Jelly Cooper: Alien (15 page)

He isn’t listening.  He’s
looking
.  And something tells me he’s about to come my way.

I
float up the stairs.

Mr. Fletcher
turns and strides down the corridor, Rhiannon racing after his retreating back.

“Mr. Fletcher, what are you doing?”

He spins on his heel and grabs her by the shoulders.

“Where is she
?”

“P…p…pardon?”

Mr. Fletcher peers at her through narrowed eyes and she does the worst thing possible; her eyes flicker towards the stairs.  He follows her impulsive movement and smiles.

I race along the hall towards Rhiannon’s bedroom. 

“Thank
you, Miss Miles.”

I hear footfalls on the stairs.

“JELLY – HE’S COMING!”

Agatha and Humphrey
jump as I burst into the room.  In a flurry of movement, Humphrey leaps in front of me and Agatha races to the door and throws her weight against it.  She grabs the handle with both hands and braces herself.

I start to tremble. 
I can’t help it.  I wonder if Crin knows that the Hunter has shown himself. I send away the thought.  I’m on my own and will have to fight alone.  Taking a deep breath, I push Humphrey aside.  Turning to Agatha, I command in a low voice, “Get away from the door.”

“But,” Agatha, bewi
ldered, backs away.  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she whispers, grabbing a vase from the dressing table and holding it above her head.

Humphrey sees a tennis racket jutting out from under the bed and grabs it. 

My chest heaves.  I try to gather my thoughts and calm my thundering heartbeat, but it’s hard, a lot harder than levitating some aluminium.  I badly need to focus, but seeing my two closest friends in the grip of terror makes it nigh-on-impossible.

The door
swings open.

Mr. Fletcher stands in the open doorway, his eyes blazing.

“I knew it was you,” he breathes.

He steps forward.  I blink and the door slams shut in his face.  Wasting no time, I scan the room for a weapon.  My
gaze falls on a line of shoes resting at the bottom of the open wardrobe.  Reaching, I bring them all floating into a line.

I ready myself.

The door
opens.  He stands, perfectly still, blood tricking from his nose.  His eyes gleam as he sees the row of floating shoes.

“I
knew
it.”

I launch the first missile with a toss of my head.  An expensive running shoe whistles through the air, flying towards the Hunter’s face.

He stops it in mid air with a twitch of his finger.

Something grabs
hold of my insides and twists.  I send the rest of the shoes flying through the air at his head. 

M
r. Fletcher holds up his hand and the shoes stop dead and fall to the floor with a series of thuds.  He advances towards me and I do nothing.  I just stand there and watch him come.

Some super alien I am.

Humphrey leaps forward with a strangled yell, swinging the tennis racket.  Mr. Fletcher ducks and grabs the strings. He thrusts Humphrey to the floor and, without looking at Agatha, commands her to drop the vase.

Agatha sets the vase down, her eyes
on Humphrey.  She rushes over to his side. “You OK?”

“I’m fine
,” he says, taking her hand.

Agatha glares at
Fletcher.  If looks could kill, he’d be a corpse.

It’s a pity they can’t kill.  I could do with the help.

The Hunter walks towards me.  Humphrey tries to get up, but Agatha holds him back.  Shaking, I stumble as I try to back away.

He’s going to kill me.

“Aaaaayyyeeeee!”

Or maybe not.

Rhiannon launches herself at Fletcher.  He pitches forward as she lands, arms and legs flailing, onto his back.  God bless cheerleading practice.

Frantic, he tries to shrug her off, but her arms lock around his neck. They
thrash around the room, crashing into walls and furniture and knocking picture frames and a jewellery box onto the floor.  He claws at her hands, his face reddening as she presses against his windpipe.

“
Ghlecht…olshff…me,” he splutters, peeling Rhiannon’s hands from his throat.

I watch the
m struggle.  On one level, I’m frantic for my friends, and Rhiannon, but something is taking over my emotions, locking down my panic and clearing my mind.  An inner voice talks to me, calming me and freeing my mind of dread.  The thing that surprises me the most is that it’s not Crin’s voice inside my head; it’s my own.  I
know
what I have to do and it starts with not letting others fight my battles.

Rhiannon screeches.  Twirling around the room, she
battles to keep her grip as the Hunter tries to shrug her off. 

She slips
.

I reach and send out invisible hands to c
atch her as she falls.  Rhiannon slumps and hangs in mid air, suspended in an invisible net.  Dazed, she sways gently.

I face the Hunter.

“Now you.”

I spread my
arms.  The air trembles and crackles and my hair stands on end, alive with static.  From the corner of my eye, I see little purple sparks dance around my head, doing wonders for my split ends.  The buzzing in my ears grows louder.

My eyes blaze.

Fletcher steps towards me –

“Jelly, NO!  It’s not what you –

and I unleash hundreds of silvery tendrils.  They shoot forward, twisting and turning through the air as they speed towards the Hunter.   I lift him off the ground and cocoon him in a spidery chrysalis.  He struggles with his invisible bonds, cursing.

I hurl him back against the wall
and feel nothing bad when his head cracks against the doorframe.  His body slumps forward and I drop him onto the floor.

Weakened and shaking, I crouch on the ground and, with trembling fingers, brush strands of hair away from my face
and try not to be sick.    

“Um, Jelly?”

“Hmm?”

Rhiannon hangs, suspended in mid air.  She looks like she’s rocking in a hammock, only the hammock isn’t there.

“Any chance of getting out of this thing, whatever it is?”

I guide Rhian
non slowly back to earth.  I get up and walk over to her.

“You OK?”

“Sure.  Give us a hand up.”

I help her to her feet,
wincing as I spot a row of nasty purple bruises developing on her shins. 

“Thanks,”
I whisper, feeling awkward. “You really did hang in there.”

Rhiannon shrugs.  “Couldn’t have guests terrorized in my house, could I?”

“Well, thanks anyway.”

Agatha reluctantly leaves Humphrey’s side and peers at the inanimate Mr. Fletcher.  She prods him with the tip of her shoe.  He grunts, but doesn’t move.  Turning to face me, she smiles a tentative smile.

“Seems like you did it, Jay.  He’s out of it.”

Hmmm.
  I wonder. 

“What’s wrong?”

Shrugging, I say,

“It’s nothing.
I’m sure it’s nothing.  Can’t help thinking that it was a bit too easy.  I mean, he didn’t put up much of a fight, did he?”

Humphrey grabs my shoulders.

“Jay, if you had seen yourself... hair going crazy, fire in your eyes.”

Agatha nods.

“Im-pre-ssive.”

Well, things could be a lot worse.

Agatha tugs at my sleeve, demanding my attention.

“He’s waking up.”
  She nods at the crumpled teacher.  “What do we do?”

“We should kill him right now, before he does the same to us.”

“Humphrey!  You couldn’t kill a worm, never lone another human being,”

Agatha steps forward.  “She’s right, Humphrey.  We can’t kill him.  He’s a person, it would be murder.”

Humphrey blushes.  “But he’s not a person, is he?  He’s a Hunter thingy from out of space, come here to kill Jelly and any one that gets in the way.  Like us.  We should end it now, before it’s too late.”

I struggle to keep my waning composure.  “And what do you suggest we do with the body?  Bury it underneath Rhiannon’s patio?”

Rhiannon squeals.  “No way, my mum would kill me!”

Groaning with growing exasperation, I turn to her.

“Calm yourself.  It was a poor attempt at sarcasm.  But really Humph, I’d like to hear your plan.  I’m intrigued that you’re actually entertaining this thought seriously, really I am.”

“But he’s the Hunter
,” Humphrey stresses.

“No.  I’m not.”

Chapter Twelve

I turn.  Mr. Fletcher lies motionless, strapped in his cocoon, but his eyes are open and he is very much awake.  Agatha yelps.  

“Oh
fab, evil dead is awake.” Humphrey grumbles.

I step
toward the captive.  “No, you’re not what?”

Blue eyes hold mine.
  He’s totally calm and his voice doesn’t waver.

“The Hunter.
I’m not the Hunter.”

It’s a good voice.  He should be a
hypnotist with that voice.

“Shut up.”

Mr. Fletcher struggles with his bonds.  With a sigh, he gives up.  Looking at me and me alone, he starts to speak.

“My name is G
regory Thorn.  I’m part of a monitor group that gathers and evaluates paranormal and extra-terrestrial activities on earth.  We –

“
SHUT UP!” I scream, startling everybody in the room. 

“We c
all ourselves Kavalrion,” he goes on in the same calm voice.  If he’s not careful, that voice is going to get him dead.  “The group was formed in 1896 by a Javorian called Cal Kavalrion Sakiiri.”

“
Sakiiri?”

Your name is Camille
Sakiiri and you’re from a planet called Javoria..

Crin’s
words come back to me.

Fletcher nods.  “
We continue the legacy of Sakiiri and catalogue accounts of paranormal experiences here on Earth.”

His eyes are begging me to believe him and I hesitate.
He goes on with growing confidence.

“When he landed on Earth,
Cal was lost, confused, and close to death.  He was taken in by a local Innkeeper and nursed back to health, but it was a slow process.  During his fever, he rambled about a purple planet with yellow skies.  He chanted foreign, alien words, which scared the Inn-keeper half to death, and tossed and turned at night muttering about a hunter following him, tracking him.  Fearing a witch-hunt, the Inn-keeper, Maurice Emanuel Thorn, nursed his patient in secrecy and kept his fears to himself.”

He stops, waiting for a sign that I believe him.

“Go on.”

Humphrey jumps up.  “No way, Je
lly.  This is a trick.”

I pat his hand and turn back to Gregory Thorn.

“I’m not letting him go, Humph, I’m just letting him talk.  That’s all.”

Grumbling, Humphrey backs off, taking a seat on the bed next to Rhiannon.

“Fine,” he growls.  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Rhiannon leans in to Humphrey and pats his knee and nods her head in an ‘I’m with you, kiddo’
kind of way. 

I nod to Thorn.  “You’ve got five minutes.”

He doesn’t waste time. 

“
Cal made a slow recovery.  He was grateful to the Innkeeper; indebted to him for his kindness until death, but he didn’t trust him.  He couldn’t understand why Maurice had put himself in such danger for a stranger.  He plotted to escape once his strength was back.  He would have run were it not for one fortuitous event.”

“Three minutes.”

Thorn’s left eye starts to twitch.

“Maurice took Cal his breakfast at dawn every morning and left it at the side of his bed.  He couldn’t risk taking it any later, for fear of bumping into other guests staying at the Inn.  He hid the foreigner in the attic room, which he never rented out and was mostly forgotten about.  One morning, Cal woke early.  Hearing approaching footsteps, he drooped his eyelids and pretended to sleep.  What happened next would change the course of both their lives”. 

Thorn hesitates.

Humphrey points at him but looks at me.

“He’s making it up Jay!  Can’t you see?”

Thorn starts talking quickly.

“The door swung open and
Maurice entered the room carrying a tray.  The door closed without him touching it.”