Invaded (10 page)

“I don’t know.” Aelyx counted the nights since Syrine’s visit to the children’s hospital.
“For the past two days, I suppose.” She’d insisted on
serving him
l’ina
both nights in an obvious effort to “extend the olive branch,” as humans said. He’d
forced himself to choke down her meals in the interest of
rebuilding their friendship, but it wasn’t easy.

“Why does she do that?” Cara asked.

“It’s a peace offering. Either that, or she’s trying to kill me,” he teased. “Her
cooking is only marginally better than yours.”

Cara sputtered, unable to speak, until her mouth dropped into a pink oval and held
there.

What? Had he said something wrong? Cara loved to joke about her horrible culinary
skills. “You said your flatbread could end life on Earth.”

She didn’t laugh as he’d expected. Redness rose in her cheeks, continuing all the
way to her hairline. She clenched her jaw and ground out, “I’ve got to go,” then
disconnected. He tried to summon her again, but she denied the transmission.

Great bleeding gods, what had he done?

Aelyx didn’t pretend to comprehend the workings of the human female mind. He closed
his eyes and replayed their conversation, which seemed to have gone awry when Syrine
announced dinner
was ready. Could that be it? Was Cara threatened because another female had offered
him a meal? That seemed ridiculous, even for a human, but what did he know?

He decided to ask David.

Aelyx found his bodyguard in the living area, sitting by an open window on a chair
he’d dragged over from the dining room. An icy breeze swirled through the penthouse
as David used a
magazine to fan a light haze of smoke outside. Smiling, the boy nodded toward Syrine
in the kitchen and whispered, “At least she didn’t set off the fire alarm this time.”

Syrine peeked her head through the doorway and caught Aelyx’s eye.
I’ll bring your
l’ina
to the table. I think I finally got it right!

Aelyx smiled, to match her excitement, while his heart sank. Judging by the smell,
she hadn’t “gotten it right” at all.

David tried to hide a chuckle. “I don’t know whether to pity you or hate you.”

“Hate me?” Aelyx asked as he took a seat in front of the coffee table. “I should share
my supper with you. Then you’d know where to direct your loathing.”

“Yeah, last night’s dinner looked like charcoal briquettes,” David said. “But damn,
man. Look how many chicks fall at your feet.” He listed them on his fingers.
“You’ve got Cara waiting on L’eihr; Syrine busting her cute little butt in the kitchen;
and on any given day, a hundred groupies sending you their panties.” He pointed to
a
postal delivery crate, piled high with envelopes and packages. “And I’d know—I screen
the mail.”

“Really?” Underwear as a form of correspondence? Human behavior truly confounded him
sometimes. “Thanks for reminding me why I don’t read fan letters.” Aelyx hooked
a thumb toward the kitchen. “As for Syrine, we’re friends. And barely that.”

David stopped waving his magazine, his face brightening. “You sure?”

“Completely.” Aelyx tapped the side of his head. “We communicate from here, remember?
She thinks of me as a brother. I’d sense it if she felt differently.”

“Huh. You don’t say…” David tipped his head, appraising Syrine as she crossed the
room with a plate balanced on her forearm and utensils in both hands.

Aelyx recognized the glazed-over look in his friend’s eyes. “Save your efforts,” he
whispered. “She hates humans.”

David continued watching her as a crooked grin tugged at his mouth. “That’s because
she doesn’t know me yet. Just wait till I unleash my charm.”

The boy’s unfailing confidence reminded Aelyx of why he’d wandered out here. “Can
I ask you something? You seem to know a lot about females.”

“Yeah,” David said with a smirk. “And the first thing I can tell you is they don’t
like being called females. Just say
girls
.”

“Okay, then. Girls.” Aelyx took the plate Syrine offered and thanked her. “I think
Cara’s angry with me, but I’m not sure why.” He used his fork to poke at a
chunk of blackened meat. “She kept asking why Syrine was cooking for me. Could that
be it?”

David snorted a condescending laugh, making Aelyx regret that he’d asked. “Are you
serious?”

“Yes.”

“Of course she’s mad.” David softened his tone and pointed at the mail crate. “Dude,
women send you more than lacy thongs. You got six marriage proposals and a dozen
abduction requests last week. Your girlfriend is on another planet while you’re here—surrounded
by horny chicks—and now the girl you’re
living
with is making you
dinner. Can you blame Cara for feeling insecure?”

Aelyx hadn’t thought of it that way, but when he considered David’s argument, he guessed
he understood how Cara felt. But she didn’t have any competition for his heart. How
could he make her see that?

“It doesn’t help that Syrine’s beautiful,” David added with a grin at the object of
his unrequited infatuation. “She’d make any girl jealous.”

Syrine rolled her eyes and locked gazes with Aelyx.
Does it really upset Cara that I prepare meals for us? What an odd reaction. How else
does she expect us to eat?

Aelyx tried to block his thoughts, but a swirl of malodorous steam wafted up from
his plate and turned his stomach. Unbidden, his distaste flowed into Syrine’s mind.

Oh, gods.
Her eyes flew wide.
You hate my supper! You’ve only been eating it to appease me!
Without giving him a chance to explain, she grabbed the plate from his lap and
retreated to the kitchen, muttering something about ordering takeout.

David let out a low whistle. “You may not know much about girls, but you’re an expert
at pissing them off. What just happened?”

Aelyx threw his hands up in frustration. “I was honest.”

“Ouch,” David said, then sucked a breath through his teeth. “That’s the second thing
you need to learn about relationships. Telling the truth is overrated.”

In a way, Aelyx agreed. If he’d lied to protect Syrine’s feelings, he would have spared
both of them the awkwardness to follow. But deception tended to compound his problems.
The
conspiracy to end the alliance had cost Eron his life.

David was wrong. In Aelyx’s experience, the truth was
under
rated.

“I’d better go talk to her,” Aelyx said.

“Good luck.” David resumed fanning smoke out the window. “Oh, and by the way.” He
glanced at the postal bin. “You should read those. I mean, some of the letters are
creepy, but you get nice ones, too.” He shrugged. “It could make good PR for you to
reach out to your fans while we’re still on tour.”

Aelyx supposed that David had a point. “I’ll go through them later.”

He made his way to the kitchen and found Syrine elbow-deep in a suds-filled sink,
not washing or rinsing dishes, just staring at the bubbles. When she didn’t move,
he cleared a spot nearby
and sat on the countertop.

“These are primitive appliances,” he said, pointing one booted toe at the stove. “And
unfamiliar ingredients. You did a far better job than I could have. I’ve never
managed to prepare anything more sophisticated than toast.”

She replied with a grunt and snatched a washrag from beside him.

“The meat here is dense,” he said. “It cooks differently.”

“Not
that
differently,” she finally replied, scrubbing an item beneath the water’s surface.

“But all skills take time to master.” He used a comparison to make her understand.
“Would you expect Cara or her brother to braise a flawless roast in our Aegis
kitchen?”

Syrine scoffed. “Of course not. They’re human.”

“You’re missing the point. If cooking makes you happy, then keep practicing. But don’t
do it for me.”

She stared into the sink. “I thought it would be a nice gesture. Maybe I shouldn’t
have bothered.”

“You know what
would
be nice?” he asked. “A simple apology for what happened on the transport. That’s
all I want.”

When she grumbled something unintelligible that definitely wasn’t an apology, Aelyx
gave up and left the kitchen. Syrine surprised him by following close behind, wiping
her sudsy hands on
her pants.

“I’ll help sort your stupid fan mail,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “But I won’t touch
their disgusting undergarments.”

He shook his head in bewilderment. Why couldn’t she just say she was sorry?

When they rejoined David in the living area, he’d settled on the opposite end of the
room, reading his magazine while cool air from the open window cleared the haze. He
peered at both of
them from above
Sports Illustrated
. “Everything okay?”

In typical fashion, Syrine ignored him and dragged the postal crate into the living
room, where she dumped its contents onto the area rug.

“We’re going to sort the mail,” Aelyx explained. “And we’ve nominated you as Keeper
of the Thongs.”

Syrine snickered and lifted a large padded envelope from the heap.

“Uh, hold on.” David sat upright and tossed aside his magazine. “I just remembered
something.”

“This one’s heavy,” Syrine said, giving it a shake. The clink of metallic pieces jingled
from inside the envelope. “No satin or lace in here. I’ll take
it.”

Palms forward, David shouted, “No, wait! I forgot to pre-screen this batch. I always
let the bomb-sniffing dogs—” He cut off when Syrine tore open the top of the envelope.

After that, everything happened in an instant.

David bolted off the sofa and grabbed the envelope from Syrine’s hands. His combat
boots squeaked against hardwood as he raced to the open window and hurled the package
outside. Half a
second later, a deep
boom
sounded from the street, and the windowpanes along the front of the penthouse rattled.
David clutched the wall and panted for breath while Aelyx and Syrine shared
a blank stare.

Nobody spoke, aloud or otherwise. Aelyx’s mind raced to process what he’d witnessed.
He blinked a few times to make sure he hadn’t imagined it, but nothing had changed
except a
new acrid scent on the breeze.

Had Syrine actually opened a bomb?

Her thoughts must have matched his own.
Did that really happen?
she asked.

Yes, I think so.

Still in a fog, Aelyx walked to the window and leaned out, squinting at the pavement
several stories below. He couldn’t recall which city they were in, but the streetlights
illuminated
bits of shrapnel littering the sidewalk and confirmed what he wished he could deny.
If the sender of that letter had accomplished his goal, those jagged metallic fragments
would be embedded in
Aelyx’s skull. Syrine could have died tonight, simply for opening his mail.

Thank the Mother for David’s quick thinking—and for the National Guard’s decision
to block off the street to foot traffic, or someone could have been hurt when David
threw the
envelope outside.

The guard detail in the hallway shouted muffled commands and then began ramming the
front door. David ran to let them in while Stepha shuffled into the living room, clad
in his bathrobe and
rubbing his eyes with one fist.

Aelyx froze when he realized the ramifications of this attack. He recalled what Stepha
had told the director-general:
Any further attempts on our lives will terminate all relations between
us.

Bleeding gods, no.

In the wake of Eron’s murder, this was mankind’s second chance. Once The Way discovered
the truth about the bomb, they would abandon the human race to their fate. Cara’s
people
would die—billions of innocents, wiped out as if they’d never existed.

“What was that noise?” Stepha demanded, scanning the suddenly crowded room. “It woke
me from a dead slumber.”

Aelyx’s first instinct was to lie, despite his previous conclusion that the truth
was underrated. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t summon an explanation
to erase the
evidence scattered across the street.

David’s arms trembled as he stood at attention, addressing his commanding officer.
“Sir, the girl got ahold of a fan letter before I had a chance to screen it—from the
looks of
it, a homemade shrapnel device.” His voice cracked, and he paused to draw a calming
breath. “I assume full responsibility. I shouldn’t have brought in the mail before
inspecting
it.”

All eyes turned to Syrine, who remained kneeling on the rug among hundreds of multicolored
envelopes. “You saved me,” she whispered to David. “You took the bomb in your own
hands.” She shook her head in disbelief and repeated, “Right into your own hands.”

“Let’s go,” the commander barked, snapping his fingers. “Everybody out. I want the
hotel evacuated.” He ordered one of his men to contact the bomb squad, then told
David to remain with “the aliens” until they’d reached the safe house.

“But I’m not dressed,” Stepha objected. “And I need my sphere.”

“Sorry, Ambassador. It’ll have to wait.” At the commander’s signal, a pair of soldiers
surrounded Stepha and half escorted, half dragged him into the hallway.

Aelyx’s hopes lifted as he took Syrine’s hand and followed. Without a com-sphere,
the ambassador wouldn’t be able to contact The Way. Between now and the time they
returned to
the suite, Aelyx would have to convince Stepha not to make that call.

“In your own hands,” Syrine repeated for the tenth time. She shifted on the safe-house
bed, peering at David like she expected antlers to spring from his temples.
“You could have lost both your arms and bled to death. Do you know that?”

David broke formation long enough to pinch the bridge of his nose. He sucked in a
loud breath and exhaled slowly. “It’s my job to protect you. If I’d blown my head
off, it
would’ve served me right for being so stupid.” He threw a pleading glance at Aelyx
before resuming his sentinel at the door.