September 28, 1999, 10:00 p.m.
Roswell Sheriff's Station
Brivari stared incredulously at the figure sprawled on the floor of Valenti's office, the one who had just crashed through the window blinds with all the stealth of an explosion. Rath? What in blazes was Rath doing here? Granted, he'd been impressed by Rath's earlier surveillance, but watching through binoculars from across the street was a far cry from clanging up a drainpipe and crashing into a locked office. Wonderful, Brivari thought sourly. First Zan had done something incredibly stupid, and now Rath, meaning he had not one, but two adolescent knee-jerks to deal with.
Brivari melted further into the corner as the adolescent knee-jerk currently center stage proceeded to wander through the office, opening this, rattling that, clearly proceeding without any idea of what he was looking for or where to find it. His search pattern was laughably haphazard as he bounced from one file cabinet to another, spending a ridiculous amount of time on what Brivari knew was highly unlikely to contain anything of value, although he did note with grudging admiration that Rath was wearing gloves. At least he'd given some thought to not leaving fingerprints behind. Too bad his noisy climb up the drainpipe and even noisier entrance quite probably canceled out any caution he was displaying in here.
But minutes went by, and no one approached. Apparently no one had heard him, and Brivari waited in the shadows as Rath plowed through the office like a bull in a china shop, impatient for him to finish and be gone. He wasn't going to find anything this way, and his amateur presence could easily result in him being caught, but Rath continued blundering through, unaware he was being watched. Finally he took a seat at the desk and began opening and closing drawers, not checking the bottoms or even bothering to spend much time looking inside. What, did he think evidence was going to just jump out and whack him on the nose? It would be hidden, for Christ's sake, not dangling in the breeze like he had from that grating. Like that paper bag he was currently shaking, producing a rattle which seemed to intrigue Rath, causing him to reach inside with reverential slowness and withdraw.....a thermos bottle. Hidden in the dark, Brivari rolled his eyes as Rath continued shaking the thermos. The glass had probably broken inside, that was all. Then Rath unscrewed the top of the thermos....and paused.
Atherton's key.
Brivari stood still as a stone, his eyes fastened on the prize Jaddo's Ward had uncovered almost in spite of himself. He hadn't laid eyes on that key in decades, had forgotten it existed until this moment. The key to Atherton's alien stash in the hidden subterranean room of his strange house had always been worn on a chain around his neck, a fact which Brivari had completely forgotten that night he'd executed him in the woods. Atherton must have been wearing it, and Valenti Sr. must have found it and kept it all these years. And now it was in the hands of Valenti Jr., who clearly had some idea of its value, having seen fit to hide it from the FBI.
No....not Valenti's hands, Brivari amended. It was not Valenti reaching for the key now, but an Antarian-Human hybrid. While it could be argued that the latter hands were preferable to the former, his own were most preferable of all. He was working out the logistics of extracting the key without revealing himself when there was low grunt from the window, and the blinds were swept aside by another hand.
Zan?
"Michael, let's go, now!" Zan said urgently. "Valenti's back!"
Wonderful, Brivari groaned, wondering which was worse news—the sheriff's presence or having two adolescent hybrids with poor judgment in the wrong place at the wrong time. As if to prove him right, Rath completely ignored Zan, still focused on the key.
"Let's go!" Zan insisted. "Michael!
In a classic display of behavior exhibited so many times on two different planets, Rath continued to ignore him....and picked up the key.
The effect was immediate. As Zan watched in alarm, Rath pitched sideways, knocking over both himself and the desk chair in a burst of noise which far exceeded any he'd made on the way in. His expression went blank, and his eyes glazed over, seeing not the office now, but something else entirely. A connection, Brivari realized. The hybrids were still capable of forming connections, and Rath had just formed one with Atherton's key. And a long one from the looks of things, given that he remained on the floor, eyelids flicking, oblivious to the consequences. The sheriff's deputies may have missed his entrance, but they wouldn't miss this, as evidenced by the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Let's go, let's go!" Zan exclaimed.
Damn it! Brivari swore silently when Rath didn't move. This was neither the time nor the place he would have chosen to reveal himself, but he couldn't let them be captured, not with what Valenti already knew, and certainly not with Atherton's key in their possession. He was just about to heave them both back out the window himself when Rath's eyes widened and he sat up with a start. He had no sooner heard the approaching footsteps then he was out the window after Zan, an admirably fast recovery, but one that left the curtains fluttering just as Valenti and one of his deputies burst into the room. There was a moment of silence as Valenti looked around the room, suspicion etched on every feature; the deputy merely looked curious, but Valenti spied the moving curtain immediately and made a beeline for the window just as Brivari's ears picked up a voice outside.
"One....two....."
They're going to jump, Brivari thought in disbelief, recalling the dumpster beneath the window. That sort of stunt worked in the movies, but would likely land them in the hospital in real life. He might be able to break their fall, but then there was the issue of the unlocked grating outside the window, a dead giveaway to an already suspicious enemy. He only had seconds, and he could only aim his energy in one direction.....
And that direction would have to be their Wards. Touching the outside wall, Brivari threw everything he had behind slowing their fall. He'd never tried this before, and he had no idea if it would work, but the hybrids' human bodies were every bit as fragile as any other human body. The sheriff could be removed if necessary, but the hybrids could not be replaced. Keeping his concentration on the other side of the wall, he tensed as Valenti whapped the blinds up and reached for the unlocked grate.
A moment later, Brivari blinked as Valenti rattled the grate. It was locked? But how could that be? Would either Zan or Rath have had the presence of mind to lock it on the way out, and the skill to do so quickly enough? More footsteps pounded toward the room, and a moment later Vilandra appeared in the doorway, panting. They planned this, Brivari realized. That was the only explanation for all three of them being in the same place at the same time, not a unique thought judging by the look on Valenti's face when he saw Vilandra, whose eyes swept the room in a textbook display of guilt and anxiety. Gracious, but that girl could never keep a secret except when it was enough to bring down a planet.
"Miss Evans?" Valenti prompted.
"I....I just...." Vilandra stammered, then appeared to pull herself together. "You both went running off," she continued. "I was just....worried."
"Were you, now," Valenti murmured.
"Nothing's out of place, sir," the deputy noted. "Must be something just fell somewhere." He paused. "What made you come in here? I couldn't tell where the noise came from other than the second floor."
"Guess I'm just jumpy, what with our 'visitors' today," Valenti said.
"Right," the deputy nodded. "Well....I'll take care of the young lady's flat tire."
"No," Valenti said quickly. "I'll do it."
"It's no trouble—"
"No trouble for me, either," Valenti said. "I'm on my way back out." He gave the office one last look before lowering the blinds. "Would you take me to your car, Miss Evans?"
Vilandra managed a beatific smile. "Absolutely. And thank you so much, sheriff. Like I said before, I am so not mechanical."
Brivari winced as the deputy smiled dutifully at the pretty girl yanking his chain, but Valenti wasn't falling for it. A minute later the office was empty, and Brivari was gazing down from the window into an empty dumpster. So at least they were still ambulatory. That was something.
Two figures appeared on the street below, one of them carrying a tire wrench, the other swinging her long hair behind her in a useless effort to look innocent. Vilandra is the weathervane. If he wanted to find his Ward and Atherton's key, the best way to do that was to follow that weathervane.
******************************************************
Hurry up, Isabel thought impatiently, resisting the urge to tap her foot as Sheriff Valenti took his sweet time changing the tire she'd deliberately blown before sashaying into the station as a damsel in distress. A routine which was going swimmingly, she might add, before someone, probably Michael, had made enough noise to be heard down in Carlsbad, drawing the sheriff upstairs mere seconds before she would have had him safely outside. Just wait until she got her hands on him. Here Michael had joined her in rightfully castigating her dear, darling brother, and now he'd gone and done something equally stupid. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn idiocy was contagious.
Squeak....squeak. The nuts, or bolts, or whatever they were, complained loudly as Valenti methodically turned the large, X-shaped wrench to tighten them, periodically glancing up at her as he did so. He'd been doing that a lot, and each time she had studiously avoided his gaze; now she returned his look with a brilliant smile which had him dropping his eyes in a hurry. He knows, she thought heavily. He didn't know what had happened, but he knew something had happened, and a large part of that was her own fault—she should have done what he'd said and waited in the lobby. But she'd lasted all of ten seconds after Valenti and his deputy had taken off for the second floor, clattering after them with a lump in her throat the size of New Mexico. What would happen to Max if he got caught? Valenti already suspected him, Michael had seen men in suits carting things out of Valenti's office.....what would they do to him? Would they lock him up and carve him into little pieces? Would they lock them all up and carve them into little pieces?
Stop it, she told herself severely. Anything Valenti thought he knew was just conjecture. He hadn't made a move toward Max since the Crash Festival when Liz's admittedly lame plan had nonetheless done its job of making him back off. All she had to do was wait for him to finish with her tire without losing her cool again, even though he seemed to be taking long enough to change every tire on the damned block. Then she could be on her way and find out what happened to Max and Michael....and knock their heads together just as soon as she was certain they were okay. She'd had no idea any of this was in the cards when Max had jingled her cell phone to tell her that Michael was on his way over to their house so he could avoid that nosy substitute teacher who seemed so eager to track him down. She'd been expecting them both to show up, and when neither had, she'd gotten worried and hitched a ride into town with a friend. She hadn't found Michael, but she had found Max, walking side by side with Liz, no less. What on earth was he doing with her after sending Michael home, especially since they both knew Michael rarely did what he was told? But she'd had to swallow her fury at least until they located Michael, and then she'd had to swallow it again when they'd discovered he was inside the sheriff's office. Now she had no idea where either of them were.
"Almost done here," Valenti announced.
Finally. Isabel practically vaulted into the driver's seat, drawing a raised eyebrow from Valenti. Too bad. She could say she had homework, or her parents would be missing her, or any other of hundreds of excuses. Finally, Valenti straightened up.
"There you go. You're all set, Miss Evans."
"Thanks," Isabel said, managing a smile. "Thanks a lot."
"Isabel, right?"
"Yeah," Isabel answered, starting the engine.
"You're out past the curfew."
Yet another reason to be in a hurry. "Well, I had a flat tire," she replied.
"Right," Valenti said, smiling faintly. "Where's Max tonight?"
Any hope that Isabel had been nursing that maybe Valenti hadn't connected the dots went right out the window, just like Max and Michael must have. "Oh, I have no idea," she said lightly, shifting into gear. "I'm just his sister, not his keeper. Thanks, again."
Isabel roared off, so eager to be out of there that she had to resist the urge to floor it. It certainly wouldn't help if she got arrested for speeding, and she kept one eye on the road and the other on Valenti in the rear view mirror, who watched her until she rounded a corner and was out of sight. Now what? Should she go home or just drive around and see if they popped up? She chose option two and was rewarded about six blocks away when two figures emerged from between buildings and waited for her to pull over.
"Get in," Isabel said grimly, wrinkling her nose as they did so. "God, what is that smell?"
"We jumped into a dumpster," Max said.
Fortunately, both her brother and Michael seemed to have acquired a few brain cells in that dumpster because both were mercifully silent on the way to Michael's trailer. She was so angry that she was ready to burst, which is exactly what she did when she finally shut off the engine and rounded on Michael.
"What were you thinking?" she demanded angrily. "Isn't it bad enough that Max goes and does something incredibly stupid, but now you have to join him? What, isn't one idiot in the family enough?"
"Hey!" Michael protested.
"Iz," Max said warningly.
"Don't you start!" Isabel exclaimed. "What were you doing with Liz when Michael was supposed to be at our house? Which he wasn't, by the way, because he was too busy trying to get himself killed breaking into the sheriff's station."
"Liz and I followed Topolsky to Michael's place," Max said defensively. "We'd just gotten back when I spotted you."
Isabel blinked. "Oh. I.....I thought....."
"You thought what?" Max asked.
"Who cares what she thought," Michael interjected. "What did Topolsky do when she got there?"
"Not much," Max answered. "She talked to Hank, or tried to. And then she left."
"That's it?"
"I think she left a card with her phone number," Max said.
Michael snorted softly. "Fat lot of good that'll do her. Hank wouldn't care if I never went to school as long as he got paid."
"So while Max was out playing detective, what were you doing?" Isabel demanded. "Oh, that's right. Trying to get yourself killed."
"Isn't repeating yourself a sure sign of old age?" Michael asked.
"She has a point, Michael," Max said. "What did you think you were doing? We barely made it out of there in one piece."
"What was I doing?" Michael echoed incredulously. "What was I doing? Not cozying up to some girl, that's for sure."
"We weren't 'cozying'," Max protested.
"Look me in the eye and tell me there wasn't cozying going on," Michael challenged.
Max pinned his eyes on Michael's. "There wasn't cozying going on," he said firmly. "Your turn. Look me in the eye and tell me what the hell you thought you were doing."
"I thought I was trying to find out more about us," Michael retorted. "You know, who we are, where we came from? Who left that handprint back in 1959? Those pesky little questions that you and Isabel don't give a damn about?"
"That is not true," Isabel objected.
"Oh, sure it isn't," Michael said. "That's why you both go green every time we learn something new about ourselves."
"Green?" Max said skeptically.
"Bad joke," Michael allowed.
"Okay, fine, you want to learn more about us; we all want to learn more about us," Isabel said impatiently. "But breaking into the sheriff's office?"
"What was I supposed to do?" Michael demanded. "Waltz in and ask if I could see that picture he showed Liz because it might be a long lost cousin? Breaking in was the only way, Isabel, and I did it at night after I'd already scoped the place out and knew there wouldn't be many people around. And no one had a clue I was there until I found this."
Michael held up his hand. Isabel glanced at Max, who shook his head ever so slightly. "A key," Isabel said in disbelief. "You found a key. Well, good for you, Michael. What's it unlock? Valenti's locker? Or maybe the shed in his back yard?"
"I have no idea," Michael said, ignoring her sarcasm. "What I do know is that the moment I touched it, I had a vision, a vision so strong that I literally blacked out."
"He did," Max confirmed. "I watched it happen."
"What happened?" Isabel asked nervously.
"He was looking at the key when I got there, and then he picked it up and just....collapsed."
"Collapsed?"
"Fell over," Max amended. "Right out of the chair."
"You were sitting in Valenti's chair?" Isabel asked incredulously. "God, could this get any worse?"
"Didn't you hear a word I said?" Michael said impatiently. "Forget about the stupid chair. I had a vision, and I never have visions. That's got to mean something. But you know that, don't you? That's why you're going on about chairs and haven't even asked me what I saw!"
Isabel fell silent, ignoring her brother's pointed look. She wouldn't admit it to God Himself, but she really didn't want to know what Michael had seen. "So tell us," Max said when she didn't say anything. "What did you see?"
"You didn't ask either," Michael said accusingly.
"I'm asking now. What did you see?"
Michael looked away. "I'm not sure."
"You're not sure?" Isabel echoed as Max shot her a warning look. "You're pointing fingers at me, and you're not even sure what you saw?"
"I didn't recognize it," Michael said, frustrated. "It was some kind of.....shape. A weird shape."
"Wonderful," Isabel muttered. "Now all we need to do is break into a preschool and swipe a shape sorter."
"Look, the point is, I saw something. Something huge, something so powerful, it was paralyzing."
"Big words for someone who's truant more often than not," Isabel said under her breath.
"He's right," Max said, shushing her with his eyes. "Whatever it was literally knocked him senseless for a moment. I think we should each hold the key and see if we get a vision."
"Fine," Isabel said tightly, shaking her head. "Let's all.....try," she finished, having been about to say let's all play the game. But she knew her brother, and she'd pushed him far enough. Better to go along until this all fizzled.
Max took the key, closing his eyes and holding it with an almost comical reverence, finally shaking his head. Eager to have this over with, Isabel reached for it.....and stiffened.
"What did you see?" Michael asked eagerly.
Isabel's mouth crooked in a mischievous smile. "Ricky Martin in the shower!"
Michael snatched the key out of her hand and jumped out of the jeep. Max shot her a deeply disapproving look before climbing out and going after him. Sorry, brother dear, she thought. Michael needed to be taken down a peg. He'd done something incredibly dangerous tonight and found nothing, nothing but a boring, ordinary looking key that couldn't possibly be anything interesting. But it didn't matter what it was. What mattered is what Michael believed it was, and he believed it was something. He was as guilty of reading what he wanted into that key as she was of wanting to avoid what it might have meant. Someone had to pull him back down to earth, and judging from the apologetic look on her brother's face, it looked like that someone would have to be her. She pricked her ears, trying to hear what they were saying.
"...don't really know what it's like for you," Max said.
"The thing I've realized is the fact that my life basically sucks is a good thing," Michael answered. "It's easier. We always have to be able to leave, pack a suitcase, go somewhere else. Maybe ten years from now....maybe a week from now....maybe tomorrow. So my advice? Don't get in too deep, Maximillian. It only makes us weaker."
Too late, Isabel thought. She and Max were already "in too deep". And if that made them weaker, so be it.
******************************************************
Proctor residence
"He said that?" Dee asked incredulously. "Michael said they always had to be ready to leave?"
"He said that," Brivari confirmed.
"He called him 'Maximillian'," Anthony said, shaking his head. "Thank God that was only my middle name because I hated it. Here Philip and Diane agreed to use 'Max' instead, and still it comes up anyway."
"Can we stick to what's important here?" Dee demanded with an irritated glance at her husband. "How did you even hear him? You couldn't have been too close."
"Close enough that my superior hearing worked just fine," Brivari answered. "And actually I was quite close. I can match myself to any background."
As if to prove his point, Brivari promptly disappeared. No....not disappeared. He'd changed his...skin? Clothing? Both, actually, to match the fabric of the chair on which he was sitting. Even his hands were now a subtle floral. The effect was surprisingly good at first glance, then became downright bizarre when one's brain began to take into account the 3D nature of what was supposed to be empty space. Dee blinked, trying to reconcile what she was seeing with what she knew of the laws of physics.
"Neat trick," Anthony said.
"It's handy," Brivari agreed, mercifully reappearing.
"Fine, so you....camouflaged," Dee said. "Can we get back to the important part?"
"Which one?" Anthony asked. "The part where Max healed someone in front of a crowd? Or the part where Michael broke into the sheriff's office and almost got caught? Or the part where Valenti now suspects them?"
"The part where they know more about themselves than we thought," Dee answered tartly. "That part."
"That should be the least of our worries," Anthony replied. "The other parts are downright dangerous. Them knowing more than we thought is good news, not bad news....isn't it?"
Dee swung her eyes to Brivari, and Anthony did the same, waiting for an answer. He'd shown up on their doorstep about half an hour ago after a day spent skulking around what sounded like just about everywhere, and with an incredible story to tell, complete with public healings, suspicious sheriffs, FBI agents, breaking and entering.....and all involving her grandchildren. She had a good mind to march right over to Philip's house and settle this right now, once and for all. Assuming Max and Isabel were there, of course. Judging from what Brivari said they'd been up to, they could be anywhere.
"It's both," Brivari answered finally. "If they're more aware than we thought, obviously that's good news in some ways. In others.....well....let's just say things get awkward."
"Awkward how?" Anthony asked.
"Awkward in that I still can't approach Zan directly," Brivari said, frustration evident in his voice. "He's still perfectly capable of compelling me, and still lacks the maturity to handle a power of that magnitude. And even if he could bring himself to refrain from abusing it, I guarantee you Rath would change his mind. Rath is hell bent on finding answers in ways that mirror his own Warder's behavior. Here I was impressed with his surveillance of the FBI earlier, and then he went and climbed up a drainpipe. That's classic Jaddo. And Vilandra doesn't want to know the truth. That much was very clear from their conversation tonight."
"And Max?" Dee asked.
Brivari's hands worked in front of him. "Appears to be in the middle," he answered. "He wants to know, but he's attached to his life here."
"Of course he is," Anthony murmured.
"And it doesn't really matter one way or another," Brivari went on. "They're all still basically human teenagers. I couldn't bring them back to Antar in the state they're in now even if they wanted to go....and they don't. At least not the people who need to go, the ones who matter the most."
"Max and Isabel," Anthony nodded.
"The King and his sister," Brivari corrected. "They are the only true royalty among the hybrids. Ava married into the family, and Rath was supposed to do the same—"
"And we all know how that turned out," Dee muttered.
"—but they're not royalty," Brivari finished. "And while any of them would be better than none of them, the fact remains that Zan and Vilandra are the most important of the hybrids. Without them, I'm not sure if the people would rally behind either of the other two."
"They might if things were bad enough with Khivar," Anthony commented.
"Perhaps," Brivari allowed. "But I have no idea what's happening on Antar. I haven't spoken to the resistance in years, and it's not safe to use a communicator. And even if I could, what would I say? That the hybrids are still largely useless? Unless they're ready to go back, it doesn't matter what's happening there now. What matters is what's happening when—or if—they're ready to go home."
" 'When'," Dee corrected firmly. "This is what we wanted, Brivari, what you wanted, for them to start remembering. And it could take a while, so we'll need to be patient. What's our next move?"
Brivari paused. "Nothing."
" 'Nothing'? What, you mean nothing at all?"
"Nothing overt," Brivari amended. "Nothing obvious. We watch and see what happens."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't we already do that?" Dee asked. "Granted, we 'waited' because we didn't know what was going on, but in the meantime Valenti went after Max, and the Special Unit showed up."
"But the first was stonewalled, and the second is skeptical, so skeptical that they installed a rookie agent by way of going through the motions. Relax," Brivari added when Dee looked ready to erupt. "I intend to keep a close eye on things. But it's quite possible, even probable, that this will all die down on its own."
"You really think the Special Unit will 'die down on its own'?" Dee said doubtfully.
"This from the woman who just counseled patience," Anthony said dryly.
"I was referring to the process of learning about themselves," Dee said crossly, "not letting the FBI tromp all over our grandchildren."
"The FBI hasn't tromped on anyone but Valenti," Brivari reminded her. "And God, you sound like Jaddo."
"Which might explain why I'm beginning to sympathize with him," Dee retorted. "Doing nothing seems like exactly the wrong thing."
"And what would you have me do?" Brivari asked. "Knock off the Unit's local agent and give them even more ammunition?"
"You might do better knocking off Valenti," Anthony offered. "He'll be missing his key eventually."
" Gee, thanks, dear," Dee said acidly. "You're so helpful."
"So what exactly did Michael see when he held the key?" Anthony asked, ignoring her. "Some kind of 'shape', he said?"
"I believe he saw Atherton's house," Brivari answered, "the one he was building when....he died. It was a very unusual structure. He called it a 'geodesic dome'. The key opens a hidden room underground where he'd stored all the alien records he'd collected over the years. Jaddo wanted to destroy them, but they were useless, at least in terms of locating or identifying us, mostly a motley collection of alleged eyewitness accounts and documents recovered from the base where Jaddo was held captive. Interesting, but hardly damning."
"So you just left it there?" Anthony said.
Brivari looked at his hands. "It was his life's work," he said quietly. "I'd just had to destroy James. I didn't want to destroy his little treasure pile also. And then we left shortly afterward anyway."
"So what happened to the house?" Dee asked. "Did the bank reclaim the land after Atherton defaulted on the mortgage?"
"There was no mortgage. James owned the house and the land outright."
"But it would need maintenance," Anthony pointed out. "Taxes would have to be paid, at least. Did his family take it over?"
"Atherton had no family," Brivari said, "and he was never declared dead because his body was never identified. Officially, he's listed as missing. The house has been maintained by UFO enthusiasts, most of whom became his followers after his disappearance and all the tales that grew out of that. They take care of the upkeep and pay the tax bill, even took out insurance on it. It's become something of a shrine, as I understand it. Ironically, all their attention is focused on the main house, the one James was living in, a very ordinary structure. It was common practice among these people to have a hidden space where they kept all the alien records they'd been able to collect. According to James, those spaces were also supposed to function as a kind of 'underground railroad' for aliens should they need to be hidden from the authorities."
"So Atherton was a Harriet Tubman," Anthony chuckled.
"James had just such a room in his main residence," Brivari continued. "He built another in the dome and moved his records there, but no one else knew about it. After he disappeared and his followers searched his house, they found the original room all cleaned out and assumed that meant something nefarious."
"But this....this 'dome', is still there," Dee said. "Meaning the kids could find it."
"I don't see how," Brivari said. "Valenti Sr. must have taken that key off James' body back in '59, and that's how Valenti Jr. has it. Judging from what Rath said, he also has a picture of James' body, which was never identified. No one has ever connected the body or the key to James or his house. That's a cold trail to follow."
"But Michael will try to follow it," Anthony said. "Once he gets something in his head, there's no getting it out."
"Yes, Rath could be a problem," Brivari sighed. "But if they just keep quiet until the FBI gives up and leaves, they should be all right. Hopefully this incident scared all of them enough that they'll keep a lower profile."
"Oh, right," Dee said skeptically. "Like Michael's 'lower profile' tonight? Are you absolutely certain you're doing the right thing?"
"Of course not," Brivari said. "One can never be certain of that. But I do know that revealing myself to the hybrids now would be a huge mistake, as would striking out visibly at either Valenti or the Unit. If you have another idea, I'm all ears."
Dee was silent for a moment, then looked at Anthony, who shrugged. "I don't," she admitted grudgingly. "But I don't like it. I don't like it one bit."
"They are my Wards," Brivari pointed out.
"And two of them are my grandchildren," Dee reminded him. "I'd keep that in mind, if I were you."
"They're not really our grandchildren, Dee," Anthony said gently. "They never were."
"Like hell they aren't!" Dee exclaimed. "He put them with us for a reason, and that's part of the package, like it or not."
"Of course they're your grandchildren," Brivari said. "At least in part. I'm grateful for everything you've done, and I'd be further grateful if you'd both keep your eyes and ears open for anything that might be helpful. You can get closer to them than I can." He paused. "I just wish I could figure out how this happened. It all started with Zan healing that girl, and if what I'm hearing is correct, he knew what the stakes were when he did that. Zan was impulsive when he was younger, but still....it's baffling."
"Baffling?" Dee said in astonishment. "That's the only thing about this mess that isn't baffling."
Brivari blinked. "You think you know why he did it?"
"No, I know I know why he did it," Dee said. "Have you seen Liz Parker?"
"Yes. What about her?"
Anthony smiled faintly. "You said it yourself...he's a human teenager."
"A human teenaged boy, to be exact," Dee added. "With all the attendant hormones."
Brivari glanced from one to the other, bewildered. "What are you saying?"
***************************************************
Kal Langley's residence
Roswell
It was late when Brivari arrived back at the house he'd kept in Roswell ever since the hybrids' emergence, his former rooming house from 1959. He hadn't lived here for any length of time in years, and now he pulled a sheet off a chair and sank into it. Of all the disturbing things he'd learned today, of which there was quite a list, Dee's final comment was the most disturbing of all. Zan had a crush on a human? It made perfect sense, of course; he was living as a human. Unfortunately that threw yet another wrinkle in an already difficult situation. If he hadn't had evidence that the hybrids were at least beginning to remember, it wouldn't have mattered. But if they were beginning to remember, they would eventually have to leave Earth behind, including any humans they had associated with. Including pretty girls who'd been shot by wayward café customers.
"I'd ask why you're sitting in the dark, but I think I already know," a voice said.
Brivari stiffened in his chair as a figure rounded the corner from the hallway, a figure bearing a bright, infrared signature. The sheet covering the couch nearby went airborne of its own accord and settled in a heap on the floor as Jaddo settled on the couch.
"So, Brivari," he said casually, "you've made quite the rounds today. Learn anything interesting?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'll post Chapter 9 next Sunday.
