Part 21 (1/2)

”Kelvieri.” He rolled the word around in his mouth as though he wasn't sure of the taste. Then he continued, ”Does Zaren want to hurt humans?”

”Of course not. He doesn't even want to be here. He only came because of meeee.” The need to sleep had become irresistible. Venus struggled to stay alert.

”And you're here because . . .?” He let the question hang.

”Because someone from my home must despise me and my family. They killed . . . killed . . .” Tears formed and pushed through the creases of her eyes. ”. . . Sadraden and her ba . . .”

44. Patience.

Michael stood there and watched her sleep. Couldn't move. He'd never felt so torn. A part of him had the irresistible urge to protect her, yet he couldn't help but wonder how much she wasn't telling him about the Order. About those from her planet who'd killed his mother. She'd seemed sincere. He no longer believed she was the murderer. The fact remained she was from another planet. It excited and terrified him. It was strange that he felt anything at all for an . . . otherworldly being.

Alien.

What an effin stupid word, anyway. She didn't look like one or act like one. She seemed cool. Even sick, she radiated beauty and energy. Yet her body betrayed her in its frailty.

Her hands were tucked under her right cheek, pressed together. It looked as though she prayed, like an angel. Above the constant buzzing of the electric current, he could hear her wheezing. Each ragged breath moved her cracked red lips.

How could I have considered her a killer?

He made his way to the two-way gla.s.s and pounded on it. ”Hey, Frank. I need to talk to you.” Michael tried to peer into the small observation room he knew existed on the other side. But he couldn't see anything. ”You hear me. We need to talk.” He pounded the gla.s.s again.

Venus mumbled in her sleep.

Michael moved back over to the bars. ”Venus. What did you say?” His mom had talked in her sleep a lot, especially when she'd fallen asleep drunk. When that happened, he'd sometimes ask questions. She'd answer. He hoped for the same response from Venus.

”Boots . . . A heart . . . beating. Boots!”

Those strange boots she always wore. That must be what she meant. It'd been difficult to remove them. Abe had tried to cut them off with an electric saw, pound them off with a hammer. He'd also tried a drill, too. When he'd pulled out a torch, Michael couldn't take anymore. He'd rushed into the room and told Abe to stop. Then Michael pulled on the boots and they'd released from around her legs and come off her feet into his hands.

He, Abe, and Frank took turns checking out the stuff in the heels. A lightly glowing arrow surrounded by a blue substance in one and a slow beating heart with a grayish matter swirling throughout the other. They were bizarre, but awesome, too.

After a while, Abe finally gave up, and handed them over to others. Last he'd heard they were running tests on them. If she needed those boots, then he wanted to get them.

Michael went back to the observation gla.s.s and pounded. ”She needs her boots. Bring them to her. Frank! Frank!” He waited. A few minutes pa.s.sed. He was about to yell again when he heard the shuffle of shoes against the tiled floor. Frank stood in front of his buzzing cell.

”I hear you. Know that. But, Abe can't give her back those . . . boots yet. We're still testing them.”

Michael avoided eye contact, stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. ”I think she's dying, Frank.”

Frank glanced over at her. ”Yes, I agree. That's why we need to continue testing her. I'd rather she not die. Strange, though, I was under the impression you wanted her dead.”

If Michael had been able, he would've clocked Frank right then. He was a heartless jerk. ”She didn't kill Mother. It was stupid of me to think she had. I'm sure you knew that though. Didn't you?”

Frank sighed. ”Michael, we need her.”

”I want to know what you're doing to find the . . . alien that really murdered mother?”

Since Venus had arrived two days ago, they'd tested and retested different parts of her. He'd watched them put needles in her, draw blood, and more. Luckily Venus seemed oblivious to most of the horror. He wasn't. Michael watched it all, from them sticking a needle the size of a semi-truck into her abdomen, to them putting tiny needles into her eyes. She'd cried out many times, each scream like a dagger shoved into his soul. He experienced her pain. When she hurt, he hurt, too. Even though he'd been furious, it still killed him to watch her suffer.

”We haven't had a chance to search any further. We've been too focused on-Venus. We'll go out again when . . .” He didn't finish.

Michael understood the meaning. He meant they'd begin their search again when they were done with Venus-done cutting her into pieces. ”But why don't you let her go? She can't hurt anyone. You told me the one you've been hunting was an invincible super villain. It's obvious Venus can't be a part of his group. They can't even be the same species.”

”But they are.” Frank rubbed his eyebrows, which caused flakes of dry skin to float onto his cheeks. ”Want to know what gave them away?”

Michael waited.

”Those boots. The thing that taunts us has worn a pair like them before. We've seen them and have the pictures to prove it.” He grinned again, large, flas.h.i.+ng those yellow-stained teeth of his.

”Oh?”

”When she wakes again, see if you can get her to talk about them. What do they mean? They may be the key to our killing the other one.” Frank started to walk away. He stopped at Venus's cell, turned back to Michael and said, ”You might as well get back on board with us where it's concerned. She won't be leaving here for a long time, even after she's dead.” With that, he rushed off, before Michael could agree or disagree.

He guessed Frank figured he wasn't going anywhere without his say. Michael knew he'd asked for this. It'd been the only way to save her, but he hated feeling trapped. A.L.T. had him as locked up as Venus. Stupid Frank!

Michael flung himself on the cot and tried to sleep. It wouldn't come. He kept going back and forth between conversations he'd had with Venus to thinking of Cheverly. He knew Chev was probably worried sick. There'd been his promise that they'd get together. That'd been days ago. He hadn't talked to her since telling her about his mom. She had no idea what'd happened. A wave of panic toppled over him. Will I ever see her again? A few days ago he hadn't cared one way or the other. Not really. Then he'd been bombarded with memories of her. He realized he wanted to see her.

I told her I loved her. And he did . . . didn't he? Michael sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. As a friend, he owed her the courtesy of an explanation. She deserved that much.

Michael considered what Zaren and Vinny were doing. Surely they knew Venus was missing. The Zaren guy was probably beside himself with worry. Guilt tore at his gut. When he'd told Frank about Venus, what she'd said to his mother and her strange blood, he'd been angry. Beyond devastated and too far gone in his grief to really think.

Now he knew Venus wouldn't, couldn't have committed the murder. She'd been at the ranch all day. With him.

Michael watched her tattered body struggle for air. She was too weak to walk up a trail in the mountains. Someone as feeble and sick as she was didn't have the strength to kill.

I have the stupid-gene.

He couldn't let her die. She had to get back to her planet. Crossing his arms over his face, he tried to block out the lights. He needed to think, to rest. The lights overhead couldn't be turned off with a switch. They were automatic.

”d.a.m.n. d.a.m.n. d.a.m.n. Dammit to h.e.l.l-”

He stopped at the sound of a light giggle.

Venus.

Taking two steadying breaths, he removed his arms from his face. Then he turned so he could see her. She looked amused.

”My favorite curse is cret.”

Her voice sounded low and raspy, like she'd been smoking a pack a day for thirty years.

Michael sat up. ”Cret? What does that mean?” She still lay on her side, electric-blue eyes intent on him. Her teeth chewed on her bottom lip.

”The English word would be c.r.a.p, I think.”

Michael laughed. ”That is a good word. Mind if I use it?”

She shook her head no. ”Do you think they'll give me back my boots?”