The Falcon Prince

Told you so, Shintara said.

The world around Ria began to spin out of control. How did he know about the voice inside her head?

Chapter 6

“Someone told you about the…the voice that talks to me. Admit it. That’s how you found out,” Ria said, then quickly made sure there was no one within hearing distance.

Mary Ann was the only one remotely interested in them. At the moment, she was casting cat-in-heat looks toward Kristor, but she hadn’t made a move yet. She couldn’t possibly hear what they were talking about. And if she could, she certainly wouldn’t be flirting with him. Maybe Ria should suggest Kristor take her to his planet.

“No one had to tell me,” Kristor said, capturing her attention. “Every Symtarian has an animal guide.”

No, he was lying. Of course he was lying. He had to be lying. Anything else was totally ridiculous. “There are no such things as aliens or animal guides or a planet called New Symtaria.”

He’s not lying. This is who you are. I’ve been trying to convince you all these years that I’m real. Except you wouldn’t freakin’ listen! And it’s been driving me crazy! Now we both have answers.

“Shut up.” Great, she’d spoken out loud. Kristor didn’t seem to think anything out of the ordinary had happened.

Too much beer. That was it. It never took more than one-and-a-half longnecks to make her tipsy, and she’d downed two as if the Budweiser plants were filing for bankruptcy tomorrow.

“You are part Symtarian,” Kristor reinforced.

“No, I’m not, because it would make me as crazy as you.” She stomped to the tub and grabbed another beer. Maybe sinking into oblivion was what she needed. If she thought too much about what Kristor was saying, then she might start to believe him.

Set me free, Shintara cried out.

Go away! Ria chugged the beer, trying to drown out Shintara’s voice.

I’m not schizophrenic, Ria silently screamed to herself. Then more quietly, she added I’m not.

But what if she was? Maybe there was a society of schizophrenics, and they searched each other out. There could be whole towns. Her forehead puckered. And you’d only need a few people to create one. One person could literally take on more than one role.

That is so not funny, Shintara said.

Ria didn’t think so, either.

A couple of guys pulled out guitars, one a fiddle. Her dad set up the microphone. Good, she needed distraction.

Her parents lived on five acres on the outskirts of Miller Bend, and since the neighbors were at the party, no one worried about noise. Right now noise sounded good. Anything to drown out her thoughts.

She glanced around. The crowd of people had grown to over sixty and she suspected it would continue to grow as the night wore on. There was beer, hotdogs and chips, and boot-stompin’ music. Half the town would probably end up in their backyard, bringing a couple of six packs, or something to eat, as their invitation.

Ria wanted to lose herself in the music, in the crowd, and keep her distance from Kristor. Mary Ann had finally made her way over to him. Her long dark hair swinging free, the strands like hissing snakes, her eyes laughing up at him as her claws casually rested on his arm. Her hubby was busy talking to some of the men, quite impervious to her slutty behavior. Not that Ria cared.

“Hey, pretty lady, dance with me,” Jessie said as he sidled up next to her.

“That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.” Ria laughed, drained her beer, then tossed it toward the trash can, and almost made it, before wrapping her arms around his neck. His hold on her waist was loose and comfortable. She’d known Jessie most of her life, since his family had moved here from Henrietta, Texas. He was what people called “a good old boy.” She just hadn’t figured out what he was good for. That struck her as funny, so she laughed.

“I think someone has had too much to drink,” Jessie said.

She shook her head. “Not nearly enough.” To prove her point, she grabbed another beer as they danced past the tub.

The song ended, and Donald slipped in where Jessie had once been. She blinked twice as her vision changed from slicked back hair and dime-store aftershave to a very polished GQ guy, with only a light scent of the finest men’s cologne.

“You’re drunk,” Donald said, smiling wide and showing his pearly whites, except his words were as sharp as barbed wire. He moved her around the yard in some semblance of a two-step. His movements were stiff and jerky. The man had absolutely no rhythm.

“Drunk? Not quite, but I’m getting there.” Honey dripped from the smile she cast in his direction.

“You might think you’re funny, but you’re only making a spectacle of yourself. People talk about you enough as it is. You would think you’d at least attempt a lower profile.”

She took another drink of beer, then belched like a sailor.

He curled his lip.

“I don’t give a damn if they talk about me,” she said.

“Can I cut in?” Neil asked.

Donald opened his mouth.

“Yes,” she quickly spoke up, and moved smoothly into Neil’s arms, well, until she tripped over something in the yard. But Neil caught her before she fell. That made her laugh, too.

Donald turned on his heel and was soon lost in the crowd. Good riddance. He’d always put a damper on her activities.

“Are you having fun?” Neil asked.

“The best ever.”

“Uh…how’s Carly?”

Even as looped as she was, she saw the spark of interest. “Why, Neil Jackson, are you sweet on my best friend?”

He blushed. “I just heard she was sick. Thought I’d ask about her.”

“She’s really sick.”

His face fell. “So, she’s not coming tonight?”

She shook her head and almost toppled over. He righted her. “Maybe no more beer,” she mumbled.

“Carly?” he prodded.

Her eyebrows drew together. “How long have you liked her?” And why had Ria never noticed?

He gripped her a little tighter as they swayed to the music. “Since our freshman year. But she’s never looked twice at me. The guys she usually goes out with are jerks. Why does she do that?”

“Maybe you should let her know how you feel. Then she might stop dating losers.”

“Could you sort of test the waters?”

What was she now? A matchmaker. That is, besides being an alien. Correction: part alien. She frowned. “Does my skin tone look a little green to you?”

He held her at arm’s length. “You’re not about to toss your cookies, are you?”

“No.”

“Good.” He drew her back a little. “And you don’t look green, either.”

“Do I have anything poking out the top of my head?”

He examined the top of her head. “Like what?”

“Antennae.”

“Why? Are you thinking about become a human transmitter?”

“No.” She hadn’t really thought she was part alien.

He suddenly smiled. “I bought some blue body paint a number of Halloweens ago. I thought I might look cool