And that was enough to keep anyone awake. Even worse, the tiny puff of relief that came with identifying my anxiety was obliterated by old images and emotions battering their way forward.
No. No more memories tonight. The whole reason I’d taught myself to be able to see the angels whenever I’d needed them, was so I wouldn’t be afraid of what I could feel, but not see. I was an adult now. If my angels were unavailable, I could deal. This was just a north-facing room, and the moon was probably either waning, or was a new sliver, and its glow wasn’t bright enough to lighten the window. I couldn’t really remember, but it seemed like we’d had a full moon a couple of weeks ago. Hadn’t I seen it in the sky the night of the party? The night Cara had confided in me . . .
Damn it! I flipped the sheet back and sat up, plowing through whatever was above me. So unacceptable. There had to be something that could be done. Something more useful than lying in the dark. I swung my feet to the floor, and stood up, a bit unsteady without a point of reference; but I was able to feel my way around the edge of the bed and to Eileen. I billowed and smoothed the sheet around her, trailing my fingertips until I could feel her head. Leaning over, I kissed her hot cheek and then made my way to the door.
“Come on.” I whispered to the unknown energy, trusting that whatever it was would follow me out into the living room. Logically, I knew it wasn’t good or bad; it was just energy. All the same, I preferred that it stick to me, and leave my daughter alone.
I left her door slightly ajar so she could figure out where I was if she woke, yet not open enough for the glow from the lamp by the couch to bother her. It had seemed like she’d fallen asleep easily, but maybe she’d dropped off with worries of her own.
Easing my way through the dark living room, another nervous laugh burbled up as I remembered what had actually prompted our conversation about Sal. We’d been home for hours, and Adam had just left, when I’d become aware of my desperate need to use the toilet. Except that I didn’t want to. Eventually, I couldn’t wait any longer, and as soon as Eileen had heard the flush, she’d begged me to hurry up so she could go. We’d both laughed, but the truth was, thinking that aliens were snooping on everyone, everywhere was both appalling and embarrassing.
And why were they, anyway? Yet another question I hadn’t asked.
After snapping on the lamp, I wandered into the kitchen to fix a cup of coffee, but then my common sense woke up and nixed that idea. The microwave clock read eleven-forty-seven. Besides, I was already too restless, and fiddling around in the kitchen might wake Eileen. Now aimless, I drifted back to the couch and flopped down, curling my legs up and tucking my feet at my hip.
Why were aliens here? What did our planet offer? What did we offer? If they weren’t trying to create a slave race—another slave race—then what did they want? Were we just a big research project? If so, how did that explain Cara’s baby? Sal had insisted the baby was human, but . . . how had he phrased it? With additional traits. Had Sal’s people gotten tired of messing around with their own genetics and found a fresh species they could perfect?
I snorted. Perfection. No matter how bizarrely rational Sal’s explanation had sounded, it was still a ludicrous concept to this lowly human. Perfect babies? I mean, good health was one thing, but perfect children? Where was the fun in that? If Sal was any example, his culture’s idea of perfection meant physical beauty, athletic prowess . . . and, so, okay, maybe intelligence wasn’t that important to them. Surely there’d been a better way to get to my house.
But still, Eileen was right. All blond Olympians? Boring. Über-boring. And grossly racist. Or maybe they didn’t even have races? Then it was just boring. And those package upgrades had sounded pretty creepy. Implants and devices in babies?
Unwanted, a picture popped into my mind of a weeping child being surgically fitted with a metal appendage—some oversize, hooked and clawed hinge bending away from the defenseless infant’s shoulder. I shuddered. Nasty thought. Definitely wasn’t going to help me sleep, either.
Besides, I didn’t know what extraterrestrials considered to be desirable add-ons. What could my imagination invent that could possibly parallel what a technologically advanced alien civilization—albeit, one fond of running—could create? Which circled me back to the question of what they wanted with Cara’s baby. Or with any of us for that matter. Why were they here?
A long, slow yawn made my jaw pop, and I snugged up against the armrest and propped my chin on my arm. I didn’t want to fall asleep out here, away from Eileen, but it would help if I was almost asleep before I stumbled back to bed. Until then, maybe I needed to stop asking why, and start considering what I could do. Sal had vanished—a spaceship in his body!—leaving me with answers that only created more questions.
And, I had no way of knowing whether he’d come back.
My stomach tightened, and guilt burrowed my face into the crook of my arm.
He’ll come back, Lila. So will your angels.
I hoped so. And . . . there was someone else who might have answers. If she’d talk to me.
A sudden scratch-scratch
