up there is booby-trapped. If you or Tess get too near, it could take you out just like it did Isabel."
"It knocked Alex out, too," Max pointed out.
"Yes, it did. But an alien was the one who set it off, not a human. Kyle and I will be fine. Besides," she added lightly, "if something should happen to us, you can come fix it. We wouldn't be able to, the other way around."
Max still didn't look convinced. Liz shook her head. There was no need for her to get upset, in Tess's opinion. Max cared about people; it would naturally make him cautious. He was just doing what he was supposed to do--lead. Take charge of things. But then again, he wasn't Liz's leader. Just her...friend. Tess swallowed. Her more than friend.
Putting in his two cents, Kyle brought the disagreement to a close. "Hey, whose plan is this, anyway? Mine. And I say the aliens stay here on the lookout for other aliens, and the humans go handle search and recovery. Come on, Liz." Carrying the duffel bag, he headed for the stairs. Liz followed.
"It's the last door on the right, at the end of the hall," Tess called helpfully after them. Moving to Max's side, she pushed him gently in the direction of the living room. "Come on, Max. You take the front, I'll take the kitchen." He nodded, but his eyes moved almost involuntarily back to the stairway.
"It's better this way," Tess said. "If Nasedo gets back, he'll run into one of us. We can explain why we're here; I live here, and you're waiting to talk to him again. Liz and Kyle don't have such a believable excuse. Nasedo's not stupid, but he is cautious. The joint school project probably wouldn't fly."
Max sighed. "You're right. It's just...."
Tess studied his face. "I know, Max. You care about her," she said quietly. He didn't--he probably had no wish to--deny it. Reaching up, she patted him tenderly on the shoulder. "You can work on that later. For now, start watching the front, okay?"
* * * * *
Upstairs, Liz stopped in the hallway. "She said it was at the end of the hall," she reminded Kyle.
"I know. I just want to see something." He took a step through an open doorway. Liz followed and looked around the room.
It was obviously Tess's. It looked a little more lived-in than the rest of the overly pristine house. A sweater was draped over the back of the desk chair, and a few magazines were piled haphazardly on the nightstand. The walls were painted--or perhaps molecularly manipulated--a delicate shade of pink, echoed in the floral print comforter and curtains. It looked more softly feminine than Liz would have expected. She was a little uneasy to see a small framed photo of Max on the dresser.
"So this is Tess's room," Kyle said absently as he gazed around.
"What exactly were you expecting?" asked Liz, a little amused by his distraction.
"I don't know. It just looks so normal."
"I think that's probably the point." Liz smiled in spite of herself. "Look, I'm heading down the hall. You can root through her underwear drawer or whatever you've got in mind, but I have a friend to help out. Meet me in the other room when you're done."
"What? Hey, I just wanted to see it, that's all," Kyle protested, then gave her a self-assured smile. "It's not like I've never seen a girl's bedroom before. Present company included," he added pointedly.
"Oh, I remember," she shot back, thinking of the night he and Max had gotten drunk and had broken into her room, the night of her awful blind date. "Where do you think I got the idea that you had a thing for underwear drawers?"
Kyle looked at her for a minute, letting her tease him, then shook his head. "So are you just going to stand there and waste more time?" He pushed past her and continued down the hall; she followed, half in amusement and half in exasperation.
It didn't take them long to find the room in question. Thanks to Isabel's description, Liz immediately pinpointed the wall where the strange dark-colored handprint lay hidden by the abstract painting. "That's it," she said.
Nodding, Kyle disappeared into the bathroom, and Liz could hear him knock on the wall. Then he moved to the closet. Pushing aside the rows of clothing that hung within, he pounded on an interior wall.
"What do you think?" she said from the closet doorway.
Kyle studied the wall for another minute, and then answered, "Closet. It's going to make a mess, though."
Liz didn't hesitate. Pushing past him, she grabbed an armful of shirts and unceremoniously dumped them on the bed, then headed back to the closet for another load. Kyle pitched in; within minutes the closet was empty and Nasedo's rather dull wardrobe was draped over the bedroom furniture.
Crouching down by the duffel bag, Kyle unzipped it and hauled out the sledgehammer he'd been carrying inside it. He rose smoothly to his feet and moved to the closet. For the first time, Liz's determination faltered.
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Kyle?" she asked. "What if there are electrical wires or water pipes inside the wall?"
Looking over, Kyle gave her a wide smile, and she suddenly remembered just what it was that had attracted her to him in the first place. But he wasn't paying any heed to her worries. Still smiling, he drawled, "I know a way to find out." With a grunt, he lifted the sledge with both hands and let its head fly at the closet wall.
* * * * *
It took several minutes of effort for Maria to loosen the scarf that bound her hands, even the slightest bit. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to undo the knot or to allow her to slip out of the bonds.
By turning her head, she could just see her mother out of the corner of her eye. She wished she could say something reassuring, but could only make semi-intelligible noises through the gag. With a frustrated moan, she went back to work on the scarf.
A sudden movement from the other direction made her forget her struggle to get free. She sat still, her heart thudding in her chest, not sure what she'd seen. But someone--something--had definitely moved. Had Bob done something to Michael, and was he now coming back to get rid of the human witnesses? She'd held it together pretty well during the whole ordeal, but was on the verge of losing the small grip she still had on things. Panicking, she watched as the kitchen door moved. Somewhere in the back of her frightened brain, she made a note to stop watching late-night horror movies.
She couldn't see anyone in the doorway as the door creaked slowly open. Great. Now they were being invaded by the Invisible Man. Heart pounding, she began to struggle even more furiously with the scarves that held her. She'd get loose and find a butcher knife, or something. Some defensive weapon. At this point, she'd even settle for a spork.
Then she saw the hand that pushed the door open. Just the hand. The invader was standing to the side of the doorway to keep out of sight. A moment of tense silence, and then a face appeared in the doorway as the person leaned cautiously around the corner.
"Holy crap!"
Letting out the breath she'd been holding, Maria closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax just the slightest bit. She didn't think she'd ever heard Alex use that particular expression before, although he had a very inventive vocabulary for use on such occasions. Not that he often came across one of his best friends and her mother bound and gagged in their own kitchen. He would've told Liz and her about it if he had. So maybe that was the appropriate expression for this situation, after all. She just hoped she never had the opportunity to hear it again.
As these thoughts danced skittishly through her brain, Alex was by her side, his fingers fighting with the knot that held the scarf around her head. The moment he got it off, he demanded, "What happened? Who did this to you?"
Maria's eyes were regretful, but she answered steadily. "Michael. He--"
She didn't think she'd ever seen as much anger on Alex's face as he interrupted her. "Michael? What the--"
Maria shook her head furiously, interrupting in turn. "It was tie us up or watch us be killed. I think he made the right choice."
Alex stared in horror for a moment; then he moved around her chair to work on her bound hands. Impatiently, Maria objected. "Get Mom first."
"I'm okay," came her mother's voice. Startled, Maria turned her head to look. Her mother's hands were free, and she'd yanked down the scarf that gagged her. Now she was leaning down to work one-handedly on the belt that secured her feet to the kitchen chair.
"How--" Maria began, only to interrupt herself. "Ow! Careful, Alex! I just loosened that!"
"Sorry," her friend said, his nimble fingers working at the knot. "Do you want me to cut it?"
Maria hesitated for a moment. "What did he use?"
"The green and gold patterned scarf Liz gave you for Christmas last year," he told her.
"No, I like that one," she answered, then got back to the question she'd started to ask. "Mom, how on earth did you untie yourself? Your wrist is broken. I don't recall being related to that Houdini guy."
Her mother sounded a little shaky, but answered, "I cut through the cord that held me." She got her feet loose about the same time as Maria's hands were freed; crossing over to her daughter, she knelt down beside her as Alex worked on freeing Maria's ankles. Amy put her good arm around Maria, and mother and daughter clung to each other, trembling with reaction.
"Where is Michael now?" Alex asked as he finished with the last scarf. He looked concerned by her expression. And rightfully so.
"Gone," Maria said heavily. "He left with another alien." Biting her lip, she added, "It's a long story."
Alex nodded, showing his usual understanding. He didn't press her. Instead, he said, "I'm going to scout around," and cautiously headed out into the hallway.
"Are you all right?" Amy asked. Her head buried in her mother's shoulder, Maria nodded.
"I think so," she answered, her voice muffled. "I can hardly believe it happened." She paused for a moment, then lifted her head and asked, "So how did you cut through the cord, anyway?"
Without a word, Amy explained by holding up the small pocketknife that was clutched in her left fist. Maria reached out to touch it gingerly with one finger.
"That's Michael's," she said softly. Her mother nodded.
"He slipped it into my hand after he'd tied my wrists," she explained. "It took me a few minutes to open it so I could cut the cord." Now Maria took a closer look at her mother's cast. There were gouges and a few small slits where the knife had scored it. A lump came to her throat, but she smiled, trying to keep a cheerful face.
"Michael should just be glad he found a cord to tie you with," she quipped. "If you'd ended up having to slice through one of my scarves, I would've...." Her voice trailed off as she looked at the floor around the two chairs. Several scarves, which had been draped across her mirror; the brown leather belt that she'd tossed onto her dresser. And the cord her mother had cut through--didn't it look familiar? She chewed on the corner of her lip as she studied it, then realized just why it looked familiar. Michael had cut it from the curtains in her room.
Granted, he'd only been gone a few minutes on his hunt for bindings, but it still shouldn't have taken him that long to grab a bunch of things that were in plain sight. Plus they were all from her room, the room Michael knew best in the DeLuca house, not that she'd tell her mother that. So what had taken him so long?
Without a word, she broke from the chair and her mother's embrace, and raced towards the door that led into the rest of the house. Ignoring Amy's startled cry, Maria ran for her room.
The first thing she noticed was that her room was a bigger mess than usual. In his haste, Michael had gone through the room like a hurricane. He'd evidently been too rushed to search her desk for pen and paper; the message was scrawled across her mirror. In her very favorite lip liner, no less.
I'll try to keep him away. Don't look for me. Tell Max. And then, squeezed into the corner, one more word. Sorry.
Maria reached out and touched that last word with one fingertip, careful not to smudge it. She would never wash that mirror again, especially if--
No. She wasn't even going to consider the possibility that Michael wouldn't come back. She would hold on firmly to the idea that he would. He'd escape from Bob, or they'd rescue him, and then things would be right. Her only problem would be getting her mom to accept his otherworldly status. Well, that and convincing her that Michael had purposely misled Bob and that they'd never slept together.
But all that would come once she had Michael back. First she needed to do what Michael's message said, tell Max and the others, so they could ignore the rest of the message and go look for her aggravating but deeply-loved semi-boyfriend. She would hold it together, and be strong. She wouldn't let anything stop her from saving him.
After all, he hadn't let anything stop him from saving her.
In between the crimson words scrawled on the mirror, Maria saw herself. Her eyes looked red-rimmed and puffy, her face white; but she wore a determined expression that was oddly reassuring. With a nod to her reflection, she headed back towards the kitchen. Time to come up with a fast explanation for her mother before grabbing Alex and taking off to find Max.
She didn't get very far down the hallway before Alex stopped her, a worried look still plastered across his face. Unusually blunt, he spoke before she had a chance to. His tone was harsh.
"Isabel's missing."
TBC...
continue to chapters 23 and 24
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