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“Allison,” said Annie in a scolding tone. “You shoved me into the portal.”
“I did.” The witch folded her arms.
“You treated me like I’m a kid. I could have helped.”
Allison leaned down to eye level with her. “Youarea kid.”
“I’m eleven.”
“Soold,” said Tammy in a grandma voice.
Annie rolled her eyes.
“Enough chitchat. Annie’s parents are looking for her,” said Maple. “All of you can visit the faerie realm whenever you want, but her parents are worried.”
They followed Maple a short distance to a convenient tree, where Annie sat on the ground, took some chalks and paints from her backpack, and began to make a faerie door.
Tammy looked down at herself. “Oops. I need to change before someone thinks I’m a dork.”
“Too late,” fake-whispered Allison, then leaped up on one foot, holding her other foot, which was presently smoking. “Yeow!”
Tammy blew at the tip of her finger. “You were saying?”
“Not cool, Tam-Tam. Not cool!”
Chapter Twenty-one
Friends in Strange Places
From being in a room of high-tech stuff on top of maybe seeing an invisible flying saucer before passing out, I am presently on a spacecraft.
That and, you know, seeing some legit aliens.
Anyway, standing here naked isn’t helping anyone. First thing I need to do is figure out how to open those tanks and get the people out. Nothing looks like obvious controls, so I start with the only thing here that isn’t a tank: a rectangular box the size of a cabinet freezer in the middle, with five tanks on either side of it. After a bit of fiddling around with it, I discover a seam and a small white panel.
As soon as I brush my hand over the egg-sized panel, the top part opens like a lid. It’s hollow, just a storage box. It appears to contain a random assortment of mismatched clothing, no doubt taken from abductees. My stuff is not there. Grr. Figures. There is way more in this bin than the seven people here could account for.
Oh, shit. I blink. At least I now know why Shane looked like someone else dressed him. Someone elsedidput his clothes on. Bet those aliens examined him like a messed-up spacefaring version of David Attenborough examining the local wildlife.
These aliens must ‘catch and release’ most humans, but decide to keep others for longer. If they’re in stasis tanks, maybe they reappear months or years later without having gotten any older?
Eek. Is this my imagination running away with itself or is this really happening?
It is really happening,says a soothing voice, more male than not, in my head.
Whoa. The list of people who can telepathically communicate with me is growing rapidly shorter: Tammy and Max the Alchemist have both lost their telepathy, thanks to Elizabeth’s removal. The voice wasn’t Talos or Allison. Didn’t really sound like Azrael the archangel—or a Sasquatch. Okay, yeah, that last one sounds weird. But their telepathy is off the charts. Anyway, no other immortal has access to my brain.
I am none of those. Nor am I immortal or a hairy beast. I’m here, with you. Look to your right.
The tank alien raises a hand and waves.
I jump back into a fighting stance, fumbling for a knife I no longer have. Dammit. Left it stuck in the other alien.
Be at ease. I am no threat.
“Obviously. You’re stuck in a tank. Just caught me by surprise is all.”
I sense your desire to free the other humans and would ask you afford me the same courtesy.
