He barely took notice of his father's needling comments about his inability to do what was demanded of him and his utter unworthiness to fulfill his duties. Even if he hadn't been too tired to care, he still wouldn't have. But he was tired and hungry and soul-sick, and the hope that had gotten him through the day, the hope that Isabel had been able to get out, that hope had been jolted out of him, leaving him feeling hollow.
Not to mention a little pissed off.
Impatiently, Michael waited for the door to close and lock behind Bob, then waited a few more minutes for good measure to make sure the other alien had gone away to do whatever the bad guys do when they're not busy torturing their children. Then he turned to Isabel, who had moved across the room and was sitting nonchalantly on the end of the bed.
Michael swallowed his frustration as best he could, but some of his heightened emotion still leaked into his voice. "What happened?" he demanded rather abruptly.
Isabel's forehead wrinkled. "What do you mean, 'what happened'?" she asked in puzzlement.
"Come off it, Iz. We were gone for hours," he grated out. "Why the hell didn't you get out of here?" He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down, and forced his voice to steady. "Did you get caught? Are there guards?" he asked, trying to understand.
"No, I got out," Isabel answered. "I scouted around a bit--"
Michael cut into her statement. "Then why the hell are you still here?" he shouted.
"Calm down, Michael. You--"
But he wasn't listening. "We had an agreement, Isabel! We had a plan. You were gonna get out of here and warn Max."
"I wasn't about to leave you here," Isabel said firmly. "We'll fight Bob together."
"I don't want to fight him together. I want you gone!"
Isabel rose gracefully from the bed and crossed to him, looking him straight in the eyes. In the boots she wore, she didn't seem all that much shorter than he was. "You aren't the boss here, Michael. You don't really have a say in what I do or don't do."
"Dammit, Isabel! I don't need you here, getting hurt!" Michael wheeled around and pounded the wall with his fist. He added a second blow for good measure before turning back to her. "Wait a minute. I'm second-in-command, right? Well, since I don't see Max anywhere around, I'd say that does make me the boss here. So get over there and unlock the door," he ordered, his mind spinning a slightly revised plan. "Get back to Roswell. When Bob comes back, I'll cover for you. Say you're in the can or something. That should hold him off for a little while."
"I don't think you--"
"I mean it, Isabel. Get the hell out of here," Michael commanded. Not willing to wait another second, he grabbed her by the arm and hauled her over to the door.
"I can't do that," she said, pulling her arm from his grasp.
He could feel his grip on his temper beginning to slip again, just like his grip on her arm. "Why the hell not?"
She looked at him unapologetically. "I can't. Let's leave it at that."
"Did he give you the same serum stuff he gave me? He said it would block my powers." Michael shook his head, rejecting his own idea. "But he thinks you're human, so why would he--" He cut off abruptly and stared at her. A few vague memories and a suspicion or two clicked together in his mind, making a very unwelcome picture. "I'm a fucking idiot," he said slowly.
"What?"
"I should have known before. If I'd just thought about it for a minute...you were a little too ready to agree with me last night." He backed a few steps away from her. "Who are you?"
"Michael, you've known me forever. Why are you acting like this? What did Bob do to you?" Isabel asked, concern in her voice.
"Nice try," Michael said, his face hard. "But not good enough. I figure you're a shapeshifter, right? So who are you? You working with my father?"
"He's not your father."
Michael stared at the all-too-familiar face in front of him. "What?" he half-whispered.
"He's not your father," Isabel repeated.
Michael felt his stomach clench. God, if only it were true. He so badly wanted not to have a father who would do the kinds of things Bob had done to him. Hank had been more than enough for one lifetime. "How do you know?" he asked, afraid to hope too much.
Before him, Isabel put out one hand and shimmered in a sudden light, growing broader, balder, and considerably less vibrant. "Because I knew your father," said Nasedo.
* * * * *
With a flourish, Maria turned off her cell phone and dropped it into her book bag. "All set," she said, her tone businesslike.
Isabel smiled at her and shifted the Jeep into drive. "Which way?"
"I don't know. Let's...let's start out by the pod cave," Maria suggested for want of a better idea. "We'll just drive around and see if I can sense him."
Isabel glanced in her side view mirror and then pulled out into the street. The wind whipping past the car as she drove blew a few stray strands of hair into her face. Maria watched as she gracefully pushed them back. Too bad they couldn't drive with the top up, but she was afraid it might block her from sensing Michael. She didn't want anything between her and the chance of finding him. To her relief, Isabel hadn't argued. Why should she? At least she'd worn a thick sweater under her jacket.
Maria sat silently, hands clasped together, as she strained to sense something outside the confines of the Jeep. "He's going to be okay, you know," Isabel reassured her.
A faint smile crossed Maria's lips. "He may survive Bob," she admitted with a trace of humor, "but I'm not so sure he'll survive my mother."
"I can't believe she knows about us," Isabel said, a hint of a frown on her face. "All the times we swore to keep our secret, no matter what, and then Michael of all people goes and tells someone."
"It wasn't his fault. He didn't really want to admit it, but the other alien--Bob--" She refused to acknowledge him as Michael's father. "Bob kind of forced him into it."
Isabel nodded absently. "How is she dealing with it?"
"Well, I didn't have to run away from home to be here," Maria answered, her voice wry. "So that's a good sign. She wants to help, if she can. I don't think she's afraid of you," she added candidly, "but she's afraid of what danger you might find yourselves in because of who you are, if that makes sense."
Isabel probably wasn't that blas� about it herself. She was quiet for a few moments, then asked, "What if she'd found out you were an alien, not just involved with them?"
Maria turned to look at her, but Isabel kept her eyes on the road, not meeting her gaze. Maria tried to give her an honest answer. "Most of her fear is because she loves me," she thought out loud. "I don't think that would change, no matter what I told her." She paused. "You want to tell your mother, don't you." It wasn't really a question, but Isabel nodded.
"I've wanted to tell her for as long as I can remember. But Max and Michael always said no."
"Maybe Max and Michael are wrong," observed Maria.
"Don't you think I've thought about that, a million times? But Max was always so adamant about our safety, especially after Liz found out, and then the rest of you. And Michael--Michael doesn't understand what it's like not to be able to tell her. He once said there's no such thing as unconditional love."
Maria smiled. "Well, Michael's still learning about stuff." She glanced towards Isabel and added, "And genius memory or not, he can sometimes take the longest time to catch on to things."
Isabel laughed a little. "I know what you mean," she said ruefully.
"Maybe you should talk to them again," suggested Maria. "Once this is all over, I mean."
"Maybe." Isabel sounded like she wanted to believe it. "But there's a lot to get through before then," she added. "Like find Michael, and figure out why he's been such a jackass lately."
Maria flinched just the tiniest bit. She didn't know everything about what was going on in Michael's spiky head, but she knew more than Isabel. And, no matter how much she wanted to tell the other girl, she couldn't. She'd promised him.
She clenched her teeth. See if she ever promised him something again.
Oh, who was she kidding? She only hoped she'd have the chance to promise him something--anything--again.
Blinking rapidly, she tried to bring her mind back into focus. She just had to concentrate on picking up his signal.
The ringing of her cell phone jolted her out of her abstraction. Great. Her mother had been on the phone with her practically every hour throughout the day. And Maria had followed the rules, telling her she was heading out with Isabel after school to look for Michael...although she hadn't mentioned her ability to feel his presence when he was near. That was too personal. She didn't really even like the other members of the group knowing about it, although if it helped locate her stubborn semi-boyfriend it would be worth it. It had worked before, when she had to track him down in the dream world so they could get him out of the mental schizophrenia he'd forced on himself. But her mother really didn't need to hear about that right now; she was already dealing with enough when it came to Michael. The point was, Maria had told her mother what she was doing. If she was calling again....
With some aggravation, she dug her cell phone back out of her book bag and answered it. Surprisingly--and much to her relief--it wasn't her mother. It was Liz.
"Hey, Liz," Maria said, letting Isabel know who was calling.
"I've only got a minute," her friend said. "It's a madhouse here."
"How did your dad take my not showing up?" Maria asked.
Liz's voice was reassuring. "I just told him you had some personal business to deal with, and I'd be covering for you until you had it taken care of."
"But you have your own shifts--"
"Don't worry about it, Maria. I have help," Liz said. Maria could hear her amusement.
Maria's mind quickly ran through the rather scant possibilities. Isabel had filled in for Liz once, but she was obviously not at the Crashdown right now since she was playing chauffeur. Max had to work at the UFO Museum, and was going to take the opportunity to research any recent sightings. So there was only one possibility left. "Alex?" she guessed.
"No. He's helping out at your mom's shop."
"Don't tell me Agnes actually agreed--"
Again, she could hear a burble of laughter in Liz's tone. "Nope."
Maria searched her mind for another candidate and came up empty. "Who, then?"
"You'll never guess--" Liz's voice cut off and Maria could clearly hear a scuffle on the other end of the line.
"Liz--" she called urgently into the phone. "Are you--"
"She's fine, DeLuca." The voice cut her off.
She sat in stunned silence for a moment, then managed somehow to find her voice. "Kyle?"
"I don't want to hear about it," he warned.
"Kyle?" she said again, in disbelief. Isabel shot a confused glance in her direction.
"Look, just tell us if you've found something yet so Liz can get back to work," he ordered. "The crowds are killing us here, and I've got a practice game against Junior Varsity tonight."
"No such luck. Finding Michael, I mean, not having you killed. But we're just getting started." She let a mischievous grin spread across her lips. "So, Kyle...bet you look just adorable in your sparkly silver antennae," she teased.
"I said I didn't want to hear about it," Kyle shot back. "And I'm not wearing the stupid uniform."
Maria had a sudden image of Kyle in his basketball uniform, decked out in the headband and silver alien-head apron. She ruthlessly squashed the image before her imagination replaced his basketball uniform with the blue-green dress that completed her waitress outfit. Some things she just didn't want to see. Instead, she merely said, "Thanks, Kyle."
"You owe me one, DeLuca. No, actually you owe me a lot."
"Yeah, yeah. Got it. Tell Liz we'll call if we find anything. And I get half the tips." She quickly signed off before he could respond, and turned to Isabel. In a dramatic voice, she intoned, "I've been replaced by Kyle Valenti."
"What?" Isabel laughed.
"You heard me. I can say farewell to my long-held dream of becoming the Crashdown's number one waitress; Kyle has stolen my thunder." She gave a mock sniff.
"You've got to be kidding."
"No, I'm perfectly serious. But still...Kyle," Maria said, almost not believing it herself.
"He's not that bad," Isabel commented.
"What? Stalker boy, who followed Liz around all last year like a...like a stalker?"
"He could have turned us in. He didn't."
"Well, Max kind of saved his life." Maria rolled her eyes at Isabel's glance, but continued, "Yeah, okay, so he wouldn't have gotten shot in the first place if you guys weren't who you were. Are. Whatever. That doesn't mean I have to be best friends with him, does it? I mean, I already have two people tied for that spot."
"It doesn't hurt to have as many friends as you can," Isabel pointed out as she pulled the Jeep up near the pod cave and put it into park.
Maria gave her a sudden grin. "Look at that! Miss 'We Have To Keep Things Within Our Tightly Knit Group' Alien Secret Girl, putting forth the benefits of friendship. Who'd have thought?"
"Yeah, well, people change. They grow," Isabel said loftily before both girls burst into laughter.
"That felt good," Maria said as their hilarity died down. "I needed it."
Sobering, Isabel nodded. "I know what you mean." She turned to survey the sand and rocks around them. "So, any sign of Michael?"
Maria closed her eyes, wrinkling her face up in concentration. When she opened them, she looked defeated. "Nothing."
"It's the first place we've looked," Isabel pointed out.
"I know, it's just...." Maria grew quiet.
"You hoped you'd be able to pick up the trail right away."
"Yeah." Maria let out a deep breath, then straightened up. When she spoke again, her voice was determinedly cheerful. "Well, what are we waiting for? Time to track us down a Spaceboy."
* * * * *
Michael didn't even blink at the sudden transformation. "You knew my father," he scoffed.
"Yes."
"See, the problem with that is, I have no reason to believe anything you say. You've already pretended to be Isabel; how do I know you're not pretending to be Nasedo?"
"You don't," the shapeshifter responded. "But common sense should tell you--"
Michael interrupted with a dry laugh. "You obviously didn't get the memo. Common sense? Not my strong suit. I'm much more likely to go with my gut, and what it's telling me is that you could be anyone. Hell, you could be working with Bob, trying to get information from me." A horrible thought hit him. "Goddammit! And I went and told you about Isabel, and Max--" He took a deliberate step towards the other alien. "You go anywhere near them, and I'll kill you myself." It wasn't an empty threat.
The shapeshifter didn't look impressed, though. "I hardly think that's likely. Look at what you did to yourself the last time you killed someone--do you really want to end up like that again?"
Michael's eyes narrowed. "Like what?"
"Do you want to get stuck inside your own mind again? Rather dull company, if you ask me, and from what I understand, it took a human to get you out last time. What makes you think she'd be willing to help you out again?"
"How--" Michael managed to put the pieces together. Max had told Nasedo about his self-inflicted dual-personality psychosis; no one else outside the group would know about it. This was really him. "So you're Nasedo," he acknowledged grudgingly. "How do I know you're not working with my--with Bob?" he accused.
"Because everything I've done has been to keep Max safe, not exterminate him. We're on the same side."
"We're on the same side? Now we're on the same side?" Michael burst out. "Then why the hell have you been going around telling everyone I'm the enemy?"
"You aren't, as it turns out. But you had the very strong potential to be," the shapeshifter said coolly. "I couldn't take the chance."
"Great. Just great," Michael muttered. "You couldn't take the chance. So you thought 'Go ahead and give Michael the shaft, it's not like he isn't used to it.' Great."
"Your anger isn't going to get you anywhere."
Michael turned on him. "You think this is anger? You have no idea what's going on inside me right now. You're lucky I've been able to keep from ripping your freaking face off!" he hissed.
"And that's why I know you're not the enemy."
Crossing to the bed, Michael sank down on it. His mind was reeling, the hope of any logical thought far from his grasp. "What?" he said, hating how defeated he sounded.
"I know what he did to you. What he awakened in you. But you haven't given in to it."
"Okay. I'm confused."
"History lesson. Four beings, the leaders of an entire planet, are killed in an intergalactic takeover attempt. They die, and their essences are mixed with human DNA--"
"Yeah, I already heard the lecture. Get to the point."
"Fine. I'll simplify. Your essence was...shall we say...tinkered with. By the creature that calls himself your father."
"Tinkered with," Michael repeated.
"The part of your personality that embraces violence, mayhem, the kill--that was...enhanced. And then it was hidden behind a mental wall of sorts, to be awakened at the appropriate time."
"So basically, you're saying that all my life I've been a time bomb waiting to go off?" Michael demanded.
Nasedo nodded.
"Then why the hell didn't somebody do something about it? Not that I'm big on dying, no matter how much my life sucks, but why didn't somebody pull the plug before the spaceship left for Earth?"
Nasedo looked rather embarrassed. "It wasn't discovered until we were already en route. And then it was too late."
Staring down at his hands, Michael mulled this over. The story Nasedo was telling seemed real. Possible. It certainly explained what had happened to Michael the day before. Bob had reached into his brain and changed everything. It wasn't a mindwarp, and he hadn't added or replaced any memories. Instead, he'd ripped away barriers Michael hadn't even known he had. Stone walls he hadn't put there. They'd been in place--part of him--before he'd ever come out of the pod.
And now he knew what was hidden behind them. He knew exactly what he was capable of. He knew that Bob had told the truth: he had one purpose. To destroy Max. He'd seen it.
He still didn't remember his past life, but now he knew that his past hadn't been this way, hadn't centered on this purpose. He'd always felt like there was something wrong with him, that he was damaged. It was actually almost a relief to find out he'd been right all along. For once, it wasn't his mind playing sadistic tricks on him. That had been done by someone else.
"We were supposed to be the same as we were before. But since somebody screwed with me, I'm not even that," he said, half to himself. He raised his head and looked at the shapeshifter. "So now that this violent side has been awakened or whatever, how come you're not acting like my enemy? What if I go postal on Max the next time I see him?"
"That's not very likely, actually. If you were going to break, it would already have happened."
Michael's tone was deliberately sarcastic. "So what, you're saying that whoever screwed with my essence did a crappy job? Or am I supposed to believe that I'm so strong and noble I can hold my own against the evil mind-reprogramming aliens?" he scoffed.
"Neither, actually," Nasedo said, his composure unruffled. "When what had been done to you was discovered, steps were taken to try and counteract it. Unfortunately, it couldn't be undone. We could only try and mask that side of you. Block it off, as it were, so it would be inaccessible. I hoped it would never awaken."
Michael stared at him. "So one person mucking around in my mind wasn't enough, and you thought you'd add to the confusion? Am I supposed to thank you? 'Cause I don't feel real grateful right now."
Nasedo began to sound a little defensive. "We did our best. The side effects are not our fault."
Michael sprang to his feet. "Side effects?" he shouted. "What the hell does that mean?"
Nasedo looked at him in surprise. "You've already experienced them. How else did you think you were able to divide yourself in two, if your unconscious mind hadn't already held the pattern for it?"
"How the hell should I know how it happened?" Michael thundered. "I don't know anything!" Hearing his own agitation, he turned away and forcibly tried to gain control of his emotions. "Look," he said finally, "you've got a hell of a lot to answer for. You owe me some explanations, more than I've gotten so far. But I think I've got enough to deal with right now, if I don't want my head to explode." He ran a shaky hand through his hair and changed the subject to something he thought he could handle without said head explosion. "So how did you know that Bob had awakened my violent side, anyway? And how'd you wind up here, looking like Isabel?"
"I was following you," Nasedo said, not sounding the least bit regretful. "I saw you go to the human girl's house--"
The shapeshifter continued on, as if Michael hadn't spoken. "--and I saw him break down the barrier in your mind. I wasn't sure who he was at first--we don't have built-in shapeshifter identification abilities--but when he marked you I knew him for who he was." Michael's hand flew instinctively to his cheek. He'd almost forgotten he'd been branded. Nasedo continued, "That sigil--it's peculiarly his own. He uses it as a focusing point to connect with his victims."
Victims? Michael really, really disliked that word. On a number of levels. He pushed down his distaste. "It burned a little, whenever he tried to read me. But I thought he could do that because we were related."
"No. It's his gift, reading others of our kind. One that he has truly misused."
Huh. Got that right. "So you saw the mark and knew it was him," said Michael. "Why make a guest appearance as Isabel?"
"She was approaching the house, she and the skinny human boy." Michael mentally supplied Alex's name to the picture. Nasedo continued, "I took the opportunity to get nearer."
Michael's eyes narrowed. "You took the opportunity? What did you do to her?"
"She's fine. Or she should be. She should have had no problem getting out once she regained consciousness."
A flash of temper rose in Michael, and this time he didn't try to bash it back down. "Get out of where?" he demanded through gritted teeth. "What did you do to her?"
"I couldn't have her getting close to Bob," Nasedo said reasonably. "So I took her out of the equation." Michael glared at him until he explained, "I knocked her out and put her in a car trunk."
Michael just looked at him, his expression hard. "You're gonna regret that."
"I hardly think you're in a position to--"
"Not me. Isabel."
There was a moment of silence.
"My job is to protect the Royal Four," Nasedo began, not stopping as Michael let out a sarcastic grunt when he heard they were back to the Four, not the Three. "I wasn't about to let her go into that house, not with Bob there."
"So you took her place," Michael said slowly, "and got knocked over the head for it. That's what I call poetic justice." He pursed his lips in sour amusement. "Still not gonna get you off Isabel's shit list, though. She's family and all, but man, can she be vicious." He took a moment to think over everything Nasedo had told him. "I don't like you, and I don't like the way you do things. So tell me why I should believe any of this," he said finally.
"That's up to you to decide," the shapeshifter responded, his voice even.
For him to decide. He wasn't sure he could make a rational, logical decision. Not that he was really known for that anyway, but with everything that had happened in the last week, he wasn't in any shape to know what to do. Things were spinning further and further out of his control with each passing moment. Face it, he wasn't even supposed to be making any decisions. He was supposed to be Bob's tool.
But Bob was shit out of luck, even if he didn't know it. Because someone--Michael wasn't sure if it was Nasedo himself or another alien--had come along and fixed it. Well, not fixed it. It was kinda like the good fairy in that 'Sleeping Beauty' video Isabel had made him watch when they were kids. The other aliens couldn't undo what had been done to him.
So instead they forced their way into his scrambled-egg brain and played around with the DNA or gene mix or whatever a little more. So that even though Michael knew what he was supposed to do--could feel it waiting ravenously in his very bones--he could control it.
He--who'd never felt in control over anything in his sorry little life, not his home life, not his powers, nothing--he could control this one thing. He could step away from it, distance himself. Look semi-objectively at it, and make his own choice.
And what he chose was not to betray his best friend. Not to let the people he cared about--because he did care about them, even Mrs. DeLuca, kind of--get hurt. Not even the people he didn't care about, the people he couldn't remember from a home he'd lost over fifty years ago.
Because in the rush of images that flocked to his mind as Bob tore away the barriers were other images. Flashes that could only have come from the other alien. Michael had seen what he intended, far beyond the disposal of the king. And he wouldn't wish that on anyone. Not even the people he hated most. Not even Hank.
And if that meant working with the shapeshifter, so be it. He spoke. "So if he's not my father, then who is he?"
For a moment, Nasedo didn't answer. In fact, if he hadn't looked so affable, Michael might have thought the shapeshifter was a little uncomfortable with the question. On second thought, Michael was sure of it. Nasedo had caused him a good deal of pain and trouble; Michael didn't have any hesitation in pressing him further. "Who?" he demanded again, pulling himself up to his full height.
"A very dangerous creature," Nasedo said solemnly.
"Thanks for pointing that out. I hadn't noticed," Michael snarked. He shook his head impatiently. "Well, I'm gonna stop him. You in?"
Nasedo raised one eyebrow. "What happened to doing it by yourself?" he asked.
The smile that crossed Michael's face was not one of joy. "I wasn't willing to risk Isabel, but I'm damn well willing to risk you."
CHAPTER 28
Almost before the restaurant even opened, seven teenagers had gathered at the Crashdown for a joint breakfast and strategy session. Their efforts the previous day had garnered them absolutely nothing other than a headache or two and a general sense of frustration.
As a plate-laden Jeff Parker headed over towards the group, Kyle branched seamlessly into a discussion of the previous night's practice game and the chances of the West Roswell High Varsity basketball team going to the state finals that season.
"It's not looking too good," he told a surprisingly interested Tess.
"I thought the basketball team was supposed to be wonderful," she replied. "You won the regionals last year, didn't you?" At his look of surprise, she added offhandedly, "I heard about it, that's all."
"Last year our three best players graduated. We just haven't found our rhythm so far this season. That, or we just suck."
"Maybe you need some new players," Tess observed.
"We tried that, but the turnout was pathetic," Kyle answered with a shake of his head. "Heck, even Maria would have been a better choice than some of the rejects we ended up with." Maria shot him an annoyed look, but didn't comment.
Behind them, Mr. Parker spoke up. "Why not do some recruiting, then? West Roswell's a big school. There are probably plenty of good players out there." He set down an order of pancakes. "Your usual, Alex." Liz and Maria both burst into chuckles, and Maria mouthed the words 'Mr. Predictable.'
As Mr. Parker continued to serve breakfast, Kyle moved along the train of thought the restaurateur had started. "I don't know if recruiting would do us any good. There really aren't many good players out there."
"Alex could play. If it was dodgeball," Maria put in with a smile at her tall friend. "Undisputed champion."
"Yeah, I remember," Kyle said. "No offense, though, Whitman, but I don't think you've got quite the set of skills I'm looking for here."
"No offense taken," Alex assured him after swallowing his mouthful of syrupy pancake. "I'm happy to stay in the bleachers."
A thoughtful look crossed the athlete's face. "You know who I'd like to see in action? Guerin."
Maria sputtered on the sip of orange juice she was taking. "Guerin? As in my...as in Michael? Michael Guerin?"
"D'you know any other Guerins?" was Kyle's slightly sarcastic response.
"Has he ever even shown up for PE?" Alex asked.
"He's tall, and he moves pretty damn fast," Kyle pointed out. "It'd be interesting to see what he could do."
Isabel spoke up, amusement in her voice. "I wouldn't get your hopes up, Kyle. Michael's not exactly the joining-in type."
"Not to mention that he's not really into organized sports," added her brother. "Other than sprawling on the couch and watching them on TV."
Kyle smiled then, a rather devilish smile. "I don't know. I figure, we go out and rescue him and he owes us. For my share, I think one tiny little basketball tryout isn't out of line."
Maria shook the unexpected but rather intriguing image of Michael in a basketball uniform out of her head. It would never happen. "Good luck with that, Kyle. Besides, we have to find him first," she felt free to add since Mr. Parker had gone back behind the counter.
"Any ideas on how to do that?" Isabel demanded just a trifle sourly. "Because I couldn't get through to his dreams again last night."
"Me neither," Maria admitted with a sigh. "We drove all over Roswell yesterday, and not a sign of him."
"How sure are you that you would have felt him?" Liz asked, a thoughtful expression on her face.
"Pretty sure," Maria said with confidence. "I mean, I have to be fairly close, but we drove down practically every road in Chaves County. I think I would have found him if he'd been there to be found."
Tess shook her head gloomily. "It's been thirty-six hours. He could be anywhere by now."
"It's too bad he's not wearing a homing beacon," Alex commented, only half-kidding. "We could steal some more FBI equipment and track him."
"He doesn't need a beacon; he is one. But if he's too far, I can't feel him," sulked Maria.
Alex studied her. "So what you need is a signal amplifier of sorts, so you can feel him from further off."
She gave a weak laugh. "Yeah. You think they sell them at Radio Shack?"
No one had anything particularly encouraging to say, and they busied themselves with their breakfasts. All except Liz, who was toying with her fork, a look of absorption on her face.
"Liz, what is it?" Maria asked with curiosity.
Her friend continued to turn her fork between her fingers. "Tell me again what Bob said about the crystal Michael gave you."
"He said it was like a big battery," Maria said obligingly. Liz nodded, her thoughts clearly busy.
"You've been doing some...unusual things lately. At least in human terms," she clarified. "Dreamwalking Michael and healing Isabel."
"Yeah, so?" Maria said.
Max was evidently able to grasp the direction of Liz's thoughts. "Did it start happening before or after Michael gave you the crystal?" he asked.
Maria frowned. "He gave it to me before the healing. But the dreamwalking.... No, we shared the first dream weeks ago. I got grounded for staying at his apartment that night, remember?"
On hearing this tidbit of news, Kyle grinned and opened his mouth to speak. But before he could get a word out, a small hand thwapped his arm. "Shut up, Kyle," said Tess with a pointed look.
"I was only--"
"I know what you were only. Cut it out," she warned and then turned to the others. "I heard you'd dreamwalked Michael. But now you're saying you two shared a dream? Which is it?" she asked.
"Why? Does it make a difference?" Maria countered.
Tess met her eyes. "I'm not sure. It's just--I never heard of a human being able to do either one. Before you."
Maria bristled. "What, so humans can't have gifts? Do you think you're so much better than us just because you're a big scary Czechoslovakian?"
"A what?"
"You know, not of this earth? Extra-terrestrial? A little green around the gills?" Maria heard her own voice rise in pitch and took a deep breath.
"That's not what she meant," Kyle burst out. He turned to Tess. "It isn't, is it?"
"No. It's just...." She hesitated, then forged on, "Isabel can heal, right? Maybe she healed herself."
"And Michael pulled me into his dream, is that what you're saying? I didn't dreamwalk him, he did it?" Maria asked, a little more calmly now.
"It's a possibility."
"You weren't there," Alex protested. "Isabel was unconscious. Maria was the--"
"It's okay, Alex." He turned towards her, and Maria continued, "Tess has a point. Just because I want to believe there's something about me that's special--" She put a hand up to silence the incipient protests. "No. Just because I want to believe it, it doesn't make it true." Shooting a wry glance at Liz, she added, "It's much more logical that Michael and Isabel did it all. They're the ones with the established powers."
Tess studied her for a moment. "Even if it wasn't you, it doesn't mean you're not special." The normally self-possessed alien actually flushed a bit. "I mean, Michael seems to think so."
Maria looked at her in surprise. "Thanks."
"So do we have a truce here?" Kyle asked, and let out a sigh of relief when both girls nodded. "Good. Because all this tension isn't good for my digestion."
Tess spoke up again. "I'd still like to understand about the dreamwalk. If you don't mind?" She slanted an inquiring glance over toward Maria.
"It's okay."
"So this dreamwalk, or shared dream, it's happened more than once?"
"A bunch of times. If we're both asleep, we meet in this room. It's kind of boring, really. I mean the room is," Maria hastened to explain. "Cream colored walls and no doors. And one little couch that Michael...But you really don't want to hear about that."
"And you've never dreamwalked anyone else?" Tess asked.
"Nope, just him. Oh, except when Isabel had to take me in with her...but that was Michael, too. And Isabel's the only other person who ever dreamwalked me, as far as I know," Maria added, shooting a glance at the statuesque alien.
"I remember. You dreamt about Michael in a tux," Isabel replied loftily.
Maria colored a little, before donning a cloak of bravado. "Yeah, well if you recall, I also dreamt you and Max were slimy, tentacled monsters, and that didn't happen either," she shot back.
Sitting next to Maria, Liz was still worrying at the problem like a terrier with a fresh bone. "The first time you shared a dream with him, you were together, right?"
At the twin looks of surprise from Kyle and Tess, Maria could feel her face redden even more. "Not together together. I mean, we slept together, but--No, I don't mean that either. We slept, as in sleeping, not--He slept on the floor," she finished in a rush.
"And the other times, you were apart? He didn't climb through your window in the middle of the night or something?"
"He saves that for Max's window," said Isabel irrepressibly.
Maria ignored her, answering her friend with a slightly regretful, "No."
"Other than the first time, were the dreams before or after you had the crystal?" Liz pressed.
"After...but why?" Maria asked, not quite sure where this was going.
"Whether it's you or Michael doing it, you were near each other the first time it happened. Then after you had the crystal, it kept happening even when you weren't near each other. That might not be coincidence."
Alex's eyes danced. "I think Liz just found your amplifier, 'Ria."
* * * * *
The click of the lock came all too soon for Michael. As anxious as he was to get this over with, he couldn't fool himself. He really wasn't looking forward to it, to put it mildly. After hours of bitter dispute, several losses of temper on his part, and an incredibly annoying tendency for the shapeshifter to dismiss anything Michael suggested, they'd finally settled on the current plan. Which he was not all that happy with. Because basically, it sucked.
He'd gotten what he supposed was a few hours of sleep, again using his jacket as a makeshift pillow. His dreams were uneasy, washing over him in a half-remembered melange of pleasure and violence. No doubt of their origin--another pleasant little byproduct of his so-called father's mind games. He'd almost thought he'd heard Maria's voice at one point, calling his name in a lovingly exasperated tone that was all her own. But even in his dreams he shook it off. He couldn't afford to be distracted.
And then he'd heard another voice, for sure this time. The same sweet voice that had taunted and then warned him in his dreams. The one that sounded like Agent Topolsky. He could still hear the echo of it even upon waking. Killer. He grimaced. Like he didn't already know.
And now he was awake again, forced to face another morning. At least, he guessed it was morning. For the first time, he kind of wished he wore--or even owned--a watch.
He sat up, his stiff muscles protesting, as the door swung open and Bob slid through. Like the previous day, the other alien held a brown paper sack; this time when he tossed it, Michael fielded it neatly and dug inside. If he was only going to have one opportunity to eat again today, he sure as hell was taking it. He unwrapped a rather dry-looking sandwich, took out half, and passed the other half to Nasedo, who had long since re-donned Isabel's form and was sitting on the bed.
Michael took a bite. Some sort of lunchmeat on dry bread. Bland, but edible. What it needed now was a good shot of Tabasco, and maybe something sweet, like strawberry jam. And a pizza or two and half a dozen chocolate-covered doughnuts...but the starkly plain half sandwich was all he got. He briefly considered the fact that it might be drugged with more of the power-inhibiting serum, but given the state of his powers, he didn't think it mattered anyway. Wolfing down the rest of the sandwich, he wiped his fingers on his jeans and stood.
Bob was watching him, a look of satisfaction on his face. Looked like his suspicions about the sandwich were right on target. Michael hoped the serum was only geared towards alien-human hybrids, though, because they couldn't be without Nasedo's powers. Glancing at the shapeshifter, he was relieved to find 'Isabel'--no, make that 'Kyla' although they'd never mentioned the name to Bob--peering with disgust at the less-than satisfying meal.
"You expect me to eat this?" he--no, 'she' demanded.
"Do I look like I'm carrying a sushi bar around with me?" Michael shot back. "Eat or don't eat. I don't care," he added for Bob's benefit.
Bob took a step nearer. "Still in a bad mood, is she?" he asked with a malicious grin. Michael just rolled his eyes, an expression he'd picked up from the real Isabel, as the fake one went on a diatribe.
"Bad mood? Of course I'm in a bad mood," she sputtered. "Wouldn't you be, if your boyfriend's weirdo father kidnapped you and held you in some dismal little room with no proper amenities whatsoever? I mean, how could I possibly be expected to function without my cosmetics and hot rollers?"
Michael snorted inwardly. This was a little over the top, even for an imitation Isabel. She wasn't that vain. And she probably didn't even need all that girly shit, anyway; she could just wave her hand and look perfect.
Still ranting away, Nasedo was sticking to the background identity they'd created before Michael had realized his companion in captivity wasn't Isabel. "Are you waiting for a ransom, or what?" the shapeshifter demanded petulantly. "Because my father's a Sheriff, not a millionaire. Although if this place is the best you can do, any amount of money would be an improvement. Honestly, Michael, I should have known your family would turn out to be absolutely pathetic."
With a snarl, Michael turned to Bob. "Are we getting out of here today or what? Because if I have to spend any more time with her, one of us is going to wind up dead."
Bob raised his eyebrows. "Dead? But I though you were against killing people."
Deliberately shooting 'Isabel' a nasty look, Michael growled, "In her case, I might make an exception."
The other alien chuckled and held up the pair of handcuffs he'd used on Michael the day before. "You know the routine." Michael silently submitted to being restrained and hooded, and with mixed dread and anticipation allowed himself to be propelled out of the room and towards the training room.
His plan would've been better. He'd wanted to jump the other alien as Bob entered the room. Two against one might've worked, even if the one did have that electroshock device. Because Bob would have no way of anticipating that the supposedly human prisoner actually had fully functional powers. Combine that with a surprise attack, and they might've been able to take Bob out of action.
Not that he really wanted to kill again. The idea sickened him. It was bad enough with Pierce, and the threat there had been imminent. Was it still self-defense when your victim wasn't actually pointing a gun at somebody? Would it hurt any less?
It didn't really matter, because Nasedo had insisted on waiting until they could get more information from the other alien. Which meant more time for the shapeshifter to search the premises, which in turn meant another day of Bob-induced visions of violence for Michael. And the alien's not-so-tender ministrations already had Michael itching to act out, to plant his fist in someone's face, to batter them down into an unidentifiable mass of blood and bone and--
No. He pulled the reins on his bloodthirsty need for violent action, sending it to hunker down restlessly inside him. He wouldn't let that part of him, that dangerous, horrific part, take over. He could control it. Nasedo had said so, and he couldn't bring himself to believe otherwise. He would control it.
Swallowing, he trudged along where Bob led, glad for the few moments he still had before the training would recommence. The thud of his worn boots on concrete seemed to repeat, 'DON'T. DON'T.'
By the time Bob had shoved him against a wall and uncuffed his left wrist, Michael was uncomfortably near to panic. He had to pull this off. He'd keep the alien busy--why did it seem like that's all he ever did anymore, first with Tess, now with Bob--and if possible he'd get some more information from him. But he couldn't seem to give in too soon.
And so, when Bob pointed him to the metal folding chair. Michael sat. And when Bob asked point blank if he was ready to cooperate, Michael steeled his jaw and grunted, "No."
The scenes that flowed through his mind weren't any less terrible than the previous ones, but somehow they didn't seem quite as unbearable. And that terrified Michael even more. He couldn't actually be getting used to this, could he? He didn't want to get all cozy and comfortable, like these images of Max's bloody corpse didn't affect him. Didn't sicken him to the core of his being. Didn't make him want to fall to his knees and vomit out the detritus of betrayal and fear and nausea that filled him.
But he held on, as long as he could. Hours? Minutes? He didn't know. With a forceful shove, he summoned up what tattered remnants of will he still clung to and broke the connection.
The disengagement actually rocked him back in the chair, and he flailed around for a moment before recovering his balance. At least he hadn't landed on his ass, there in front of his oppressor.
He looked wildly around for a moment, then blustered, "What the fuck was that?"
The other alien looked a little shaken himself, but drew himself up and clamped his hand back on Michael's face.
Oh, god. No more....
But Bob wasn't forcing his battered mind to create any more images. Instead, the brand on Michael's cheek began to twitch, ever so slightly. Bob was trying to read him.
Time to convince.
Carefully Michael loosened the mental wall he'd built two days earlier. Like he'd done then with the memories of the Isabel dreams, he allowed some of the images Bob had bequeathed on him to filter back to the other alien. Just the images, not his feelings about them.
This was the dangerous part. The part he'd argued with Nasedo over. He was fairly sure that Bob hadn't actually been giving him images, just opening up his mind to the hate and violence that had been engineered inside him. His own brain created the actual pictures; that's why Bob didn't know who Max was. He'd never seen him. But after this moment, Bob would have an image to go with the idea of 'King.' Michael took one particularly vile picture, of Max lying eviscerated at his own hands, and let the image slip through to the other alien. Joylessly he heard Bob's quiet gasp at its reception.
And Michael deliberately forced a wide, humorless, entirely chilling smile onto his face.
* * * * *
Maria fidgeted impatiently as Max passed a hand over the lock on Michael's apartment door. "Hurry up," she entreated. The very second the lock clicked open, she pushed her way past him into the apartment. The room itself stopped her before she got more than a few steps in, however. It didn't look visibly different. It was quiet, though that wasn't unexpected. But the sense of emptiness that pervaded the room made her skin twitch. The lonely room could have belonged to anyone. Somehow she'd never noticed it before. It seemed that when he was there, Michael resonated with such vibrancy that his sparse possessions picked up and were magnified by it, a certain spark. It wasn't his hybrid status, or the other three would give off the same indefinable electricity. It was just Michael.
Maria thought back to the years when Michael had been only a fuzzy figure in the scope of her world, a wrong-side-of-the-tracks sort of guy whose name she had barely known. He had hardly even been a blip on her radar, not like Isabel who'd always been popular in spite of her hauteur, or Max who'd watched her best friend from afar for years. Michael hadn't given off this spark then. It was only after she'd really met him that she'd grown to notice it. It had developed over the course of a number of weeks the previous fall; ever since then she'd felt a preternatural sense of life whenever he was nearby.
The same awareness that was, come Hell, high water, or alien attack, going to help her find him now. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she looked around the room to find the others had entered and moved past her.
"Okay," she said, holding up her crystal. "When Michael gave this to me, he said he had others. Find them."
"Can't you just sense them?" asked Kyle.
"Uh uh, only Michael. This one gives off a vibe--Bob said it was attuned to Michael--but I can't feel it unless I'm touching it." She noted with approval Isabel's systematic search of the kitchen and Max heading to Michael's chest of drawers, then turned to the others. "Why are you standing there? Get searching!"
Alex gave her an apologetic look as he admitted, "I'm a little worried about just how pissed off Michael will be when he finds out we went through his stuff, Maria."
"Yeah, well, I'm just hoping we can find him while he's still around to get pissed off!" Maria shot back. "We don't know what that monster is doing to him. If there's a way to help me find him, I'm taking it." She began to cross the room, then stopped and smiled at her still hesitating friends. "I promise I will take full responsibility for this. Michael can be pissed off at me all he wants as long as we get him back, okay?"
Without waiting for them to answer, she knelt on the floor and turned her attention to the plastic crate Michael had stuck in the corner. She began pulling out its contents, piling them haphazardly on the floor beside her. A few pencils. A paperback copy of Bleak House surprised her before she remembered. Michael had told her he was working his way through Dickens' novels. Maria hadn't read it, but the title seemed depressingly appropriate for the shabby apartment. Honestly, she needed to get Michael some books with better titles. Had anyone ever written one called Michael's Fabulously Happy Life? She wondered if the others knew how much he read; she somehow doubted it. Checking the due date on the book, she noted he still had a few days to turn it in. Surely he'd be back by then, wouldn't he?
A sketchbook tempted her, but she resolutely put it down on the pile without opening its cover. Her hand hovered over it for a few moments. It wouldn't really hurt to take a peek, would it? The picture he'd drawn of her was beautiful, and she was more than curious to see what else his clever hands had wrought. Time for that later, though. She'd ask him to show her, and wheedle her way---okay, she admitted it. She'd whine until he gave in and showed her.
With a smile, she continued to pull things from the crate in a search for Michael's stash of crystals. She only hoped he kept them here, not stowed away in the pod cave or something. Her hands working busily, she almost didn't realize what she held when she pulled a folded paper from the crate; then she smiled mistily. It was a program from West Roswell's production of Little Shop of Horrors, in which she'd had the lead role. He'd kept it. They hadn't even been speaking then--or rather, he'd been avoiding her--but he'd come to see the show on opening night. Of course, his name was in the program, too, for making the plant puppets. Or maybe he'd just forgotten he had it. Because he really wasn't the sentimental type.
A cry of triumph drew Maria's attention away from the program she was clutching. Isabel was smiling widely and holding up a small bluish crystal. In her other hand was a cereal box.
"I found the toy surprise," Isabel caroled, and the others gathered around her. She poured the contents of the cereal box gently onto the counter. No cereal, just round crystalline spheres in varying shades of blue. "I wondered why Michael had three boxes of cornflakes," she commented. "Even for someone who's willing to eat cereal for every meal, that seemed a bit much."
Max reached out and picked one up. "Do you feel Michael when you hold it?" he asked his sister.
"Not exactly," she answered. "But they seem familiar, somehow. They did when Michael first showed them to us, remember?"
"Bob said the one I had was attuned to Michael," Maria said. "So maybe that's what you're feeling."
"Or maybe we recognize them from our life before," breathed a fascinated Tess as she reached out to gingerly touch a crystal with one finger.
"So this is what all the fuss is about, huh?" Kyle said, looking over Tess's shoulder at the sparkling pile of blue.
Isabel reached over to hand one of the crystals to him. "It is." He rolled it in his hand, then handed it back.
"Just looks like a big blue marble to me," he said.
Isabel smiled proudly. "Until Michael picks them all up. Then they glow."
"They glow," Alex echoed. "What is he, a giant alien lightning bug?"
Liz was studying the crystal she'd picked up. "Does anyone feel anything from them?" she asked with curiosity. "Other than Maria, I mean."
She got a few headshakes and several 'No's, and continued thoughtfully, "If Bob is right and they're attuned to Michael because he created them, then how is Maria able to use them?"
"We don't know that she is," Max pointed out. He nodded at Maria, who hadn't as yet made a move to touch the crystals, and said her name. "Maria?"
Maria felt suddenly nervous, but put her hands out and let the others pile the spheres in her palms. There were about a dozen of them, and she could barely manage to hold them all in her cupped hands. She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to sense a stubborn, spiky-haired Spaceboy. As one, the group held its breath.
Finally, Alex broke the silence. "So does it work, or do we need to hit Radio Shack after all?"
She didn't open her eyes, but a warm grin blossomed on her face. "Does it work?" she repeated. "Oh, yeah."
TBC...
continue to chapters 29 and 30
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