House of Cards

'Yeah.' She dropped her chin to her chest. 'Not from another planet. Just…a leftover evolutionary tract, maybe. That’s what they think. Like Neanderthals,' she whispered. 'But more incredible. That was why he couldn’t go to the cops in January.' She lifted her gaze again, staring down the hall. 'He couldn’t risk it.' She dared a glance at her housemate and found his countenance bleak. 'You can’t tell anybody, Cole.'

'Tell anybody?' His voice shot up a register. 'Who the hell would I tell? The tabloids? Great front-page headlines. My roommate’s fucking an alien.'

Margrit flinched. 'Don’t.' Her delivery of the word held more beseechment than his had. 'Last night was the first time Alban and I were together. Don’t make it ugly, Cole. He means more to me than that.'

'How can he mean anything to you? He’s-he’s-'

'Not human.' Margrit shifted her shoulders. 'He’s still a person, and I care about him.'

'Are you out of your mind?' Cole shoved away from the counter and came to stand over her, a grasping hand suggesting he wanted to grab her and shake her. 'What the hell do you think you’re doing with that thing? Does this have something to do with your new job?'

Margrit stared up at him, some of her cold horror breaking away to reveal kindling anger. 'My-why would it?'

'Because it’s one more thing that’s not fitting. Daisani and that freak-'

'Cole!'

'What? He’s a freak, Margrit! You just said he wasn’t even human. Jesus Christ, like I’m supposed to know what to say, what to think? You think I should just be cool with this? I wouldn’t even know how to start being cool. I sure as hell don’t get how you can justify screwing something like that.'

Anger bloomed, burning her sickness away. 'You screwed me.'

Cole’s jaw dropped. 'What the hell does that have to do with anything?'

'You ask ten people on the street and seven of them will tell you I’m a different race from you.' Margrit thrust her hands toward Cole, cafe-latte skin pinked with anger. 'Sure, we only went out a couple weeks, but hey, you still had sex with somebody from a different race. So Alban’s a different race from me. It doesn’t make him less of a person.'

'Jesus, Margrit, we both belong to the human ra -'

'But they call it racism. Believe me, I’ve had this conversation with myself about a thousand times since January, and the only answer I can come up with is to keep it all secret.' Margrit shoved out of the doorway, removing herself from Cole’s space. 'I keep thinking maybe I could tell somebody, but look at how humans treat each other. I have some idea of what would happen to him if we knew his people existed. We’d tear them apart. And you-you’re proving my point for me. You’re supposed to be well-educated and liberal, and you’re freaking the fuck out. Not exactly a great start to outing a whole different race of people to the world.'

'What the hell do you expect me to say?'

'I really don’t know!' Margrit threw a frustrated punch at the air, the silver-shot sleeve of Alban’s jacket reminding her painfully of the warmth and happiness she’d found in his arms. 'Maybe, ‘Gosh, it’s great you met somebody, Margrit.’ That’d be nice. Unfuckingrealistic, but nice.'

'I can’t believe you invited that thing into our house.'

'Jesus Christ, Cole! He’s not a monster! Ted Bundy was a monster. I just wanted you to meet this guy I really like, this guy who understands why-' An angry laugh broke her voice. 'Who understands why I run in the park at night. No, I wasn’t going to tell you he wasn’t human, because first you’d never believe me if you didn’t see it for yourself, and if you saw it you’d do this!' She tore her hand through the air as if their fight had a physical presence. 'What else could I do?'

'Get married to Tony!' Cole kept the shout between his teeth, robbing it of volume but not passion. 'Have babies, have a career, have an ordinary life!'

'I’m not in love with Tony!'

Cole stepped back as if the admission had been made to break his heart. Margrit’s anger drained away, strength of emotion wiped out by the weight of confession. It had been barely a day since she’d voiced her love for the detective, but only now did she consider the quality of that love, and found truth in what she said next. 'Tony’s a great guy. But somewhere along the line I stopped being in love with him. Maybe we’re too much the same, I don’t know. Both of us too determined to fix the world our way to try to accept the other’s. Maybe we were too much in the habit of each other to let it go. I care about him. But he wants me to be something I don’t want to be.'

'What?' Like hers, Cole’s voice sounded drawn. Margrit turned her palms up, lacing her fingers together as if joining them would provide an answer.

'Tethered.' The word hung between them heavily, as Margrit stared at her hands. 'Tony’s grounded. All the things I grew up working toward. Practical, sensible, earthbound. Working toward making concrete, possible changes in the world.' She looked up again, feeling helpless. 'Alban has wings.'

'I thought that was what you wanted. You’re so damned focused, Grit. You always were. Five-star high school, top-notch college, ambitious public servant career. It’s what you’ve been after as long as I’ve known you. All you need to make the picture perfect is a husband and two point five kids. Instead you’ve decided you…I don’t even know what. You want a thing, and a career as Eliseo Daisani’s errand boy?'

'I want to make a difference.' Margrit slumped against the counter. 'The school, the job, the whole point was getting to a position where I could leave the world a better place than I found it. Townsend…' She put a hand over her face. 'You know this. Townsend High School makes a big deal about doing just that, with an oath about it and everything. I took it seriously, and I can make more difference to Alban and his world than I can possibly explain. This is what I want. It’s just that the trappings aren’t what I expected.'

'What about a family, Grit? What about a real life? You can’t have that with- him.'

'We haven’t gotten that far,' she said quietly. 'Come on, Cole. Tony and I broke up two days ago, for heaven’s sake. I hadn’t seen Alban for months, not until this week.' She sighed, lifting her hands to her face. They were cold against her burning cheeks. 'And it’s not impossible. If that’s what we decide we want.'

'What’s not? A family? A life? A family, Grit?' Cole’s voice rose in dismay. 'How could you-'

'Look at me, Cole.' Margrit lowered her hands, spreading them and gesturing at her skin tones, then at the loose curls falling over her shoulders. 'I come from two or three definable ethnic backgrounds. Bloodlines mingle. It’s not impossible.'

'But he’s not even-'

'It’s possible, Cole,' Margrit said more firmly. 'You’re just going to have to trust me on that.'

Fresh horror bloomed across Cole’s face. 'Trust y-you’re not pregnant, are you?'

'What?' Margrit stared at him, then flung her hands up. 'No! No, I’m not pregnant! Jesus. Forget it. Forget it, I’m not having this conversation anymore. Jesus, Cole!' She stalked out of the kitchen to her bedroom, narrowly remembering not to slam the door and risk wakening Cameron.

Only when the door was closed behind her did her knees give out. Margrit slid to the floor, hands shaking as she folded them over her abdomen. Pregnant. That sort of risk was beyond her scope; she’d been on the pill since college, with no mishaps. Still, they’d used no other sort of protection, and she had no idea whether human medicine could stand up to alien invasion. Fingers pressed against her belly, Margrit shook her head and whispered, 'I’m not pregnant.'

She woke up huddled on the floor beneath Alban’s silver-shot jacket, unable to remember when wide-eyed fretting had turned to sleep. Cameron’s voice slipped under the door, words indistinguishable. Margrit pushed up, wincing in anticipation of stiffness from sleeping on the floor.

Not a muscle complained. It startled her enough that she stopped trying to get to her feet and simply flexed and stretched, searching for soreness. 'Daisani.' She breathed the name, almost a laugh, and sat all the way up. It was the little things that his gift surprised her with.

'Grit?' Cameron tapped on the door. Margrit got to her feet, yawning as she pulled it open. Cam had the phone pressed to her shoulder. 'Are you awake? It’s Joyce Lomax.'

'Awake enough.' Margrit took the phone and knotted an arm around her ribs as she said, 'Hello, Joyce. This is Margrit.'

'Margrit.' A shaky smile sounded in the older woman’s voice. 'I have a favor to ask.'

'Anything.'

'I wondered if you’d be willing to speak at Russell’s service this evening.' Joyce’s voice cracked and Margrit