with Donald. It had taken her too long to break free of his tight rein the last time.
“I’ll have the cook fix her something special,” he said.
“Donald, I…”
He smiled. “As old friends, nothing more. Carly would much rather have something from the restaurant, I’m sure.”
She didn’t see anything in his expression that would tell her otherwise, and it wasn’t as though she hadn’t known him all her life. “Okay, but I can’t stay long.”
He grinned, taking her hand in his. She looked across the park and caught Kristor watching her. He wore a dark scowl. She had a feeling he didn’t care for Donald’s touching her. What? Did he think she was
“I used to love it when you wore your hair down. It made you look more like a grown woman and less like a ragamuffin. I wish you’d wear it down more often.”
For a moment she’d forgotten exactly what it was about Donald that irritated her. She was so glad he’d reminded her. “Then isn’t it a good thing we’re not dating because I love my hair up. It’s so much cooler.” She smiled.
“Stubborn woman.” He laughed, but it sounded brittle.
“You’re not the first person who’s told me that,” she said. Except when Kristor had said it, it hadn’t sounded quite as condescending.
Lunch went by fairly quickly, mainly because Donald kept getting called away. His irritation was clearly visible. When he had to see about a malfunctioning dishwasher, she took the opportunity to escape.
Carly didn’t live very far away. No one in town lived very far away, though. Ria could cross town in peak traffic, with the light red, and still be at Carly’s in under five. They only had one red light, and a blinking caution light, and a few stop signs that people sort of stopped at.
She climbed the stairs to Carly’s second-floor apartment and knocked on the door. A few moments later, the door was opened by a bad imitation of her friend. Carly sported a red nose, and watery, red-rimmed eyes.
“Oh, sweetie, you look awful.”
Carly opened the door wider, then covered her mouth with a tissue when she began to cough. “I feel awful.”
“I brought sustenance.” She raised the white carton.
Carly puffed her cheeks out. “Blah. Food.”
“You have to eat.”
“I’d rather lie down and die.” She moved to the sofa and collapsed on it. “How was the parade?”
Ria took the carton to the kitchen and put it in the fridge for later. “My alien was there,” she said over her shoulder.
Carly sat up with a start, then grabbed her head, and lay back down. “I can’t believe you sprang that on me.”
“Sorry.” Ria went back to the living room and curled up on the chair, keeping a safe distance from any germs floating in the air.
“This was the naked guy you saw in the woods? What happened? I want all the details.”
She had already told Carly everything. Ria had known she could count on her friend to believe her. Now, she quickly related what happened in the park, what Kristor had told Ria about her parents, and then the lies he’d told Heath.
“I take it that you don’t think he’s using a new line to come on to women?”
Ria shook her head. “I think the guy is crazy. Mom doesn’t though.” She grimaced. “You should’ve seen her gush when she talked about him. You’d think he was a god or something. Apparently, he’s casting a spell over the town. Well, at least my parents and Heath. I know why Heath thinks he’s great. He agreed to play in their flag football game this afternoon. But my mom? She should know better.”
“She’ll come to her senses when the newness wears off.”
“If she’s still alive.”
“So what are you going to do?”
Ria sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Know thy enemy.”
“Huh?”
“Go to the football game.”
Ria’s stomach twisted in knots. “I have to. Remember? I’m a cheerleader.” It was Mary Ann Proctor’s fault. That, and the fact Ria had turned down a post on the Women’s League board, which meant if she missed a meeting, she got volunteered for whatever everyone else didn’t want to do. Drat, how could she have forgotten about the football game? It was a community event, and therefore, the league was obliged to participate.
Carly clutched her chest as deep hacking coughs wracked her body again. Ria’s chest ached just watching her.
Carly waved her hand. “Go away before you catch my cold.”
Ria hated leaving Carly, but she probably needed more rest anyway. After making sure Carly had a hot cup of soup, a glass of 7-Up over ice, and a new box of tissues, Ria left. Carly might be right. She was sure she could point out enough faults that people would start to despise Kristor. She nodded. It might just work.
Kristor looked around the locker room. Benches sat low to the floor making his back and legs ache, so he had chosen to stand. A distinct odor hung thick in the air, as though something had died, and they’d forgotten to bury the carcass. Not that he expected a room that housed warriors to smell sweet. He’d been around men long enough to know their body odor was not always pleasant.
That was something else that bothered him. These men did not look like warriors. Heath maybe, although he had gray running through his hair. His reflexes were sharp, though. When someone had tossed him an oddly- shaped, brown ball, he’d caught it.
And there was the man called Neil. He was younger. Heath said he was a deputy. Kristor understood most of the language and knew that probably meant second in charge.
But the others. He shook his head. They had let their bodies go. How did they expect to win a battle? Unless the ones they would battle were in worse condition.
These men came in different shapes and sizes: tall, skinny, short, fat. One man bent to tie the strings on his shoes and when he rose, his face was red, and he could barely draw in a deep breath. No, Kristor couldn’t imagine them winning a battle.
“I want to introduce y’all to Kris. He’ll be taking Smiley Wilson’s place, since Smiley has that bug going around,” Heath said.
“You ever play football?” a short, balding man asked.
“Play? I thought we were here to win a battle?” Kristor turned to Heath.
“Yeah! That’s the kind of attitude we want on this team,” another man yelled.
Kristor relaxed. Heath hadn’t lied. He did not come to play, but to fight. He was a warrior.
“We’re the shirtless team this year, guys, so take ’em off,” Neil told them.
“Anybody bring sunblock?” a pale man asked.
“I got plenty,” another answered.
Maybe they had powers since they could block the sun.
The men began to remove their shirts. They must be braver than he’d first thought if they planned to go out on the field without armor. They earned a measure of his respect for their act of courage.
“Y’all ready to win?” someone called out.
“Yes.”
“I can’t hear you.”
“Yes!” echoed through the room.
“Yes!” Kristor jerked his shirt open, buttons flying, material ripping, growling from the energy that burst from him. “Fight, kill, destroy!” He threw his shirt on the floor, raising his fists in the air and shaking them.
The men stilled.
It got deathly quiet.
