Inalienable: Book 7 of the Starstruck saga Page 3

  “There isn’t a jury here, Mr. Smith. This is a preliminary hearing.”

  He didn’t seem to care. “I really don’t think there is a case, not without any remains being found.”

  “There was a body found,” the prosecutor interjected. “DNA tests prove that it is very much the late Agent Cross’s. That’s the whole reason you are here, Smith.”

  “Foollegg again?” I asked Blayde.

  “Duh,” she replied. “Very convenient. So much for the power of fire.”

  “Well, then, I owe you all the truth. Of what happened that night.”

  “Objection.” The prosecutor stopped him. “I haven’t finished asking the questions.”

  “Excuse me, I’m at a hearing, right? So, what are you meant to be hearing?” Zander snapped. “Well, it all started when the three of us were called by the FBI because of our special knowledge that would help them with a case. I can’t give details because it is classified-”

  “Your Honor, he’s just going to be a waste of our time,” the prosecutor scoffed.

  “It’s my turn to speak, isn’t it? I’m up on the witness stand, so I’m witnessing.” He waited for silence. “Now, we hadn’t been working on the case for long when we realized that that the culprit was, in fact, the late Dustin Cross. When Cross realized that we knew, he kidnapped Sally and held her hostage. We had to kill him because he was a ruthless extraterrestrial who was trying to take advantage of the women on this planet.”

  The room erupted into low murmurs. I sighed. This was when it was going to get even more bizarre. Felling’s sweet and exaggerated “good heavens” were so much better than my dad almost choking himself to death on the news.

  “You killed him …?”

  “We had to.”

  “Because he was—”

  “An alien, yes. From Talaga. Looked human enough, of course. You can’t go walking around Earth looking like a You can't go walking around Earth looking like a giant land crustacean.”

  He put his fingers by his lips, an oversized ant looking for a meal.

  The prosecutor liked his dry lips. “And what made you think he was … an extraterrestrial?”

  “Because he tried to eat Sally’s—sorry, I mean Ms. Webber’s—spinal cord. He had a huge second jaw that unlatched from his real one. Ugly bugger.” He sighed for emphasis. “And I don’t think humans can do that, can they? Please tell me because I haven’t been on Earth long enough to know.”

  “You haven’t been on Earth for long?” The judge’s jaw dropped ever so slowly. “Please elaborate.”

  “Oh, because I’m an alien too.”

  “An alien.”

  “Do you need me to spell it out for you? A–L–I–E–N. From another planet, not another country. I know you Americans, and I find that quite rude. And not that kind of alien in the movie Alien, I mean, who wants the disgusting process of me just bursting out of your stomach? Although, I did once see that happen back at a party near Klipta, and Fiona Grintel—you know, that actress—well, she just had to have another grigri mateol, and you know what those things are made of! No one had expected the fruit to be pregnant—”

  The judge banged his gavel again, bringing silence crashing down on the room. “Do you think this is funny, boy?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “Do you think my courtroom is some kind of theater?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “But you claim you’re an alien?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Where from?”

  “Now, that’s a long and complicated question. You see, immortality has its drawbacks and—”

  “This is the last time I’m doing that woman a favor,” Hargreaves spat before flying to his feet. “Your Honor, this man has no idea what he’s saying!”

  But Zander powered through. “Well, I really do like Earth, though.”

  The judge was entranced. “Please back up to the moment you said that you are immortal.”

  “Again, let me remind you that I am not currently Swiss cheese.” He paused as the murmurs in the courtroom rose higher. “And I must also remind you that you yourself told me to keep my shirt on, or I’d remind everyone here. However, your bailiff is free to shoot me if he wants further proof. Oh, come on. I won’t feel it. It just tickles a bit.”

  Our lawyer dropped his head in his hands, rubbing his scalp raw. Blayde glanced at him quickly, her eyes returning to her brother. A massive smile played on her lips, drawing the light back into her face.

  This. This chaos was her element. I could see her bouncing her leg, itching to move. It was taking all her focus to stay grounded.

  I didn’t want to look back at my parents and see their reactions. It was bad enough I had seen their faces when I was arrested.

  “And your friends?” the prosecutor continued. The poor judge had completely frozen.

  “My sister’s also an immortal, time-jumping alien, but Sally, well, she might be an immortal now, but she’s one hundred percent human. Born and raised here on Earth.”

  “Capa rules!” Blayde shrieked as she jumped up on the table. So much for restraint. “Down with the Alliance! Long live the revolution!”

  “But I know you humans,” Zander said kindly. “You won’t believe me. You guys haven’t even made first contact yet. You probably think I’m crazy. Cuckoo for Coco Puffs or whatever.”

  “Your Honor, it seems my clients have completely lost the plot.” Our lawyer let out a heavy sigh. “In light of their revelations, I would like to request a mental health evaluation to determine their state of mind during the actual murder.”

  “You Honor,” Zander pleaded, “I know this sounds crazy, but all you need to do is kill me, and it’ll prove to you I’m from another planet!”

  The gavel went down. “I think a mental health evaluation is very much in order. All rise.”

  And four hours later, I was sitting in a bus heading for the Hill Institute for the Criminally Insane. I had never expected anything less than absolute chaos out of Zander’s plans. Once again, I wasn’t disappointed.

  Not the way I was initially planning on spending my Florida vacation, but it was way better than having a fake prison riot waiting for me at the end of the road. Too bad I wouldn’t be able to explain this to my parents for a while. Caught between a rock and outer space.

  CHAPTER THREE

  This little incident won’t go in the family Christmas card this year

  “I told you I had a plan!” Zander was beaming, victory plastered all over his face. He sprawled across his two bus seats, leaving only his forehead in sight. I was far from as comfortable as he was.

  “I never said I didn’t believe you,” I replied, leaning into the turn. Wherever we were driving, it had a lot of winding roads to get there. Rather unsettling for Florida, land of flat, straight lines. “I just want a heads-up next time before I get my name forever listed as criminally insane.”

  “But it worked, didn’t it?” He settled in further as the bus took yet another sharp turn. “No prison riot waiting for us when we get there. Foollegg has an eye on us, just as she wanted, but she can’t retrieve us without giving up her hand. All we had to do was tell the truth.”

  He was right about that. My parents weren’t going to lose me today, but they did have to put up with the fact that their only remaining child had just been institutionalized. I owed them quite a few apology bouquets.

  “But where do we go from here?” I asked. “We can’t stay here forever. The Agency will find a way to get their hands on you sooner than later.”

  “I admit, it’s only a temporary solution,” he said. “But the Agency didn’t plan for this eventuality. That gives us some time to work out our next steps.”

  “Worst case scenario?” Blayde blurted from across the row. “We just wait it out.”

  “And let my parents live out the rest of their lives thinking their daughter is a murderer? No thanks. Not to mention someone will realize soon enough that none of us
are aging.”

  “Relax,” she said. “We’ll figure out a way out long before then. While waiting, we take in the sights, befriend our doctors, and take a nice, relaxing break. Weren’t you the one talking that up?”

  “Where do you think we’re going? Some kind of resort? We’re going to a state hospital. For the criminally insane. In Florida. Drugs and barred windows will be the least of our problems. The other inmates could be actual killers.”

  “You get to know their type over the millennia,” said Zander. “Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

  “Though Foollegg might still attempt some kind of extraction, so stay alert,” added Blayde.

  “Alert for what?” I asked. “How do you expect me to spot a red flag when everything is red alert right now?”

  She didn’t answer. The bus veered left and flung us against our seats. I grabbed the chair in front of me to steady myself and stop the handcuffs from digging into the skin. Just because it didn’t cause me pain didn’t mean I liked it.

  “Does this vehicle have any suspension?” she yelled to the front of the bus, where both our guards and the driver were chatting as if we weren’t even here.

  “I’m with Sally on this one,” said Zander. “This is going to be a nightmare for you. And with everything that happened at the library—”

  “I’ll deal with it.”

  “If the great masters of anger management on Julka couldn’t help you, I doubt an underfunded hospital on Earth will be any help.”

  “I’ve got you, don’t I?” she said, softer than I had seen her since our arrest. “Look, am I happy about the way things played out? Of course not. Would I like to nope off this planet right now? Hell yes. But I’m doing this for Sally because you asked me to.”

  She stood, stretching, and dropped her handcuffs to the floor where they clattered sharply. The bus took another curve far too fast, but she kept walking toward the guards as if she were on solid ground.

  “Oh, come on,” she said, hammering on the mesh between them. “It’s polite to speak to someone when they talk to you, you know. Just because you’re driving me to an asylum doesn’t make me any less of a person”

  “It’s regulation, ma’am.” The guard nearest her tried to hide his surprise. “How did you get out of your seat?”

  “Meh. You mustn’t have locked those cuffs on right, but don’t worry. If I were going to bite, they would have given me sedatives. First day?”

  I pulled at my restraints. I knew I had the strength to break them—I’d done it, proudly, all by myself when Cross had held me captive—but I would probably make things worse for us if I did it now.

  “I don’t want to have to go back there, Barker,” said the other.

  “Well, one of us has to,” said Barker. “Look, she’s right. It’s not like they’re dangerous. They just think they’re aliens.”

  “They killed an FBI agent.”

  “Yeah, but it took three of them to do it.” Barker turned his focus on Blayde. “You told them you’re an alien?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is it true?”

  “Duh. Why else would I tell them that I’m an alien? I personally don’t want to spend my valuable time here on Earth stuck in an asylum.”

  The unnamed guard let out a snicker. “Oh, yes, of course, you’re an alien. Invasion of the body snatchers and all that.”

  “I’m not going out snatching bodies. Veesh. Seriously, though, you arrive on a new planet, tell them in your excitement, ‘Hey, guess what? I’m from another planet!’ And just because you look like them and not like a reptilian alien, they think you’re crazy.”

  “That and you killed a man.”

  “The evidence was … circumstantial.”

  The guards shifted uncomfortably. Blayde turned and strode back to her seat, just as she said, making a big deal of sticking her hands back in cuffs. Locked up nice and tight.

  “Can you believe them? They think I’m crazy.”

  “Blayde, once you get that label, there’s no escaping it,” I said. “A psych evaluation can ruin your career. There are some serious issues with mental health care on this planet.”

  “Hey, Zan! Do you think I’ve lost the plot?”

  “You’re my sister!”

  “How is that an answer?”

  “How is that a question?”

  “Knock it off back there,” Barker said, slamming his hand on the mesh.

  Zander glanced out the windows. “Man, the weather’s not holding up well. You think it’s going to rain?”

  “Haven’t you heard?” the driver said loudly. “Tropical Storm Anthony is coming through here. They say she’ll be just wind when she reaches the Hill, but still.”

  Some days, you just drive clear into a stereotype. You know your expectations are based on myths and hearsay, and then, bam, you’re in front of the real thing and you ask yourself how you could have ever expected anything different.

  The Hill Institute gave off “Thriller”-quality first impressions. Maybe it was something about the old, ivy-covered stone exterior that made the place generally unwelcoming to the occasional visitor. Or the tall, worn statues of rearing lions—does it always have to be lions?—guarding the huge wooden door that stood as a barrier to the outside world. It was crisscrossed with intricate iron designs depicting ancient leafless trees; the bare, white walls of the hospital could be felt through the windows.

  Or maybe it was the thick, green forest that spread far and wide around the building that just screamed “isolation,” and not the good kind. More of the no-one-will-hear-you-scream kind of isolation. Which, trust me, I’d seen up close and personal a few times. You don’t get more isolated than being thrown out of an airlock.

  The heavy, gray clouds that covered the institute physically weighed on us, preparing the way for the oncoming storm. A damp breeze whipped the bare tops of the trees, yet the air itself was stagnant inside the bus, the humidity unbearable.

  “Is this it?” Blayde asked as the bus came to a stop in front of the stone stairs. “I expected creepier. You know, screams that can be heard from miles away, the odd messages in ominous red paint written on the institute walls.”

  “You watch too many horror films,” said not-Barker. “This is a hospital.”

  “Well, thanks for clearing that up. I’ve seen all of one movie on this planet, and it was about letting go or something.”

  Barker continued to ignore her, letting himself into our cage. He went for Blayde first, checking her restraints before freeing her from her seat. Not-Barker had finished whatever he was doing at the front of the bus, standing aside before Blayde could get off.

  “Well, hello there!” Blayde’s voice was sprinkled with fairy dust as she stepped off the bus. “I’m Blayde. With a Y. So very nice to meet you!”

  Not-Barker unlatched me and led me off the bus where two women in white coats were waiting. Blayde was beaming so bright she could have lit an entire city block.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” one woman said, a deadpan reaction to Blayde’s performance. “I’m your doctor, Dr. Smith.”

  “What a coincidence! We’re also named Smith,” said Blayde. “What a common and unassuming name!”

  The doctor was tall and slender, her jet-black hair was supernaturally straight, reaching down below her shoulders. Her beak-like nose was sharp, contrasting with her small brown eyes and her smart, pursed lips. All in all, she gave off the proud air of a bird of prey, roosting on a branch and letting us live another day. She held a clipboard clutched against her chest, her free hand resting upon the plastic, poised to write, but instead twiddling the pen between her index finger and thumb.

  “Feel free just to call me doctor”—she forced a smile—“to avoid confusion.”

  She turned on her heels, leading us through the castle-like doors to the safety of the institute just as the first drops of rain began to fall. Barker and his colleague flanked us, and I couldn’t help but wonder who here could be in the Agency’s
pocket. How would they try to dispose of us, now that a prison riot was out of the question?

  The doors slammed shut behind us with a thunderous crash.

  “Welcome to the Hill Institute.” The doctor had to raise her voice to compensate for the echo of the room. A huge spiral staircase wrapped around the white-washed hall; the only spot of color was a wooden table with a pot of dried flowers pushed up against the stairs. “We are here to help you, so please do not be frightened.”

  We followed her to a gated-off area attended by a very bored-looking man in staff uniform who buzzed us through without looking up from his crossword puzzle.

  “The upstairs floor is off-limits to patients. We’re going through administration right now,” she explained, as we stopped in a small locked room. “We are going to have to ask you to get changed now. We have a strict dress code in the institute, and while you stay here, you’ll need to wear the clothes we provide you.”

  A nurse arrived with stacks of clothes in different sizes, handing them out to us each individually. We were offered rooms to change in, leaving our jailhouse jumpsuits for what seemed to be a cross between a hospital gown and pajamas. The basic white top and pants were loose-fitting and made out of an uncomfortable, cheap synthetic material that was irritably itchy in the worst of places. I wasn’t sure which outfit was worse.

  “Now, come this way.” A nurse took over, a cheerful smile on her face, as if she were taking kindergarteners on a stroll through the garden. “This is the rec room. You will be free to spend your time here between meetings and curfew. We do have activities planned for each day, so make sure to consult the schedule pinned to that corkboard right over there. Your rooms are down that way. Men have the left wing; women, the right. Any questions so far?”

  Blayde’s hand shot into the air. “Yeah. Where is everyone?”

  “They’re at dinner. We eat meals at 8 a.m., 12 p.m., and 6 p.m. You must be in your rooms by 8. Lights out by 9. Got that?”

  We nodded. I raised my hand childishly. “And … sessions?”

  “Also on the schedule. You meet with the doctors when they have a session scheduled for you, or they may just come and talk to you in the rec room. Now then”—her white teeth shone like polished pearls as she flashed us a sickly-sweet smile of encouragement—“to dinner. And don’t worry if you get lost. The staff are very friendly, as they are here to help in your assessment and recovery.”