 
# Unveiled

### The Dark Skies Trilogy Book One

## Lysa Daley
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Second Edition

Text copyright © 2016 Lysa Daley

All rights reserved.

ASIN B01B8QD8RG

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the expressed written permission of the publisher.

 Created with Vellum

### Contents

Get the FREE Dark Skies Trilogy prequel novella today!

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Get Unmasked: A Dark Skies Trilogy Prequel Novella Free Today!

Uninvited - Chapter 1

About the Author

# Get the FREE Dark Skies Trilogy prequel novella today!

.

*Find out how Astrid met Ruby.

*What happened at that Halloween party with Chad?

*Why did Astrid's first boyfriend betray her?

*And what's up with Uncle Conrad's lurking?

CLICK HERE TO GET YOUR FREE COPY
Dedications

> In chronological order
> 
> * * *
> 
> To my mother, who instilled in me a passion for books and a lifetime love of reading.
> 
> * * *
> 
> To my husband, who believed in me enough, all these years, to never once tell me to get a real job.
> 
> * * *
> 
> To my daughter, who makes me strive every day to be a better mother, a better writer and a better human being, in the hopes she can be proud of me.

> _"Many a night I saw the Pleiades,_
> 
> _rising thro' the mellow shade,_
> 
> _Glitter like a swarm of fireflies_
> 
> _tangled in a silver braid."_

> Alfred, Lord Tennyson,
> 
> 1837-8, Locksley Hall

# Chapter 1

Somehow the idea of sneaking out at 11:30 p.m. on a school night seemed like a way better idea this afternoon when my best girl Ruby and I hatched up this brilliant plan during a super dull lecture in English on medieval literature.

Right now? Not so much.

Here I am -- at 11:27 p.m. -- desperately using every ounce of strength I have to pry open my second story bedroom window, in the hopes, that I can safely tiptoe across a dangerously pitched roof, shimmy to the ground via a rickety drainpipe, then fight my way down a dark hillside filled with prickly brush.

All of this, in order to see a lame zombie movie at the student union I don't really want to go to in the first place.

Fantastic plan.

But, as Ruby pointed out, Chad Olson -- my one true love -- is supposed to be there with his frat brothers. Unfortunately, Chad is not yet aware that he and I are soulmates destined to be together forever and ever.

To be perfectly honest, even though we've met, Chad doesn't seem to be aware of my first name. Which is Astrid. But I'm working on that. Perhaps tonight will be the night someone will introduce us.

The first major obstacle I encounter while sneaking out my bedroom window is my bedroom window. The stupid thing is totally stuck. In fact, I'm starting to think it might be painted permanently shut.

Nevertheless, after much heaving and straining, the thirty-year-old, double hung window suddenly unsticks itself, making a horribly loud screeching as it flies up ten inches, then gets stuck again.

I freeze, certain I'm completely busted by the noise and about to be grounded until I'm 25. Motionless, I listen for my uncle's heavy boots to come stomping up the stairs. Or, at the very least, his deep voice bellowing my name from the first floor.

Miraculously, only the chirping of crickets in the canyon and the distant buzz of the California freeway fill the night air. When I'm pretty sure I'm safe, I give the stupid window a few more serious heaves until it finally inches up enough to squeeze my butt -- in super-tight skinny jeans -- through.

Thank God no one can see how ridiculous I look awkwardly swiveling around, jeans sliding lower and lower, to wiggle forward with my feet planted underneath me on the roof.

"You can do this, Astrid," I say under my breath, gazing up at the star-filled sky. "A night of Chad Olson watching depends on it."

For the seventeenth time in fifteen minutes, the cell phone in my pocket vibrates. Another text from Ruby. _Where r u???_

At this very moment, she's no doubt sitting, all comfy and warm, on the heated leather seats of her big sister Phoebe's shiny new white BMW. Phoebe skipped the whole college experience thing and got her real estate license instead. She's currently making a killing selling three bedroom/two bath condos by the beach.

I'll text Ruby as soon as I'm safely on the ground.

Ruby's lucky because she and her sister don't have to lie to their parents and sneak out of the house just to see a movie.

I know it's ridiculous that a 20-year-old girl has to get permission to go to a movie on the occasional school night. Most parents of college kids have no idea what their kids are doing on any given night.

Of course, I don't have most parents.

In fact, I don't have any parents at all. I'm an orphan. Yes, an orphan. I know, how classically archetypal and tragically mythic, right?

Perhaps this even sounds like the beginning of some lame modern fairytale. But believe me, I see no handsome prince or long abandoned kingdom -- not to mention the whole happily ever after thing -- in my near future.

Sadly, not even with Chad Olson.

Uncle Conrad, who was my legal guardian until I turned 18 and is now the trustee of my money until I turn 21, takes his job seriously.

To say my uncle is strict is like saying the sun is kind of warm; water is sort of wet; Mount Everest is on the tall side. My uncle is insanely, ridiculously, annoyingly, infuriatingly, mortifyingly strict.

What he doesn't know is that Ruby and I are planning to rent an apartment just off campus starting next month when I turn 21. We just have to pull together fifteen hundred bucks, and we're good to go. Unfortunately, we only have six hundred so far, but she thinks Phoebe will loan us the rest if we're desperate.

Don't get me wrong; I love my uncle. He's the best guy ever. But I can not wait to move out on my own. And I didn't feel like arguing with him tonight about going to see a late movie, so I decided to just quietly slip out instead.

A distant owl hoots from the top of a nearby redwood as I release my death-grip on the window frame, plant my feet on the curved Spanish tiles and stand up. A ripple of fear flutters through me as I teeter on the pitched roof.

Slowly at first, I baby step my way down the steep incline toward the roof's edge. With each teeny step, the wooden support beams beneath my feet creak and groan like they're about to give way.

A vision of tumbling off the roof, flailing through the air and breaking my neck when I land on the Walmart patio set we bought when we moved to the central coast last fall flashes through my brain.

Okay, technically, I'm only one story off the ground, so it's probably a bit of an exaggeration to say I feel death's icy fingers wrapping themselves around my soul, but I think it's fair to conclude that if I fell off the roof, I'd probably break at least a couple random bones. Any normal person would.

Just as I start making some excellent progress toward the drainpipe, I'm startled by a loud\--

" _RE- OOOWW!_"

The back porch light snaps on, followed by the _shiiiing_ of the sliding glass door directly below me. I nearly pee my pants as my uncle's deep voice booms, "Out! How'd you get in the house this time? Everything's locked up tight."

Beneath me, a blur of swirling gray fur sails past. It's the local stray cat we've named Tom. While airborne the cat manages to untangle himself and stick a perfect four-footed landing in the nearby grass with the ease of an angry gymnast.

This is just one more chapter in the ongoing skirmish between my uncle and Tom the cat.

Despite surviving quite well on a diet of mice and lizards from the nearby wooded hillside, Tom prefers the warmth and comfort of our house. Like some stealthy feline ninja, he somehow manages to sneak inside and curl up on one of the beds or the couch almost every night.

This drives my clean freak uncle totally nuts.

Rumpled and generally pissed off, Tom gives him another loud, indignant meow, clearly the equivalent of a cat f-you, buddy.

Luckily, my uncle pays him no mind and heads back inside the house slamming the sliding door and flicking off the porch light, leaving the cat and me alone in the purple moonless night.

Tom raises a paw to smooth his mussed fur as his glowing golden eyes flick up to me on the roof.

"If you don't want to get thrown out, then stop sleeping on his bed," I whisper loud enough for his feline ears to hear. "Just a suggestion."

Tom looks away as my cell vibrates again. Ruby's calling me this time.

"Astrid, where are you?" she says as soon as I answer.

"I'm doing the best I can," I whisper, pushing a strand of pink hair out of my eyes and gathering it all into a ponytail. "I got stuck cause you-know-who wanted to go over the Trig questions. But I'm on my way."

"Your uncle is like some over-protective GPA obsessed prison warden," she replies.

"Yeah, he takes the job of preparing me for a solid, well-rounded, law-abiding adult future pretty seriously."

"I hate to break it to you, but you're already an adult."

"Not as far as he's concerned."

"We're going to miss the movie if you don't haul ass."

"I'm hurrying. Don't leave without me." I hang up before she can add anything else.

Only two more little steps until I'm at the edge of the roof, then I just need to slide down the drainpipe, and I'm practically home free.

Except, when I reach the edge of the roof, I realize the drainpipe, critical to my escape plan, is no longer attached to the house. It's now lying in the nearby grass not far from Tom.

"Fantastic," I sigh, stuck up on the roof.

# Chapter 2

My uncle hired this deadbeat handyman named Jax to do some work around the property and at his karate studio. Jax probably started fixing the leaky gutters then abandoned the job halfway through.

Figures.

He dropped out of high school a couple of years ago or something and now just drifts around finding work where ever he can. The guy's a total loser. Every now and then I see him in one of the local clubs all by himself. He totally gives me the creeps.

Unfortunately, now I have to jump. Well, as they say, no guts, no glory. In one swift motion, I leap from the roof and land firmly on both feet on the patio below. The hard concrete doesn't even sting my ankles or knees.

Which should seem odd but doesn't.

Right after I turned 18, I started noticing that I'm pretty rugged and a bit more durable than most people. My uncle says we come from hearty stock. Whatever that means.

When I'm sure the coast is clear, I sprint from the house over to a cluster of trees at the edge of the hillside. Our secluded rental house sits at the top of a small mountain canyon overlooking the little California town of Ocean Grove.

We're not alone up here, but the other houses are few and far between -- just the way my uncle likes it. He's something of an amateur astronomer, so he prefers houses that are high up or in dark secluded places. In the charming town of Ocean Grove, we managed to get both.

To make it down to the fence that surrounds our property, I fight my way through 50 feet of thorny bramble and hawthorn. Then I sidle along the fence until I locate a secret hole under the chain-link fence known to only a few local raccoons and me.

Just beyond the bottom of the slope, I see the glowing lights of the idling BMW. I'm about to head down the last few yard when my feet slip out from under me, and I end up sliding the rest of the way on my butt.

Ruby laughs as I tumble to a stop in the gully next to the blacktopped shoulder. "Way to go, Astrid. Pretty sure you ripped your jeans there," she says, leaning calmly against the parked car, her face softly lit by her phone screen as she scrolls through Pinterest.

"Aw man!" I get to my feet and try to look over my shoulder to assess the damage, but I end up turning in this weird circle like a dog chasing its tail. "These are my only good jeans too."

Ruby laughs again and waves a hand to pop the trunk. "I've got a pair of Rag and Bones in here with my dry cleaning. You can have them."

"Those are like $200 a pair," I say as I realize there's a second rip in my back pocket. Also, who dry cleans their jeans?

"They're too tight on me. I go all muffin top when I wear them." Ruby squeezes an apparently invisible inch of fat and hands me the designer jeans. "God! Look at my gut."

"Ruby, you're a lifesaver," I say, quickly changing pants behind the car. "But you have like 0% body fat, so I have no idea what you're even talking about."

Ruby and Phoebe are half African-American, half Japanese and totally gorgeous. Not to mention smart and funny. Ruby was the first real friend I made when I moved to town last year.

"Hurry up!" Ruby's big sister Phoebe pokes her head out from the driver's side window. "We're so going to miss the movie if we don't haul."

Picking a random leaf from my hair, I dust myself off and slide into the cushy leather backseat. Ruby pulls a cigarette out of its red pack, but Pheebs catches her. "Hey Virginia Slim, you don't actually think you're going to light that gross thing up in my car?"

I adore Ruby, but I don't dig the smoking either. We're going to have to work out some rules before we move in together. She frowns, flicking the unlit butt out into the night, then climbs in the front seat.

"So what's this zombie flick called anyway?" Phoebe asks.

"It's a vampire love story." Ruby corrects her as we glide down the dark residential canyon road. "Totally different genre."

"Sounds like a standard-issue monster movie to me." Phoebe rolls her eyes.

Ruby practically snorts. "Vampires are all about the higher self. The elevated darkness of the human soul. They're dark symbolic angels that remind us of our basic urges." She's hoping to eventually go to grad school at Stanford as a Lit major. "Zombies are -- as the name implies -- zombified idiots who do nothing more than eat brains. It's a banal symbol of the lower psyche."

I love Ruby, but sometimes she takes the smarty-pants thing a little too seriously.

"Ugh. They both sound boring," Phoebe sighs, reapplying lip gloss in the visor mirror. "What do you think, Astrid?"

I'm about to suggest that zombies could potentially be seen as a metaphor for the mindless consumer culture we live in, or the quest of the downtrodden masses to attain education (brains) and status like the rich, but Ruby interrupts.

"Don't ask her. She's only going because Chad Olson and his frat boys are supposed to be there."

"I hope that's not Brad Olson's brother?" Phoebe makes a face. "Cause he's a total bro-tard. You heard about him at Ashley Fisher's party?"

Before she can finish, the car starts to shake, gently at first, but it quickly turns into a violent bouncing.

"Oh my God!" Ruby jerks forward, grabbing the side of the seat. "What's happening?"

"Feels like an earthquake." Phoebe pulls the car off onto the shoulder. At the same time, a deafening roar from the west fills the night air, getting louder and louder.

I haven't been in California long enough to have experience one of their legendary earthquakes, but if this is what they're like, then I'm shocked anyone still lives in this crazy state.

"I don't think this is an earthquake," Ruby says, looking up at the night sky through the windshield. "It's coming from above us, not below us."

Then, as if someone raised a dimmer switch on the darkened town, the whole sky begins to glow as a huge flaming ball appears in the night sky hurtling closer and closer.

"It's coming right at us!" Phoebe cries, gripping the steering wheel. Ruby ducks low in her seat.

I crane my neck to look out the back window. My heart sinks. I've seen this before.

It's all happening again.

"That's a meteor," I say in a perfectly calm voice as the burning rock speeds closer and closer. "Kind of a big one too."

It's coming at us so fast that it's too late to get out and run. Terrified, the sisters hug each other. Alone in the backseat, I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing for impact.

But somehow, miraculously, the massive ball of flames roars right over us, practically skimming the hood of the car. A split second later, it slams into the mountainside just beyond the next canyon peak.

Like a bomb, the thunderous impact that follows literally slams into us as a massive wall of flames simultaneously rolls up in the distance.

"Astrid! Where's your uncle tonight?" Ruby swivels around, looking out the back window. "Because I think that huge flaming rock just destroyed your house!"

# Chapter 3

Did you know approximately 25 million meteorites fall to Earth every day? Most burn up when they hit the atmosphere. The rest are way too tiny to even be noticed, like the size of a grain of rice. Only five to ten meteorites bigger than a baseball make it to Earth's surface each year.

Fun fact: because the International Space Station will get hit by approximately 100,000 meteoroids over its 20-year life, it's covered with a layer of Kevlar, that crazy durable material used to make bulletproof vests.

I know a lot about meteors.

As of today, in all ten towns where I have lived, a meteorite, at least the size of a baseball if not bigger, has come screaming down through the atmosphere and landed frighteningly close to my home. But never this close. They usually crash out in some cow pasture or wipe out a swath of uninhabited forest. This has happened in all ten towns.

What do you suppose the odds of that are?

Nine out of the ten have been in cold climates. Apparently my family has some sort of blood-tie to the royal family of Ivalo.

In case that doesn't ring a bell, the Ivaloians were a semi-nomadic people who lived near the Arctic Circle. Cold weather gypsies.

When I was little my uncle told me that one of the traits of a real Ivaloian princess is hair naturally white as snow and eyes the color of a bright blue winter sky. Just like me.

Once I hit 18, I rebelled against my crazy white hair by dying it more interesting colors. Right now, I'm hot pink. But I'm thinking about going blue.

Anyway, apparently, I would have been a princess if the country hadn't vanished from the face of the Earth like a zillion years ago. Russia or Finland or somebody swallowed Ivalo up. The entire culture is basically extinct.

I think it's in the Southwestern part of Northeastern Europe. You can google "tiny-insignificant-European-countries-that-no-longer-exist" to find the exact location.

Knock yourself out with that one.

Anyway, it took until I was about fourteen to figure out that the appearance of one of these meteorites coincided with our moves.

Within a few days of each meteorite's dramatic arrival, my bags are packed, and my uncle and I are on our way to the next town where I get to be the new kid all over again.

You'd think I would have figured this all out sooner. I'm pretty sure I didn't connect the dots because I assumed that huge flaming meteorites that rain down death and destruction were just an ordinary, everyday thing.

Hey, if you saw them on a regular basis you'd probably think that too.

It wasn't until I studied astronomy in 11th grade that I realized the odds of being around ten large meteorites in one lifetime are staggeringly, jaw-droppingly, super-improbably low.

In fact, ten in a dozen years is statistically impossible.

Yet, here I am, breathless with fear in the backseat of Phoebe's cushy car. This is by far the closest I have ever been to one of them. Does this mean something? It has to mean something, right? Something terrible.

"Oh my God! Ruby's right." Phoebe swivels around in the driver's seat, fumbling with her phone. "That comet-thingy hit your house!"

"My house?" I repeat numbly. Can a meteor act like some laser-focused missile targeting a particular house? "It hit my house?"

"Yes, your house," Ruby answers. "The house we just picked you up at."

"...some sort of asteroid or something." Phoebe's now on her cell phone talking to 911. "It just landed near Outlook Drive and Laurel Terrace... like two seconds ago. The whole hillside is on fire."

"My Uncle Conrad is home," I hear myself numbly say. Next thing I know, the three of us scramble out of the car and hurry to a clearing in the trees in order to get a better look up the mountain.

Scanning the hillside, I try to get my bearings, mentally calculating exactly where my house sits in relation to the growing wall of flames.

A distant chorus of barking dogs, accompanied by the wail of sirens, fills the air as darkened houses light up like fireflies all over the canyon. At the mountain's peak, a quarter mile up the road, the flames shoot higher and spread wider.

"We've got to get up there." Ruby grabs my arm and pulls me back to the car. "To see what happened."

"No, no, no!" Phoebe reacts, her eyes darting to her shiny new BMW. "That's not safe. Not to drive."

"Dude, don't even." Ruby rolls her eyes and keeps walking. "If you're thinking about your precious damn car..."

"I'll be pissed if something happens to this car. I've had it for less than a month."

"Um, that's why you have insurance," Ruby counters.

"Insurance doesn't help if you're dead," Phoebe snaps back, and I silently have to agree with her on that one.

While the sisters argue on the side of the road, I pull out my cell phone and call my uncle. Voicemail clicks on allowing me no time to deliberate. Do I leave a message?

_Hi, it's me. If you weren't instantly killed by the impact of a flaming rock that just slammed into the mountainside, give me a call. Where am I, you ask? Ha, funny story! I kind of snuck out to go to a movie. But I'm totally fine so no worries. Okay, bye now._

Instead, I hang up.

"Let's just wait for the fire department. They're equipped to head into that." Phoebe points at the flames now devouring the dry grass as they creep down toward the road. "We'll tell them we think Astrid's uncle is still in the house, so they'll check there first."

But Ruby's already on the move. "We can't wait. It's her family," she argues, her eyes flick in my direction then back to her sister. "Or... you know what I mean."

In the glow of the headlights, the two girls look so much alike. Like sisters do, I suppose. I've never felt that kind of connection, that strong family bond.

So many times, I've secretly wished I came from a regular mom-and-dad-throw-in-a-sibling-or-two family. Especially a sister. The entirety of my family consists of Uncle Conrad and me. I don't even have some random weird cousin.

Despite the fact that he's infuriatingly strict and controlling, and notwithstanding the fact that all I do is complain about him and dream of the day when I can move out, I can't deal with the thought of losing my uncle. I can't deal with the idea of being alone.

Before I know it, I take off running. Sprinting up the center of the road with the crumbling blacktop passing beneath my feet. I don't exactly have a plan once I get to the top of the hill. All I know is that I have to get there.

"Astrid! Stop!" Ruby calls after me. "Are you crazy?"

"You can't run into the fire!" Phoebe yells as the road curves to the left. Her words echo as I leave them behind, "You'll get yourself killed."

I guess that's a chance I'm willing to take.

Gradually the road grows steeper, wrapping itself around the side of the mountain. When I'm certain I'm out of their sight, I kick up my speed, running faster and faster; faster than a 20-year-old girl should be able to run.

When I turned 13, I began noticing that I was different. I started to change in ways that no one would notice except me. I'm faster, stronger— sometimes even smarter – than people my age.

And that's the least of it. I have a couple other seriously strange traits that I don't care to discuss with anyone.

More than once, I've tried to talk to my uncle about it, but he just smiles and tells me that I'm special.

Um, special? More like a big freak? Because that's exactly what I feel like.

Thirty seconds later, I force myself to slow down, back to a normal, non-freakish pace, when I hear the growl of the big BMW engine creeping up behind me. The car slows, gliding along right next to me.

"Jeez, you already made it this far?" Phoebe's eyebrows arch. She's most likely mentally calculating that I shouldn't have been able to cover this much distance so quickly. And she's right.

"Get in," Ruby says, leaning out the driver's window. She must have commandeered her sister's car.

"Don't follow me." I keep jogging. "Your sister's right. It's not safe."

"Get in the damn car, Astrid." Phoebe looks ticked, cross-armed in the passenger seat. "Now we're just wasting time."

When I don't immediately comply, the BMW swings around in front of me, blocking my path and forcing me to stop. I hate to put them in danger, but I really need to get up to the top of the hill.

Reluctantly, I slide into the backseat. Ruby floors it before I can get the car door totally closed.

"You're going to be in so much trouble when mom and dad find out you hijacked my car." Phoebe shakes her head as we sail through the darkness up the winding mountain road. "Considering you never bothered to get your license."

"So don't tell them, and I won't tell them about you and Anthony Santorini in the pool house over spring break," Ruby grins, ending the discussion.

As we got closer to the top, we encounter a dense green mist, the color of mold, rolling down the hill and clinging to the ground as it wafts past us.

"Whoa. That is some weird-ass smoke." Phoebe squints out the front windshield.

"It doesn't look... natural," Ruby adds. It's quickly getting so thick we can barely see beyond the strange wall of green. "I mean, what burns making green smoke?"

Approaching the driveway that slopes down from my house, my stomach twists in a knot, and I'm suddenly afraid I might hurl all over Phoebe's new car. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, concentrating on breathing and not puking.

"Astrid, check it out!" Ruby points up the hill. "I think your house is okay. The fire is passed it. Higher up in the canyon."

My eyes pop open, and I plaster my forehead against the cool window glass trying to get a glimpse of my house through the hazy green air. There it is! Relief washes through every ounce of my being.

"Where exactly is the fire department?" Phoebe wonders aloud. "They should be here by now."

Suddenly, from behind us, we hear vehicles approaching. But it's not the fire department. An ominous fleet of big black SUVs with darkened windows roars around the bend and races past us. The smoky windows make it impossible to tell who's inside each car.

"Whoa!" Ruby says as our eyes follow the seventh and final SUV. "Who are they?"

# Chapter 4

"Not the fire department. That's for sure," Phoebe replies as the caravan of shady black SUVs disappears around the bend in front of us. "No lights or sirens."

"And how'd they get up here so fast?" Ruby adds.

"Well, they're not going much farther in that direction," I explain. "This street dead-ends in like a thousand feet."

"Wait, so, there's nothing up there?" Ruby asks.

"There's a locked fence that surrounds this tiny unpaved fire road. It curves back to some sort of water main or sewer line or something."

The paved road beyond my house continues around one more turn, then it's truncated at a dead-end marked by a serious twelve-foot high chain-link fence locked tight with possibly the biggest padlock ever made. Then it's topped with so much razor wire that birds don't even try to land on it.

With a crooked little grin on her face, Ruby throws the car into gear, and we surge forward up the road. I know that smile. It's her signature I'm-looking-for-trouble smile.

Ruby accelerates, and Phoebe reacts. "Where exactly do you think you're going?"

Ruby shrugs lightly, like it's no big deal, as we trail behind the caravan of spooky SUVs. "To go have a little look-see."

"You are crazy," Phoebe mutters, shaking her head. "If you get so much as a scratch on my car, you're so dead."

"Oh just chill," Ruby replies as we come around the last curve before the dead-end.

I'm shocked to see the tall gate standing wide open. I've never seen it open before. But the line of SUVs is rumbling down the fire road.

"Let's see where they're going." Before either of us can object, Ruby punches the accelerator. Unfortunately, the car lurches once then unceremoniously dies; the engine frozen, the dashboard lights fade, and the radio abruptly cuts off.

"Hey!" Phoebe's eyes flare with anger. "What'd you do to my car?"

"I didn't do anything!" Ruby steers the still rolling car onto the shoulder as it slows to a stop under a sprawling oak a few feet away from the open gate. Twisting the key in the ignition, she tries to restart it. "It just conked out."

"But it's only a month old," Phoebe says, unable to believe her fancy car could possibly malfunction.

"Maybe it's this freaky smoke," I suggest. The strange green smoke is growing thicker and thicker by the second. "Maybe it gummed up the engine or something."

"I think we should get out of here," Phoebe says. "Before we get burned up alive."

"Yeah, let's walk down to my house and call for help," I say, feeling nervous.

"No, we should follow those SUVs. They wouldn't be here if there wasn't something good going on back there." Ruby points at the red glow of the SUVs' taillights. They're just about to vanish into the green veil of smoke about 100 yards down the fire road.

"On foot? You want to get out of the car and follow that scary line of SUVs into a fire?" Phoebe replies.

"What fire?" Ruby smirks, daring us to do something. "Look around. It's gone."

"Wait. What? You're right." I roll my window down. The fire that was blazing back in the canyon a few moments ago appears to be out. "So if there's not fire then where's the smoke coming from?"

"Only one way to find out." Ruby pops the door open and slinks low out of the driver's seat. "I'm going to find out what's happening."

For a split second, I can't decide what to do. It doesn't seem safe. But I'm more than a little curious to see this meteor up close. Especially, if it's going to be responsible for me moving again.

And now that I know my uncle is all safe and sound back at our house, I don't mind postponing the inevitable lecture I'm going to get when I go home.

I glance at Ruby, my best friend, as she fumbles with her phone, and feel a sudden pang of sadness. I don't want to be uprooted again. I don't want to move for the 11th time in 13 years.

I want to stay here in warm, sunny Central California; a place I like, with real friends, a place where I feel like I belong.

"Wait!" I call after her, even though I'm pretty sure I'm going to regret this. "I'm coming with you."

"You guys are nuts." Phoebe defiantly crossing her arms. "You crazy people go get yourselves all burned up, arrested, and shot if you want. I'm staying right here."

"Fine," Ruby shrugs as I catch up to her. "You and your precious car can just wait here by yourself."

The good news is there really doesn't seem to be any fire in sight. The bad news is the SUVs are quickly fading away. We edge into the shadows after we pass through the yellow gate.

Squinting through the fog, I can just make out the fuzzy lights of the SUVs parked down the road.

"If we don't walk a little faster, we're going to lose them," I say, trying to speed Ruby up a little.

But she's busy trying to keep her smartphone steady to videotape through the fog. "How can we lose them? There's only one road."

Then, all of a sudden, the weirdest thing happens. We cross some invisible boundary and somehow the fog completely vanishes. We've stepped inside a perfect circle of crystal clear air surrounded by a perimeter of green smoke like we're inside of an enormous invisible dome of clean air.

"What the what?" My jaw drops as to Ruby as we dart off the road, now feeling vulnerable in the clear air.

"This is getting good," Ruby grins, adjusting the screen of her phone as she records.

"What should we do?" I say, looking back over my shoulder.

"We should keep going," she replies, creeping onward through the brush without waiting for me. I have to hustle to keep up now.

Parked in a semi-circle, the SUVs seem to be using their headlights to illuminate a clearing in the canyon. We edge forward to the dark perimeter of the lit area.

"Whoa!" Ruby grabs my sleeve with one hand and gestures with the hand that holds the phone. "Check that out."

And then we see it. The meteor.

The size of a small car, it rests on a bare patch of earth where all the vegetation has burned away. This massive glowing orb, practically in my backyard, is surely a dark herald of things to come.

"Whoa," I say, confused. "That doesn't look like a regular meteorite."

"What's a regular meteorite supposed to look like?" Ruby whispers, angling to get a clear shot of it with her phone.

"Like a jagged hunk of rock and ice."

The exterior surface of the thing that sits in the clearing has a completely smooth, almost glass-like, surface. It's perfectly round and cracked in half like a hollowed out egg. A vibrant purple glow pulses from the interior as a strange hum fills the air.

A swarm of men wearing industrial grade rubber boots, and orange jumpsuits, complete with hooded ventilators, scour the wooded mountaintop. Sleek rifles are strapped across their back while knives and grenades dangle from heavy canvas belts.

They're like some hybrid of a SWAT team and a hazmat crew. And I don't get the sense that they're fooling around.

A trio of orange jumpsuit guys sprays white foam on a few dying flames and a patch of once smoldering foliage; others appear to be gathering information with scientific equipment and instruments.

In the background, near the SUVs and away from all the action, a rail-thin man barks orders. He's not wearing any protective gear. Just a black suit, white shirt, black tie, and dark sunglasses – even though it's nearly 10 o'clock at night.

There's a commotion in the brush at the edge of the canyon. Someone, or something, is approaching the area. In an instant, every rifle is trained in the direction of the noise.

From outside the perimeter of the circle, a hulking figure, carrying a bundle, crests the nearby hillside.

"Oh my God," Ruby gasps, then quickly makes sure the picture on her phone is in focus. "Are they going to shoot that guy?"

Luckily, the hulking interloper freezes when he realizes he's now staring down the barrel of a dozen guns.

"What's he carrying?" I lean forward, trying to get a better view, but the shrouded bundle in his arms is looking more and more like a body. A limp, dead body.

Sunglasses Man slowly strides towards the hulking figure. He must recognize him because he waves his team off.

They lower their guns, quickly losing interest, and return to their various tasks.

Sunglasses Man approaches the hulking figure as he moves out of the creepy green smoke into the lit clearing.

"Astrid! Is that...?" Ruby can't get the words out.

I recognize the man carrying the limp body. It's my Uncle Conrad.

# Chapter 5

"Please tell me that's not my uncle?" I can't look. I'm crouched as low as I possibly can get with my hands covering my eyes.

"Oh yeah, that's him," Ruby nods, peeking over the vegetation. "That's definitely your uncle."

A shiver runs down my spine. Why would my uncle be out in the woods at night carrying a bundle that looks like a dead body?

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I sneak a peek. She's right. It's for sure my Uncle Conrad.

Then again, it's hard to mistake a 6 foot 5 inch tall, muscle bound guy with a razor-sharp crew cut for somebody else. I suppose he's handsome in a beefy sort of way. I'm mortified to report that more than one of my friends has had a crush on him. Believe me; I just have to flip on the old denial meter for that one.

After a beat, Ruby confesses, "I'm sorry, Astrid, but your uncle kind of scares me."

"He kind of scares everyone," I admit. "I think that's basically his plan."

My Uncle Conrad is a martial arts master with five different types of black belt. In a nutshell, this means he can kill you in five different and totally distinctive styles.

"But he'd never hurt anyone," I add because deep down, he's a total pussy cat who loves to cook and sings Taylor Swift in the shower. Even though he complains about Tom, the stray cat, I know he secretly leaves tins of tuna outside for him all the time.

Ruby remains silent.

"Maybe someone was killed by the meteor," I suggest, trying to make sense of what we're seeing. "Maybe he's just being a good Samaritan."

"That's probably it," Ruby nods. "And we don't know they're dead. They might be injured."

"Right. Exactly." I nod firmly as we watch my uncle and Sunglasses Man exchange words at the back of the black SUVs with its back hatch open.

Sunglasses Man says something and my uncle nods coolly. His familiar face looks different somehow, cold and hard. Not the face of the man who raised me. A wave of anxiety ripples through me.

It seems like he knows this guy in the sunglasses. But that would be weird.

Just before my uncle slides the bundle into the back of an SUV, I swear I catch the glimpse of a clawed greenish-brown hand falls out from the cloth. It doesn't look human. To be honest, it doesn't look animal either.

I gasp. "Did you see—"

"Did I see what?" Ruby asks.

My eyes dart toward Ruby to see if she just saw what I did. She doesn't seem to have noticed. I shake my head. "Never mind."

Suddenly, the leaves crinkle behind us. Terrified, Ruby and I grab each other, then whip around to find Phoebe slinking up behind us.

"I swear to God, you nearly scared us to death," Ruby hisses, clutching her heart.

"I'm so glad I found you guys," Phoebe whispers in a wavering voice. "It's creepy up here. I couldn't wait in the car by myself any longer."

"I thought you said we were crazy and going to get ourselves all burned up and shot," Ruby taunts her sister.

Phoebe ignores her and crouches next to us. "Astrid, is that your uncle?"

"Yeah," I reply.

"Good! Now we know for sure that he's okay," Phoebe replies brightly.

Ruby and I exchange looks, but neither of us says any more.

I looked back to see Sunglasses Man put a hand on my uncle's back and usher him to the edge of the smoke screen. Stepping out of its perimeter, my uncle heads toward the sloping hillside that eventually connects with the perimeter of our backyard.

"Where's the meteorite?" Phoebe asks.

"Right there." Ruby points. "By the guys with the orange suits."

The massive cracked ball still glows hot on the ground. The hazmat crew cautiously moves around preparing to load it into a round metal drum that's being wheeled over.

"That doesn't look like a meteor from a textbook." Phoebe sways on her tippy-toes, trying to get a better look.

"That's what Astrid said," Ruby adds as a flashlight beams suddenly jerks toward our hiding place.

Unfortunately, Sunglasses Man must have spotted Phoebe and instantly focuses in on us. His flashlight beam cuts across the darkness in our direction as his voice booms out, "Who's there?"

"Shoot!" I say. "That weird sunglasses guy is coming this way."

Ruby's already on her feet, sprinting back in the direction of the car. "Run!!!"

"I can't get in trouble!" Phoebe's freaking out. "I'm closing a big deal in the morning."

Before I have a chance to think it through, I'm up and fleeing too. It isn't far before we burst out of the clear air back into the smoky green haze making it hard to see the fallen branches and patches of bramble on the canyon floor.

"Freeze!" Sunglasses yells from behind us. "That's an order!"

But do we stop running?

We do not.

We keep going, weaving dangerously fast through the dark forest. We're not far from the yellow gate when I accidentally trip over a fallen log. Something slices my arms as I plummet to the forest floor.

"Ow!" I cry out. Rolling on my back, I turn my arm over to see a cut from my wrist to my elbow. It's not very deep, but it's long.

"Oh my gosh!" Ruby sees the cut and comes back my way. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm okay." Cradling my right arm close to my body, I see a line of blood forming and panic. I quickly turn away from Ruby, away from the light, shielding my arm from view. She can't see my cut. If she sees what's about to happen, she'll completely freak out.

"You're not okay." Phoebe moves in from the other side. "You're bleeding."

"No. No, I'm totally fine." I glance down at my arm to see it's already begun.

The line of blood is reversing itself like rewinding a video. The cut is healing itself as perfectly healthy skin appears in seconds as if nothing happened.

The whole process takes less than ten seconds.

Ruby helps me up, gently grabs my arm. She's surprised when she realizes there's no blood, no cut. "But I saw...?"

The sisters exchange confused looks.

"See, I'm totally fine," I shrug, trying to play it off like no big thing. My instant-healing ability is one of my other freakish qualities. "Must have been the weird light out here."

"Stop right there!" Before they can ask more questions, Sunglasses Man catches up to us. "Are you girls aware that it's illegal to run from a federal officer?"

So he's a federal officer.

Phoebe whispers, "You know what, you guys, we haven't done anything wrong. Just chill. He's probably going to tells us to leave." Then she smiles and speaks in her best good girl voice, "Well hello, officer. Is there a problem?"

"Unfortunately, there is," he smiles.

# Chapter 6

"For your own protection, I need you ladies to turn around and head back down the canyon." Sunglasses Man pulls a badge from his jacket pocket and flashes it too quickly for anyone to read. "This is not a safe area at the moment. As you can see."

"What is that thing over there?" Ruby asks brazenly. She has an issue with authority.

"Just a small meteorite." He shrugs like massive flaming meteors come crashing down from the heavens all the time. "Not even a very significant one."

"You call that insignificant?" Ruby challenges him. "There was a crazy big explosion and a huge fireball. We saw it."

"We have the majority of the fire under control at this time," he responds, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No houses have been threatened, so there is absolutely no need for you ladies to worry your pretty little heads. However, I still need you to evacuate the area."

"What was the green smoke?" Ruby ask.

"An anti-bacterial aerosol mist we use in cases like this," he explains. "Just a precaution. Standard issue."

"Standard issue? Like you guys do this all the time or something? Just seems..." Ruby arches an eyebrow. "I don't know, kind of strange."

"You know what, maybe we should call your parents or the local police," he says then looks right at me. "Or your guardians."

Excellent job, Ruby. Way to piss off the creepy fire agent guy, or whatever he is. And why would he mention a guardian?

Phoebe politely interjects, "Um, like, on what grounds, sir?"

Their mom is a lawyer, so I guess she knows to say stuff like this.

"Let me see, oh dear, this is restricted county property" He replies.

"Actually, sir, I believe that all county property is open to the public," Ruby counters.

He doesn't move, which feels extra strange because you can't tell what his eyes are looking at behind the dark glasses.

Then he breaks into that creepy smile again. "C'mon ladies! I'm just kidding. You girls get out of here now! Can't have something tragic happen to three beauties like you, can we now?"

"Um, sir, also my car had a problem," Phoebe tentatively interjects. "It won't start. I think we need to call a tow truck or someone\--"

Then just past the yellow gate, we hear \--

_Vroom!_

The gate at the end of the dirt road lights up as the BMW's engine rumbles back to life and the headlights flood the area.

"Looks like you ladies are good to go," Sunglasses Man gives us a little wave. "Have a nice evening."

Without another word, we hurry down the unpaved road to the car staying close together.

I glance back to see Sunglasses Man still watching us. Even though the dark glasses completely obscure his eyes, it somehow feels like they're drilling directly into me. I turn away and shake it off. Must be my imagination.

Piling into the car, we start back down the main road.

"That was so weird," Ruby finally breaks the heavy silence as two fire engines speed past us on their way up to the impact zone.

"Those guys are a little late to the party." Phoebe pulls the car off to the shoulder to let them pass. "But nice to see the fire department finally decided to make an appearance tonight."

"Wait. This can't be right," Ruby mutters, her face awash in the glow of her cell phone screen. She's playing back the video she just recorded. "There's nothing here."

"What do you mean nothing?" I saw her videotaping the whole thing as we approached the meteor.

"It didn't record anything," Ruby looks up. "It's nothing but blank video."

"Maybe the meteorite emitted an electromagnetic pulse," I suggest, trying not to sound like I know too much about meteors. Except I do. And electromagnetic energy is very common.

"Do they do that?" Phoebe asks. "Are they radioactive or something?"

"I think I read someplace that they can be. It's usually pretty minor," I shrug and feign ignorance. "We went over that in science at one of my old schools a couple of years ago. Anyway..." I change the subject. "I guess we missed the zombie movie."

"It was a vampire film, Astrid." Ruby rolls her eyes as we approach my house. "I expect better from you."

Clicking the headlights off so we can glide to a stop, Phoebe pulls over 20 feet from the mailbox. This way I can attempt to sneak up the long driveway with some shred of hope of not being totally busted.

"Okay guys... see you at school in the morning." I climb out of the car on the gravelly shoulder. "That is assuming I'm still alive tomorrow. And not permanently grounded."

"You'll be fine." Ruby smiles then adds, "Your uncle will just be so glad you weren't burned up in the fire that he won't have the heart to actually kill you."

"I hope you're right," I say, closing the car door and watching the BMW pull away into the night.

Dark clouds now quietly roll across the moonless sky, blotting out the starlight and making it even harder to see where I'm going. The smell of smoke still hangs heavy in the air. I slink up the edge of the driveway, past the first " _Keep Out_ " sign posted on our property.

Local legend has it this property was once owned by a paranoid end-of-the-world survivalist who fortified the grounds by encasing the entire perimeter with an 8-foot high chain-link fence.

The back of the property edges up against a tall canyon wall that is neck-breakingly steep. To add to the general go-away ambiance, all along the property you can find "Private Property" and "No Trespassing" signs posted.

My personal favorite is the one that reads: "Intruders will be shot. Survivors will be shot again."

C'mon! That's good stuff.

Inching up the cracked pavement, I'm relieved to see the tall wooden driveway gate is still closed. This late at night, it would only be open if my uncle had taken his ancient white pickup truck out to find me. Holding my breath, I jog the rest of the way up the hill between the Chinese elms and the olive trees until the house comes into view.

Up in the sky, the first of a small squadron of news helicopters buzzes over, shining a glaring spotlight down over the meteorite impact site, trying to get a shot.

By now that weird shiny ball that fell from the sky is probably long gone, tucked away all nice and safe in that metal container in the back of a mysterious black SUV.

I hear a car approaching before I see a black and white police car roll by our house. It slows to a crawl as it passes but then continues up the hill. Maybe Sunglasses Man did call the cops on us.

Only a single light burns in the living room window. The unlocked back door is open just as crack. Ninja-silent, I slip inside. The TV in the corner plays the local news. They're reporting on the meteorite while showing footage from the helicopter that probably just flew over my house.

I half expected to find my uncle furiously pacing on the front porch, waiting for my return, but other than the murmur of the TV, the house is strangely quiet. With renewed hope that I still have a shot at getting away with tonight's escapades, I tiptoe toward the stairs hoping to crawl into bed unnoticed.

But I stop when I see a small leather-bound notebook sitting on the kitchen table. It's my uncle's journal. He's had it for as long as I can remember, but he always keeps it in a locked metal box with a bunch of legal papers. I have never, ever seen it left out in the open before.

He's more private about his journal than a tween girl with a crush on her BFF's boyfriend.

Inching closer, I see not only is it open, but there's writing on the page, and a pen lies in the binder. Curiosity gets the better of me. I'm dying to see what he writes about.

I look around again to make sure he isn't about to leap out, then I creep closer until I can just make out a drawing. Circular dots scatter the page connected by lines. Like a constellation or something.

Suddenly, the sliding back door opens with a _shing_ as my uncle steps inside.

At first, he doesn't see me. There's a rip on shirt sleeve, and he's holding a strange long-bladed knife made out of some sort of blue metal in his right hand.

"Astrid?" he freezes, startled to see me. I study his face and realize that he doesn't look angry. Believe me; I know angry. Instead, worry creases his brow.

"Uncle Conrad, I was just --" My mind races trying to formulate a believable excuse.

"Honey, I'm so sorry." He cuts me off before I get myself hopelessly tangled up in a lie. "There was a small brush fire near the tool shed. I was only gone for a few minutes. I hope you weren't too worried."

"Oh. Um. No, didn't even know you were gone."

I stand there waiting. Waiting for him to tell me to grab my stuff because we're moving again. And we have to leave tonight. In fact, we have to leave this very moment. But he doesn't say it. He just blinks.

"That was it?" I ask.

"What?" he frowns.

"Just a small fire? By the shed?"

"Oh. Yep. I caught it before it could do any damage." It feels weird knowing that he's lying.

"The news said something about a meteorite." I don't dare look at him. Instead, I gesture to the TV. "Maybe that started the fire?"

"Maybe," he nods, moving through the living room into the kitchen with the knife at his side. He's holding it in such a way that I can tell he doesn't want me to see it. "Were you going outside?"

I realize that he's asking this cause I'm dressed. "Yeah, I just pulled my jeans on."

He nods but doesn't say more about it as he sets the knife on the counter. If he realizes they're actually Ruby's jeans, he doesn't comment on it.

We stand there awkwardly for a moment until I fake a yawn. "Okay then, I'm going back to bed."

He walks over to the big ugly plaid lounge chair that came with this furnished rental house. He sits, grabbing his iPad from the nearby side table, "By the way, be careful on the patio, that drainpipe fell off again."

I feel my cheeks redden. Maybe he does know I was out.

"Must have been Tom," I smile, blaming the big stray cat. "That's probably how he keeps sneaking in. He climbs the drainpipe."

"Probably," he replies with a warm laugh. "Damn cat. Goodnight, honey."

"Goodnight." I nod.

As I head up the stairs, I have a clear view of the kitchen. My eyes flick over to the blue bladed knife on the counter.

I pretend not to notice the red-black blood dripping from the tip onto the floor as I bolt up the stairs as fast as I can.

# Chapter 7

Upstairs, I shut the door to my small but cozy room and collapse on my bed. The quilt underneath me is a field of purple and green flowers. It's meant for a 6-year-old, but it's one of the few things I bring with me to every new house. Yes, it's threadbare and ripped in more than one place, but I can't get to sleep without it.

It's the only thing that survived the fire that killed my mom. It's the only thing I have that she bought me.

My uncle keeps telling me to pick out something else, and he'll buy it for me. I think he's pretty serious because once I told him I had my eye on this super expensive comforter from Anthropologie, that cost like $350, and he didn't even bat an eye when he told me I could get it. A couple of weeks later, when he asked why I hadn't ordered it yet, I lied and said it was sold out.

The alarm clock on my nightstand reads 1:11, but I'm so completely drained it feels more like four in the morning.

I change into my super soft, cow print pajama pants and an Oakdale College t-shirt then crawl under the covers. I yank the blankets over my head and shut my eyes hoping to wash away the stress of the day and power down my brain for the night.

As usual, I am unsuccessful.

When it comes to quieting my restless brain, I've learned that it pretty much works on its own schedule. A crazy jumble of thoughts swirls around in my head.

I don't want to think about why my uncle was wandering around the canyon carrying a body-shaped bundle and talking to creepy Sunglasses Man.

I really don't want to think about the glowing orb in the forest.

I really, really don't want to think about the blood dripping from the knife on the kitchen counter.

But the idea of moving again tops everything else.

Here's what I know from experience -- when a meteor appears, we're seconds away from a full blown freak out from my uncle that will inevitably end with us packing up and relocating to a different town and another school.

Which is why it's extra weird he barely mentioned it tonight.

My dad died before I was born. Which sucks. But I never knew him, so it's hard to miss someone you never met. Then my mom died when I was four. Her, I remember in flashes. Fleeting images that could either be actual memories or just wishful fantasies.

There aren't even any photographs because she died when our house burned down and all our earthly possessions went up in flames, including any photographic evidence of a baby-me with my mom and dad.

I was too young to remember the fire. But I do have this weird burn scar in the shape of a seven-sided star on my shoulder that serves as a permanent reminder of this early childhood tragedy, as well as ruining the look of any sleeveless tops. Plus, sometimes my scar itches.

After the fire, my mom lived for two days. During that time, she made my Uncle Conrad -- her brother -- promise that he would always keep me safe and protected. I've lived with him ever since.

I have been the new-kid-in-school nine times. I used to hate it. I'd cry for ages, begging and pleading with him to let us stay where we were.

But, as the years passed and the list of towns grew, I eventually figured out the only good part of a fresh start is that you get to completely reinvent yourself if you want.

In geographic order from East to West, I have been a science geek in Upstate New York, a jock in Vermont, a drama club drama queen in Wisconsin, a burnout on the plains of North Dakota, an emo artist in Montana, an inky black-haired punk in Idaho and a snobby prepster in Washington State.

(Sadly, I have also done the pathetic and lonely loser outcast more than once, but let's not talk about that.)

Naturally, I spend a lot of time wondering why we move all the time. And I have to allow room for the idea that the story about my parents is just a fairytale.

Maybe I have an entirely different past.

Are we running away from something or someone? I don't know. And believe me, I've gone over every conceivable scenario. Maybe we're part of a mob family in hiding, or my uncle is a world-class jewel thief. Witness protection program, anyone? Nothing makes sense.

Lying in bed, pondering all this and more, I hear another low rumble, along with a strange humming sound, sort of like the approaching meteor sounded earlier tonight. My whole room suddenly shakes. Before I can scramble out of bed, the ceiling of the house gets ripped away like a tornado tore it off.

Then everything goes still.

Terrified, I lie frozen in my bed, afraid to move, staring wide-eyed up at a thousand stars glittering on a dark velvet curtain. I'm afraid, but also strangely comforted gazing at the beautiful night sky.

Then, out of nowhere, another flaming meteor plummets straight down towards me. A mere instant before it slams into my bed, I roll wildly onto the ground and scramble into the corner.

The meteor's impact crushes my bed.

It barely misses me, but it sets my tattered purple and green flowered quilt on fire. As flames lick the edges, and my beloved quilt starts to burn, I leap up and push the flaming rock off the quilt. I look at my hands, which should be burning, but they're fine.

When the meteor hits the floor, it instantly cracks in half like a broken egg, and a zombie crawls out. Then another zombie and another. Arms outstretched and moaning, more and more swarm out, like the undead clown car of meteors.

"Astrid!" My uncle appears in the doorway, "Don't tell me you brought zombies home with you?"

Then, at the top of the stairs, I see a familiar silhouette that instantly fills me with terror.

It's the Man in the Crimson Cloak.

The red of the fabric of his cape is so rich and deep it almost looks like it's on fire. Shrouded behind the wide brimmed hood, I can't see his face. But there's a sword, gleaming like liquid metal, in his hand.

My uncle races down the stairs. "He found us, Astrid. Run!"

But my feet won't move. "Who? Who is he?"

"Run!"

My heart nearly explodes in my chest as I sit straight up in bed.

Sunlight streams through the half open curtains. Drenched in sweat, I'm breathing like I just broke the world record for the 50-yard dash.

The clock on the bedstand reads 6:45 a.m.

I hate these stupid nightmares.

I've been having them since I was a little girl. The therapists all say it's posttraumatic stress from surviving the fire that killed my mother. Let's hope she outgrows it, they usually add.

Oh well, not just yet.

A warm, heavy lump weighs down my legs. I look down to see a pair of glowing animal eyes staring up at me.

# Chapter 8

It's Tom. The stray cat snuck back into the house during the night to curl up on my bed. Somehow his regal presence makes me feel a little safer. I stroke his head as he turns his big gold cat eyes toward me and purrs. "Well, at least, one of us got a good night sleep."

The morning air is brisk. I pull on Ruby's jeans my blue and a white t-shirt. But I can't find my blue school sweatshirt.

When it was time for us to think about college, they told me and my uncle that I'd have a hard time getting into a good school because I'd moved around so much. But because my grades are basically perfect, and I have always tested super well I got accepted at this posh but small private school called Oakdale College. So we moved to California. Finally, someplace warm.

In fact, I just started my second -- get that, second -- consecutive year in the same school. I'm hoping that I might somehow graduate from this school in two years.

After looking high and low, I give up on the sweatshirt, scoop up my backpack and head downstairs.

My uncle is still sitting in the ugly plaid chair, iPad in his lap, exactly where he was last night when I went to bed. The only reason I know he didn't stay there all night is because he's wearing a clean shirt and holding a steaming cup of coffee.

"Morning, honey." He smiles at me. "Sleep well?"

I used to tell him about the dreams. When I was little, I'd recount every detail of each nightmare. Everything the hooded figure in red said or did. He's like some reoccurring villain in a horror film.

Uncle would listen, wrap his arms around me, and reassure me that it was just a dream. But in the last year or so, the dreams seem to upset him more than they used to.

"I slept great," I reply brightly. I hate to upset him, so I don't tell him about it anymore. "Guess I was exhausted. How 'bout you?"

"Like a rock," he smiles.

"What are you reading?" I ask.

"Treasure Island." He loves the classics.

"Again?"

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for pirates." He gestures toward the coffeemaker on the counter. "Just made a fresh pot of vanilla hazelnut."

"Awesome." I've been drinking coffee since I was 13. I pour myself a cup and notice that the bloody knife is no longer on the counter.

"Now, who wants chocolate banana pancakes for breakfast?" As he stands, Tom scoots past us and slinks out the open patio door. "Please tell me you didn't let that cat in this house?"

"Not me," I say, closing the door behind Tom. "I thought maybe you let him in so he could snuggle with you in your chair."

I ignore his dirty look.

Twenty minutes later, I'm shivering in a thin blue sweater as Uncle's ancient white pick-up truck rambles down the hill toward school. Everything about this truck is old except the stereo.

My uncle is a fanatic about great sound, which means I get to freeze my butt off while listening to the pristine sounds of jazz coming from one of the ten top-of-the-line car speakers.

Now I wish I'd grabbed a thicker sweater or something warmer to replace my lost blazer.

California weather can be deceptive. The sun might be shining all bright and cheery, but the coastal air stays nippy until lunchtime this time of year.

As we start down the mountain, I look to the west to see a vast blue plain of water that spreads out until it touches the horizon. The ocean view from way up here is one of the things I love most about this house.

I reach over to see if any air -- warm or cold -- is blowing out of the truck's ancient vents. Nothing. I lean back and give the dashboard a good swift kick with the bottom of my blue high-top sneakers.

My uncle's head snaps toward me, "Hey! Don't beat on my truck."

"You said you were going to get the heater fixed," I say, repeatedly flipping the heat button on and off. "And I'm freezing."

"You left your heavy sweatshirt at the studio last night after class," he says, "Besides, you, of all people, should be used to the cold weather."

Before I reply, I lean forward to discover that my swift kick did the trick. Warm air now flows from the vents.

"Since the karate studio is turning a profit," I begin, "maybe we should get rid of this piece of junk and get a new car."

His eyes stay focused on the canyon road in front of him. "This "piece of junk" has carried us all over the country. Plus, the old girl still has a few tricks up her sleeve. Besides, I've been planning on giving you your first driving lesson in this solid piece of American engineering."

"Yeah, no thanks," I shake my head. I have zero interest in learning to drive. The whole concept freaks me out. I try to steer us back to the original conversation. "All I'm saying is maybe it's time for an upgrade. You know, newer cars have all sort of safety features that old trucks like this don't have."

My uncle is all about safety.

"Tell you what." He shakes his head and affectionately pats the steering wheel. "I'll think about getting a new car when you buy a new quilt for your bed."

"Done!" I say.

"You go first." He glances pointedly in my direction.

The truck rambles out of the winding canyon roads down into the flat grid of the streets that makes up the small town of Ocean Grove. My uncle's karate studio is in a mini-mall that sits directly across the street from my school. He rents the space between a Latin grocery store and a dry cleaner.

How fantastic is it that my legal guardian is less than a football field away from me at all times? What college kid doesn't just long for constant and ever present surveillance?

My uncle has owned a karate studio in every town where we've lived. They've been everything from teeny-tiny little storefront studios to great big warehouse spaces.

Right before we got here, our current space was a yoga studio, so all he had to do was put in the mats and add a few punching bags.

As we get out of the car, he asks, "Do you have your phone?"

"Always," I say, patting my school bag. It is an absolute requirement that I have my cell phone on my person at all times.

"And don't forget you have class this afternoon," he adds, hoisting his duffle bag over his shoulder. By class, he means his advanced weapons class.

Did I mention my uncle is a black belt in five styles of martial arts? Old school Japanese karate, Muay Thai which is a sort of kickboxing, Krav Maga which is the Israeli army art of killing, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu which is like wrestling but deadlier, and Tae Kwon Do. Also, he's a seventh level black belt in the Korean form of Tang Soo Do, which makes him a grandmaster.

This also means guys my age are terrified of him. I'd like to postulate that this might be why my love life kind of sucks. What guy is going to ask me out when they know that if they lay a finger on me, my uncle may very well snap it off with his bare hands? Not much of an incentive to get to know me.

"You need a little extra work on sparring," he adds. No matter how well I do in class, it never seems to be good enough for him. "Maybe you should come a little early and work on your bow staff forms. I think that may be one of the last things you need to get your instructor certification."

"Fine," I say, getting out of the truck. I really want to get my instructor certification because if I can start working as a teacher then I will have enough money to be able to move out and pay rent. I shiver as the chilly morning breeze goes right through my thin uniform shirt.

"Come in and get your jacket," he says, heading toward the front door and unlocking the metal security grate that covers the entire storefront. It rolls up and under the eaves like a window shade. "I hung it up in the storage room."

Because I can't bear the idea of freezing until it finally warms up around lunchtime, I follow him into wide-open space that makes up his studio.

My uncle flips on the lights in his office and sets down his bag. I move past his office toward the locked storage room.

It's basically a big closet for all things combat -- helmets, gloves, punching pads, nunchucks, and wooden sticks of every conceivable size. Stacks of black karate uniforms sit piled on high shelves next to the white t-shirts we're allowed to wear during the heat of summer.

Unlocking the door and turning on the light, I nearly jump out of my skin. Some strange guy lies snoring on the couch.

And he's using my sweatshirt as a pillow.

# Chapter 9

I scream as the intruder scrambles off the couch.

"Oh, hey! Sorry." He stands up, and I realize it's the handyman my uncle hired to do some work around the studio. "Didn't mean to freak you out."

"What are you doing here?" The remains of a burrito and soda lie on the floor next to the couch. This guy has clearly been here all night.

"Uh, I was working late and..." He pushes an unruly strand of shaggy black hair out of his face and smiles at me. "What's your name again? You're the sensei's kid, right?"

"I'm Astrid, and your pillow belongs to me," I say, pointing at my wadded up sweatshirt.

"Sorry about that. I had to improvise." He unrolls and shakes it out. "Your jacket smells good. Like cinnamon and vanilla."

"I think you're smelling the Latin bakery next door." I don't bother to tell him that my perfume is vanilla scented.

"There's also the slightest hint of rosewater and pine," he adds.

"Did you spend the night back here?" I ask, weirded out by this guy and his creepy sense of smell. I'm almost sure that everything was locked up tight this morning when we got here and my uncle gives no one -- and I mean no one -- an extra key.

"No, I was just resting my eyes for a few minutes," he replies, pushing an unruly black curl out of his green eyes. I find myself staring because they're such a vibrant green. So green, in fact, that I wonder if he's wearing contact lenses.

"Nuh uh." I shake my head. "The doors are all locked."

"I came in through the back door." He points a thumb at the back door that's clearly locked. "Half an hour ago."

"No, you didn't. It's bolted from the inside. You can't open it from the alley."

"It was open," he replies. "See."

I frown as my eyes flicking to the back door again. Now the door is open! Not only is it unlocked, but it's cracked open a couple inches.

"Wait...?" I rub my eyes and look again.

"Anyway, got to get to work." He breezes out of the storage room with a wry smile plastered across his face. This guy is a real piece of work. "Have a lovely day, princess."

"Why is there curly black hair on your jacket?" Ruby asks, plucking a couple of strands off my arm as we walk to Biology 101. "Did that stray cat sleep on it?"

"Worse. It's a long story." I roll my eyes. "Did you hear anything else about the meteor from last night?"

"The news interviewed the fire chief who said it broke up before it hit the ground and only caused a few minor fires."

We exchange looks. "But we know that's not what happened?"

"There isn't even any video footage of it. You'd think someone would have caught it on their cell phone," she says as we climb the steps to the science building. "The whole thing is so weird."

When you move around a ton, the difficulty of any particular subject tends to be a total crapshoot. For example, when I was in high school, I had biology three separate times. Which means I'm pulling an easy A in Intro to Biology 101. Little did I know that my over-exposure to bio would prove to be my lucky charm.

Dr. Tyler, our bio prof, is pretty decent as professors go. She's still relatively young -- like not quite 30 -- and eager. She's got purple streaks in her hair and loves retro dresses.

She also seems to enjoy pushing the envelope and surprising us. So no one should have been surprised at her announcement in class this morning.

"All right, you guys." She's one of those teachers who says things like "you guys" or "dudes" to show that she's still in touch with her inner college kid. "We are about to beginning our dissection unit."

A wave of groans sweeps the room.

"Ew, Dr. T, can't we just skip it this year." Meegan McGovern, the queen bee of Chi Sigma Pi, cocks her head in that way that makes her long strawberry blonde hair swish to one side. "I am so not into leaving class smelling like formaldehyde and fetal pig."

"Ah, here's the thing! We're not dissecting fetal pigs this year," Dr. Tyler says with a perky self-satisfied smile. "Who wants to guess what we are dissecting?"

Hands flutter up half-heartedly with guesses of frog, rats, iguana. Chad Olson -- hottest guy at my school, my one true love, and surely the guy destined to be my adoring husband -- says, "Please tell me it's not a cat. A guy on my water polo team said they dissected cats at his school."

I'm not really listening to Dr. Tyler's response because I'm far too busy conjuring up a sunlit glistening image of Chad Olson playing water polo.

My beautiful daydream is broken as Dr. T sashays over to the counter to retrieve an ominous looking covered tray. "Alright guys, meet your new lab mate for the next two weeks." She dramatically rips the plastic cover off the tray revealing some sort of alien looking creatures complete with tentacles and sickly gray skin.

A collective "ewwwwwwww" echoes forth.

"Who knows what this is?"

I instantly recognize the poor pallid creature that has given its life in the name of science. When it's painfully obvious no one else has a clue, I raise my hand. "Is it a squid?"

"Excellent, Astrid!" Dr. T says like a game show host telling a contestant they've just won a brand new car. "We are dissecting squids. Did you dissect one in high school?"

"No ma'am." I shake my head. "We tore into an Octopodidae."

"Oh! An octopus. Very nice." Dr. T is creeping me out now. That is until she says, "It's your lucky day, Astrid. Since you correctly identified our little friend here, you get first pick of lab partner."

"What?" My mind momentarily fritzes out.

"Choose one of your classmates," she explains, "to be your dissection partner for the next two weeks. Anyone you want."

My eyes immediately land on Chad Olson, and I feel my cheeks flush. I would happily pluck out my left eye for a chance to work with him. Oh, who am I kidding? I'd pluck out both eyes to get him as my lab partner.

But naturally he's got a girlfriend. Even if it is the horrible, mean-girl Meegan McGovern.

I glance at Ruby sitting at the table in front of me, and she's subtly shaking her head. She can clearly see that I'm on the verge of selecting her. I mean that makes total sense, right? She is my best friend. Who doesn't pick their best friend to be their lab partner?

"Okey-doke!" Dr. T says, her patience waning. "Who's it going to be, Astrid?"

When I look at Ruby again, she mouths the name "Chad."

"I'll take Ruby," I say, without glancing back at her, but I can feel her eyes burning into me with disappointment and pity. Who can blame her? I'm pathetic.

"You are hopeless." Ruby moves over to my table, as the other students pair up.

We're nearly done when I see that no one has chosen Chad. He's obviously been left alone because no one has chosen Meegan. Clearly all involved have naturally assumed that these two lovebirds absolutely must be partners.

But then it's Libby Gleason's turn, and she actually goes and picks Meegan McGovern.

"Me?" Meegan replies dismayed.

"Move your stuff to Libby's table, Ms. McGovern," Dr. Tyler says with a tight-lipped smile. Even the prof is surprised by this turn of events.

Clearly Libby, one of those super smart girls in the classroom but clueless as to the proper social etiquette of lab partner selection, is oblivious.

"Here's the thing." Ruby nudges me and whispers, "I love you so much that I'm doing this for your own good."

"Doing what?" I ask, but before she can answer, a horrible retching rises out of Ruby's throat like she's on the verge of hacking up a furball.

Dr. T is alarmed. "Ruby! Are you okay?"

"I suddenly... feel ill. I think, maybe, I'm going to..." Ruby fakes like she's about to hurl. People back away. She's exceptionally convincing.

"Okay, honey," Dr. T grabs a wastebasket and thrusts it in Ruby's direction. "I think you better go over to the health center."

"I think you're..." Ruby holds the trashcan up covering her face and makes more retching noises which are nicely amplified by the metal can. "I think you're right."

"Hope you feel better, honey." Dr. Tyler quickly ushers her out the door, then turns back toward the group. "Okay then, where were we? Oh yes, well it seems you lost your partner Astrid."

Only Chad Olson remains.

# Chapter 10

"That means Mr. Olson, looks like you're working with Ms. Jones." Dr. Tyler nods her head with a slightly dazed look in her eye. She's probably thinking exactly what everyone else in this classroom is thinking -- Chad Olson has never been picked last for anything in his entire life.

I'm so stunned by my incredible good luck that I nearly fall out of my chair.

Chad stands and swivels uncertainly in my general direction. Squinting like he's confused, he scans the back of the room. The look he gives me suggests he isn't quite sure who I am. But since I'm the only one currently without a partner, he eventually deduces that he's working with me.

Meanwhile, I can feel Meegan McGovern's evil cornflower blue eyes trying to sear mean-girl holes into the side of my head.

Ask me if I care. I do not!

My heart is literally going all pitter-patter as Chad moves toward me. Just the sight of Chad Olson makes me feel all squishy inside, and I am not a girl who generally goes squishy because of some guy.

The thing is, because I've gone to so many schools, I have seen every possible configuration of guy. Every school has their "hot" boy.

But of all the hot guys I have ever encountered, Chad is by far the hottest of the hot. He has beautiful blond hair with just the perfect amount of wave and glistening sun-kissed highlights that make his pale blue-green eyes sparkle like a perfect summer sky. He's tall with broad water polo shoulders and perfectly proportioned everything else.

I could go on and on describing his astonishing beauty. I could write a book of Shakespearean sonnets detailing his extreme and rugged good looks.

And then, at last, he is standing at my table.

"Hey," he says with a bored, somewhat distracted bob of the head.

I smile and reply, "Hey."

These are the first words Chad Olson and I have spoken to each other since we met at that crazy Halloween party last year.

He dumps his books on the desk and slumps into the seat next to me. His head swivels away, and I follow his gaze over to Meegan who is giving us the cold shoulder. Arms crossed in front of her, she sits perfectly straight in her chair looking beyond annoyed that someone else managed to snag her precious boyfriend as a lab partner.

What can I say, Meegs, this is clearly one of those moments of purposeful serendipity when two souls are united by something bigger than themselves.

I'm sure she'll be able to go on with her life. After all, she is a pretty girl in a my-best-days-will-soon-be-behind-me sort of way. I'm sure there are all sorts of guys out there into mean, trashy blondes.

He looks quizzically at me. "Have we met?"

If he doesn't remember what happened at the Halloween party, I'm not going to remind him. "I don't know. Maybe?"

"What's your name again?" Chad asks.

"Astrid," I say. "And you're, um, Chad right?"

He nods.

Dr. Tyler points to the back of the room. "Okay people. In an orderly fashion, each team needs to line up to collect their squid."

Five minutes later, Chad and I are back at our lab table with a grayish dead squid spread out before us.

"Man, that thing is gnarly," Chad says with a look on his face like he's smelling something bad. Which he is. The squid stinks of acrid chemicals. It's a familiar smell to those of us who have taken high school bio three times already.

I look down at the poor dead squid on the table, and for a fleeting instant, I feel a strange affinity with this lonely marine cephalopod, all long and slimy and tentacly, lying on the table far, far from the ocean home it once came from.

That's how I feel. Far from home. Which home I feel far from is unclear. I'm just tired of always feeling like a stranger in a strange land, walking around in a world full of people who are rooted in their lives and familiar with their general surroundings.

Chad, on the other hand, does not seem to feel any empathy or perceive any wonder in our squid. Instead, he's turning a grayish-green.

"Okay scientists," Dr. T claps her hands to regain the attention of her lost students. "First you need to identify both the dorsal and ventral side of the squid."

In order to do this, we need to flip our guy over. But I'm not sure if I should let Chad make the first move. I look to him and smile.

Perplexed, he asks, "Do you have any freaking clue what she's talking about?"

"Um, well, I think we need to turn our squid over."

"Yeah, uh..." He looks from me, down to the squid, then back up to me. "I don't want to touch that gross thing."

Without a word, I use my bare hands gingerly flipping our little angel over.

A smile spreads across his awestruck face. "Wow! You are amazing. Most girls would be so wigged out they wouldn't know what to do."

Dr. T continues. "Then once that is located, place the squid on the dorsal side which is the back of the squid with the stomach facing you."

Our squid, conveniently, is already facing the right way. "We're good," I assure a still confused Chad. "It's already facing us."

"Awesome," he says, then slides his chair a couple inches closer to me. It's also closer to the squid, but I don't want to get hung up on details. And he does seem to be calming down a bit.

I can't resist the urge to show-off a little, so I lean in and whisper, "Next she's going to have us make a long incision right down the middle, here and there," I point with my finger, tracing a line. "Then two incisions here above the tentacles so we can get a good look at the organs."

When that is exactly what Dr. T instructs us to do, he looks at me like I am the smartest girl alive. "I thought you said you did an octopus back in high school?"

"I did," I reply. "But at the school before that we dissected a shark. Which is sort of similar to a squid."

He nods, and I can feel his eyes on me as I organize our scapulas. "So I heard that you've been to like 100 schools or something?" he says, and I wonder if he's trying to make conversation with me.

"Only 10."

"Ha! Only. You say that like it's nothing." He shakes his head and gives me a heart-stopping smile. "Man, I think that'd be so great. To get out of this lame school and this puny town to start someplace else. Anywhere new."

Assuming he's not all that interested in doing any of the dissection, I take the knife and make a slow, steady incision. "Yeah, I guess it's okay. Be sort of nice to stay in one place for long enough to actually have a life and make some friends, though."

"I'm born and raised in Ocean Grove." For the briefest second, his eyes flick over to Meegan, and he says, "So I can tell you having a "life" can be a little overrated sometimes."

What? Could there be trouble in paradise?

"I think your girlfriend is a little upset that you guys aren't partners."

"She'll get over it," he replies. Then adds, "I'm sure your boyfriend was super bummed when you came to school here?"

"Oh." Despite never having had a real boyfriend, I smile a tragic little smile. "It was hard, at first, but I'm sure he was able to move on."

Just then the bell rings. "Okay people, cover your specimens and place them in the fridge. We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow."

I place our instruments in the tray with the squid and cover the poor little soul back up. Just as I'm about to pick up the tray, Chad takes it.

"I'll put it away." He smiles. "You did everything else."

"Thanks."

"Well, fun working with you," he says as he heads toward the fridge.

"You too." I'm afraid my heart might melt in my chest like a crayon left in the sun. Yet, somehow I manage to form the words, "See you on Thursday."

# Chapter 11

The rest of the day sails by in a happy blur. I replay my conversation with Chad Olson at least a thousand times in my head.

After my last class, I amble across the street to the small cluster of shops that includes my uncle's karate studio.

Finishing the Snickers bar I bought in the student union, I walk over to the dumpster that sits like a boxy sentinel in the far corner of the parking lot to throw away the wrapper. I stop cold when I see a shadowy figure hunched next to the dumpster.

It's that creepy Jax guy. Again.

He's kneeling, and at first, I can't tell what he's doing. Inching closer, I think I see him feeding part of a burrito to a pair of red squirrels out of his open hand. That's odd. It also looks like a yellow finch is hopping down his wrist toward the food in his hand.

I lean in to get a closer look, but the movement must spook the animals because the delicate bird blusters off and the squirrels scramble like mad over the fence.

"Hey." He stands, turning his green eyes to me and pointing at my jacket. "Nice sweatshirt."

"What are you doing?!" I swear my heart skips a beat. "And why are you hiding back here?"

"I'm not hiding. I'm on my coffee break." Apparently to prove his point, he hoists up a brown paper bag that's probably covering some bottle of cheap liquor. Gross.

"Right." I can't believe my uncle would hire such a deadbeat.

"Want some?" He holds it out and flashes a smile. I have to admit that if this guy wasn't so skeevy, he might actually be cute.

"No, thanks. I'm headed to sparring class." For some reason, this conversation is annoying me. Still, I find myself compelled to ask, "How old are you anyway?"

"How old are you?"

"I'm 20," I say, then add. "But I turn 21 this weekend."

"Then let me be the first to wish you a happy birthday," he nods, staring at me until I feel my cheeks start to burn.

Flustered, I turn away. "Should I mention to my uncle that you're out here on your, um, coffee break?" I don't know why I'm being so mean. I guess it doesn't matter anyway because he just grins at me, totally unfazed.

"Go ahead," he says like it's a dare. "I told him I'd be done painting the exterior of the building today."

I look up at the huge brick and stucco, two-story building that takes up half a block. He's got a good 3, maybe even 4% completed. No way he'll finish today.

"Good luck with that." I swivel heading toward the studio door.

"Don't worry. I'll be done. Always finish what I start."

As he says this, something occurs to me. "Hey, by the way. You did a lousy job fixing the drainpipe."

"Really?" he asks with that cocky little grin. He's slowly ambling back over to the mess that appears to be his painting supplies.

"Yeah, really."

"I didn't touch the drainpipe."

"What?"

"Ever occur to you that maybe he doesn't want something attached to the wall that could aid someone making a pathetic attempt to sneak out of the house?"

This, in fact, did not occur to me.

"Okay, whatever..." I shake my head and keep walking, but now I'm wondering if that could be true.

Moving through the studio's front door, I'm immediately assaulted by the sound of seven lunkheaded boys, with more testosterone than sense, all yelling "Ai-ya!"

These are the superstars of the advanced class, who also get to take my uncle's sparring class. Right now they're working on their block/punch combinations.

"These attacks are sloppy. Your practice is sloppy!" my uncle scolds them, demonstrating a solid arm block. He paces the mat in front of his students like a general inspecting his soldiers. His black karate uniform makes him look even more menacing than usual.

Believe me; no one goofs around or talks back in my uncle's class.

"Practice creates habits," he continues. "If your practice is sloppy, then sloppy becomes your habit. If you practice with focus, determination, and precision, then that will become your habit."

They nod, all wide-eyed, soaking up his ancient wisdom. But, frankly, I've heard this speech about habits and focus and determination at least a thousand times. It's gotten more than a bit old.

He continues, "Strong trees grow with adversity."

Okay, here we go with the whole trees and the storm bit.

"It is only through weathering the storm and the raging wind that a tree gains strength. If you do not push yourself, if you do not allow yourself to struggle to improve your martial arts skills, then you will not grow strong."

I tune out the life lesson on how karate makes us all better people and head to the tiny girls' locker room to change into my uniform. The studio has one female student for every seven males, so we girls pretty much get an oversized broom closet as our changing room.

As I walk past, my uncle turns his back to his students and gives me a quick wink with just the smallest trace of a smile.

Generally, there is no smiling in karate.

Pushing through the locker room door, I smile back.

My starched white karate uniform hangs from a hook in my locker. You don't get to wear the way better, so much cooler black uniform until you're at the master level.

Okay, so, I'm pretty good at karate. I mean, I should be, right? I've only been doing it since I was 5-years-old. If you attack me in an alley, I will go all ninja on you.

Unfortunately, my weakness is combat with weapons. I'm all thumbs if I have to swing, thrust, parry, or strike with any sort of weapon.

Also, I hate it.

I prefer just to fight the old fashion way - with my hands and feet, not to mention the occasional head-butt.

For any regular student of karate, that would be perfectly acceptable. Unfortunately, for some reason, my uncle refuses to accept this flaw in my character and is determined to fix me. This is why I have to be here three times a week to work on weapons training.

Twenty minutes later, I'm standing on the mat with my white helmet tucked under my arm. My arms and shins are padded; I'm wearing clown-like red sparring gloves and foot gear; plus I'm holding my weapon -- a bow staff -- basically just a big stick, sort of like the wooden handle of a broom except it has a slight curve or "bow" to it.

Oh, if only Chad Olson could see me now, surely he'd be unable to resist my charms. That is if he has a thing for the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.

I look at the 5-foot long piece of wood in my hands and curse my nemesis.

Although the bō is now used as a weapon, it is believed by some to have evolved from the long tenbin, a smooth stick balanced across your shoulders and used to carry buckets of water. Back in the day, peasants in the Japanese countryside used tenbins for training because they didn't have fancy metal swords.

But to me, the bow staff is nothing more than a big ugly stick.

My class consists of seven teenage boys, all at least twice my size. But I'm not worried. I have more training, technique and ability than any of them. The only thing they have on me is height, weight and strength. Along with male aggression, determination, and an unwavering desire to please my uncle.

Despite this, I'm still going to kick their asses.

As class begins, we stand at attention with our hands folded behind our back while my uncle addresses us.

"Today, we will have a challenge round. Whoever wins will be excused from the three mile run at the end of class," my uncle explains as he walks down our line. "If you win your challenge round, you will remain in the circle to fight again. Whoever is left standing at the end is the winner. Do we understand?"

"Yes, sir!" the class barks in unison.

"Astrid, you're first." He points at me.

Really?

"Yes, sir!" I say with military precision, stepping into the center of the sparring circle with my bow staff.

"Jonas!" he points to the biggest and meanest of my classmates. "You're up."

"Yes, sir!" Jonas answers with a glint of excitement in his eye.

Jonas is a pretty decent guy with the exception of his big ego. He's also the oldest and most senior member of this group at twenty five. Six months ago my uncle hired him to be an assistant teacher with the little kids.

Anyway, I know what Jonas is thinking. He thinks he's got this one in the bag. Fighting the only girl in the first round will be an easy win.

Well, we shall see about that Jonas.

# Chapter 12

Uncle stands to the side and says, "Bow-kinya." Which means that we hold our bow staffs in our right hands, slide our feet together, and bow to each other with perfectly straight backs, while never, ever taking our eyes off each other.

You never let your eyes wander away from your opponent, lest your opponent should decide to attack at that instant. That's Martial Arts 101.

"Remember, it is harder to control your strikes than it is to hit someone hard," my uncle reminds us. You're expected to show restraint and not clobber your opponent with abandon when you're just practicing.

We both whip our bow staffs in front of our bodies and hold them in an offensive position while sliding one foot back into a fighting stance. We are preparing to spar.

"Begin!" my uncle calls out and steps out of the circle.

Jonas instantly lunges forward, attacking, roughly swinging his staff at my head. Just like I knew he would. These dumb boys are so predictable.

I take a step to my right and duck, missing the whip circle of his bow. Then I roll forward on my shoulder while swinging my bow, taking him down at the ankles.

Jonas' feet fly up in the air, and he thumps down hard on his back, knocking the wind out of him.

I'm on my feet with the tip of my bow pressed right over his heart.

I win. Jonas loses.

"That strike was a little low!" my uncle chides me. "That's nearly cheating, Astrid. Pull it together."

Except it's not cheating. Because it wasn't technically too low.

Jonas gasps for air on the mat.

"Still, the strike was technically legal. This first fight to Astrid!" my uncle says as a humiliated Jonas rolls out of the fighting circle and slowly gets to his feet.

Even with his headgear on, I can see that Jonas is both pissed and embarrassed as he slinks back to his place in line.

"Nate," my uncle points to the next biggest student. "You're next."

Oh, okay, so this is how it's going to be.

He plans to make me fight each of these boys from biggest to smallest. Fine. Bring it, I say.

In the end, it takes me less than fifteen minutes to defeat all seven boys in my class.

Which means I win; which means I don't have to run three miles; which means I won't be a sweaty mess after class. Yay for me!

"Does anyone want to spar again?" my uncle asks, hoping one of them will volunteer to fight me again.

The group remains silent. Wimps.

Just as I breathe a sigh of relief, ready to step out of the sparring circle, I hear my uncle say, "How about you, Jax? I understand you're quite the trained fighter."

Jax? Not the loser handyman out painting the building? How desperate are we?

Jax sauntering across the back of the studio carrying a couple of dirty paint brushes.

"Me? Nah," he replies, uncomfortable with everyone suddenly looking at him. Wearing ratty work clothes covered with paint, he's completely out of place in a pristine studio filled with students in their crisp white uniforms.

"I'm told you trained and fought under the great We-Lyyn," my uncle adds, smiling at him with hands on his hips. "That should make you more than prepared to spar with one of my students."

Jax gives my uncle a thin smile and drops his head. He isn't going to take the bait. "That was light years ago, sir. I'm afraid you'll find I'm pretty rusty."

The idea of fighting this guy is almost appealing, but since it looks like I'm off the hook, I'm ready to grab my water bottle.

"I'll double your rate if you defeat the girl," my uncle calls out, and I shoot him my very best death glare. Why is my uncle doing this to me? He sees my dirty look and returns it with a smile.

"Double?" Jax asks.

"She needs the challenge."

Unfortunately, Jax seems to be considering the offer. Why would my uncle pay him twice as much just to spar with me in class?

"I suppose I could give it a shot." Jax sets the brushes down on an old newspaper then removes his dirty work boots. He steps onto the mat without bowing first. We always bow in respect before we step on the mat. It's a tradition as old as martial arts.

My eyes flick over to my uncle, who has noticed the lack of bow but does not say anything. I've never seen him let that go before.

"I don't have a weapon," Jax shrugs.

My uncle points to a nearby corner of the studio where a barrel sits filled with extra weapons.

Jax barely looks at them and just plucks out the longest and most difficult staff to use. Not smart. Rookie mistake.

But then, he spins it, lightening fast, around his head like an expert. Uh oh. My stomach drops.

"Ready to rock and roll, princess?" he grins.

"I was born ready," I reply, annoyed. "And don't call me princess." Only my uncle can call me that.

"Begin!" my uncle yells.

Before I can attack, Jax juts forward in fighting stance with his bow staff aimed at my head. I struggle to thrust my staff up parallel to the ground to block his strike.

"Excellent block, Astrid," Uncle calls out, circling the perimeter of the sparring ring. "But remember to follow up with an attack. Find that inner calm. Draw on the essence of the inner warrior."

I swing my left hand down, pulling my bow staff toward Jax's head.

He wants fierce. I'll give him fierce.

A strike to the chest or the head counts as a point. Unexpectedly, I connect with his helmet.

Point!

However, I hit him possibly a wee bit harder than I meant to. Jax stumbles back, shaking his head.

"No point! Too hard." I turn to my frowning Uncle. "Control, Astrid."

I swear the man is never happy. There is no denying my uncle is ten times harder on me than the other kids. Any other student at this studio would have gotten that point. Any other kid wouldn't have to take karate five days a week. Any other kid would have gotten their weapons black belt years ago. Not me.

Jax gets back into fighting stance. He looks pissed.

"Begin!" Uncle starts the round again.

We circle each other, and I realize I'm taking too many flat-footed steps.

"Find the grace of the deer." My uncle sees my awkward movement too.

I slow my footwork and move on the balls of my feet. We go back and forth. Parry, strike, block.

Jax is surprisingly fast. He's clearly been well trained. He attacks from the left, forcing me to lean back. He misses and for a split second loses his balance.

I see my opportunity and advance striking out. This is the kill shot. With this strike, I will have won. I swing.

But somehow I totally miss.

He's fast and rolls away avoiding my bow. My bow slicing through the air, causing me to stumble forward.

"Use the agility of the monkey and the balance of the crane to focus," my uncle calls to me. "Control your attack, Astrid."

I take half a step back, gathering myself. He's right. I have to align my energy and control my movements.

Through his mask, I can see Jax smirking. He thinks this is funny, that I'm not a real challenge.

Gathering my strength, I lunge forward, my staff striking swift and strong.

"Good!" my uncle calls out. "Very nice, Astrid."

I've got Jax on the defensive. I circle my staff low, forcing him to block it. This allows me to kick him firmly in the head.

He rocks back, and I counter attack with two more strikes - one to the chest and the other to his head.

I can see the headshot has rocked him; he wobbles unsteadily, and I'm worried I'm about to get another warning about hitting too hard.

Instead, my uncle claps. "Excellent combination. This is how you should always spar."

I feel a small surge of pride. I've finally made him proud. I nod, let my eyes flick over to my uncle.

_Wham!_

I'm struck in the head. Jax's wooden staff cracks me on the helmet just above my left ear before I ever see it coming.

My head rockets to the side and stars float in front of my eyes. Blood pounds in my ears as I fall hard on the mat.

When I look up, my uncle is moving toward me. "Astrid, are you okay? How many fingers am I holding up?"

For just an instant, my eyes go fuzzy, and I see a strange bluish halo swirling around my uncle, radiating up and outward.

For a split second, his face is replaced by the sharp-angled face of a scaly monster.

Then it's back to normal.

"Don't try to sit up, honey," my uncle says. "Just stay down for a second."

"Ooookey doke," I mumble as everything fades to black.

# Chapter 13

When I regain consciousness, I'm lying flat on my back on the lumpy couch in my uncle's office. I can't tell how much time has past, but it must be after 7 p.m. because the window is dark.

Also, I can hear the deep, sharp military-like calls of grown-ups, which probably means the adult class is in full swing out in the studio.

The sound of my uncle's voice fades in approaching his office. "...but they helped contain this latest threat."

A second voice, a voice I don't recognize, replies, "You shouldn't trust them."

"We neutralized the Grail immediately." There's a pause, then my uncle says, "They would not have done that if they'd joined forces with the Swarm."

"Don't be so sure," the other voice answers. "If they haven't already betrayed you, they will."

"I can't move the child again without telling her," my uncle replies. "She's settled and thriving here. But I fear she's beginning to figure out the truth."

"You must tell her soon. Her birthday is only days away."

Tell me what? I sit up with the intention of sneaking over to the door so I can hear better, but I'm immediately dizzy, and I'm forced to lie back to calm my swimming head.

My uncle must have heard me because his face appears in the doorway. "Astrid, sweetheart. How do you feel?"

"My head's a little fuzzy, but I'm alright." I look over his shoulder, waiting for the owner of the second voice to appear. But no one does. Whoever it was is gone.

"You weren't concentrating," my uncle says, pushing the hair out of my face. "You must improve your focus. Which is exactly why we have to keep working with weapons. Maybe we should add a few private classes every week."

"No," I say firmly. "I quit."

"Excuse me?" He looks stunned. "You can't quit."

Normally, I would never stand up to my uncle like this. Maybe getting hit in the head shook things up in my brain. "I hate weapons, and I'm not doing it anymore."

"That's ridiculous. Your weapons training is very important."

"Why?" I ask pointedly.

He hesitates. "Because being good with weapons is something every well trained warrior must attain."

I am so sick of this lecture.

"I'm not a warrior. I'm a college kid. And, by the way, did I not just kick the butt of every boy in the advanced class? All of whom are practically twice my size."

"That's not the point," my uncle says calmly. "Astrid, you must learn how to block out any distractions. It's important that you can defend yourself. In any situation."

"Can we go home?" I'm obviously not getting through to him.

He looks at me for a long moment then sighs. "We can leave as soon as I finish with the adult class."

"Can I, at least, go get something to eat then?" This is less an actual question and more a plea for some cash. "I'm starving."

He walks over to his desk, pulls his money clip out of the top drawer, and hands me a measly five.

"Plus something to drink."

He gives me a cool look then hands me a $20 bill. "I want the change back."

I reach for it, but he pulls the twenty away until I reluctantly hand the original five dollar bill back. "Thanks," I say without meeting his eyes.

"Make a healthy choice," he calls after me.

I roll my eyes. Oh my god. I cannot wait to move out. I pull on my sweatshirt and stalk out the front entrance heading toward the deli right next door.

I spot Jax up on scaffolding rolling on a fresh coat of paint. Since I arrived this afternoon, he's covered a patch about 15 feet by 15 feet, which means he's now about 6-7% complete.

I try super hard to ignore him as I pass, but unfortunately, he spots me. "So I take it you're not going to congratulate me on my big win?"

"Lucky shot," I reply, not looking at him.

"Yeah, sorry about that last strike," Jax says apologetically, but the cocky grin on his stupid face suggests that's he's proud of knocking me out cold.

"In case you didn't notice, you fouled out, ninja warrior. You blindsided me."

"No such thing as a foul in a real battle," he says, focusing his brush on the area around the window.

"Yeah except that was just a sparring match in a class." I point out the obvious. This guy is so arrogant. "Not some street fight where dirty tricks and low blows are perfectly acceptable."

He turns all the way around to face me. "I suggest you learn the art of the dirty trick and the low blow if you're hoping to survive."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means a girl as pretty as you should probably know how to defend herself." He winks at me.

Pretty? Is this guy actually trying to flirt with me?

"You need to work on your pick up lines," I say, pulling open the door to the little grocery store.

"Don't flatter yourself, princess," he smirks, then goes back to painting.

I hate this guy. I hate karate. I hate the stupid bow staff.

Right now, I just want a dulce de leche muffin and a vanilla latte. There's a StarCoffee about five blocks away, but would my uncle possibly let me walk that far? Nope. Not a good neighborhood, he says. So I am stuck with the coffee and muffins from the Latin deli two doors down from our studio.

The Mariposas, a fifty-something married couple from someplace in Central America, are the owners, not just of this little place, but of the whole complex; including the karate studio, their deli, a dry cleaner, a nail salon, and a tax guy.

My uncle helps them maintain the whole complex, which is why he hired Jax to paint the exterior of the whole building.

The little bell above the door tinkles as I enter. The store is part deli and part grocery store filled with all sorts of Latin delicacies like carnitas, arroz con pollo, and pastries.

Señor Mariposa stands behind the counter. His silver hair slicked neatly back, and he's wearing his signature starched white guayaberas; a short-sleeved, lightweight, button up shirt that old Latin guys wear.

"As-treed," Señor M smiles. My name sounds kind of dorky the way he says it, which is weird because his accent makes every other word in the English language flow like music off his tongue.

He's sliding a tray of fresh Mexican tamales in the case. They sell both Mexican and Salvadoran tamales. Apparently, they're totally different and to call them similar would be fighting words to half the Yucatan peninsula. (Personally, I like the Mexican tamales better, but I think Señor M is Salvadoran, so he's always trying to get me to eat the other ones.)

"Hi, Señor M." I smile. "Quiet tonight."

"So busy! Before 3:00." He makes a face, scrunching up his nose. "Nice and calm now. Just the way I like it." He winks at me. "What can I get you?"

"Just a double skinny vanilla latte with an extra shot," I say, scanning the baked goods in the deli case. There's nothing good left. No dulce de leche muffins. Just weird glazed danishes with some mystery fruit jam in the center.

Yuck.

Instead, I push a bag of itty-bitty chocolate chip cookies across the counter.

He frowns. "Too much caffeine is not good for a growing girl. I will make you a fruit smoothie. Lots of protein and fiber." He bobs his head like this is the best idea he's had all day. "How 'bout that? Pineapple, coconut, lots of berries for your berry big brain." He laughs at his joke.

I force a smile, but a protein/fiber smoothie sounds even less appealing than the weird jammy pastries. I'm wondering if my uncle got to him. "Um. Yeah. Thanks, Señor M., but I'm sort of dying for a latte." I reply in that polite way old people love. "I have tons of homework to keep me up tonight."

"Gotcha." He nods, clearly disappointed, but goes to work on my coffee anyway.

While I wait, I decide to take a little stroll around the store. The shelves are lined with familiar brands, but I love to see a Spanish versions of Cornflakes and Campbell soup.

At the end of the aisle, a bare lightbulb dangling from a cord in front of the freezer case blinks off and on, off and on. When the bulb pops, complete with a shower of sparks, I nearly jump out of my skin. The back of the store now glows with only the sickly greenish light coming from the refrigerator section.

Rounding the corner near the storeroom, I come face to face with someone. Startled, I let out a little yelp.

# Chapter 14

"Whoa! Sorry Señora. Didn't see you there." I catch my breath.

Señora Mariposa smiles and tips her head up from behind the card table where she sits in her wheelchair. "Not expecting me, Princessa?"

She always calls me that, partly because my uncle sometimes calls me Princess, plus I think she can't remember my name. For some reason, it doesn't bother me when she uses his nickname.

"No ma'am. I wasn't expecting to bump into you." A hand on my heart, I catch my breath. "Didn't know you were back here."

Mariposa is pretty much the resident queen-of-the-hill around here. Confined to a wheelchair, she must weigh 600 pounds. She wears starched cotton dresses that could easily be converted into bright floral tents, and I've never seen her in the same dress twice. A mass of grayish black hair sits up on her head, and there's always a smile on her coral lip-sticked mouth. Everything about her radiates positive energy.

"I just got back from working at the community center," she says, holding up her tarot cards. "So many people want me to look into their future."

Mariposa's an old fashion fortuneteller.

Except the cards that lay before her don't exactly resemble any tarot cards I've ever seen. They must be made of some type of pastel chalk because in the dim light it almost appears as if the strange images on the cards are moving ever so slowly.

Mariposa sees me staring at them. "Would you like me to read your cards?"

"Oh, um..." I've heard she's very expensive.

"On the house," she smiles. "Of course."

Despite the uneasy feeling that's washing over me, I hear myself say, "Okay."

"Have a seat," she gestures to a yellow plastic chair jammed in a nearby corner. I drag it over and sit. She shuffles the cards at the speed of light then slaps the neatly stacked deck on the table in front of me. "Cut them. Three times. With your left hand."

Kind of specific. But, okay, I do as I'm told. One, two, three.

"The cards have great power, Princessa. They see things we do not yet know." Fwap, fwap, fwap go the cards as she arranges them in a pattern that seems random but probably isn't. "Especially for you."

"For me?"

"For us all." Her eyes flick up from the cards and meet mine. She smiles. Again with the smile. "For the young. For those who have so much in front of them. So many important things to do."

Her eyes go back to the cards, then her stubby index finger, that looks like a bratwurst with orange nail polish, points at the first card. It looks like an abstract version of a wilting flower. "This first card signifies your past. It shows stagnation. You have been restrained. Hidden away."

Well, that's true.

She points to the next card that looks like bugs exploding on a windshield. "This is... how do you say..?," she mutters to herself in Spanish. "...It is environment. Chaos. Upheaval."

Now it's my turn to smile. "Does it show me moving into a new apartment?"

Her face suddenly looks grim. "Child, you must be prepared. The lamb will become the lion. The protected will soon become the protector. Safety will come from unexpected places."

I nod. "Okay."

Wow. What a load of bull.

It's pretty ironic that she can utter such nonsense, and people flock in here to see her. There's always a different bored middle-aged housewife determined to find out if her husband is stepping out with his secretary, or a waiflike twenty-something clutching a kleenex hanging on every word about her love life. Here they sit, at this card table, paying good money to listen to this perfectly nice lady make crap up.

Her eyes linger on me long enough to make me feel uncomfortable. She points to the last card. There's a golden image that looks like a horn. "Judgment. A reckoning will be forced upon you. The ways of the old will clash with the new. Many have already fallen. You may stand. You may fall. I cannot see."

"Astrid!" I hear Uncle's familiar voice behind me. "Let's go, kiddo."

This conversation has gotten so weird that I'm amazingly thrilled to hear my uncle's voice. I smile politely and stand. "Thank you, Ms. Mariposa. That was super interesting."

"Wait! Take this. A good luck charm." As I turn to go, she grabs my wrist and slips something smooth and round into my hand. "Remember this, the light will be your first warning."

I see the hulking shadow of my Uncle coming around the aisle just as the fluorescent light bulb pops back on washing away the sickly green aura. He likes Mariposa but doesn't believe in all this fortune telling mumbo jumbo.

As I stand, Mariposa quickly gathers her cards and whispers, "Don't forget. Beware of the light."

My uncle nods to Señora Mariposa suspiciously. "Hello."

"Good evening, Sensei," Señora Mariposa replies.

"You're not reading her cards?" he asks.

She laughs. "Of course not."

"Okay. Let's hit the road, Princess," he says to me. "I have a pan of enchiladas in the fridge at home."

"Bye ma'am. Nice to see you," I say, moving up the aisle to the front of the store. Without my uncle seeing, I carefully open my fist so I can see the magical trinket, the little, charmed object, Señora Mariposa has bestowed upon me.

It's a penny.

A common 1981 dirty old penny. This is a good luck charm? Wow, that was possibly the strangest conversation I have ever had.

"As-treed, your drink is ready," Señor M calls from behind the counter as I stuff the stupid penny in my pocket.

I stride up to find the to-go coffee cup waiting for me. Finally, my latte. Now maybe I'll be able to stay awake long enough to finish my boring lit paper. I take a sip, expecting the creamy vanilla flavor to warm me up, but instead, I practically spit out the sweet icy cold liquid.

"Señor M, this is the worst latte I have ever had," I say, even though I know it's rude.

"Astrid!" my uncle reacts.

"Maybe because it's a fruit smoothie." Señor M winks at me as he leans against the counter sipping what, presumably, must be my latte from an over-sized mug. "On the house, Miss As-treed."

My uncle and I cross the parking lot to the white pickup. As we're pulling out, I glance over at the exterior brick wall. It's completely painted.

Jax is gone. His paint cans, brushes, and drop cloths have vanished. Yet, somehow in twenty minutes, he managed to paint the entire front of the two story building that sits half a block long.

My jaw drops because that's totally impossible.

As our truck rambles out into traffic, and we pass the front of the plaza, I realize that he hasn't just painted one wall, he's somehow painted the entire building.

# Chapter 15

"Why are you in such a good mood?" my uncle asks as we drive toward the college the next morning.

And it's true. I'm in an incredible mood. I've put my embarrassing defeat to Jax in karate class behind me. I can't wait for this morning's bio lab. Now two little words make my heart soar -- Chad Olson, Chad Olson, Chad Olson!

"Um..." I shrug one shoulder and look perplexed. "No reason, I guess."

There is no possible way I am going to mention anything about a boy to my uncle. He would pop out a kitten. The idea of me and boys completely unhinges the man. Trust me; I know from previous experience, it's not pretty.

"You just seem..." he glances suspiciously at me out of the corner of his eye as he drives. "I don't know. Different."

This morning, I got up early to straighten my hair and actually slap on a little more makeup than my standard mascara and bronzer. Not too much. Just enough to spruce me up a bit.

"I guess I'm just looking forward to my quiz in art history." I avert my eyes. "Cause I'm super prepared and everything."

"Okay fine." He nods with a tight grin. "Just because you aren't going to tell me why you're in such a good mood doesn't mean you have to lie."

"I have no idea what you're even talking about."

After he drops me off, still floating on air, I head across the street and over to campus.

Strolling up to the science building, I find Ruby already there sitting on the steps.

"Astrid, I'm here to warn you. ," Ruby glowers. She leans toward me and whispers, "Meegan McGovern and those girl from Chi Sigma are totally pissed that you're all lovey-dovey with Chad Olson."

"What are you talking about!?" I ask, completely mortified. All my good vibes from earlier are fading away. "I was his science lab partner for exactly 45 minutes. There is no universe in which that could be considered lovey-dovey."

"I'm just saying," she shrugs. "You should watch your back."

Strolling into bio, I do my very best to look all calm, cool, and collected. Chad is already sitting at our lab table with the squid on the lab table.

"Hey," I say, as I slide my messenger book bag off and take a seat.

"Hey," he nods.

A long awkward silence follows as I pull out my bio binder and retrieve my lab reports.

"So, um," he begins. "Did you already do the reading and fill in all that stuff on the lab report?"

"Not really," I lie. Actually, it's only a half lie. I didn't do the reading because I've already had bio three times, so I just filled in the report.

"Cause I was having a little trouble with the anatomy section," he confesses.

"Oh," I say, not sure where he's going with this. Am I supposed to offer to help him or something? Would that be weird?

"I was wondering if you could throw me an assist?"

"Oh," I repeat, sounding like a babbling idiot.

He must think I don't want to help him because he quickly adds, "I mean, you seem like you're pretty good at this stuff, but you're probably busy and everything."

"I'd be happy to help," I reply as my stomach flip-flops.

"Maybe we could meet after school," he suggests with a smile. "In the library. If you have time?"

"I can probably find a little time." I smile back.

Guess what? My good vibes have returned.

* * *

"What's wrong with these waffles?" I ask, nearly choking on the flavorless wad of dough in my mouth.

"How should I know?" Ruby replies, busy shopping online for shoes. "I don't do carbs."

"They're buckwheat." Phoebe, who was showing a condo near campus and stopped by for lunch, replies. "Your little college newspaper said that the university hired a new food service company to serve healthier food."

In the shade of a huge eucalyptus, our trio sits at a picnic table dotted with the shadowy residue of years of dried bird poop. This is the first school I've been to where you can pretty much eat lunch outside all year long. I love this place so much that the remnants of bird poop don't even bother me.

I'm still in a dreamy mood from my pleasant interaction with Chad Olson and our afternoon study date that I continue to eat the chewy and bland waffles.

"What's up with you, Astrid?" Phoebe asks, her eyebrows raised. "You look all glowy or something."

Ruby keeps her eyes glued to the computer screen. "She's giddy because she's partners with Chad Olson in our bio lab."

"Please tell me that isn't Brad Olson's little brother?" Phoebe makes a face. I'm starting to think she's a little obsessed with Brad. "Cause those Olson boys all think they're God's gift."

"Chad and Brad?" I repeat. "Wow, creative parents."

"Don't condemn Chad cause Brad dumped you," Ruby says to her sister as she picks at a Caesar salad between sips of some fruity calorie free liquid. "I think Chad wants to ask our little Astrid here to the Omega Alpha formal."

"That's ridiculous," I snort. But secretly, I really, really, really hope that it isn't ridiculous. I mean, the Omega Alpha frat formal is probably something of a reach, but maybe coffee or something in the next, let's say, 6 to 8 months – that isn't biology class related – might not be totally unreasonable.

"I thought Meegan McGovern had her claws dug pretty deep into him?" Phoebe asks.

"Nuh uh. I hear that he and Meegan are splitsville," Ruby smiles, finally looking up at us as she swivels the laptop toward me. "Check out these metallic, color-blocked peep-toes. To die for."

"Well, I'm sure Astrid here is not interested in a lower life form like Chad Olson," Phoebe says.

"Oh yes, I am," I state emphatically. "Quite interested, in fact."

"Astrid, believe me, you can do better."

"Okay, first of all, I think Chad Olson is super hot, and if he asks me to hold his backpack while he blows his nose, I will feel totally honored." I choose to ignore the sour face Phoebe is making. "And, in fact, he did ask me to study with him after school today."

"Today? That's amazing!" Ruby says, her mouth wide open. "Let's go to the mall."

"What? How does that have anything to do with anything?" I ask, thinking I missed some transition in this conversation.

"To buy you something a little flirtier to wear for your study date," she replies.

"We're just meeting after school in the library," I reply, looking down at my jeans and striped tee-shirt. "I think what I'm wearing is fine."

"C'mon. You can do so much better. We have to leave now to make it back before lit." She stands, looking at her watch and calculating. "We'll just zip over to the mall and, at least, get you some decent shoes."

"I thought you liked the ones you found online? Peep toes to die for?"

"Not for a study date." She rolls her eyes like she can barely deal. "Oh young grasshopper, you have much to learn. Maybe we can find some earrings and perfume too."

# Chapter 16

Fifteen minutes later, I find myself strolling through an open-air mall with an $11 pressed juice in my hand. It's pretty quiet except for a few bored window-shopping fashionistas tottering around on wedge heels and clutching their designer bags.

"Maybe this wasn't a great idea," I say as we're assaulted by a cacophony of scents as we stroll past a fancy candle store. "And you know what, I think I like the shoes we saw online. Plus it's free shipping."

Ignoring me, Ruby spots something in the window of a shop and decides that I must try it on. "You would look fierce in that top."

"But I thought we were here for shoes?"

"You need something to wear with them, right?" Ruby says, heading inside the shop toward an impossibly beautiful redheaded salesgirl who's busy texting behind the counter.

"Hi. My friend wants to try on the red peasant top in the window."

The salesgirl turns her perfectly made-up smoky eyes to me and seems to be deciding whether she's going to let me try on her merchandise or not. "What size? An 11?"

Ruby's mouth hardens. "Not unless it runs as small as your \--"

"I'll try a size 5," I interrupt, not in the mood for a catfight. "If you have it."

Despite her annoyance that we've asked her to do her job, the salesgirl quickly locates the top and gets me installed in the cushiest dressing room I have ever seen.

From outside the velvety green curtain, Ruby says, "I'm going to see if they have anything else you should try on."

After she leaves, I flip the price tag over to see that the top cost $268. Really? Could this be a typo?

I slip off my tee-shirt, then pull the top over my head. At first, I don't think it's going to fit right, but then I get the buttons and ruffles squared away and turn to the mirror.

The top fit perfectly.

In fact, they're making me look tall and lean. The soft fabric drapes perfectly off my shoulders and hips. I guess that's what happens when you pay nearly three hundred bucks for something.

Just as I swivel to check out the rear view, the lights in the dressing room go out thrusting me into almost complete darkness.

"Hello!?" I call out to anyone in the general vicinity. "Um, what's up with the light?"

After a moment, emergency lights buzz on casting everything in a sickly green aura. I turn back around to find I now look weird and gaunt in the ugly light.

My spine tingles with a peculiar sense of deja vu, until I remember where I've seen light this strange color before -- in the back of the Mariposa's minimart.

Suddenly, Señora Mariposa's parting words echo in my head, "The light will be the first warning."

But a warning for what? Why didn't I think to ask her?

Suddenly, the curtain to my dressing room flies open. Even in the dim light, I see the salesgirl staring at me coldly.

"Hey! Excuse me." I cry.

"Did the power go out or something?" I ask dumbly. With my back to the wall, I feel like a trapped wild animal.

She grabs me, with incredible strength, easily lifting my whole body off the ground and throws me all the way across the room where I slam into the wall then crumple to the floor.

My left arm takes the majority of the blow and the sharp pain followed by a horrible throbbing makes me wonder if I broke it. Rolling my hand in a circle, my wrist aches but is still functional.

"Stop! Why are you doing this?" I struggle to stand, fear filling every inch of me. "Are you friends with Meegan McGowan? Because the thing with Chad isn't what you think."

She just glowers at me, and I realize there's something wrong with her eyes. They're glowing like a cat's, except they're a frightening deep red like the color of blood. But even with the weird color, they look dead.

The red-eyed redheaded salesgirl says nothing as I heal. Her head is cocked in such a way that see she has a strange circular tattoo on her neck. The ink looks like it's swirling. Like it's somehow alive.

Before I can scramble away, she lunges forward, bearing down on me with her crazy cold blood red eyes. With super human strength, she hoists me up again. Then I'm slammed into a long mirror on the back wall. I crumple to the floor as a thousand shards of mirror rain down on me, cutting my arms and legs.

I'm bleeding in several places, including from a deep gash from by neck along my collarbone. It stings. But I can feel it already starting to heal itself.

"Please," I utter meekly, "I don't understand what's going on."

It flashes through my brain that I should know what to do. I've only had ten years of martial arts training. This is exactly what it's been for.

What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do!

My mind is suddenly blank.

A weapon! That's what I need. My karate training finally kicks into gear. My mind slows and focuses.

The only thing nearby is an empty clothes rack. I shove the hanging clothes to the ground, grab the top metal bar and give the supporting leg a yank, which dismantles the whole thing freeing the 4-foot long bar.

"This'll do," I say to myself. Gripping it with two hands, I swing it around and over my head turning it into a makeshift bow staff. The whoosh of air stops the creepy salesgirl's forward movement.

I strike, but lightning fast, she blocks the bar with her forearm. While effective, I can hear the crunch of her bone, yet she shows no trace of pain. Instead, her other arm moves forward trying to punch me in the face.

I lean back and miss her attack by inches.

I circle my weapon around the other way. She blocks it again. Back and forth, we exchange strike, block, strike, block. Yet, no matter how hard I hit her, she does not go down. Her strength and ability are unnatural.

Finally, my concentration breaks, and she knocks the bar from my hands, then thrust kicks me against the wall. She pulls out a short knife, a thick dagger. It must have been holstered behind her back.

The metal resembles bronze, except it has a strange red glimmer, almost the color of blood. It looks like the metal from the sword the man in the Crimson Cloak has.

She jabs it out, and I sidestep the attack. The blade is unlike any metal I've ever seen. It almost looks like a beam of light. She comes at me again with the knife.

I retreat as she swings back and forth trying to cut me. I'm almost backed into the corner again when the tip of the blade slices my arm. There's a deep cut. It hurts, but it's nothing my healing ability won't fix in a few seconds.

Before I can recover, she raises the dagger ready to slash my throat. I close my eyes, expecting the worst. There's a _thwonk_ as she melts to the floor.

I open my eyes to see a wide-eyed Ruby holding a folding chair.

The crazed salesgirl falls sideways through the curtain of a dressing stall where she lies unconscious on the tile floor.

"Oh my God! Do you think I killed her?" Ruby asks, trying to look at the salesgirl without getting too close.

The regular warm glow of the dressing room lights pop back on washing out the sickly green.

"I doubt it. You didn't hit her that hard."

"Why was she attacking you? Does she know Meegan"

"That's what I thought too." I look down at the eerily still body of the girl. "But I'm pretty sure it doesn't have anything to do with that."

Ruby's eyes flick down to my arm. "You're bleeding."

"What?"

"Your arm." She points. "She cut you."

Warm blood trickles slowly down my arm. I'm shocked to see that my skin is not healing. I've never not healed before. Was there something different about the red-bladed dagger she used?

"Here," Ruby hands me a wad of tissues from the pack in her bag. "Put pressure on it."

Just then a deep male voice yells, "This is the police. Come out with your hands up."

Ruby immediately panics. "Oh God! The cops. Twice in two days."

How exactly do we explain what just happened? No one will ever believe me.

The voice, now closer, barks, "Come out here right now, girls!"

Ruby and I exchanged looks, and I take her hand. Slowly we make our way out of the dressing room.

I don't know why I'm expecting to find an entire battalion of police officers, all pointing their guns at us -- probably seen too many cop shows -- but there's just a single officer pointing his gun at us.

"We had a report of a physical altercation at this location," he informs us flatly, slightly lowering his firearm.

"I was attacked," I blurt out.

"Attacked?" he asks. "By whom?"

In my mind, I try to piece together some logical story about what just happened.

"By her. The salesgirl," I explain, turning and pointing back into the dressing room. But it turns out a logical story won't be necessary.

The salesgirl is gone.

# Chapter 17

Ten minutes later, Ruby and I are sitting in separate rooms in the mall's security office.

The cop, Officer Fitzgerald, a heavyset forty-something with a potbelly and a kind face, turned out to be a decent guy. He seems familiar, like one of my friend's dads, all dorky and kidding around. Even though he's a real cop, the mall cops let him use their office for big things like crazed salespeople trying to kill random customers.

I finish explaining what happened -- leaving out all the unexplainable parts -- for the third time.

He furrows his brow and asks, "And that's the truth? The whole truth and nothing but? She just attacked you for no reason?"

"Yes," I answer from the leather couch in the security office that smells faintly of cigarettes, shoplifting, and desperation. "That's the truth."

Obviously, I'm not going to tell him what really happened. So, um, this salesgirl with the freaky red eyes and a swirling neck tattoo came at me. Like he'd believe that.

Actually, I could care less what Officer Fitzgerald believes, I just don't want him to call my uncle.

"And then," he nods. "Your friend hit the saleswoman with a chair?"

"I know it sounds crazy but what were we supposed to do?"

Officer Fitzgerald leans back, and I can tell he's mulling this whole thing over. After a moment, he asks, "Was there anything unusual about the salesgirl?"

I hesitated. "What do you mean?"

The spot on my arm where she cut me aches. When we first got to the security office, the receptionist brought me antiseptic and bandages. Even though my wound is all cleaned up, it still stings.

"You know, was there anything out of the ordinary?" he asks, never taking his eyes off of me.

Was this my opportunity to tell him about her weird eyes or her superhuman strength or how the ceiling lights went green? Does he knows something he's not saying?

I blink a couple of times. "Nope. Nothing unusual."

"Are you sure? There must have been something?"

"Um," I begin, uncertain as to how much to say. "She had a weird tattoo. On her neck."

"Weird how?" he asks, flatly.

"Just a strange shape. That's all."

He nods, studying my face. "Well, there's no trace of anyone - dead, alive, or otherwise -- in the store. We've called the manager, and they're trying to track down their employee. I don't know what happened in that dressing room, but your friend is telling the identical story."

"Maybe, cause, like, it's the truth," I suggest. Although, of course, it's only partly the truth.

"Okay, then." He stands. "I need to call someone to come and get you."

"Oh." If my uncle finds out about this, I'll be wishing that salesgirl had killed me. "Why? We were just headed back to campus. And it's the middle of the day, so our parents are all at work."

"You've both suffered a trauma and I'd feel better if you didn't drive," he explains, sliding a pen and piece of paper across the table to me. "What's a phone number where I can reach a roommate or a parent?"

I pick up the pen and hold it above the paper. If my uncle finds out about this, I will never be able to leave the house again. The small, fleeting glimpses at freedom that I currently enjoy will instantaneously vanish.

Coupled with the meteor, odds are, we'll pack up and move again.

I start to write down his cell phone number, but at the last second, I transpose the last two numbers. Oopsy. This way I have plausible deniability because I can earnestly claim I just made a mistake.

"That's my uncle's number," I slide the paper back to him. "Can I use the bathroom."

As he picks up his cell phone, he nods. "Sure. Through that door."

I head out of the little office. I reach up and rub the throbbing cut on my arm. It aches. It feels very strange to have an unhealed cut.

Turning the corner, I spot Ruby sitting on the couch in the waiting area. I silently motion for her to follow me. She tosses the O Magazine she's reading on the beat up coffee table and slinks after me.

"Let's get out of here," I whisper.

"Thought you'd never ask," she replies as the two of us dash toward the front of the office. Walking quickly, eyes straight ahead, we hurry out the door.

It takes every ounce of strength I have not to break into a full on sprint as soon as we're in the mall.

"Just act normal," I say, glancing over my shoulder. No one is chasing after us. Yet.

"I am acting normal," Ruby replies. "Astrid, what is going on? Why did that woman attack you?"

"I don't know."

She's silent for a moment, then asks, "Was there something up with her eyes? Or was that just the light?"

I didn't realize Ruby saw that much. The only thing I can say is, "Probably just the light."

Luckily, no one comes after us. We don't talk about it anymore on the ride back to campus.

The rest of the school day is pretty much a waste. I basically hit autopilot through lit class as my brain keeps circling back to the crazed salesgirl with the weird eyes. I'm doing my best to not completely freak out.

And I know I should call my uncle.

But if I do, then we'll be packed and on the road to the next town before you can say - overreact much?

Also, it goes without saying that I'm super excited about my study date with Chad in the library after school. But, after the weird events at the mall, I seriously consider canceling it. That's how frazzled I am.

After turning everything over in my brain, I come to the conclusion that if my life is about to be uprooted again, then I might as well spend a half hour with the beautiful Chad Olson.

After all, he's not trying to kill me.

As soon as my classes for the day are over, I grab my bag and head to the always-empty girls' bathroom on the second floor near the student union.

I just want a few minutes to myself.

This remote lavatory is one of the few places I can kill fifteen minutes without Ruby giving me point-by-point instructions on exactly what I should do and say around Chad Olson.

I love Ruby. She's the best friend I've ever had. But I'm just not in the mood to deal with her right now.

After I drag a brush through the tangles in my pink hair and dig out a long forgotten lip gloss at the bottom of my bag, I make my way to the library.

I stop just outside the entrance to draw in a deep cleansing breath hoping to calm the butterflies in my stomach. I don't know why I'm such a weirdo. Chad probably won't even show up anyway.

When I first walk into the library, there's no sign of him. Clusters of students are scattered at various tables doing homework or killing time until their next class.

The campus library, with its honey blond wood everywhere and soaring two-story wall of windows, is by far the best library of any school I've ever attended. I circle the perimeter of the large space and still don't see him.

Disappointment washes over me, and I realize how crazy I was to think that someone like Chad Olson would actually want to meet me after school.

I'm such a complete and total idiot.

Spinning on my heels, I slink back toward the entrance with my head hung low when I hear a voice from over by the reference section.

"Hey. Astrid."

# Chapter 18

I turn to see Chad waving at me from a table near the back door with his books and notebooks spread out in front of him. I realized I didn't see him at first because a cluster of engineering geeks blocked my view.

"Oh, hey," I say, heat rising in my cheeks as I move toward him. "I didn't see you. I thought..."

"You thought what?" he smiles, and my knees nearly give out.

Now, what do I say? I thought you bailed on me. "I thought maybe I was late."

There are four seats at this table -- one next to him and two across. Where do I sit? After a moment's deliberation, I drop my bag into the chair kitty-corner from him and take the seat directly across the table.

"So did you have a chance to do any of the lab report?" I ask casually, pulling my folder from my backpack.

"Oh, um," he begins. "A little. Not much."

"Okay, let's get started," I say and force a smile. For some reason, my heart dips a little in my chest. He's probably just one of those super cute guys who wields their charm like Excalibur, luring sad, pathetic girls like me into helping them with their homework.

When I get settled and look up, he's staring at me.

"What?" I ask, suddenly wondering if there's something on my face.

Realizing that I caught him staring, he looks away and says, "Oh sorry. I was just noticing your eyes. I've never seen eyes that color before."

In the right light, my eyes look almost neon blue. Which is weird. "I have unusually bright pigment. I guess it runs in my family."

"I think they look cool," he replies, and I feel my inside start to melt. "They go with your awesome hair."

"Thanks," I nod because I can't think of anything else to say. "We should probably start with the anatomy chart."

"Right." He picks up a chewed pencil.

"I got halfway done before lunch," I say, digging mine out of my bio folder.

"Is it true you have a blackbelt?" he asks. "In karate? Someone told me that."

I laugh because that's the last question I was expecting. "Actually, I have two blackbelts. One in karate and one in tae kwon do."

"That's so cool!"

Boys are usually super impressed by my martial arts pedigree. Not in a way that makes me more appealing or attractive to them, but rather in a way that makes me some sort of a cool, weird, boyish girl who can probably kick their ass.

"Well, it's not like I had much of a choice," I explain. "My uncle -- that's who I live with -- runs a karate studio. So studying martial arts is pretty much mandatory at my house."

He's listening and nodding, and I realize he's even more beautiful close up than from a distance. You sort of figure that when you get up close to an attractive person, you might notice a flaw or two that isn't visible from a distance.

This is not the case with Chad.

"I wish my parents had let me do martial arts," he says with a sigh. "But they're pretty much peace loving hippies. My dad's a forest ranger, so we're all about nature and sunshine and granola at my house. Which is awesome. I want to be a ranger just like him. But they'd never go for karate."

"Actually, a big part of martial arts is about resolving potentially violent situations in a peaceful manner."

"Really?"

"Oh, sure," I say because this it totally true. Then I add, "Of course, there's a whole other part dedicated to becoming a highly effective killing machine."

He laughs, "Which are you? A peaceful resolver or a killing machine?"

"I like to think I'm a little of both," I reply and notice that he's staring at me again. "But I'm not sure I'm either." Our eyes lock for a moment, and I can feel myself blushing. I force myself to look away and ask, "So the lab report?"

"Oh. Right," he says, flipping through a stack of rumpled school papers jammed into his history book. By the condition of his textbooks, school does not appear to be a top priority for him.

"Psst! Astrid," I hear a familiar voice calling my name. I turn to see Ruby standing by the checkout desk twenty feet away, motioning for me. "C'mere."

Oh jeez. I shake my head no. Her timing could not be worse. "I'll text you when we're done."

She makes an insistent face and says louder, "I need to tell you something. It's super important."

I turn back to Chad and say, "I'm sorry. My friend, she's... I'll be right back."

"Okay," he nods.

I hurry over to Ruby. "What!?"

She grabs me by the arm and pulls me toward the library entrance. "I've come to warn you. Meegan McGovern is on the warpath. Carly Birch told Lizzy Grover that she is totally pissed and wants to rip your face off."

"So?" I say as I get a sip of water from the fountain. "Rip my face off? I'd like to see her try."

"Meegan is going to freak if she finds you two together." Ruby looks at me like I'm a moron. "Apparently, Chad broke up with her at lunch."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I don't think that has anything to do with me."

"What are you, an idiot?" she asks. "He told Bret Marlowe who told Paul Gordon that he wants to ask you to the frat's spring formal."

"Me? He said me? He used my actual name?"

"Well. Okay. Not exactly," Ruby confesses. "Not in so many words, but he said he wants to ask someone else. Someone other than Meegan."

"You're crazy," I say, starting back toward Chad "You know that, right?"

"Who else could it be?" Ruby asks.

"It could be any girl within a ten-mile radius. Now please let me get back to my study session."

I catch my reflection in the glass of the door as I storm back inside. My hair is sticking up funny on the left side of my head, so I stop to flatten it back out. Also, there's a smudge of something on my cheek. Was that there the whole time! I rub it off and take a look at my reflection.

Is it possible Chad Olson might ask me to the dance? I mean, why not? I'm as pretty as Meegan. On a good day, anyway. And way nicer. Everyday.

I take another deep cleansing breath then head back toward our table like I'm totally chill. But as I come around the corner of the reference section, I see that our table is empty.

Chad is gone.

So are his books and backpack. Only my stuff remains scattered across the tabletop. My heart sinks.

"Great," I mutter as I slump back into my chair.

He bailed. Of course, he did.

A white paper on the floor catches my eye. I immediately recognize it as Chad's anatomy worksheet. It must have slipped off the table when he was racing to get away from me as quickly as possible.

I reach down to pick it up. His handwriting is small and hard to read.

There's a whole bunch of little doodles in the margins including a baseball bat and little sketches of baseballs. He's drawn a pretty decent car and motorcycle.

Also, across the very top of the page, there's a drawing of a meteor complete with a flaming tail.

That's weird.

I set the worksheet down, unsure what to do next. Should I leave or wait? What are the chances he might return? Probably slim to none. He's gone. For sure.

I decide to wait.

Just in case.

I text my uncle to tell him I might be late to weapons class. The only possible excuse that will get me off the hook is homework. So I tell him the truth that I'm in the school library.

I half expect my uncle will show up to check on me. Cause, you know, that's just how much he trusts me.

Over the next hour and fifteen minutes, I manage to get all of my homework done for the next two days, as well as a solid second draft of my lit paper.

At one minute to 5 p.m., the librarian calls out, "We are closing, people. Please check out any needed materials."

As the other students shuffle out, and the lights begin to click off section by section, I reluctantly get up to leave. Now I feel like a complete and total loser for waiting for some guy who basically ditched me.

The hallways are nearly empty as I trudge down the hallway that leads to a side door on the back side of the campus. It's a shortcut to my uncle's studio from here.

Usually, there's a bunch of drama geeks or jocks wandering around after school. But at this late hour, only the weird custodian pushing his jangling cart of cleaning supplies is around.

The atmosphere of the dim hallway feels so creepy that even the custodian's creepy presence gives me a little comfort.

I come around the corner, and I'm startled to see Chad standing way down at the very end of the hallway.

"Hey!" I call out as my heart flutters like a stupid little girl. I should be angry, but I only feel elation. He must have come back to explain. "I found your bio homework." I hold it up as I head toward him. "It must have slipped to the floor."

He doesn't budge. Doesn't start toward me. Instead, he just lingers, motionless and unblinking in the murky green glow of the emergency exit sign right next to the stairwell.

"So what happened to you?" I ask, trying not to sound too clingy. I know guys hate clingy. Slinging my bag over my other shoulder, I saunter as casually as I can toward him. "You were gone when I got back."

Still nothing. I stop a couple of feet away from him.

"Chad?" I'm getting a bad feeling. "What's wrong?"

Suddenly, his eyes start to glow blood-red with the same dead expression as the salesgirl. A wave of fear ripples through me. Oh God. It can't be happening again.

I immediately turn to run, but he lunges forward, grabs me and pushes me hard down to the ground.

Looking up at him, a flash of darkness on his neck distracts me. It's that weird tattoo. Just like the crazed salesgirl, the silvery-black mark on his neck swirls and turns around itself like some sort of a living organism.

I'm so shocked that I don't initially move when he pulls a dagger with the same strange blood red blade that cut me in the dressing room.

My eyes widen in recognition. He raises the dagger. This is not happening.

Chad Olson is trying to kill me!

# Chapter 19

An instant before he plunges the dagger into my heart, I roll to the side barely avoiding it. The blade clangs loudly on the hard tile floor.

Stunned and confused, I scramble away. "Chad! What are you doing?"

His dead, blood red eyes cast a lifeless gaze. They seem to look right through me, instead of at me.

"Chad?" I try again.

He lunges, grabbing my arm right on top of my still unhealed cut. I wince in pain.

As he violently drags me forward, I somehow manage to throw an elbow up into the side of his head.

Startled, Chad lets out a strange inhuman cry and loosens his grip long enough for me to push backward and get to me feet. I don't have time to think. Instead, I'm up and running. Running away from this madness.

Unfortunately, I'm forced to go down the opposite hallway to get away. I sprint as hard and fast toward the wide double doors that lead out to the far side campus.

I glance over my shoulder to see evil Chad Olson gaining on me. I may be faster than the average person, but he's easily keeping up.

While I'm all pounding feet and loud breathing, somehow, he moves in total silence like a panther in the night.

I explode out the exterior door, into the brisk evening air, silently praying that the soccer team will still be on the nearby practice fields.

Thirty athletic college boys might come in handy when you're being chased by an evil, knife-weilding predator.

Unfortunately, the vast practice field stands empty. There's no one in sight; no one here to help me.

I glance over my shoulder as Chad comes busting out through the double doors not far behind me. The cold, mean look on his face sends a chill down my spine.

What is going on?

I can't wrap my mind around the transformation from the sweet, funny boy I talked to in the library a couple of hours ago and the horrible monster that's chasing me right now.

Can it be the same boy? It's like he's possessed.

The only thought in my mind is my uncle. I have to get to my uncle. He'll know what to do.

The problem is I'm about as far away from his karate studio as I can be and still be on campus.

I mentally calculate that I can either hook around to the far side of campus, then swing back up to the street, or I can make a break for it across the vast expanse of open sports field to the gate on the opposite side.

Option two will get me to the fairly busy street sooner - where someone might see me and come to my aid.

As evil Chad charges after me, I'm already a quarter of the way across the field.

Still, he manages to catch up then tackle me.

Falling to the ground, I feel the crushingly heavy weight of his body as his forearm locks over the back of my neck, making it impossible for me to move.

"What do you want?" I spit out as he flips me over. "Why are you doing this!"

He says nothing, his red eyes boring holes into me. He pulls out the red metal dagger out.

It's now or never.

If I don't get free, I'll be dead in seconds. I close my eyes and concentrate as a warm, powerful energy fills my body.

I push my hands up under my shoulders like I'm getting ready to do push-ups. Then I lift up. But it's an explosive adrenaline-filled push because I end up flying all the way up to my feet.

The Chad Olson monster flies back and lands flat on his back, surprise etched on his face.

A strange thought flashes through my mind. Is this why my uncle has pushed me so hard? Has he been preparing me for an attack like this all along?

Suddenly, every time he yelled at me in class because I dropped my hands opening myself up for a punch, or scolded me because I wasn't kicking as hard as I could, makes me wonder if he knew this day would come. Maybe he's somehow known all along that I'm in some kind of danger.

Evil Chad Olson recovers and advances, slashing the dagger back and forth.

I block his attack with my forearm then counter with a palm strike directly to his face.

He reels back, and to be honest, I'm a little surprised by my success.

To follow up, I step forward and kick him in the gut with a thrusting kick. The force of my blow sends his body tumbling to the ground.

Before he can recover, I turn and run.

I may get away from him yet.

But then, ten yards in front of me, I see a second figure blocking my path. The silhouette is familiar and, for a moment, I'm certain my eyes are playing tricks on me.

Chad? How did he get in front of me so fast?

My head whips around and I see the Chad Olson I knocked down a moment ago, just getting back on his feet.

Which means -- there are now two Chad Olsons.

They're wearing the exact same baggy khakis with the patched knee, the same long sleeve crested fraternity polo, along with laceless converse shoes.

Math may not be my best subject, but I know two against one are lousy odds.

My mind races. The street! No more fighting. Only running away.

If I can make it to the street in front of the school, maybe I can get the attention of the school security guard. Or a passing car. Someone. Anyone.

The two Chads have made eye contact, and their blood red eyes glow even brighter than before. A high-pitched hum echoes between them like a line of connected energy, like they're communicating.

It's an unearthly sound, but I've heard it before. I heard it the night the meteor crashed in the canyon behind my house.

If they're forming a plan, I need to get away. And fast.

Caught between them, I veer right, away from both of them, toward a side fence. It's nearly twice the distance to this fence than it would have been to run back to the school.

Was this a miscalculation? Should I have gone the other way?

# Chapter 20

I shake off the doubt. Too late now, anyway. This is my only possible path of escape.

With the two Chads catching up with me, I see a third person in my path. It can't be! It's another identical Chad Olson.

Three Chads are now chasing me.

"This is crazy," I murmur in disbelief. With one in front and two behind, I cut left, but a fourth Chad blocks my path.

I swivel to the right. A fifth Chad!

How can this be?

Either way, I have no chance of defending myself. I'm totally outnumbered. I have no choice but to retreat toward the school.

With five Chads behind me, I'm almost back to where I started. I'm twenty feet from the library's back door when a sixth Chad appears in the doorway.

Now I'm trapped! I pull up short when he speaks \--

"Astrid!" the sixth Chad calls. "This way!"

"Chad?" I ask. At first, I'm not sure I believe that this is the real Chad, but his blue eyes are blinking frantically, full of life. Not glowing red eyes like the others. And there's a trickle of blood on his bruised face, and his shirt is ripped.

Please tell me he's come to save me.

"It's me." He flings the door open wider. "Hurry!"

It's him! It's the real Chad Olson. Good guy Chad Olson. Relief floods through every inch of me.

"What's going on?" he asks, watching with utter disbelief as the five identical versions of himself racing toward us.

"I wish I knew."

"Something hit me in the library. I know it sounds crazy, but it was like a bolt of energy or something. It must have knocked me unconscious."

"We have to get out of here," I say, taking a chance and grabbing his hand. Together, we duck inside the school. Chad rips a wound firehose off the wall and wraps it around the handles of the double doors to secure them from our side.

"My Uncle Conrad," I say as we start down the hallway. "We have to get to my uncle. He'll know what to do."

Unfortunately, our makeshift lock doesn't even slow the five evil Chads down. With superhuman ease, they just break the door's glass window and pour into the building like spiders crawling over their web.

Squeezing his hand tighter, Chad and I run through the maze of halls. He knows his way around better than I do, and it's not long before we make it to the front entrance.

Luckily, the doors haven't been bolted shut for the night, so we're able to fly outside to the front of the deserted building.

Hand in hand, we dash down the front walkway to the sidewalk, then out into the traffic on Laurel Holly Canyon. Dodging honking cars, we're ahead of our pursuers by not more than ten yards.

From around a corner, I hear the squeal of tires along with the roar of a familiar engine. The beat up white pickup truck comes screeching to a stop at the curb right in front of us.

"Get in!" My uncle flings the passenger door open. "Him too."

I scramble into the front seat with Chad right behind me. Before he can even get the passenger door completely shut, the truck speeds away from the now seven -- yes seven -- Chads running after us through the street.

"What's going on?" I demand, looking over my shoulder to see we're losing the Chads the farther away we drive. "Do you know what those things are?"

I glance at my uncle to see an unfamiliar emotion etched across his usually stoic face. I can't read it. It's not exactly anger. It's something else entirely.

"We've been betrayed," he mutters. "He was right."

"Betrayed?" I repeat. "Betrayed by who? Who was right?"

"We should already be gone," he continues, ignoring my question. "I should have made sure we were already gone."

"I'm sorry. I should have told you about the store."

"The store?" he asks confused, his head whipping, and I realize he has no idea about the mall.

"I'll, um, explain later," I say.

"My job is to protect you." My uncle pounds the steering wheel with his left hand. "It's my only job. And I've failed."

My body feels shaky. My mind races a thousand miles an hour. "But why... why is a small army of evil Chad Olsons trying to kill me?"

"They're called the Grail. They're highly effective shapeshifting bounty hunters. Those copies of Chad are -- how do I explain this -- they've imprinted off of him. If they saw you two together, the prime Grail probably figured you would trust Chad, so she took his form."

"But how is that possible?" Chad asks numbly.

"They're not from this world," my uncle replies.

"Not from this world?" I repeat.

"They're alien to this world, yes."

"Aliens from outer space?" I feel ridiculous even having the words come out of my mouth.

"Yes," he says, flatly.

"Are you crazy?" I spit out.

"I wish I were."

I suppose I always believed, deep down, that life exists outside of Earth. But I believe in aliens the same way I believe in molecules and Brad Pitt and Australia. I know they exist, even though I've never actually seen them.

This is too much to process.

"Whatever they are, and wherever they're from, they're trying to kill me."

"No. They want you alive," my uncle says, an unsettling edge in his voice. "Someone else is waiting to kill you. Someone much worse."

# Chapter 21

I'm stunned silent. Someone worse than these creepy red-eyed monsters wants to kill me? Finally, I find words, "Did I... did I do something wrong?"

"Wrong?" My uncle sounds shocked by my question. He reaches over and puts a gentle hand on my knee. "No. You were born, child. That is your only crime."

Meanwhile, Chad is freaking out in the seat next to me.

"This is bad. Really bad. Really, really bad," he repeats, staring blankly at the world going by outside the car window as we speed away from my school.

"It's okay, young man. Those creatures won't look like you for much longer," my uncle explains in a calm, even voice, like all of this is no big deal. "They're shapeshifter, but they can't retain your likeness from a distance. Once we're far enough away, the clones will vanish, and the Grail will revert to its true form."

I hesitate, afraid to ask, "And what exactly is its true form?"

A dark shadow crosses my uncle's face. "You don't want to know." He accelerates, running a yellow light a split second before it blinks red.

"No, actually, I do want to know," I say, finding unexpected courage. "I want to know what exactly is going on."

A long beat follows until my uncle lets out a low tired sigh.

"It's time you knew all of this anyway," he says with regret in his voice. "You are almost of age."

"Knew what?" A bad feeling is welling up inside of me.

"Long past time, probably. You were being pursued by the Grail. The Grail are big scary reptilian aliens with incredible strength and speed. They're mercenary bounty hunters for hire to the highest bidder. They're expensive because they're effective."

Great. Nice to know that the shapeshifting intergalactic bounty hunters sent to capture me are really, really exceptional at their job.

"There were so many, so many..." Chad mutters.

"Actually," my uncle corrects him. "There was only one. The prime. The rest were clones."

"Clones?" I pinch myself to see if I wake up from this bizarre nightmare. Nope. We're all still in the truck.

My uncle glances at Chad, then back to the road in front of him. "We'll talk more once he's safely out of the car."

He obviously doesn't want to say too much in front of Chad.

I nod and sit in stunned silence for a long moment.

A troubling thought fills my brain. If those things are aliens, and they're after me, does that mean I'm an alien too?

Because that might explain why I'm so different; why I'm such a freak. It might be the reason I've never felt like I fit in.

My uncle pulls the truck over to the curb in front of the local StarCoffee where people from my school hang out. He reaches into his pocket and hands Chad three $20 bills. "Get something to eat and find a ride home."

"Yes, sir," Chad nods numbly, "Thank you, sir."

"Look at me," my uncle commands in a firm voice. Chad obediently turns his blue eyes toward my uncle. My uncle locks Chad in his gaze. I've never seen him look at someone like this before. It's both powerful and a little frightening. "Young man, you will keep the memory of today locked in your brain as a warning of what may come. But you will share your experience with no one until the time is right. Do you understand?"

His wide eyes glazed, Chad nods.

"Good. You have done well. You can not fully appreciate the importance of keeping Astrid safe," my uncle tells Chad. "And you too will be safe now. Those creatures will not return for you. They will not take your form again. You can be sure of that."

This seems to comfort a still shaken Chad. "Thank you, sir."

"Go now," my uncle looks away. Breaking his gaze seems to release Chad from the invisible hold. "Remember, don't speak of this to anyone."

The way my uncle is talking sounds different. Oddly formal.

Chad smiles, instantly back to his regular, easygoing self, as if none of this happened. "Bye, Astrid. See you tomorrow in bio."

"Right," I nod and smile, but my heart is breaking. I know I'm never going back to Oakdale College. Which means I'll likely never see Chad Olson again. "See you in bio."

Chad closes the truck's door and breezes into the coffee shop. I watch him walk out of my life forever.

As we pull away from the curb, I wipe away a tear rolling down my cheek. "Did you hypnotize him or something? Can you do some sort of mind meld?"

My uncle nearly chuckles. "The human brain is relatively uncomplicated. I simply planted a firm suggestion in his head. A suggestion he wanted to hear so he will obey."

At the end of the block, the white truck makes a U-turn sending us back in the direction we just came from. There's a knot in my stomach. "Are we leaving? Moving again?"

"No."

"Really? We're staying?"

"No," he says flatly. "We're going home."

This confuses me all the more, because when you've moved ten times you don't actually feel like you have a home. "And where exactly would that be?"

He's quiet for a moment then replies, "A thousand light years from here."

"Is that like some sort of metaphor?" I ask. "Cause I don't know how to pack for a thousand light years. Winter clothes? Summer? Boots or sandals?"

He frowns at my sarcasm. "You don't need to bring any of your Earthly possessions," he says. "Except your family's weapon."

"What family weapon?"

We don't have any ancestral swords or daggers lying around. Sure we have a bunch of old beat up karate equipment -- kali sticks, tattered bow staffs, and cheap steel replicas. But that's it.

"It's at the studio," he says. "Give me your phone."

"Why?"

"I need it."

I pull my cell phone from my back pocket and hand it to him. My uncle turns my phone off, rolls down the window, and throws it into oncoming traffic.

"Hey!" I yell as a UPS truck runs over my phone shattering it into a gazillion pieces. "Why did you—"

"You can be tracked with your phone. And, you won't need it anymore. Not where we're going."

"We could have just taken out the SIM card! You didn't need to--" I slump helplessly in my seat. "You have officially lost your mind. This whole thing is crazy."

"This is not how I wanted you to find out." We roll to a stop at a red light, and his hands drop from the steering wheel into his lap. "Leaving has always been a last resort."

"Please tell me what is going on?"

# Chapter 22

"You're special, Astrid." I can tell by the look on his face that this is a conversation he doesn't want to have. When the light turns green, he says, "I've always told you that you have royal blood. This is true. But we are not of this world."

I'm so stunned my ears are ringing. In fact, I'm not sure I heard him correctly. "Wait... You're not actually saying that we're... aliens too?"

"I know this is all a lot to take in."

I bark out a nervous laugh. "You think?"

"I'm saying we are not originally from this planet," he tries to explain. "But you truly are a princess, of sorts. Not from Ivalo, but from a multi-star system about 450 light years away called the Pleiades."

"The Pleiades star cluster?" I ask, thinking back to English class and Greek mythology. I had a strange encounter with an English substitute teacher at my last school who was obsessed with the mythology of the Pleiades, so I'm pretty familiar with it.

"And the Greek myth of the seven sisters of the Pleiades?" I add.

"Tell me what you know about them."

I stumble through what I remember. "After their father Atlas was forced to carry the heavens on his shoulders, Orion began to pursue his seven daughters."

I pause thinking. "So, to help the family out, Zeus turned the seven girls first into doves, and then into stars, placing them in the night sky, in order to comfort their father. Which doesn't seem like a good solution to the problem, but whatever..."

My uncle nods, then I add, "Even though the seven sisters became seven stars, only six stars of the Pleiades are visible in the night sky. One sister is lost."

"Nearly ever civilization on Earth has some version of the seven sisters story," my uncle begins. "The Vikings called them the hen and the chicks; the Navajo called them the seven sparkling suns. The Japanese call them subaru and gave that name to their car company using the symbol of the six stars. The Hopi believe they are descended from the Pleiades."

"Okay," I laugh. "And?"

"It's all part of a larger prophecy. An ancient promise thousands of years old is now coming to pass," he replies.

"Why are you talking so funny?" I ask, then mimic his deep voice, "An ancient promise come to pass. You sound weird, and it's kind of freaking me out."

"I'm sorry, Astrid," he says with a sad smile. "I think it's actually the other way around. All of my years on Earth have changed the way I naturally speak, and you're used to that."

"Well, go back to talking normally. I like it better."

"If you don't want to hear about the prophecy..."

"No, I want to hear," I snap back. Then, I soften my tone and add, "Just tell me, you know, in a regular way."

"I'm not sure how to explain in a normal way that the stars were aligned on the day you and six other girls were born to seven powerful Pleiadian families -- just as the prophecy foretold.

"Each of those families holds a seat on the Pleiadian Council of Light that governs a peaceful alliance of hundreds of different worlds. You come from the royal family of Asterope."

"So I really am a princess?"

He nods, then continues, "You seven girls are collectively known as the Seven Sisters of the Light."

"There are six more like me?" I begin, trying to make sense of this information.

"One of you seven – the Lost Star – is destined to fulfill the ancient prophecy and become the savior of the Pleiadian Alliance by defeating a terrible enemy known as the Swarm."

"The Swarm?" I repeat, feeling a ripple of fear trickle down my spine.

"There is no enemy more frightening or dangerous," he says flatly. "Our civilizations, made up of hundreds of planets, lived peacefully for tens of thousands of years until we were invaded by a massive dark empire from the Draco star system.

"These Draconians are a warlike race, who rob every planet they invade of all its resources, leaving it drained and dying. They are called the Swarm because the skies grow dark with thousands of their warships when they infest each new world.

"An alliance was formed to stop the Draconians. We, who are loyal to the Council of Light, have tried to stop the Draconian Swarm from swallowing up planet after planet.

"The people of Earth do not know it yet, but we have included them in our alliance. If the Draconians are not stopped, this world will also be destroyed. And soon."

"No one on Earth knows this?" I ask.

"There are some who know," he says, "A small group here has assisted us. And they watch the skies."

"But if there were seven girls born, how will you know which girl is this lost sister of light?" I ask, feeling like I missed something.

"No one knows who among of the seven is the prophesied Lost Star. She alone will be able to defeat the Draconian Swarm. Each of you has inherited your family's royal weapon. They are ancient weapons forged from the dust of the seven original Pleiadian stars. They say each weapon is as different as the girl who wields it."

"Well, I'm obviously not one of these seven sisters," I say with a nervous laugh. "I can barely use my bow staff, let alone some ancient magical sword."

"Don't say that," he barks at me. "This is serious, Astrid."

"I'm sorry. But it sounds completely and totally insane. The whole thing is all a little much to swallow."

"The seven of you have been scattered across the galaxy for safe-keeping. Each was sent with their family's weapon and a guardian."

"What do you mean by guardian?"

"Astrid, I'm not your uncle. Not by blood, at least. I am your chosen guardian and teacher. I was a general of the Pleiadian Alliance. I have sworn an oath on my life to protect you. This assignment has been my greatest honor. My most treasured duty."

We ride in silence for a moment as my head swims with all of this information.

My uncle regards me with a solemn expression I have seen a thousand times, except now I wonder if his always-serious mood comes from the burden of hiding the truth about my past all these years. "But I have most certainly come to love you as my own child."

He parks the truck a block from the karate studio, around a dark corner on a dead end street.

"Let me ask you..." He turns the engine off. "Do you still dream of the hooded figure in the dark red cloak?"

I tense up. How could he know this?

# Chapter 23

"Sometimes," I confess. "Actually, I dream about him all of the time."

"Those are not dreams," he replies.

"Then what are they?"

"That is the Draconian supreme warlord, Ciakar Rigel, trying to reach out to you through time and space. He's known as the Crimson Lord because they say his once white cape is now soaked in the blood of those he has conquered. He searches the galaxy for you. And your sisters. To put an end to you before you can begin."

Somehow, as he speaks, I know this is true. I've felt an evil force trying to take hold of me while I sleep. Sometimes, even after I wake, a dark shadow seems to cling to me.

"Where are the others?" I ask. "The other six?"

"Each has been sent to a far corner of the galaxy. Only you and I live in this star system," he says, as he gets out of the truck. "Your existence worries the Crimson Lord. Your encounter with the Grail means he now knows you are here. It means we must leave this planet. As fast as possible."

I'm out of the truck, meeting him at the back as he pulls his bag from the flatbed. Trying to put the pieces of the past few days together, I blurt out, "The meteor. The Grail came in the meteor."

"Yes, their small craft entered the atmosphere disguised as a meteor." A dark wave washes over his face, and he shakes his head. "I don't understand. I thought I had destroyed it before it could confirm your location."

Now it makes sense. The bundle that looked like a dead body he was carrying last night in the canyon was a Grail.

"The Grail are trackers, bounty hunting, mercenary scum who work for the Draconians," he says darkly. "Now that they have confirmed that you're here, they won't stop until they catch you."

"They sound impossible to defeat."

"No. Kill the prime," he says, handing me a short, thick kali stick. "And you kill the hive. The Grail are shifters and splitters. From their prime, they divide into exact replicas. Whatever form the prime takes, the second follows and so on. Destroy the prime and you kill all the clones."

"How can you tell which is the prime?"

"Did you see a mark?" he asks. "Like a living tattoo?"

"On the neck," I say, realizing I know exactly what he's talking about. "The salesgirl and the Chads had a swirly tattoo thing on their neck."

"The prime does not carry the mark." He gestures to his neck. "The mark on the neck is what connects her to her clones."

"How many clones can one prime make?" I ask as we head toward the studio.

"Potentially hundreds. But each new copy saps a little strength from the prime. And each clone weakens the entire group."

The gloom of the moonless night hangs heavy over the town as we approach the dark karate studio. It's almost 6 p.m. Something seems to crackle in the air like a weird living energy, and it's making me nervous.

As we hurry toward the studio, a beefy figure approaches in the shadows. I'm ready to turn around and run away, but my uncle recognizes the figure and smiles. "Hey, Jonas. You get everything locked up?"

"Yes, sir," Jonas, the assistant teacher, replies as he passes us. "Cleaned the mats and washed the windows too."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. He's such a kiss up.

"Excellent. Have a great night." My uncle nods and gives him a wave. I'm amazed at how calm and cool he's being.

Jonas rounds the corner heading toward his car. "See you tomorrow, sir. You too Astrid."

"Right," I wave. Except, probably not Jonas. Little do you know, but this is likely the last time you'll ever lay eyes on us.

As we arrive at the front door of the studio, I ask, "So those things will be coming back?"

"Right now, we're one step ahead of the Grail." My uncle pulls keys from his pocket and unlocks the door. "Which is why you must find your family's weapon."

Moving into the studio, he shuts and relocks the door, pulling the shade down. "Only when both you and the sword are present, can you go to the oracle who will then give you the key to the Stargate that will take us home."

"Okay, so which one is it?" I ask, looking impatiently at the far wall where there's a tiered display of six multi-colored samurai swords. It has to be one of these. There's nothing else.

"The weapon is cloaked," he says. "It will only take its true form when you command it."

"Wait? What do you mean?" I frown. "Like it's in disguise?"

"I can not tell you where the sword lies or what form it has taken."

"What?" I look back up at the katana swords. Even though they're elaborately painted and have Japanese inscriptions on their carbon steel blades, they're still just $70 replicas. "So then it's not one of these?"

He remains silent.

"You've got to be kidding me? How exactly am I supposed to find some magical sword that I've never seen or heard of that somehow isn't currently in the form of a sword?"

"You must feel its presence."

"Seriously?" I say, with a raised eyebrow. "This is a joke, right? You want me to feel the presence of a mysterious, inanimate object?"

He sighs and drops his head. "Astrid, a sister of light is bound to her sword. You were paired at birth. It is one of the things that defines who you are destined to become."

I'm twenty years old, and this is the first I've ever heard of this sword, yet somehow it will define who I am. Okay, this is getting crazier and crazier by the second.

"Except, the thing is, Uncle Conrad, I don't feel bound to anything." Truer words I've never spoken.

My uncle guides me to the center of the studio. He gravely takes a step away from me. "Find your family's weapon or we are both surely doomed."

# Chapter 24

"Please. Just try." He pleads with me. "Close your eyes and call out to the sword with your thoughts."

I sigh. Even though I feel like a complete and utter tool, I close my eyes and attempt to concentrate. "Okay. I'll try."

"Very good," he says calmly next to me. "Reach out to the sword in your mind."

If I were a sword, where would I be? That's when I start to giggle.

"Astrid!" he barks, trying to remain calm, but there's an edge in his voice. "This isn't funny. We must find the sword before the Grail returns."

Even though this is totally nuts, I don't want to disappoint him. "Do I silently call out to this sword and see if it answers? Do I try to form an image of it? Is that what it's supposed to do?"

"You will know the sword when it appears."

I squeeze my eyes shut and clear my mind, trying to conjure up an image of some sort of royal sword. Whatever that looks like.

Even though I feel completely ridiculous, I'm a little surprised when the kernel of an image slowly takes shape in my mind. Of course, I've been surrounded with martial arts swords for my entire life, so maybe it isn't all that unusual.

Except, the sword that's forming in my mind's eye is different. Unfamiliar.

It's forged from a gleaming metal that almost sings out to me. I see a sturdy hilt wrapped with delicately carved vines.

"Do you feel anything," he asks.

"Maybe," I say, focusing on the image in my mind. I reach up and touch the scar on my arm.

He gasps. "Do you see a form? A shape of some kind?"

"I see a seven-sided star with a bright center at the base of the blade," I describe what I'm seeing as a little jolt of recognition goes through me. "Just like my scar."

"Yes!"

"Is it intricately carved, yet also like liquid? Does it have a hint of white sunlight? And the guard looks a little like fire."

"Good!" he says. "It glimmers like the pure white light of our home star. What is the name of the sword?"

My eyes pop open. "It has a name?"

"Every great sword has a name, my child." He takes a step back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. This is what he does when he's trying to remain calm. "I want you to concentrate. Focus your thoughts. Say the very first thing that comes into your mind."

The oddest name instantly forms on my tongue. "BrightSky."

He smiles, a tear glistens in his eye. "Yes."

My eyes flutter closed as I continue, "The sword is named BrightSky."

But it's more like a single breath than a name. Not two words, but one thought. BrightSky.

Yet, the harder I concentrate, the more the image seems to fade as if it's floating away from me. I focus even harder, but I can't bring it back. It's sailing over the treetops, up the canyon. I open my eyes to the expectant face of my uncle.

"Well?" he asks.

"I lost it."

"Lost it?"

"It just sort of floated off."

"I don't think you understand how important this is," he says, "You can't lose it. Without the sword, the Stargate will not open. And passage through the Stargate is our only hope of getting off this planet before the Crimson Lord can find you."

"Uncle Conrad, I hate to disappoint you," I say in a quiet voice. "I don't think I'm the girl you think I am. I'm not some lost alien princess. I don't have a mystical connection with a sword made out of stardust. I'm just a girl. A regular college girl trying to figure out what to do with my life."

"I know who you are, Princess," he says confidently, gently placing his big hands on my shoulders. "I have raised you from practically a baby. I know what you are made of. Do not tell me you don't know you're different. You're special."

Except I've never felt special. I've only felt different and weird. But he obviously believes every crazy word coming out of his mouth.

"I thought I could see it," I begin, feeling foolish. "I heard the sword singing? But then it drifted away... Up the hill."

"Which direction?" he asks.

This seems like a very strange question. I sing a slow circle then point toward the back of the studio. "Um, it went that way."

"To the north." His eyes go wide. Then he jerks around, stalking along the edge of the mat, looking at all the random equipment stored in the studio.

He moves down the line, walking faster and faster, examining every weapon, until he's jogging and searching the whole studio.

"You're scaring me, Uncle Conrad."

"Have you taken any of the practice staffs or kali sticks home?"

"Uh, yeah..." I say, ready for him to kill me. "I grabbed one. A couple of weeks ago."

"Which one did you take?" he asks.

"Just an old practice staff," I reply, thinking back. "I forgot my regular bow staff at school, so I just grabbed one out of that bin on that day you said I had to practice at home." I point to a big plastic bin across the studio filled with a bunch of wooden sticks that resemble broom handles way more than any magical swords.

"Where is it now?"

"I don't know. At home. Maybe at school. But there was nothing special about it. It was just one of the beat up old wooden staffs."

"That must be it," he says. "Unless someone broke in to steal it."

Before he can reply, someone pounds on the front door, and we both jump.

My uncle puts a finger to his lip indicating quiet. He grabs one of the real katanas off the wall, then like a prowling tiger, the big man stalks toward the door with the sword held firmly in one arm.

I would not like to be the person on the other end of his sword.

"Who's there?" my uncle's voice booms.

"Hey man, it's Jax." There's a pause, then he continues. "I came to get my check. You said you'd pay me today."

"Come back later," my uncle replies.

"Uh, yeah, that's not going to work for two reasons," Jax calls through the door, his voice urgent. "First, I'm leaving town right after you give me my check. And second, there's a cluster of scum sucking iguanas, including the very ugly prime, gathering on the edge of your parking lot."

"Iguanas?" I ask.

My uncle answers in a low voice. "That's slang for the Grail."

"How does the deadbeat painter know what they are?" I ask.

"C'mon man!" Jax calls out, pounding on the door. "Don't leave me hanging out here."

"He's actually an exile from the Arcturian star system."

"Wait? The loser handyman is an alien, too?"

# Chapter 25

"I hired him as a favor to an old friend," my uncle replies. Then adds, "Which I am now regretting. Also, we don't like the word "alien." Sort of implies little green men. Instead, those of us not from this world prefer the term _visitor_."

"Oh. Okay." I nod. Who would have thought the UFO folks were all politically correct?

"Hello!?" Jax tries again, his voice thick with desperation.

My uncle hesitates like maybe he's going to leave Jax out there, but then reluctantly unlocks the front door allowing him to slip quickly inside. The instant he's across the threshold, the door slams and gets relocked.

"Hey man, thanks." Jax visibly relaxes. "I owe you one."

My uncle responds by grabbing Jax by the throat and powerfully tossing him down on the mat. His eyes flare with rage, "Where is it?"

"Where's what?" Jax defensively raises his hands, flat on his back.

My uncle points the tip of his long katana blade under Jax's chin. "The Sword of Stardust rightfully belongs to this child. You have no right taking it."

Sword of...! Are you crazy?" Jax's eyes go wide. "I don't have a Sword of Stardust. And, brother, neither do you. Those seven swords only exist in fairytales, dude."

"Oh, I assure you," my uncle says, partially lowering the blade so Jax can get to his feet. "They are quite real."

But before more can be said, a – _kaboom_ – echoes from the back room.

"The Grail..." my uncle mutters, whipping around toward the sound. "She's inside."

"I heard something. A rumor." Jax continues, his gaze lingers on me for a moment. "A rumor that a pair of Iguanas just got here."

"So there were two?" My uncle sounds surprised as his hands ball into fists. He shakes his head. "No. ."

"Weird, right?" Jax can only shrug. "Since they always work alone. I guess that's why people were talking about it."

"I only killed one. I didn't know there were more..."

"Great job. So you killed the male, and now the female wants to kill you," Jax says, getting to his feet.

"What else did you hear?" my uncle demands.

"They're hunting a big bounty. Like BIG. Top dollar." Something flickers behind Jax's eyes. "That's all I know."

Suddenly, the entire back wall of the studio is blown wide open as half a dozen identical beefy teenage boys spill inside. Their face is familiar.

"Jonas!" my uncle cries out with anguish. The Grail has cloned the assistant teacher. "Not Jonas."

"Does that mean he's dead?" I ask my uncle.

"Not necessarily."

"But highly likely," Jax says darkly. He turns to my uncle, "Are they after you?"

My uncle hesitates as the Jonas' creep toward us.

"Oh, I get it." Jax reacts to my uncle's silence. "They're after the girl. But, why?"

Instead of answering, my uncle throws a pair of hard teak kali sticks, like a police officer's batons, toward Jax. "I am sworn only to protect the child. Nothing and no one else. Fight. Or die at their hands. Your choice."

Uncle takes on the first Jonas that comes crashing forward, swinging his bow staff with wicked precision. The Jonas goes down either dead or out cold. My uncle steps forward, hovering about him then slams the sharpened edge of his sword into the heart of the creature. The thing explodes into a cloud of green ash.

The cluster of clones shrinks back now knowing that they're facing a worthy opponent.

Ten feet away, Jax holds the hard kali sticks at his side, and I can't tell if he doesn't know what to do with them, or he's just hesitant to fight. Also, he seems to be eyeing the side door.

It only takes another second to get an answer to this question.

As one of the clones advances on him, Jax raises the sticks in what at first appears to be a defensive posture, but then he's suddenly in motion, moving faster than humanly possible.

I rub my eyes. Jax is a blur of movement. There's no way any human could move that fast.

In less than 30 seconds, three Jonas' have vanished in a puff of green ash that spreads across the studio floor.

Uncle turns to Jax, "I thought you didn't fight?"

"I'm not fighting for either of you," he says, "I just hate the stinkin' Iguanas."

More Jonas' appear. Five in total.

"We have to kill her," my uncle explains. "Or they'll just keep coming."

"Which one is the prime again?" I ask.

"The one without the mark on her neck," he reminds me. "She probably isn't here. But she has to be hiding nearby... like the coward she is."

"These are all females?" I say, looking up at the monstrous Jonas predators slowly converging on us.

"Yep." Jax nods gravely, "You should see the males."

The five fresh Grail spread out, hissing and clicking at each other in some super creepy reptilian language. They're forming a battle plan.

Uncle and Jax prepare to fight again. It's five against three. Uncle steps forward, ready for battle.

In unison, the cluster of Jonas clones lunges at the two men.

I watch as the two men battle the creatures. It's mesmerizing to see my uncle move. I suddenly see, that more than anything else, he is a soldier. It's no surprise he was once a general.

He's like a gladiator on the battlefield, afraid of nothing and prepared for everything. He swings his sword with the ease and deadly force of a master warrior. A warrior, whose sole job, for the last decade, has been to protect me.

And now, at last, I finally understand why he's always been so overly protective. It was all to keep me safe.

Jax, too, fights well, but with a totally different style. He's crazy fast. A blur, almost too fast for the eye to follow, he moves out of the way before the creatures can strike him.

But, it isn't long before one of the Grail learns to anticipate his movements and counters what Jax is about to do. Now it's a fair fight.

With both men occupied, one of the creatures sees that I'm alone. She stalks toward me, slipping around the men. I realize this one doesn't have the swirling mark. This is the prime.

"Uh, hello?" I call to my uncle. Watching the monster bear down on me, I feel my body freeze up.

This was her strategy – to separate me from the other two. Gripped with fear in the corner, I'm now completely cut off from my uncle and Jax.

From across the studio, my uncle calls to me, "Astrid. Remember your training. I have tried to prepare you. Now is the time to call upon all that you have learned."

Right. My training. My training. I would have paid way more attention in class if I'd known that massive shapeshifting alien bounty hunters would one day come for me.

I grab a practice staff from the barrel in the corner, but it feels strange and awkward in my hands.

The Prime Jonas has stopped a few feet in front of me. She looks at me with those creepy glowing red eyes.

"Calm your mind, Astrid," Uncle calls. "Focus on your strength."

I raise the bow staff, ready to fight when the Jonas monster morphs into a perfect copy of my uncle.

# Chapter 26

Even though my bow staff is raised, ready to strike, I'm frozen, unable to move, looking into the face of the man who raised me.

"Don't be fooled, Astrid!" my uncle yells across the studio. "That's not me. It's just a clone."

You'd think the dead red eyes would snap me out of it. But, if anything, it throws me off even more.

"She's trying to distract you," he adds.

"Don't fall for it," Jax adds.

The Grail, in the form of my uncle, takes advantage of my hesitation and lunges, blocking my staff with her larger wooden staff. With her other hand, she grabs my shoulder. I try to break free, but she's too strong.

I reach up and try to pry the vise-like hand off my shoulder. But as I do, I feel the soft human skin of her hand morph into something prickly and textured.

When I look up, I no longer see the clone of my uncle's face. Instead, a terrifying reptilian alien with scales, three wide horns and a double row of sharp teeth, stares coldly at me. She resembles a two-legged, horned crocodile. But not as pretty.

I can't help myself as I let out a blood-curdling scream.

An instant later, the Jonas clones morph into the monstrous aliens.

She spins me around, painfully yanking a handful of my hair.

My head snaps back, straining my neck. Still holding me by the hair, she drags me backward. Pain radiates through my head. It feels like my hair is getting ripped from my head. My hands shoot back to cradle my impromptu ponytail.

"Astrid! Concentrate. Focus your energy," my uncle yells as he continues to battle a pair of reptilian Grail.

For a moment, my mind goes blank. There is literally nothing happening in my brain like a TV that loses reception going to snow.

"You can't let her take you out of here!"

She picks up speed, dragging my body across the floor. It isn't until I'm nearly three-quarters of the way to the front door that it finally sinks in that if I end up outside -- without my uncle or Jax -- I will be in serious trouble. She's trying to take me to this Crimson Lord guy to collect her bounty.

With renewed determination, I desperately try to flip up to my feet, but I just end up looking like a flopping fish.

Suddenly, like fireworks exploding in my head, an image forms. In a moment of perfect clarity, I see myself moving, flying through the air like some deadly nimble ninja. Then, I see my own right fist slam into the center of the Grail's face.

When I hear a crunch, I realize that it wasn't just a vision. I actually did that. Not only have I broken free, but I've also broken her nose.

"Did you see that?" I call to my uncle like an excited little kid.

"That's my girl!" he beams. I finally did something to make him proud of me. "It's all inside of you, Astrid. You're more powerful than you know. You're coming into your own."

Then, like in a bad horror film, his smile disappears as the red-tinged tip of a sword slice through his chest from behind. He's been stabbed. My uncle collapses on the floor revealing one of the Grail towering above him.

"No!" I yell as a black-purple liquid seeps from my uncle onto the mat. "Uncle Conrad!"

The remaining cluster of Grails converge on me, with my guardian wounded I am at my most vulnerable.

Suddenly, a blur appears from my left and strikes a deathblow to one Grail, then to another and another. Puffs of green dust swirl in the air. This whirling dervish moves faster than the eye can see.

The prime watches this attack momentarily then retreats. She disappears out the back before the small tornado can get to her.

When the remaining clones evaporate in a sickly green mist, the blur comes to a stop in front of me.

It's Jax holding one of the katana swords.

He looks weak, drained. His face is pale, and he's breathing hard. His eyes brush across my face, then down to my uncle on the ground.

"Call an ambulance!" I'm screaming. "Get some help."

# Chapter 27

But, instead of calling an ambulance, Jax just kneels near my uncle who rolls to his side, clutching his wound. A substance thick as molasses and the color of dark purple seeps out. Small sparks of light trail out from him. Whatever it is, it's not human blood.

"My child," he sputters, barely above a whisper. "Forgive me... for leaving you now. When you need me most."

"Shhh. Don't talk," I say, desperate to comfort him. "And you're not leaving me."

I turn my head toward Jax, who's trying to stop the bleeding with his hands. Why isn't he getting help?

"What's wrong with you?" I practically scream. "Call 911! Call an ambulance!"

Stopping the flow of blood, Jax looks at me with sympathetic eyes. As he opens his mouth to speak, my uncle interrupts, "An ambulance cannot help me, Astrid."

"What do you mean?" I cradle his head onto my knee so he can more easily breathe. "Of course, it can."

"Humans can not heal me," he coughs. "We are not like them. We are not them."

As he speaks, he begins to transform. His familiar face fades, his limbs change. His features seem familiar, yet completely foreign at the same time. His face becomes elongated. His skin turns a rich smooth blue like the deepest part of the sea. His eyes grow large and catlike.

"And I am not like you either." He takes my hand. "I have lost my form. There is little time."

"He's a moon-eyed blue," Jax murmurs in awe. Astounded, he looks at me. "They're a legendary race of warriors. I've never seen one of his kind before."

My uncle speaks, but his voice falters. "Astrid, your trials are only just beginning. You will be tested in ways you cannot imagine. Be strong, child. The ancient ones will guide and strengthen you."

"No!" Tears pour from my eyes. I feel my throat closing as my world crumbles around me. "You'll be okay. You have to be."

Ignoring me, he turns to Jax. "Boy, truly I say to you this child is one of the Seven Sisters of Light."

"No," Jax shakes his head in disbelief. "No way."

"Ask yourself why a pair of Grail bounty hunter came looking for her?" my uncle asks. "She has the seven-sided mark on her arm."

Jax looks at me, "Let me see it."

Even though I think it's crazy that someone wants to see the seven-sided scar on my arm, I push my shirt sleeve up for him to see it.

"It can't be." Jax wipes his mouth and looks overwhelmed. "They say they're all dead. The sisters of light."

"Four are dead," my uncle replies, gasping for air. "Three remain. One is the Lost Star. She must see the oracle."

Four out of seven are already dead? He failed to mention this little detail before. A cold chill runs though me. If I truly am one of these Seven Sisters then I am in a lot of trouble.

"If that's true, then hanging around with her is basically a death sentence," Jax says firmly, but something in his tone betrays that fact that he hates himself for being weak. "Why would anyone agree to get her to the oracle?"

"I have Kantaurian gold," my uncle says in a low voice. He sounds disappointed he's had to stoop to bribing this guy.

I have no idea what Kantaurian gold is but by the eager look on Jax's face it must be pretty valuable.

"How much?" Jax asks.

"A lot," my uncle replies. "You want your paycheck. You can have it. And the gold. It's all yours. It's at our house. Take my truck. All you must do is take Astrid to find her family's weapon and then get her to the oracle. She is expected. Once she stands before the oracle with her sword, she will be given the key to open a Stargate that will transport her back to the Council of Light."

"I can get her there, but how do you know it's not too late?" Jax shakes his head. "Rumor has it the Swarm has launched a new offensive. Some think the Pleiadian capital and the Council of Light have already fallen."

"It's not too late!" my uncle argues, then begins to cough. "Not as long as the Lost Star lives."

Suddenly a cluster of Grail appears at the barricaded door.

"The prime has recovered." Jax prepares to fight. "They'll be inside and on us in seconds."

"Astrid," my uncle interjects. "This boy is your best hope."

"I want to stay with you," I say, holding his hand more tightly.

Ignoring me, he continues, "You will know your weapon when it rests in your hands. Find the sword, then get to the oracle. Others like me will be waiting for you. Remember..."

His eyes flutter, slowly closing.

"You are stronger than you know."

A trio of Grail, in their reptilian form, spill into the studio.

"Gotta go, Princess." Jax tries to pull me out the front door.

"No! We can't leave him." Tears flood my eyes, blurring my vision.

He may be unconscious, but my uncle's chest still rises and falls with breath. I am not abandoning him here.

Jax sighs. "Okay, fine. You leave me no choice." He bends over me, then lifts me up, sweeping me into his arms.

"Put me down!" I yell.

"I'll be damned if something's going to happen to you during the first two minutes on my watch," he says, carrying me out the door. "You better get used to it. It's just you and me now."

# Chapter 28

"Where's this truck?" Jax slings me off his shoulder and sets me down on the dark sidewalk just past the Latin deli.

"We can't just leave him," I hear myself mutter, trying to get my footing. Tidal waves of sadness are crashing into me. My heart is hurting so much I touch my fingertips to my chest wondering if someone is somehow squeezing it. "We have to go back. We can't..."

"Astrid!" Jax abruptly stops, grabbing my shoulder. "Truck. Focus. Where is it?"

"Um... just past the alley. Half a block down." He lets go of me, and we hurry in that direction. Quietly, I repeat, "How can we just leave him behind?"

"Look, I don't want to bail on the guy either. But we don't have a choice. We're dead if we go back. And that's not what your uncle wants. The Grail isn't even bothering to hide her true form anymore."

"What's that mean?"

"It means she really wants to capture you, and she's willing to risk being seen. Shapeshifting saps some of her strength," he explains. "Can you drive?"

"No," I reply. "I don't drive. I mean, I can drive, but I don't have my license."

"Of course not." Approaching the beat up white pickup, Jax slides behind the wheel. "Any idea where the key might be?"

From the passenger seat, I pull down the cracked vinyl visor above the steering wheel. The keys jangle down into Jax's lap. "What will happen to him?"

Twisting the truck's old fashion metal key in the ignition, the engine rumbles to life. Jax stares straight ahead as he speaks, "His essence will cross time and space returning to the land of his forefathers. His return will be greatly honored."

I nod silently, unable to fight back the tears.

"Perhaps..." Jax shrugs, "that is all any of us can hope for in the end." He throws the truck into gear and eases it out into traffic.

A thump from the back of the truck startles both of us. We whip around to see the scowling face of one of the prime Grail. One after another, her clones appear. They've found us.

"Man, this thing is slow," Jax pushes the pedal to the floor, but the old truck just barely accelerates. "I'd expect a badass Moon-Eyed Blue general to have a better ride."

"He refused to buy a new one," I say, suddenly overcome with love for this stupid truck. "How did you know he was a general?"

"All the guardians were," he begins. "They say when the Seven Sisters were born, the seven most decorated military generals of the Pleiadian Alliance volunteered to be their protectors. Each was sent away with one of the girls."

"So you've heard this whole seven-sisters-of-light story?"

"Everyone has."

I nod thinking about the weight of the sacrifice my uncle made for me. Not just tonight. But all of these years, light-years in fact, away from his home.

"C'mon, you bucket of bolts!" Jax pounds a fist on the steering wheel. He's feeling around on the dashboard. For what I don't know.

More and more Grail appear. They're practically swarming us now. One of them has crawled into the truck's flatbed. I cover my eyes and hold my breath.

"Yes!" Jax whoops as an unfamiliar black glass panel, previously hidden underneath the ancient push button radio, folds down. There's no question this is alien technology. "Now that's what I'm talking about."

"What the what?" I say, leaning forward to get a better look.

"This is what I'd expect from any self-respecting Moon-Eyed Blue. Considering they're also some of the best engineers in the galaxy."

Jax activates some indecipherable combinations of buttons causing the rickety old truck to rocket forward like we're in some "Star Trek" hyperdrive.

Everything outside the front windshield passes by in a blur. So this is why my uncle refused to buy a new truck. This rusty pile of bolts is actually a crazy secret weapon.

"Slow down!" I'm freaking out because we can't see what's in front of us.

"Don't worry," Jax says. "I can see where we're going."

"No, you can't."

Jax frowns, annoyed that I'm doubting him. "I don't experience time and space the same way you do. My senses are heightened, so you need to trust me when I say there's nothing to worry about."

Still, it's not long before he slows the truck back to a normal speed.

I turn, peering out the rear window. No one is chasing us. We've left the Grail in our dust.

"Do you know where we are?" he asks. "How do I get to your house from here?"

I glance out the window and realize we've passed the turn off for my house. I direct him down the wide boulevard that eventually transitions into the side street leading up the curvy mountain road to our house in the canyon.

This time of night, the usually congested city streets have quieted down. It's a strangely calming ride. The glimmering stars in the dusky sky give the town a happy, peaceful aura.

It's all exactly the opposite of how I'm feeling. I'm suddenly numb inside. I can't even bring myself to cry anymore.

The idea of losing my uncle feels like a bad dream I'm going to wake up from, and everything will be back to normal.

Winding up the narrow mountain roads, past the homes nestled into the canyon, my stomach tightens as we approach the small rented cottage surrounded by the big fence.

"It's the driveway on the left." I weakly point.

Jax slows the truck as we approach. Our little house at the top of the long driveway comes into view, looking strangely idyllic. A single light burns in the living room.

He turns to me. "So... what do you think? How's it look?"

"Looks like it always looks." I shrug. "Are you expecting those Grail things to be waving at us from the front porch?"

"Listen, Princess, I'm doing this as a favor, so how about you give the attitude a rest?" His green eyes flare.

"Oh please. You're doing this because you want some weird alien gold," I spit back. "Not exactly out of the goodness of your heart. And stop calling me princess."

"Whatever you say, your highness." He swings the truck around and parks just past the property line.

Together, we move through the wild brush that surrounds the entirety of the property, snaking our way parallel to the driveway. I keep my eyes on the house but see nothing. No movement, nothing unusual.

"Wait here." Jax holds up a hand, leaving me inside the border of trees.

When he's gone, I step out from beneath the canopy of trees far enough to look up into the night sky. A blanket of stars spills across the horizon. I recognize a cluster of bright stars on the edge of the northern rim.

The Pleiades.

One of these stars – Asterope – is supposedly my home. It's unsettling to gaze up at a home that feels completely unrecognizable.

I watch Jax climb the wide front porch steps and peer into the front window. He turns and calls quietly back to me, "Everything looks clear."

I've been clutching my house keys the whole way up the driveway. Slipping the old brass key into the lock, I slowly push the front door open and step cautiously into the entryway.

It looks exactly like we left it this morning.

"So where's this magical sword?"

"How should I know?" I shrug.

"Wait. You don't know where it is?"

"I don't know what it is." Before I can explain that until today I've never heard of my family's weapon, a _mmrroowww_ rises up from behind me.

"Tom!" I say, swiveling to find the stupid cat looking up at me. As usual, he somehow snuck inside. "You scared the crap out of me."

"Whoa... That's one big ass cat," Jax says. "He's awesome!"

Tom slinks up to Jax, rubbing against his ankles and purring up a storm.

"Huh? That's weird. Tom pretty much hates everyone, except me and my uncle," I explain, stepping over the feline to move into the living room. "He normally just glares menacingly from a distance at our visitors."

"What can I say?" Jax replies with a cocky shrug. "Animals love me."

"Or, maybe, he can tell you're an alien."

"Can he tell you're an alien?" he asks, now looking cautiously up the stairs.

This question startles me. It hasn't fully sunk in that I'm one of the visitors too.

When you go your whole life assuming you're one thing -- you know, like human -- it might be reasonable to expect that it'll take a day or so to get used to the idea that you're actually something completely different.

"So first things first." Jax turns to me. "Where's the gold?"

I feel a bitter sting. "Right. You're here for the gold."

"Don't say that like it's just any old gold," he replies like I'm an idiot. "It's Kantaurian gold. The purest gold, the best conductor of energy ever found in the galaxy."

"Never seen it." I frown. "We don't exactly have bags of gold nuggets lying around."

"It wouldn't be in rock form," Jax sighs.

"Oh right, it's probably sitting next to this magical sword of stardust I'm supposed to find."

Jax ignores my sarcasm. "It would be a very fine powder."

"A powder?" I repeat, looking toward the kitchen. "Oh. Actually, I think I might know where it is."

My uncle is a killer chef. Everyone who tries his food falls in love with whatever he's made. One of the only things he always brings with us when we move is his spice kit.

There's a long narrow drawer under the stovetop in the kitchen.

Inside, I pull out a small wooden case and open the lid revealing a dozen brightly colored glass vials of various spices.

Jax's face brightens. He immediately recognizes the contents. "Pleiadian herbs. He must have brought this with him from his home moon."

"The weird things is no matter how much he seems to use, the vials always remain nearly full. We never seem to run out."

"That's because they're incredibly potent. Just a few grains of any of these spices would add a ton of flavor to any food."

That explains why the vials are still nearly full. All except for one small vial at the end of the bottom row. It's almost empty. A tiny amount of a rose gold powder rests at the bottom of the tiny flask.

"They're all full, except this one," I hold it up.

Jax sucks in his breath, carefully reaching to take the tiny vial from my hand. "I'll be damned."

# Chapter 29

"That's gold?" I ask.

"The old man was telling the truth." Jax lifts it up to the light and examines the dusty powder. A broad smile spreads across his face. Then he slips the vial in his pocket. "Okay, so this weapon, this sword to end all swords, is supposed to be here somewhere. Let's find it and get this show on the road."

"You've heard of these swords too?" I ask.

"Everyone born in the Pleiadian star system in the past 300 years has heard about the Swords of Stardust and the Seven Sisters of Light. And how one of the sisters – the Lost Star – will come to save us all from the Swarm."

"Why is she lost?" I ask. "If she's supposed to save everyone, how can she be lost?"

"I don't know. Honestly, it's more like a fairytale than anything else."

"Do you think it's just a fairytale?"

He takes a moment. When he answers, all the sarcasm has left his voice. "I hope not. There's no question our freedom and way of life are in jeopardy if the Swarm somehow prevail."

"This Swarm," I begin. "Are they really that bad?"

A shadow darkens his face. "Bad? They're like a cancer. An aggressive, untreatable, terminal cancer. They destroy entire civilizations, entire planetary systems in a matter of months. And their cruelty..."

He doesn't go on. I just nod, regretting I brought it up.

"So, let's find your sword and get out of here," Jax changes the subject.

"Why, exactly, do we need this sword again?"

"The Stargate won't open unless both you and your sword appear together in front of the oracle," he explains, nearly rolling his eyes. "Or so legend has it."

"And what's this Stargate thing?"

"It's a portal, like a wormhole, that will take you directly back to the Pleiades and the Council of Light."

I think back to 10th-grade physics class. "Like Einstein and relativity?"

"Einstein had it partially correct." He nods. "The Stargate is like an intergalactic shortcut. Let's say you took a piece of paper and put a dot on the top of the page to represent Earth, and then put a second dot on the bottom of the paper that represents the Pleiadian Council of Light."

"Okay," I say, following along so far.

"Then you fold the paper to make the two dots touch each other, that's a Stargate."

"Whoa. Is that how everyone travels from planet to planet?"

He laughs. "If only! No, Stargates are exceptionally rare. Only available to the galaxy's super VIPs, you could say."

I nod dumbly. Am I really some sort of a super VIP?

"Tell you what." Jax claps his hands. "You start looking down here for the sword. I'll scope out the rest of the house."

"Okay, I'll check my uncle's office," I say, watching him walk up the dimly lit stairs that lead to my uncle's bedroom.

Our home office is more of a converted closet than an actual official workspace. Even though he's the size of your average grizzly bear, my uncle put a small table, chair and narrow set of shelves in here. The tiny room is immaculate. Everything in its place and all that.

The only unusual thing I spot is my uncle's journal, a pocket-sized old battered spiral notebook, again sitting out on the desktop.That's weird. He usually keeps it locked up tight. It's been left out twice in two days.

Opening the cover, I see Uncle's handwriting, and I feel a little guilty invading his privacy. I can't help but wonder if he knew all of this might happen, so he left it here for me to find.

The first entry is from over fifteen years ago when I first came to live with him. It reads only -- _Host planet date, June 2, 2001. Found suitable housing. The child is healthy and safe._

Wow. How heartfelt.

Flipping the pages, it looks like he made an entry about once a month - every 28 to 30 days. It takes me a few entries to realize that he recorded each entry on the day of the full moon. I flip back to read the second entry.

_Host planet date: July 5, 2001. The child continues to be healthy but has refused to speak now as well as on our entire journey. She remains in a state of shock from the events that have recently transpired. Who can blame her? One so young should not witness what she has seen. It does not appear that we were followed. So far no one has approached or attacked us. I await contact with our guide._

The next entry came two days later.

_The guide met us at the arranged location in a place called Montana. It is a flat, open area where it is easy to keep watch. The guide is quite skilled in the ways of this civilization._

_Although the child still refuses to speak, the guide brought her some human toys and clothes that belonged to his daughters. She has shown no interest in any of them except for a flaxen-haired doll in an elaborate gown. The doll bears quite a resemblance to the child's mother so perhaps it brings her comfort._

Guide? I try to think back to who this could be, but I draw a blank.

But I remember the flaxen-haired doll. Who can forget Barbie? I loved my Barbie dolls when I was little. I distinctly remember being 5 or 6-years old and playing with them on my bed with the green and purple flowered quilt.

But it's weird he said the doll looks like my mother. From all the memories in my head, my mother had black hair. Now, I wonder if it was all a lie? Can I trust those memories?

I keep paging through the journal, scanning his entries. It reads more like a technical report than a personal diary.

He kept track of the specifics of everyday life. When we got an apartment. When he started to work. Some lady who kept bringing over casseroles. When he learned to "operate their land vehicles" which I assume means when he learned to drive a car.

It wasn't until almost eight months later that this entry appears.

_She has begun to speak again. I was giving the child her morning feeding when she turned to me and asked where her mother was._

That's it? No other notations? How had he answered that poor little girl? How had he explained the absence of her mother? It made my heart ache for the younger version of me. She must have felt so alone.

There isn't another entry for several more months.

_We have relocated to a place called Maine after our guide noted that a Grail scouting craft in the form of a meteorite was spotted within 300 miles of us. We have no reason to believe that the child has been compromised. Nevertheless, protocol dictates that we immediately re-establish our basecamp as soon as possible._

The next entry comes two months later.

_The child has learned to speak the regional language and has been enrolled in the local educational program where she is thriving._

I guess that means school.

My first grade teacher was a lovely lady named Mrs. Calabrese who smelled like gardenias and played the piano in the classroom. I liked her.

_She has begun to forget her language. I would like to continue to speak it to her, but I fear it might compromise her safety in the future._

_We have learned that two of the other sisters of light have been found and killed. The whereabouts of a third and her guardian is unknown. The Crimson Lord will stop at nothing to destroy all seven. In some ways, my guardianship is harder than anticipated._

For a moment, I got lost in the pages of the journal, lost in the past. I'm startled to hear Jax coming down the stairs.

His face appears in the doorway. "What'd you find?"

"Nothing," I say, holding it up. "Just this old journal."

"Let focus on more important things than your diary, please."

"It's not my..." I start to explain then stop. Still, I slip the small journal into my back pocket. "The sword's not in here."

"That's because I think I found it!" I turn to see him holding an old, ornately forge medieval sword that hangs above my uncle's bedroom door. It looks like something a Viking king may have owned. "Check this bad boy out."

"That's not it."

"What? Are you sure? The gemstones in the handle are amazing." Jax examines the forged metal and the carved handle.

"I think one of the parents at the karate studio gave him that for Christmas last year. It's just a replica."

"Are you sure you're sure?"

"Yes." I nod my head. "Besides, he hated it."

"Just try it."

"Fine." I take it in my hands and hold it in front of me. It doesn't resemble, in any way, the sword in my mind. "It feels dead."

Jax looks frustrated. "There's nothing else in this house. Except a bunch of cheap, beat-up wooden bow staffs in the front closet.

"That's it!" I say, moving through the house to the coat closet by the front door.

Tom lies in front of the closed closet door, and I have to nudge him out of the way.

Shoved in the back corner, behind the winter coats we never wear in California, sits a tacky brass umbrella stand that came with the house. I pull out a tattered bow staff.

I brought this old staff home a few weeks ago when I promised to practice more. I never did. I must have slipped it into the stand hoping Uncle wouldn't see it, and never picked it up again.

It feels light and brittle in my hand like it would break if you cracked it over your knee.

"That cheap thing?" Jax frowns. "That can't be it."

"He said it would be cloaked." There's something about the way my hands slide comfortably into the worn grooves in the wooden handle. There's a slight vibration coming from the staff. "This feels different. It feels good."

"Okay. Hold it in fighting stance," Jax suggests. "Like you're about to attack."

Even though I feel silly, I do it. I look down at the hilt and see the faintest outline of a fading seven-sided star. It's almost identical to the scar on my shoulder.

"This is it," I say with certainty in my voice.

"I'm pretty sure it's not." Jax shakes his head, ready to walk away.

But as soon as I wield the staff around my head, I feel energy surge through my hands into the wood as the bow staff transforms into a gleaming sword made of a rose-tinted metal. "Jax!"

"Whoa..." He's silent, staring slack-jawed and wide-eyed. "Astrid... you truly must be one of the Seven Sisters of Light."

Just then, a pounding coming from the back of the house. Tom growls.

Jax and I exchange looks.

"Stay here," he says, then pokes his head around the corner.

"Who is it?" I ask.

"There's some old guy in your backyard."

# Chapter 30

"Old guy?" I mentally run through the possibilities of who could be pounding on the back sliding glass door at this late hour.

"He's short with gray hair." After a beat, Jax adds, "Looks kind of grumpy."

"Is he wearing overalls? Cause I think that might be our landlord, Mr. Johnson."

"Why is your landlord at the backdoor instead of at the front door like a normal person?"

"He lives one house over, so he just comes through a gate in the side yard if he needs to talk to us."

Mr. Johnson is a nice enough old guy. Pretty much keeps to himself. Except when it comes to sweeping his driveway. The man loves to clean. Rain or shine, he's out there with his industrial-sized broom. Why does a driveway need to be so clean? I do not know, but Mr. Johnson is forever sweeping, sweeping, sweeping.

There's another bang on the sliding glass door and Mr. Johnson's deep raspy voice calls, "Hello? Sensei? Need a word with you."

"Looks like he's going to be a problem," Jax mutters.

"Mr. Johnson? I don't think so," I say, thinking about nice Mr. Johnson and the perfectly swept driveway. "Let me talk to him."

"No way." Jax stops me. "Stay out of sight and keep your sword with you."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it." With a sigh, like he's regretting ever having gotten involved, he adds. "And, no matter what, don't come out until I tell you it's safe."

As he slides the door open, Tom the cat slips out into the cold evening air as well.

Jax told me not to come outside, but he didn't say I couldn't watch. The tiny bathroom between the kitchen and the laundry room is the only place I can both hide and see outside at the same time.

"Hello!" Jax calls out with a friendly wave to Mr. Johnson.

From the bathroom, I hear Mr. Johnson say, "I'm looking for the sensei. We have an appointment."

With my new sword at my side, I slide my finger between the window frame and the plastic blinds in order to peek out into the yard.

"He's still at his studio teaching the late classes." Jax moves closer. "But I'll tell him you stopped by. Or you're welcome to come back in an hour or so."

Mr. Johnson, who always struck me as a pretty mild-mannered little lump of a man, steps forward in a surprisingly aggressive way. "I think we'll come in."

"We'll?" Jax repeats, noting the plural form of the word.

As if on cue, from the wooded canyon behind the house, two younger versions of Mr. Johnson -- both wearing black suits -- appear.

"Me and my boys," Mr. Johnson nods to them. "They work for some important government people who are looking for the sensei."

"Important government people?" Jax asks.

"Very important." The two younger Johnsons move up behind their father.

"Gosh, I think you might be waiting quite a while." Jax tries to play it off, totally relaxed. "Does he have your number? I'll have him call you when he returns."

"Where's the girl?" One of the sons raises his nose and sniffs the air. "I can smell her."

Yikes. That's creepy.

"Listen, Mister, I got no idea what you're talking about," Jax says as he slowly edges backward. "But you need to get off this property."

"I own this property, and I ain't going nowhere without the girl." With a jerky motion, Mr. J pulls something from his coat and points it at Jax. It's a handgun unlike any gun I've ever seen. It resembles a futuristic mini blow dryer.

"Whoa, whoa..." Jax puts his hands up and acts incredulous, "Mind telling me how you got your hands on an illegal Draconian blaster?"

"The winds of war are shifting, Arcturian," Mr. Johnson says with a wicked grin. "When the Alliance fails, the Swarm will take over."

"Except the Alliance will never fall." Jax drops any remaining pretense.

Mr. Johnson fires his weapon and a neon black light, sort of like plasma, streams out.

Faster than the eye can see, Jax dodges the stream of light. But the black plasma strikes the back of the house instantly exploding into flames.

All I can do is duck as the exterior wall explodes. The next thing I know I'm lying on the cold bathroom tile floor covered in debris.

Struggling to my feet, I see an enormous charred hole in the side of the house. Fire and black smoke roll up into the night sky.

As I regain my balance, I see the two Johnson boys bearing down on me with their guns pointed.

"Run, Astrid!" Jax yells.

I bolt out the bathroom, through the short corridor into the kitchen with the Johnson boys right behind me.

Luckily, Jax manages to cut off one of the sons along with Mr. Johnson.

But the second son is too fast and quickly catches up to me. With one hand, he grabs me by the back of my neck, yanking me off my feet like I'm nothing. For a little guy, he's super strong.

"Not so fast, Princess," he snarls dragging me through the house like a bag of garbage.

"Let go of me!" I do my best to fight back, kicking and screaming as he strides swiftly toward the front of the house. But I can't get free.

I hear Jax yelling to me from the back. "Don't let him get you away from the house!"

He's trying to fight his way toward me, but the father and other son are firing their alien weapons at him. Jax, with his crazy super-speed, manages to evade each shot.

Unfortunately, as all this happens, more and more of the house catches fire as the burning plasma from the weapons rains down on everything.

My squirming has forced the second son to use both hands to control me. With his foot, he kicks open the front door, pulling me out to the driveway.

But then, unexpectedly, he abruptly stops.

Because I'm facing the wrong way, I can't tell why we've halted. I try to swivel around to get a look, but I can't maneuver myself until I hear a familiar \--

_Rrrooaawwww_

It's Tom. The gray cat stands directly in our path, his back arched and his ears flat against his head. The brave little cat is trying to protect me.

My heart overflows with affection for the little feline, but I'm also gripped with fear and can't bear the thought of him being torn apart by this monster.

"No Tom!" I cry.

The son lets out a cruel laugh then points his weapon at Tom.

"Don't! Leave him alone." I struggle to get free, yelling, "Tom! Run!! Get out of here!!"

But then I hear another much, much bigger and deeper _rrooaawwww_. This time, it sounds more like the engine of a semi-truck than a cat.

The son drops me.

My head whips around to see a massive creature, twenty feet tall, wearing a red collar with a big brass bell. Except for the size, it's identical to the small red collar that the cat wears.

"Tom?"

Standing before us, blocking the path from the house to the driveway, is what can only be described as a cross between a dragon and a bulldozer. The reddish-orange creature, with six legs and a split tail, circles closer snarling at the son.

"What's going on?" From behind me, Jax appears in the doorway.

"Something... something happened to my cat."

"That's no cat!" Jax stares with wide eyes. "That's a Pleiadian drolgon."

"What exactly is a drolgon?" I asked as the son steadies his quivering gun. He aims and fires at the beast, making a direct hit.

"Tom!" I cry out. "No!"

But as the purple-black stream of energy dies away, Tom remains standing. The alien plasma has about as much impact as a spitball would have against a pitbull.

"They're supposedly an ancient mythical guardian," Jax explains. "A nearly indestructible creature said only to protect a chosen spirit. Honestly, I never believed they existed. I've only heard of them in legends and seen drawings in storybooks."

"So you're saying that free-loading mangy cat that sneaks into sleep on my bed is actually an ancient, otherworldly guardian?" I asked.

"Has he always been with you?"

"No," I say. Now I'm even more confused. "We've only had this cat since we got to California."

"Did you have other cats?" he asks. "Because they're supposed to be shape shifters sort of like the Grail. They can disguise their form."

"No. Never." I shake my head. "Wait..."

Now that I think of it, we always seem to be plagued by some random creature. In our last house, we had a white rat that we couldn't manage to capture. There was an owl that lived in our tallest pine in Montana. And a raccoon made a home under our house in Wisconsin.

Were they all different forms of Tom? Did my uncle know this?

The massive drolgon glances my way with those familiar golden eyes. It really is Tom. I've had two guardians all along.

From down the hill, the wail of sirens drifts up the canyon. Someone has called the fire department. The rolling black smoke stings my eyes as I say, "We have to get away from this house."

I glance over to see Mr. Johnson and his first son trying to distract Tom in order to help the second son escape from the enormous angry beast. But Tom stands his ground, snarling at all three of them.

"Come on. Let's go, while Tom holds them off." Jax takes my hand and pulls me out of the burning house. "Wait!" Jax pulls up, coming to a stop. "Where's the sword?"

"Oh my God! I don't have the sword."

The only thing I was supposed to do was hold onto BrightSky.

"I must have dropped it when that creepy Johnson son grabbed me," I say, feeling like an idiot. "It's got to be near the kitchen."

"I'll go back and get it," Jax says, heading toward the front door. "The Stargate won't open unless you have it with you."

Flames have engulfed most of the house.

"Are you crazy!? You can't go back in there."

# Chapter 31

"I have to go back in. We can't leave without your sword," Jax says. "Don't worry. Fire at this temperature can't hurt a sword forged from stardust of the Pleiadian suns."

Before I can reply, Jax dashes around the side of the house. I realize he's planning on going in through the back.

"That's great, but —" I chase after him, yelling to be heard over the roar of the growing flames. "But the fire can hurt you."

As we come around into the backyard, fires shoot up from the roof. It looks like it's about to collapse.

"Don't worry about me. I can timeshift my way in and out before you even notice."

"Timeshift?"

"I told you, time and space doesn't affect me like other people. I can be in and out in a flash."

As he says this, one of the roof's crossbeams tumbles down, pulling a big hunk of the roof in with it.

"It's too late. The whole thing is about to collapse," I yell to be heard over the roar of the flames. "Even if you do find the sword, you'll never make it out."

He steps closer to me and looks in my eyes. His eyes seem to be glowing a brighter green than before. "We are not leaving without your sword."

For a moment, I think he's going to kiss me. Which would be weird. He smiles, then suddenly, he's gone. Vanished into thin air.

I spin a circle saying, "Jax? Jax! Where are--" But I'm cut off as two more crossbeams give way.

"JAX!" I'm screaming, as two-thirds of the house falls in on itself while sending a wall of smoke and ash up into the sky. He's gone. There's no way anyone could survive that. "No! Jax!"

A voice from behind me speaks, "You weren't worried about me, were you?"

I whirl around to find Jax standing behind me holding BrightSky.

My jaw drops. "How did you...?" But before he can answer, I throw my arms around him. "I thought you were in there. I thought..."

"It's okay. It's all okay," he says in a quiet voice, brushing a hair from my forehead. I feel a warm blush on my cheeks. "I promised your uncle I'd get you to the oracle and that's what we're going to do."

"Okay," I nod, resting my head on his shoulder. I feel my heart racing. I'm not sure what's happening. At first, I thought Jax was a total jerk, but he just risked his life in order to help me. Maybe I completely misjudged him.

"C'mon, we have to get out of here." Jax and I take a wide path around the burning house. In one hand, he holds BrightSky while the other is on my back guiding me safe past the burning house.

When we emerge back onto the driveway in front of the house, it's strangely quiet. If you don't count the roar of the crackly wood and hissing fire.

The sound of the Johnsons yelling at each other is gone. In fact, the Johnsons are gone.

Jax gestures toward a pool of warm light, under a lamppost a safe distance away from the burning house. "Look who's back."

Tom, transformed back to a standard issue house cat, lies happily in the gravel, cleaning his fur.

A hideous lump of blood and guts lies not far from him on the ground. The only recognizable items are a pair of boots along with four black leather men's dress shoes randomly scattered. One shoe oozes boney flesh.

My stomach turns.

"Guess kitty's full," Jax has to go and say.

"He didn't eat them, did he?" I'm utterly horrified.

A black and white police car, siren blaring, red and blue gumball lights spinning, pulls up at the base of the driveway.

"Aw jeez. Cops." Jax nervously looks around. "I'm not so crazy about cops."

"Had a few run-ins with the law, have we?"

The first cop emerges from the passenger side, and I recognize him as Officer Fitzgerald, the police officer from the mall.

"Hey wait, I know that guy. He's cool," I say, turning toward Jax, but he's gone. "Jax?"

I spin a circle. He's vanished. Poof. Just like that. "Jax?"

But worse, so much worse, my sword is gone too. No, it can't be. Why would Jax steal BrightSky?

And then I realize he tricked me.

Being all sweet and caring was just an act, and I fell for it. He has the Kantaurian gold and my sword.

I'm such an idiot.

"Astrid? Is that you?" Officer Fitzgerald calls out, striding up the driveway with his younger partner following.

I swallow my feelings of betrayal and answer him like everything is okay. "Oh, hey. It's you again."

"Get away from that burning structure before it collapses!" Officer Fitzgerald waves me toward him.

When what remains of the roof crumbles behind me, sending a shower of ash and cinder up into the sky, I decide it might be wise to follow the friendly police officer's advice regarding stepping away from the burning building.

Behind the squad car, a battalion of fire engines thunders up the hill, stopping in the middle of the road.

Oh sure, a flaming meteor crashes into the mountain, and it takes emergency services forever to get up here, but burn down one little rental house and suddenly the entire fire department rushes to your aid.

Officer Fitzgerald meets me halfway, putting an arm around my shoulder and escorting me down the driveway. "Are you alright?"

Am I alright?! Um, not so much. Pretty much that's a big no. Not exactly a stellar day. To be honest, the last two days have kind of sucked.

"I'm all right," I nod.

"Is there anyone else in the house?" Fitz asks as a cluster of firefighters storm past us, thick fire hoses balanced on their broad shoulders. "Anyone else with you?"

"No. Just me," I say, watching Tom casually slink off into the brush.

"Do you live here alone?"

"No, my uncle lives here too. He's at work."

"At 10 pm?"

"Business dinner or something."

"What happened here?" Fitzgerald asks once we're safely behind his black and white squad car.

"I just woke up and smelled smoke." I try to sound convincing. "I must have dozed off in my room doing homework. Bio lab papers do that to me. When I got downstairs, everything was on fire."

I turn back toward the burning house to see that the fire has begun to crawl up the hillside toward the canyon.

"Astrid, you're hurt," Officer Fitzgerald sees blood seeping from my shirt, down my arm.

"Oh, that." I look down and am surprised to discover that blood is slowly trickling down my arm from where the Grail's blade sliced me in the store's dressing room. My encounter with the Johnson boy must have re-injured it. "That's not from the fire. It's from before."

"Before?" he says, frowning at the deep gash. He touches my shoulder and pain shoots through my whole body. Not only am I not healing, but it's also getting worse. "The girl at the mall?"

"Yes."

"We need to get it cleaned up." Officer Fitzgerald pulls a cloth hankie from his pocket (who has a cloth hankie anymore?) and puts pressure on the gash on my shoulder.

"Jameson!" He calls to his partner who's in the car, talking on his radio. "Grab the first aid kit and get the ambulance up here."

"Don't you think an ambulance is a little overkill for a cut?"

"I'm pretty sure we should get you checked out." He smiles, studying my face. "You look a little pale too."

"I always look pale," I say as hot tears roll down my cheeks. The next thing I know I'm full out crying right in front of this nice police officer. I'm blubbering like a baby. "

"Hey, why the tears?" I'm surprised when the big burly officer gently wraps his fatherly arms around me and says quietly, "You're okay. It's all going to be okay. I know having your house burn down is upsetting, but the important thing is that you're safe and sound."

Jameson calls out, "An ambulance is on its way."

"Great," he waves to his partner. "Who can I call? Your uncle? Maybe we try mom? Does she live nearby?"

"They're, uh, out of town," I say, between sniffles.

"Out of town... at a business dinner?" He raises an eyebrow. "Have to call someone, honey. Until you're 21, someone has to be with you. They can meet you at the hospital."

As if on cue, the ambulance pulls up and stops. I suddenly get this tight feeling in my chest and I blurt out. "I don't want to go."

"Astrid," Officer Fitzgerald says, putting a firm hand on my shoulder. "They just need to get you to the emergency room to clean that wound and properly bandage it. That's all."

"I don't want to go with them. I want you to take me."

"To the hospital?"

"Please." I'm pleading with him. "Please. I'll go, but only if you take me."

I don't know why, but somehow I feel safe with him. He looks over at the paramedics rushing toward us, then back at me. "Hey guys, you know what, we got this one."

The head paramedic, a thin, efficient looking woman, asks, "She stable?"

"Yes," he says. "Can you just quickly get a temp bandage on her then we'll drive her down to St. Michael's for a quick look over."

It takes two minutes for them to bandage me up. The efficient paramedic frowns as she walks away. "That's a surprisingly deep cut. Doesn't seem to want to clot. Make sure they clean it again once you get to the ER."

"Okay, Miss Astrid. Hop in." Officer Fitzgerald opens the back door of the squad car, and I slide in.

"Thank you, Officer."

"You can call me Fitz," he says as we pull out, heading down the hill, past the firefighters now dousing what remains of the house in thick streams of water. I'm holding my still bleeding arm in the backseat. Bleeding feels strange to me. Unfamiliar.

"Let's see," Fitz begins. "I'd guess you're about nineteen."

"Twenty. Almost twenty-one."

"Ah, I was close," he nods, proud of his guess. "I've got an eighteen-year-old and a twenty-year-old at my house. Both girls."

Just as we're about to merge from the canyon and onto the main street, the police car's engine dies for no apparent reason.

"What the..." Officer Jameson reacts, checking the dashboard. He's forced to steer the squad car over to the shoulder.

This is exactly what happened to Phoebe's car up in the canyon. I've instantly got a bad feeling about this.

Fitz is confused. "Why are we stopping?"

"Something's wrong." Officer Jameson twists the key in the ignition. "It won't start."

I hear a low rumble of engines and swivel around in my seat to see a fleet of black SUVs bearing down on us. "Oh jeez..."

"You know these guys, Astrid?" Fitz asks just as the SUVs, with their darkened windows, surround us.

I shake my head. "Um, not sure," I say because it's true. This could be an entirely different fleet of black SUVs. It's possible. Not likely. But possible.

Fitz says to Jameson, "Call it in."

Jameson reaches for the police radio, but as he picks it up, the crackling static fades away and he says, "It's dead."

A dozen agents in black suits have emerged from the SUVs. They're dressed just like the two Johnson boys.

"Feds?" Jameson asks.

"Special agents," Fitz answers.

Gone are the orange bio-hazard suits. Even in their dark suits, these guys sure don't look like pasty-face government agents. They're all huge. Sort of like a professional football team wearing Brooks Brothers suits. But not as polite.

"Sit tight, Astrid." Jameson stays with me as Fitz gets out of the car, one hand resting casually on his gun. "What can we do for you, gentlemen?"

From behind the group of black suits, a familiar voice speaks, "We've come for the girl."

My heart skips a beat as the cluster of agents parts down the middle, and Sunglasses Man steps forward.

# Chapter 32

None other than freaky Sunglasses Man saunters casually toward the police car, flashing some shiny official badge. Even though it's after ten p.m., the Ray-Bans are still on.

In fact, two other agents are also wearing dark glasses. The rest are not.

"Who's this joker?" Jameson mutters under his breath.

I have the conflicting desire to both hide on the floor of the backseat and press my face against the window to see what's going to happen.

"Federal agents, gentleman." Sunglasses strolls closer, calling out, "We'll take custody of the girl."

Officer Fitzgerald blocks Sunglasses' path. "And which girl is that?"

Sunglasses smiles. "One Miss Astrid Jones. Currently residing in the back seat of your squad car." He pulls a folded legal document from inside his suit jacket and holds it up. "I have a warrant."

"For her arrest?" Fitz asks.

"Nothing like that," Sunglasses answers drily. "She's wanted for questioning in an important matter."

Fitz and Jameson exchange concerned looks.

"What important matter?" Fitz inquires.

"Unfortunately, that information is above your pay grade, Sergeant," Sunglasses smirks and his agents arrogantly chuckle.

"Right." Fitz shrugs off the insult, then casually puts his hand back on his holstered sidearm.

As soon as he does, all of the feds do the same. Things are escalating way too fast. Officer Fitzgerald looks around, then drops his hand. It's pretty clear he's outnumbered.

Officer Jameson and I breathe a collective sigh of relief from the safety of the car.

"I don't think I caught your name," Officer Fitzgerald says, taking the warrant from Sunglasses.

"Didn't you?" Sunglasses replies.

"What department you guys with?" Fitz tries again, scanning the document.

"A division of immigration."

"Immigration?" Fitz repeats. "Do you believe this child to be an illegal immigrant?"

"Not exactly," Sunglasses shrugs.

Fitz frowns as he hands the warrant back. "Look, our first priority is to take this girl in for medical attention. She has a deep untreated cut on her arm."

"No worries, officers." Sunglasses waves his men forward. "We have a very specialized medical unit at the Federal Building. Rest assured she will be more than adequately tended to."

Something about the way he says this makes my skin crawl.

"Let's go," Sunglasses snaps his fingers, and his agents efficiently surround the police car.

"Alright." Officer Fitzgerald puts his hands up in surrender. "Let me just help her get her things together."

Sunglasses nods, and the circle of suits falls back.

Fitz comes over to my window and bends down. "Astrid, you have any idea what this might be about?"

"No," I lie.

"Okay, well, looks like you're going to get a private tour of the federal building."

"Do I have to go?"

"I think you do."

I don't mind telling you that I'm terrified. Never in my life have I felt more alone. Somehow I don't think these suits have my best interest at heart. As I step out of the car, it's weirdly quiet, every eye is focused on me.

"Hello again, Astrid," Sunglasses says with a crooked grin. "I believe we met the other night."

I shrug one shoulder. "Can't say I remember."

"Well," he says, opening his arms wide. "I have a feeling we're going to get acquainted pretty quick."

Officer Fitzgerald escorts me over to the SUV that Sunglasses points to. When I'm nearly there, the police car's engine roars back to life, headlights blinking on.

"Well, isn't that something," Sunglasses smiles, hands ironically on his hips. "It appears as if your vehicle is again operational. Just in time for you to drive quietly off into the night."

Jameson looks freaked out, but Fitz remains stone-faced. He gently puts his hand on my shoulder. "Okay, honey, looks like the bleeding has stopped."

Then he slips a rectangle of paper in my hand. It's his police business card.

He leans in and whispers, "I don't feel great about this. But I don't think they'll hurt you. You keep my card someplace safe and call me if you need anything. Anything at all, you understand?"

I nodded and slide into the back of the SUV. A cold ripple of fear balls up in my gut. Where are these scary feds taking me and what do they plan to do once we get there? That creepy "Alien Autopsy" video suddenly flashes through my mind.

A moment later, Sunglasses gets into the front passenger seat. The driver, the only female agent, regards me coolly in the rear view mirror.

The convoy of SUVs drives off, pulling a massive group u-turn then heading back down the hill.

The vehicle I'm riding in is right in the center. We pass the police cruiser where I see Jameson on the radio talking in an agitated fashion while Fitz solemnly watches us drive by.

"So Astrid," Sunglasses begins, "It surely is nice to have this chance to spend a little time together. You can't imagine how much I've heard about you."

He's talking in that fake voice adults use when they're trying to win people over. I just look straight ahead, because to be totally honest, despite my brave face, I am quaking in my boots back here.

"Although, I will say that I was perhaps expecting someone a little more..." he pauses, unable to find the right word. "Impressive, than you."

Wow. Nice.

We ride in silence for a few blocks then he continues, "Did you know I was a friend of your uncle?"

I don't reply. I'm not taking the bait.

"Pity about what happened to him," Sunglasses clucks his tongue.

If I could glare holes into his head, I would. How could he know my uncle is dead? He must be in contact with the Grail. And that's not good. "Don't talk about my uncle."

"Fine," he shrugs. "Let's talk about the sword. Do you have it?"

I feel a jolt of surprise. "Do I look like I have a sword?"

"Perhaps you stashed this legendary Sword of Stardust someplace for safe keeping." He looks out the window. "Perhaps you gave it to your little friend, the Arcturian thief."

So he knows about Jax too. I change the subject. "What were those... things... that were after me?"

"You answer my question." Suddenly he doesn't sound quite so friendly. "I'll answer yours. Where's the sword?"

"I don't know what you're talking about?"

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Princess."

We drive in silence for another couple blocks as the caravan of SUVs merges onto the wide main street of Ocean Grove.

"But no worries." Sunglasses waves his hand. "I've sent a team up to the smoldering pile of ash that used to be your house, as well as over to your uncle's karate studio to retrieve that sword. If you've hidden it, we'll find it."

Our fleet of autos snakes through the town's business center, out to the city's outskirts.

Then he adds, "And if we don't find it, I might have a trick or two up my sleeve to get you to tell me where it is."

Finally, we turn toward a rundown 70s-era square box of an ugly office building. It doesn't fit in amid the old Spanish style and the sleek modern buildings of Central California. It certainly doesn't look like an official government complex.

We pull into a dimly lit, tunnel-like subterranean parking garage. The caravan circles round and round, down and down, passing spaces occupied by Hondas and Fords and other sensible government employee automobiles.

It seems odd that a building this size would need so many levels of parking.

After descending at least four stories into the bowels of the building, I say, "Jeez, looks like your parking space pretty much sucks."

"On the contrary, my dear." Sunglasses smiles. "I have the absolute primo spot. Just wait. You'll see."

After descending a couple more stories, it finally looks like we've hit a dead-end in the form of a dirty white wall. The caravan crawls to a stop.

"Be right back," Sunglasses pops out of the car.

I release my seatbelt and slide over to get a better look at what he's doing. The driver must think I'm going to make a break for it because she instantly hits the door lock button "ka-thunk."

I resist the urge to laugh out loud. Right, like I'm going to make a run for it from the bottom of a six-story parking garage with multiple carloads of big burly agents right behind me.

Sunglasses struts toward the empty white wall, pulling something from his suit jacket. Looks like a key. Nothing interesting at all. There's a small rectangular box that looks like an electrical outlet. He inserts the key and twists.

As he does, the entire wall in front of him vanishes as if it was never even there.

In front of us lies still more descending tunnel. However, the dimly lit, dirty cement pavement is gone, replaced by pristine white floors and clean walls illuminated by the warm, bright glow of lights.

Sunglasses saunters back to the car with a smug grin plastered across his face like he's challenging me not to be in awe of him.

There's no way I'm going to give him the satisfaction, so I quickly slide back to my spot and re-secure my seatbelt like I never moved in the first place.

I avoid glancing into the rear view mirror where I'm sure the stone-faced lady driver continues to stare at me.

Once he's back in his seat, the SUV crosses the threshold from the old garage into the new. It's like we've entered a new realm. The passage has gotten wider, and the ceiling rises higher as it continues to circle down, down, down at a much steeper angle.

How far can this possibly keep going? It seems architecturally impossible.

Finally, we emerge into a flat wide-open space, the size of a football field, with a soaring domed ceiling that rises straight up hundreds of feet. Everything about this space seems implausible.

"Welcome to my little office," Sunglasses croons, as the caravan of SUVs swings around and parks, one after another, in a nice straight line.

"Okay, your highness." Sunglasses pops out of the car and opens my door. "I have someone who is dying to meet you."

But before I get out, the driver lady, who has remained silent until now, speaks, "Sir, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Agent Holmes," Sunglasses begins, instantly annoyed. "You and I have already discussed this."

"I know, sir," Agent Holmes continues in a hushed voice filled with concern. "It's just... it might upset the Alliance, sir. And we have no idea what the implications of that would mean."

But Sunglasses is out of the car, walking away. "You worry too much, Agent Holmes."

With just the two of us in the car, Agent Holmes glances back at me like she could have lived her whole life without ever setting eyes on me.

"What Alliance?" I ask. "The Pleiadian Alliance? The whole council of light thing?"

She ignores my questions.

"But you know, right?" I push her a little further. "You know what's going on?"

She continues to ignore me.

"Can you, at least, tell me what's up with the sunglasses-at-night thing? How come you don't wear them? I think you'd look super bad ass in those ray-bans."

"Asking too many questions can be dangerous to your health around here," she finally says. "If I were you, I'd shut it."

"Right." I nod.

Then she adds, "If this all goes bad. You know, for us humans and all the other creatures that have the bad luck of living on Earth, remember this wasn't my idea."

"Gotcha," I say, sliding out from the backseat. "But promise me you'll think about the whole sunglasses thing."

We're obviously in some secret underground government facility. Apparently they don't all exist out in the barren desert of Area 51.

It doesn't even seem physically possible that such a vast space could be kept hidden this far below the surface.

It isn't until I've taken a few steps away from the car that I see what appears to be a small aircraft.

Except, it's oblong and has no visible wings. Sleek and smooth and impossibly aerodynamic, the craft seems to be made totally out of some liquid-looking metal. There are no visible doors or windows, not even a windshield. It hovers silently ten feet off the ground right in the very center of the dome.

I'll just go ahead and call it a flying saucer.

"What do you think of our little prize?" Sunglasses asks, all puffed up with evil pride. "I suppose you were too young to remember coming to Earth in something similar?"

When I turn to look at him, I realize he's trying to get a reaction out of me.

"Guess it slipped my mind," I shrug as I feel a sharp sting in my arm, right above the gash. "Ow!"

"Sorry." Agent Holmes has jabbed me with a needle.

"Hey!" I protest. Before I can stop her, she quickly wipes the blood on a cotton swab and drops it into a glass vile.

"Just need to run a couple of little tests," Sunglasses explains. "Find out exactly what we're dealing with here. Just to confirm that you truly are of royal Pleiadian origin. But we'll talk about that when you wake up."

Before I can ask what he means by "when I wake up," my eyes go fuzzy, and I wobble on my feet. Then everything goes black.

# Chapter 33

Someone is calling my name as I begin to wake up. "Astrid. Astrid. Are you okay?"

The soothing voice calling my name sounds familiar. My eyes slowly flutter open, but my eyelids feel heavy and dull. At first, when I see a face with the perfect brown eyes hovering above me, I'm certain that I'm still dreaming.

Some beautiful, wonderful dream, but still a dream.

"Chad?" I whisper. The face above me is my sweet, sweet Chad Olson.

"It's alright," he says, and I realize I'm not dreaming. He's actually here with me. "You're safe now."

"What are you doing here?" I ask, struggling to sit up on the hard cement bench where I'm lying. But as soon as I'm upright, my head starts to throb, probably from whatever drug Agent Holmes gave me.

"Oh hey! Nice of you to join the land of the living, Sleeping Beauty." A second figure says, stepping out from the shadows. It's the smiling face of my best girl Ruby moving to my side. "We've been so worried. You were out cold for so long that we started to think you might not wake up."

"Ruby? What are you guys doing here? Both of you?" Struggling to clear my eyes, I see that we're in a small, dimly lit sterile white cell. "And where exactly are we?"

"In a freaky underground facility," Chad replies. "We think we're under the federal building on the edge of town."

So I haven't been moved then. "How long have I been here?" I'm woozy as they help me to my feet.

Ruby gets me some water from a small sink in the corner of the cell. The area on my shoulder where the mean lady agent stuck me with a needle aches. It hurts worse than my still unhealed cut.

Chad and Ruby exchange looks, before he says, "Well, we got here the day before yesterday. You were already here. Totally unconscious."

"I was waiting for Phoebe to pick me up after school on Friday, when one of those big black SUVs, just like the ones we saw the night the meteor hit, pulled up. Two big guys in suits forced me into their car."

"And I never even made it to school Friday morning," Chad explains. "The goons in suits grabbed me as I was going into StarCoffee to buy breakfast."

"But the weird thing is," Ruby says, "they've totally left us alone since we got here. So we don't have any idea what they want."

When my eyes finally clear enough for me to look around, I notice the craziest thing about our cell. There isn't a fourth wall. It's totally open.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," I begin, gesturing to the gaping hole that should be a wall. "But this doesn't exactly seem like a very secure cell if an entire wall is gone."

Ruby gestures to the darkness beyond the cell as a draft of fresh air wafts in. "Take a look for yourself."

Chad walks me to spot where the floor just ends. Such a gentleman. He holds my arm to keep me steady so I can gaze out into this mysterious darkness.

I immediately understand why there's no need for a fourth wall.

Our little cell might as well be built into the side of a mountain. It's four, maybe five, stories off the ground.

"It's like someone took a giant spoonful out of the wall to make this cell," Ruby says, moving to my other side.

With an additional two or three stories above us, the massive blades of a slowly turning fan spin on the ceiling.

"I feel like we're trapped in the first act of one of those horror movies that may eventually involve hideous power tools," I say, gazing up at the slowly turning fan blades.

"Oh jeez." Ruby grimaces. "I really hope not."

"There's one door, no vents, and no visible cameras, but somehow, I'm pretty sure we're being watched," Chad whispers. "Maybe from above us."

"Yeah, we've heard noises coming from up there," Ruby explains, her eyes darting up at what appears to be another opening in the wall on the floor above us.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Chad asks me. "I mean, why the thugs in the suits brought us all here?"

Oh, boy. How do you tell someone you're an alien and intergalactic bounty hunters are trying to kill you? "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

They both laugh darkly. Ruby counters, "I think we might."

"Especially if it has something to do with gigantic reptilian monsters and flying saucers," Chad adds with no trace of shock in his voice.

"I take it you saw them?"

Ruby nods. "It's the craziest thing ever. And it has something to do with you? Right? Something to do with the ways you're... special?"

Special? That's not exactly how I'd phrase it, but okay. My heart is heavy knowing that Ruby and Chad are mixed up in this whole awful thing because of me. If anything happens to my friends, I'll never be able to forgive myself.

"I'm really sorry, guys," I say, unable to meet their eyes. "I'm afraid it does have something to do with me."

"It's alright, Astrid." Ruby takes my hand. "You can tell us."

So, I pretty much let it rip. I tell them the whole thing. The Grail. The sword. My dying uncle transforming into a MoonEyed Blue. Not to mention Jax.

They both listen in silence, eyes wide like little kids during story hour. When I'm done, Ruby wraps her arms around me, tears glisten in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'm so sorry."

"Wait. Just hang on," Chad asks, anger in his voice. "You're telling me that this Jax guy swore to your dying uncle that he'd get you safely to this oracle, then stole the gold along with your special sunbeam sword —"

"Stardust. Not sunbeam." I correct him.

"Okay, sorry." He goes on, "He took your stardust sword then bailed on you while the house burned down and the cops showed up."

"Yep. Pretty much sums it up."

"What a jerk." Chad clenches his jaw. "If I ever see that guy..."

Ruby interrupts, taking the conversation in a different direction. "You know, my crazy Aunt Libby claims that aliens abducted her in the middle of the night and inserted an implant in her brain." She laughs quietly, but I can see the gears turning in her brain. "We always thought she was just nutso. But maybe she was telling the truth, after all."

Before anyone can say more, heavy footsteps approach from what sounds like the end of a long hallway. The footsteps stop outside our cell door, then we hear a loud electronic beep.

The cell door hisses open as two burly guys in black suits, with their holstered guns plainly visible, fill the doorframe.

"Come with us," barks the bigger of the two agents.

After a beat, the three of us forward, but the smaller suit points at Chad. "No, not you."

"Resist and we will shoot," says the other, hand on his firearm.

Resist? How are we supposed to resist two armed men?

But they're only looking at me, and I realize they're afraid of me. Like quaking-in-their-boots afraid. They must think I have some crazy alien superpower like a laser vision death ray or mind control.

"No," Chad objects. "We stay together."

The guard now points his gun at Chad's head. "Only the girls."

"Forget it," Chad says as the guard cocks his weapon.

# Chapter 34

"It's okay," I say, smiling at Chad, hoping to reassure him. "We'll be fine."

With no other choice, Ruby and I follow the two suits out of the cell as they slam the cell door closed. The sound of our footsteps echoing off the empty walls reverberates as we walk for what feels like an eternity down one eerily quiet, maze-like hallway that turns into another almost identical hallway. There's not another soul around.

"So, how's it going?" I ask the guard next to me.

No response.

"I like your suits," I continue, noticing they're wearing nearly identical single-breasted wool suits. "Are you required to wear black or can you throw in a charcoal gray or a nice navy blue now and then?"

Still nothing.

"Casual Fridays, maybe?" Ruby adds.

Eventually, we turn down a hallway that dead-ends at a bright green door. It's the first color I've seen in this secret government facility or whatever it is. There's a small window in the door covered with thick metal mesh.

A futuristic keypad/camera duo on the wall next to the door scans one of the agent's handprint, then the iris of his left eye, followed by a ka-chunk that releases the lock.

The door swings open, and we emerge back where I began in the big open room with the sporty little flying saucer.

The sea of black suits parts revealing a familiar figure. It's the towering reptilian Grail bounty hunter. With a serious looking weapon slung over her shoulder, she appears larger than her clones. This is the prime, up close and personal.

"There's our girl!" Sunglasses, who stands beside the Grail, moves in my direction.

So the suits and the Grail were working together this whole time. I think back to my uncle talking to Sunglasses up in the canyon the night the meteor landed. He must have trusted Sunglasses. Which probably means that they somehow double-crossed him.

"And Astrid's little friend, too." Sunglasses takes me firmly by the arm and walks me in the opposite direction. "Come with me. I'd like to introduce you to a very important figure who's eager to meet you."

He escorts us through the suits toward what appears to be a platform or stage. I can't see who or what's on it until we pass the cluster of agents.

My heart nearly freezes when I see the hulking, scaled alien encased in metallic body armor that's draped in a floor-length deep red cloak. He stands, at least, 8 feet tall, and the breadth of his chest is enormous.

This can only be the Crimson Lord, Ciakar Rigel, the leader of the Draconian Swarm.

The monster who haunts my dreams.

The evil warlord who wants me and my sisters dead.

"My lord, I have brought you one of the vile Seven Sisters of Destruction," Sunglasses calls proudly up to the alien.

Unlike in my nightmares, here I finally see the entirety of his strange alien face. His scaled forehead rises to a peaked skull. His reptilian skin is a dark greenish-yellow with round scale-like protrusions running from his cheeks up over his bald head. His nose hooks up, and his chin is bearded with whiskers that look like wire.

"Well done, human!" the Crimson Lord bellows as his strange alien eyes examine me. "That is... if this child is truly one of the seven threats."

I force myself not to look away and push down my fear. Finally, I realize there's something strange, not right. Something nearly translucent about him.

Ruby, who stands behind me, notices this at the same moment. "Is he a hologram or something?"

"Oh my god, you're right. He's not really here," I reply in a hushed voice. We're seeing some sort of real time astral projection of the Draconian leader. A futuristic high tech version of Skype.

"I'm certain this is the girl you're seeking," Sunglasses replies. "I ran a sample of her blood. Her DNA is 100% Asteropian."

"That does not prove she is one of the seven deadly threats," he replies, examining me like someone trying to select the perfect piece of steak. "And, I need more than your word that the girl is from the Pleiadian system."

Sunglasses turns toward a pair of agents standing next to what looks like a mirror made of metallic rock. He gives the waiting agents a small bob of the head, and they wheel the rock toward us.

As they push it toward us, Sunglasses explains. "We like to call this the looking glass. It was a gift from our more advanced friends. Made from a blend of rare metals found in distant asteroids, it allows us to see behind the veil, so to speak."

As it gets closer, I'm able to see a reflection in the mirrored rock. I see Sunglasses and Ruby and a cluster of agents behind me. But I'm not there.

Or, perhaps, I am.

It just doesn't look like me. My face has a shimmering crystal texture almost like I'm covered in some sparkling, textured make-up. My skin glows a warm pink. My eyes are the same. But everything else looks foreign.

I realize that this is me, uncloaked. My uncle said he and I were not alike. This must be my true alien form.

Ruby looks on. I feel exposed. Vulnerable. Unveiled.

My best friend steps forward, staring at my reflections with wide, unblinking eyes. "Astrid," she says, gazing from me to the mirror and back again. "You're so beautiful."

I have the strangest feeling of not recognizing myself on the outside, but feeling the same on the inside.

"Congratulations, Alice," Sunglasses whispers, just loud enough for me to hear. "What's it feel like to officially tumble down the rabbit hole?"

"If I'm Alice then you must be the Mad Hatter," I whisper back. "What's it feel like to be totally bonkers?"

Sunglasses laughs then turns and loudly address the hologram of the Crimson Lord. "How many female Asteropian young women can be on one planet? She's the right age, has a MoonEyed Blue guardian — or should I say — had."

Sunglasses saunters back to me then rips the shirt from my injured shoulder. I wince as pain shoots through me. "And she has the seven-sided star on her arm."

Across space and time, the Crimson Lord scowls. Perhaps I'm not what he expects in an intergalactic warrior princess. "Then where is the sword?"

"Yes, the sword..." A shadow crosses Sunglasses' face. "It was not with her."

"You bring me a girl with no sword?!" the Crimson Lord bellows. "If you hope to be Earth's high chancellor when the Swarm conquers your little planet, then you had better complete the simple tasks you are given."

"My lord," Sunglasses moves forward. "We have reason to believe that it's nearby. We will locate the sword."

"Enough!" the Crimson Lord thunders from halfway across the galaxy. "Do not waste my time again until you have the girl AND the sword. One is worthless without the other. Find it. Or else."

Then like a light going out, the huge image of the Crimson Lord fades away.

For an uncomfortably long moment, Sunglasses stands eerily still. Then, suddenly, he explodes in a red-faced rage. His head tips back and he howls an angry cry. His hands balled into fists, he marches toward me.

This is exactly what I was afraid of.

"Where is it?" he asks. "Where is the sword?!"

"I told you," I reply, desperately trying not to show my fear. "It was stolen from me by that Jax-guy. The Arcturian or whatever he is."

He points an angry finger at me. "Do not lie to me, little girl."

I shrug. "I'm not lying."

He pauses, thinking. "We shall see." Then he spins on his heels and address his team. "Take them to the pool."

Five minutes later, Ruby and I have our hands bound behind our back with zip-ties. Two burly agents walk us down a long corridor with Sunglasses and the Grail trailing behind.

A dozen black-suited agents follow along as we enter a room with a swimming pool.

The hot air is moist and smells of chemicals.

I'm taken in one direction. Ruby in another.

"Astrid!" Ruby gasps.

"It'll be okay, Ruby!" I call back, hoping I'm right.

Something in the water catches my eye. A long serpentine creature, giving off a deep blue glow, glides through the water.

A second creature, bigger than the first, swims past from the other direction. This one glows green.

"I see you have Centaurian Electropods," the prime Grail notes. "I've never seen them this far out."

"A gift from the Greys. These beauties power our entire facility," Sunglasses replies proudly. "Still... costs me a fortune to keep them fed."

I gaze down at the huge, fast moving sea serpents and wonder what they eat.

Having calmed back down, Sunglasses asks, "Aren't they wonderful? We just moved them to this facility recently. Before that, we kept them in Scotland."

"Scotland?" I repeat, thinking he's kidding. "You mean, like, the Loch Ness Monster?"

He smiles a sly self-satisfied smile. "I can neither confirm, nor deny."

Ruby is placed on a small platform attached to a winch and cables. Once she's on it, the agents raise it out and over the surface of the pool. They stop it over the dead center of the pool about five feet above the water.

"Honestly, it's quite a job keeping them fed. They each need about 60 pounds of meat a week. Turns out your friend will do the job nicely."

"Look, mister," I begin. "I don't know where the sword is."

"How am I supposed to believe that you didn't give it to the Arcturian for safe keeping?"

"Why would I do that?" I sneer. "You, yourself, said they're thieves. Why would I give him anything valuable? I'm not as stupid as you must think I am."

"That may or may not be true, Astrid. See, it's simple." Sunglasses walks closer. "Either you tell us where the sword is, or I feed your friend to our little monsters. And if losing your BFF isn't enough to loosen your tongue, then we'll go back and get your little boyfriend next."

"Listen, A-hole, I don't know where it is! If you want it so bad, then find the guy who stole it from me."

I see that my tone has caught Sunglasses off guard. But he just smiles and nods. Then he points at Ruby. "Dunk the girl."

Ruby screams. The platform descends toward the water.

"Please, stop!" I beg him. "I'll find it. I'll go and find it and give it to you. Just let her be."

"Sorry," Sunglasses shrugs. "Too late."

I lunge forward, but the agent guarding me wraps a strong arm around my shoulders.

The serpents in the water crackle with threads of electricity, swimming faster and faster. They know it's feeding time.

"If it makes you feel any better, she shouldn't worry too much about being torn apart by our little friends there. The electricity in the water will probably kill her before our slithering friends can."

The platform tips up on one end as Ruby slides toward the water and the waiting hungry sea serpents.

# Chapter 35

Dangling over the water, Ruby's toes hover just centimeters above the surface. She desperately holds onto the edge of the platform, trying to pull herself up with all her might.

Sharp bolts of electricity crackle and pop from the frenzied sea serpents circling below.

I have to do something. I can't let Ruby suffer because of me.

As if he's reading my mind, the agent restraining me tightens his grip on my arm.

In martial arts, you learn to use your opponent's power against him. This guy is twice my size, so this might work. Pretending I'm about to faint, I lean back and go limp.

At first, the surprised agent reacts by trying to prop me up, but it ultimately just throws him off balance, causing him to stumble forward.

I seize the opportunity and reach across my body grabbing him by the lapels of his suit jacket. Thrusting forward, I throw him over my shoulder.

This is basic kung fu, and it works like a charm.

The agent slams onto the cold tile floor, flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him.

"Hang on, Ruby!" I call to her, stepping over the agent who's gasping for air. He'll only be out of commission for a couple of minutes, so I have to work fast.

"My fingers!" she cries, panic overwhelming her. "They're slipping."

"Get that girl!" Sunglasses yells to his agents, pointing at me. Every agent in the room suddenly charges me. "Now!"

I need a new strategy and fast.

I spot the long hose of a wet vacuum, used for cleaning pool water, shoved along the wall. It runs from where I stand, down the length of the pool. The hose is made out of some hard industrial plastic, twice as thick as a standard issue garden hose.

The line of agents charges toward me. They're running parallel to the hose. I grab the end nearest to me and pull it taunt.

It's too late by the time they realize what's about to happen. The suits scramble to turn around, hoping to retreat. But they're trapped.

I tighten my grip and yank the hose toward the edge of the pool. This causes the hard plastic to hit them just above the waist. The motion of the hose sweeps them toward the water.

One by one they splash into the pool.

The electropods quickly lose interest in Ruby and swim toward the agents. _This ain't gonna be pretty_. I avert my eyes as their watery screams echo and bounce off the pool walls.

I turn my attention back to Ruby. She's barely holding onto the platform by her fingernails. Her dangling feet brush the surface of the water.

"Astrid, help!" she yells.

Time is running out.

"Drop into the water," I yell back, darting around to the far side of the pool. "The other bodies in the water should have already offset most of the electrical charge. Swim as fast as you can toward me, and I think you'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

Let's be clear: I am, in no way, sure.

"Yep!" I reply brightly. At this point, there's no viable alternative. She's about to fall into the water anyway. I just want her to focus on getting out of the pool as fast as possible. Hopefully, she won't be fried to a crisp first.

Ruby squeeze her eyes shut tight and lets go. Time seems to slow as she plummets toward the pool. Her feet hit the water, and she slips effortlessly beneath the surface.

I hold my breath.

An instant later, she bobs up in the frothy water, frantically paddling toward me. As soon as she's within reach, I heave her out of the water, and we both collapse on the tile.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"You know how your tongue feels when you touch it to a 9-volt battery? That's how my whole body feels. Tingly and weird. But I'll be okay."

Suddenly, a massive _ka-boom_ roars out behind us. The tiled pool wall explodes, showering debris in every direction. The chrome grill of one of the black SUVs has rammed through the back wall of the pool area.

I squint to see through the thick dust and flying debris. Who would do this?

I'm stunned when I see the face of Jax behind the wheel. A fresh batch of suits pours in through the newly created doorway.

"Arcturian scum!" Sunglasses sees him too. "How dare you come here!"

Jax emerges from the driver's side. "Hey, Princess!"

"You!" I feel my anger rising. "You bailed on me."

"I didn't bail." He smiles. "I was waiting for the right moment."

"No, you pretty much ditched me."

"But I'm here now," he grabs my sword -- in the form of the old wooden bow staff - from inside the SUV. "And I brought you an old friend."

"Give it to me!" I step forward, ready to catch it.

He launches the thin bow staff into the air. It's a nearly perfect throw. All I have to do is reach up and let the light, pliable staff sail into my hands.

"Nice catch," Ruby says.

Gripping the handle, I swing the plain wooden stick down and around, causing the two agents who are currently bearing down on me to instinctively stop and take a couple steps back in order to get out of its way.

But when one of them realizes it's basically a wooden stick, he laughs, pulling out his gun. "And are we supposed to be scared of your walking stick?"

It isn't until the bow staff completes one revolution that it transforms into the gleaming metal weapon that is BrightSky. Every eye in the place goes wide at the sight of the magnificent sword as I bring it down in front of me.

"Whoa!" Ruby exhales. "That is one crazy sword."

"So it's true," Agent Holmes, the only female suit, mutters. "She wields a sword of stardust."

"The Crimson Lord will be so pleased." Sunglasses sounds positively tickled.

The agent, who made the walking stick crack, takes a giant step backward.

"Who's laughing now, tough guy?" I ask, lunging at him. "Get behind me, Ruby."

But he sneers, raising his revolver. "Sweetheart, I'll take my gun over your fancy sword any day."

Before I can respond, he fires.

I feel my arms jerk to the left as the sword cants up at an angle. It's as if BrightSky has a mind of her own and is moving independently.

Much to my amazement, the bullet ricochets right back, striking the agent who fired in the leg. He crumples to the ground, clutching his wound.

A second agent fires. I react, moving in unison with BrightSky, lowering the sword this time. Again, the bullet ricochets off the blade, lodging itself in the shoulder of the shooter.

"Stop!" Sunglasses' jaw drops. Even he's surprised "Hold your fire, idiots!"

This is amazing. Talk about instant karma. I love this sword! It seems to even shine brighter in my hands. Somehow, the impact of the two bullets has strengthened the sword. The etched seven-sided star on the hilt seems to glow like fire.

Perhaps, this is why the sword is named BrightSky.

"Well what do you know? So, truly we have found one of the Seven Sisters," Sunglasses beams, stepping toward me. "Honestly, I thought the odds were about 50/50 that you were a useless fraud. Still, the Crimson Lord will be most pleased. And my bounty will be great."

"As will be mine!" the grail adds, stalking toward me.

Unexpectedly, the overhead lights go out, throwing everything into darkness except for the eerie green lights in the swimming pool.

Great. Here we go again with the weird green lights and the creepy Grail clones.

"Time to go." I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Jax. He now stands at my side, having instantly time shifted 100 feet. "Take my hand. You too, Ruby."

"How do you know my name?" Ruby asks.

"Take my hand!" When we don't immediately comply, he lurches at us, grabbing my wrist and Ruby's hands. "Hold on!"

As soon as he's got a firm grip, time comes to a crashing halt. Or so it seems. Everything and everyone\--

_sloooowwwwsss_

\-- to nearly a stop.

Except for the three of us. Jax, Ruby and me. We're walking at a regular pace toward the gaping hole in the wall caused by the SUV.

"No way! What's going on?" Ruby's utterly bewildered. "How did you stop everything?"

"Nothing stopped. Believe it or not, we're actually moving faster."

"Faster?" From my point of view, it seems we're the ones moving at a normal pace while everyone else appears practically frozen.

"You know how the grail and your cat are shape shifters?"

"Wait... Your cat is a shape shifter?" Ruby interjects.

I nod. "I'll explain later."

"As it happens, Arcturians are your basic time shifters." Jax's eyebrows knit together, as he tries to explain. "The time-space continuum doesn't affect me the same way it does Astrid or humans. But the weird thing about moving faster than the eye can see is that it looks like the rest of the world is moving slow. Sort of an odd paradox."

As he's talking, something finally dawns on me. "Wait, so this is how you were able to paint the whole exterior of the building in, like, ten minutes?"

"Pretty much," he nods.

We're headed back toward the SUV. It's covered with debris and dust, but the engine is still running.

"The problem is I can't hold a time shift for long," he explains.

"Jax, look!" I point. The prime Grail has appeared behind us. She looks like she's dragging herself through deep water, but she's still coming at us.

"My God, she's strong," Jax frowns. "The Grail is trying to tap into this frequency, forcing her way into the time shift."

"Can she catch up to us?" Ruby asks, a quaver in her voice.

"Eventually," Jax replies. "She hasn't found the exact right frequency yet."

I pull my hand away from Jax to adjust my sword and unexpectedly come crashing back into real time. All alone.

Back on the regular time-space continuum, everyone is staring at me.

I look over my shoulder to see the prime Grail has also come out of the time shift. Ruby and Jax are gone. She only wants me.

A second later, Jax and Ruby reappear. Jax grabs my wrist. "Don't let go again!"

As soon as my fingers wrap back around the fabric of his jacket, we're moving again. "You have to stay connected to me, or you'll be back in real time."

When we've nearly crossed the length of the pool, Jax releases my hand and everything comes crashing back into real time. He looks pale, the color drained from his usually tanned face.

"Are you alright?" I ask, propping him up.

"I can't hold this time shift any longer."

"You look like you should sit down before you fall down," Ruby adds.

"Having a passenger..." he labors to breathe. "Saps my strength. Pretty badly. In order to bring you two with me, I have to incorporate your essence into my collective being. It triples my load and wears me out."

We hurry to the still-running SUV. But the door is jammed. It won't budge.

There isn't time for all three of us to climb through the car door's window before the suits are all over us.

"Through there," Jax points at the wall.

There's just enough room above the hood for us to crawl through the hole in the wall.

Ruby goes first, followed by Jax and me. We all scoot across the hood of the SUV and squeeze through the hole in the wall.

I land on the floor next to Ruby who stands frozen, staring wide-eyed at the vast expanse before us. "What is this place?"

# Chapter 36

The three of us stand looking at row after row after row of cots. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. All lined up in neat columns.

"Beds?" Ruby says, "Why are there a gajillion beds in here?"

"Maybe it's some sort of fallout shelter?" Jax offers.

"Except don't they seem brand new?" I reply. "Like they've never been used."

Each cot looks freshly made with brand new sheets, a thick pillow, and an army green crisp wool blanket tucked perfectly in at the corners.

"What could this possibly be for?" Ruby asks.

Before anyone can come with some sort of plausible explanation, the suits start pouring in behind us through the opening in the wall.

"This way!" Jax moves toward an industrial metal door on the sidewalk. Unfortunately, the heavy metal door is bolted tight.

"Get ready to fight, ladies," Jax turns

More and more suits swarm in behind us. Three against everyone else. Fantastic odds. I pivot, pulling BrightSky in front of me.

But we're saved by a loud ka-thunk as the previously locked door swings opens behind us. Agent Holmes' face appears in the doorway. We're all surprised to hear her say, "This way! Quick. You don't have much time."

There's something earnest in her voice and the three of us following her through the open door.

"Why are you helping us?" Jax pointedly asks her.

"Because if that girl is one of the Sisters of Light, she's worth more than some radioactive bi-chromium fuel and a future position for my boss on the Draconian's Earthly ruling council." Agent Holmes explains, shutting and bolting the door again.

"Wait? Ruling council?" Ruby asks, fear in her voice. "Does that mean those huge scary reptilians are coming to Earth?"

"We need to stop the Swarm before they get here. Not help them," Agent Holmes says, leading us through the maze of hallways.

By the number of lefts and rights and doglegs, I realize it would have taken us forever to find our way out of this maze without help.

"Where are you taking us?" I ask as we continue through this underground labyrinth.

"Back to the dome," she says, quickening her pace. "It's the fastest way out."

At the end of a long hallway, we emerge into the great domed hall. The SUVs, minus one, still line the opposite wall. We stop beneath the levitating alien spacecraft.

"I assume you can fly this?" Agent Holmes asks Jax.

Ruby's eyes nearly bug out of her head when she realizes that Agent Holmes is pointing up at the flying saucer. "Is that... what I think it is?"

"Piece of cake." Jax grins. "I learned to fly one of these things when I was practically a toddler."

"Keys are on the dashboard," Agent Holmes winks then hurries away.

Jax swipes the tip of his index finger across the belly of the craft causing a panel to retract, then a stairway unfolds. He ushers us forward, and we all climb the stairs of the flying saucer.

Taking the pilot's seat, he powers up the craft. The inside of the saucer, a cross between a modern version of the cockpit on a jumbo jet and the sweetest luxury car ever made, is more spacious that I would have guessed.

"Buckle up, ladies," he says, looking completely comfortable in the pilot's seat.

Ruby and I take two jumpseats, pulling down and securing a high-tech harness.

Slowly, effortlessly, the craft begins to rise.

"And I thought my sister's car was fantastic," Ruby says in awe, looking around.

Then there's a jolt, along with the sensation of being pushed forward. Our smooth ascent is interrupted as the craft bucks then unexpectedly plummets several feet.

"Uh oh..." Jax fiddles with the control panel, but the power continues to wane.

"Uh oh?" I repeat, gripping the edge of my seat. "What's going on?"

"To put it in terms you'll understand, we're out of gas." He's madly working the controls as the craft shutters like a washing machine about to conk out. "Which doesn't surprise me. Radioactive bi-chromium fuel is hard to come by. Especially in this quadrant of the galaxy."

"Uh oh. We've got company," I say as a cluster of black suits floods the domed hall. They've caught up with us.

Jax shoves his hands into his pockets and starts dumping stray dollar bills and loose change onto the console.

"What are you looking for?" Ruby asks.

"I'm trying to find something we could substitute for fuel."

"I thought it had to have this rare alien bi-chromium stuff?"

"It does if we're hoping to blast out of the atmosphere. But, right now, we just need a little boost to get this baby out of the building. We could temporarily use any metallic conductor of heat. Something made from aluminum or copper."

"Copper?" I ask, reaching in my pocket, a feeling of excitement growing. "Like a penny?"

"Nope." He shakes his head and my heart drops, "Pennies are mostly made out of zinc now."

"Oh," I say, looking at the old tarnished 1981 penny Señora Mariposa gave me.

"Unless, of course, it's old," he adds. "If it's older than 1982, then it's still primarily composed of copper."

"Check it out!" I hold the old penny up between my fingers. I guess Mariposa isn't as crazy as I thought. "Someone gave me this yesterday and told me it would be good luck."

"No way!" Ruby says.

"That's the best luck we've had all day," Jax snatches it from my hand and runs the coin over the black glass control panel. Right before my eyes, the penny melts into nothing. It doesn't take more than a few seconds before the engine purrs back to life. He smiles. "Bingo!"

Through the window, I see the suits climbing the steps to the hatch. I also see two agents leading Agent Holmes away with her hands cuffed behind her back. I feel both regret and gratitude. Without her help, we never would have made it this far. I silently hope she'll be okay.

"Jax!" Meanwhile, Ruby's looking out the small window in the hatch. "In about two seconds they're going to break in. Hurry!"

"Hold tight. Might be a bumpy ride until we're out of this building."

Just then the little craft jerks upward.

"Good girl!" Jax whispers lovingly to the space ship. "Let's get your skinny ass off the ground."

As the small alien craft rises higher and higher through the narrow tunnel that reaches up to the giant spinning fan, we pass the small cell, carved into the wall, where we were held.

"Do you see Chad?" I ask.

Both Ruby and I lean on the window, desperate to see inside the cell. A tall, broad figure stands in the back. "He's still there!"

I throw my arms around Ruby, then we turn to Jax. "Can you hold this thing steady? We have to get Chad on board."

"On board?" Jax repeats like that's the dumbest thing he's ever heard. "How, exactly? Beam him up? It doesn't work like that."

"We can't leave him behind," Ruby argues.

"I get it. You want to just abandon him here? Like you abandoned me?" I sneer, knowing that I'm being cruel. "But I guess that's what Arcturians do. They bail on people."

He snorts and rolls his eyes. But it's clear he's thinking.

"Okay, hold on." I can see Jax trying to figure out how he could maneuver the craft back down. Our ascent slows until the craft reverses direction, slowly descending. He struggles to level us off. "I can open the hatch and try to hold her steady long enough for you to get him inside. But it's not going to be easy. And you won't have much time."

The little craft bucks and lurches as we level off coming eye to eye with Chad, who has moved to the cell's edge. I feel an overwhelming sense of joy when I see him.

Jax speaks to Chad through an external intercom. "Can you jump?"

He nods and backs up, preparing to take a running start.

"Get ready!" Jax tells us, fighting to stabilize the craft. "I'm opening the hatch."

The doors part as rough air whooshes in.

Using all his strength, Chad comes running toward us. My heart is in my mouth. At best, I figured he had about a 50% chance of making it safely on board. And if he doesn't... The fall is, at least, four stories down.

At the edge, Chad leaps, arms outstretched, legs pumping in the air to keep his momentum moving forward.

Ruby and I stand in opposite corners of the hatch, gripping the side panel with one hand to brace ourselves while trying to keep the opening clear but ready to help him onboard.

For a split second, it looks like Chad will sail effortlessly onboard with no problem at all. But then the small craft is pushed up by a strong under-draft.

This means Chad is now suddenly too low.

"No!" I cry, dropping to the floor and thrusting an arm out the hatch.

An instant before he sails right under the craft, Chad manages to grab my hand. In order to not be pulled out with him, my other hand clings to the edge of the hatch.

Ruby grabs both of my ankles and holds on with all of her might. "I got you!"

"Can you pull us up?" I yell, slowly being sucked out of the craft. In a couple more feet, both Chad and I will plummet to our deaths. But I'm not letting go. I'm holding on, using all my strength.

Then, just like the craft surged up, it now surges downward. This change in direction gives both Chad and me enough momentum to fling ourselves in the right direction.

I'm thrown back inside. Chad is lifted up enough to get both hands firmly on the floor.

"You get one side! I'll get the other." Ruby and I scramble pull him into the flying saucer.

"I can't hold her steady for much longer," Jax yells out.

Once he's inside, Ruby calls to Jax. "Go! We got him."

Jax closes the hatch and up the little craft flies.

But, then, out of the corner of my eye, I see something strange. Above our cell, we pass another cell. This one smaller.

And there's a man being held prisoner.

Heavy chains hang from the wall. The hulking male figure is shackled at the wrists and ankles. He's slumped over, propped up only by the thick chains.

But he's alive. The man slowly raises his head and our eyes meet.

"It can't be!" I gasp, covering my mouth.

"Oh my God, Astrid!" Ruby can't believe it either. "Is that your uncle?"

My Uncle Conrad. He isn't dead. He was right above us the whole time.

# Chapter 37

"We have to go back!" I cry, panic welling up in me as the flying saucer rises higher and higher up through the narrow tunnel. "My uncle is alive. And he's here!"

"What? But we saw...?" Jax begins, but his words trail away. What he means to say is _we saw him die_. "Are you sure? I mean, really sure?"

"Yes! I'm really, really, really sure."

"I saw him too." Ruby backs me up.

"These scumbags are holding him prisoner." I'm leaning as far forward as I can in order to look out the windshield. "In the cell directly above where we were kept."

"That's the noise we were hearing." Ruby realizes. "What we were hearing must have been your uncle."

"We can't leave him here. There's no way." I'm practically begging. "With these horrible people. We can't! We have to go get him."

"I understand, but I'm not sure how much more juice this engine's got in it," Jax counters. "Every second we're here, is another second for the suits to try to bring us down."

"Please," is all I can say.

He sighs. "Okay." Then he turns back to the controls and slowly navigates down toward my uncle's cell. "You have a very small window of time. Like seconds."

As the hatch opens again, I lean out and yell, "Don't worry, Uncle. We're coming."

But instead of relief or happiness, my uncle looks furious. "No! Get out of here! Now!!"

"What? No! We're not leaving without you," I brace myself in the doorway, ready to leap onto the deck of his small cell.

Jax struggles to keep the craft steady. "It's now or never, Astrid!"

"Don't even think of it!" my uncle, who sees me preparing to jump, holds up his manacled arms. "You won't be able to break these chains anyway. It will only slow you down enough for them to catch you."

"But --" I begin.

"No buts!" he bellows. "Get out of here. It's a trap!"

Before the words are even out of his mouth, his cell door flies open, and a flurry of suits rushes in. In an instant, a sea of weapons is aimed at us.

I'm frozen in the open hatch. How can this be happening? The euphoria of discovering he's still alive has been cruelly snatched away.

Suddenly, a hand yanks me backwards. I fall to the floor as Jax closes the hatch. He sits back down in the pilot seat and says, "I'm sorry, Astrid. We have to go."

For the second time, I've left my uncle behind. Hot tears sting my eyes. Defeated, I don't get up right away. I lie crumpled in a ball on the floor feeling broken and worthless.

Solemnly, Ruby and Chad remain silent.

After a moment, my best friend kneels next to me. She strokes my hair and quietly tries to console me. "It's okay, Astrid. It's all going to be okay."

Lying there on the floor, it occurs to me that I never thanked my uncle. He left his family, his people, and his position to become -- not just my guardian -- but my uncle, my mother, my father, my teacher and my friend. And all I ever did – all those years – was wish for a normal family. What even is that? A normal family?

Now, I'd give anything to be able to save him. But it's too late.

Jax silently steers the ship up, slowly accelerating through the circular tunnel.

I hear Chad ask, "Uh, hey man, are we about to smash into that big turning fan and get chopped into a million pieces?"

"Alien technology, my friend," Jax answers smoothly. "We'll pass right through it."

We're heading straight toward the huge circular ventilation fan in the ceiling. Yet, somehow, our craft just slips right through the fan blades like they're invisible.

"How did you do that?" Ruby asks.

"The craft's sensors timed our ascent and brought us between the blades when there was an opening," Jax explains. "It's just a little math and some pretty basic avionics."

We emerge from the roof of the drab government office building that houses this massive secret underground facility. There's nothing but blue skies and sunshine above us.

Watching him navigate this little craft, it's easy to see how comfortable Jax is in the pilot seat.

"I'm sorry to geek-out, but this ship is amazballs," Chad says, in awe of his surroundings.

"She is a little beauty," Jax nods in agreement.

"So is this what you do?" Chad asks. "Are you a pilot or something?"

"Not exactly," Jax replies, a shadow crossing his face. "Well, at least, not for a very long time anyway."

An awkward silence fills the space. Ruby, Chad and I exchange looks. He's obviously not telling us something.

Changing the subject, Jax brightly suggests, "Hey, how about I open this baby up? We'll head west and be in Maui in, like, 15 minutes."

Safe and sound in Hawaii. After everything that's happened, can't say that sounds like the worst idea ever. But there's no way we can just run away from everything that's happening.

"You're kidding right?" I ask.

"Unfortunately, I am," he replies as he swipes his hand across the black glass control panel then enters new coordinates.

People on the ground are staring at us. It's got to be quite a sight to see a real life UFO sailing above the streets of Ocean Grove in the broad daylight. I turn to Jax. "Aren't you afraid we're going to be seen?"

"Not my problem," he shrugs. "I'm not the one hiding an alien spaceship from the people of this planet. That would be your government."

Just as we're picking up speed, the craft violently shudders and slows.

"Aw, jeez," Jax mutters as we quickly start to descend. "I was hoping we'd have a little more juice than this left."

"What's happening?" Chad asks, watching the ground quickly rise to meet us.

"Unless one of you has another pre-1982 penny," he says, madly trying to regain control of the navigationals. "Then you three might want to brace for impact."

We're still above the Ocean Grove town center as the craft bucks hard, then completely stalls.

"Get buckled up." Jax remains remarkably calm.

"Are we crashing?" Ruby's voice is thick with fear.

"Let's just say this could be a bit of a hard landing," Jax says. "It might be a good idea to get in crash position."

"What exactly is crash position?" Ruby asks as we all click our seat harness belts into place.

"I think it's pretty much duck and cover." Chad demonstrates for us.

Dangerously close to the ground, Jax banks hard to the left, narrowly avoiding a group of pedestrians. A split second before we land, I squeeze my eyes shut.

Hitting the ground, we're thrown forward, then backward, eventually bumping to a stop.

As the dust settles, I hear Jax say, "Okay. Not such a bad landing, if I do say so myself."

When I open my eyes, I see that we're sitting six or seven feet above a city street. That's because we've landed on top of an unfortunate minivan that happens to have a very surprised family of three currently inside of it.

Looky-lou passerbys have stopped to stare and take videos with their phones.

"The internet is going to be all about us in, like, two seconds," I say.

"We've got more urgent things to worry about," Jax replies.

Every few seconds a shutter violently ripples through the ship.

"What's that mean?" Chad asks, nervously sweeping a strand of hair off his face.

Swiveling out of the pilot's seat, Jax opens the hatch. "Um, so, we should probably immediately evacuate the craft. Just in case."

"Just in case of what?" Ruby asks.

"Because we used copper as a temporary fuel source, there's a small chance this crash could trigger a minor anti-matter explosion," he explains, unfurling the exit stairs.

"Is anti-matter actually a real thing?" Ruby asks. "I thought it was pretty much hypothetical."

"No, it's real," Jax states flatly.

"That sounds bad." I think back to what I know about anti-matter from physics class. Something about how any solid matter in contact with anti-matter will immediate be converted into immense amounts of energy.

"Worst case scenario -- most of this hemisphere gets blown to smithereens. But, like I said, it's a small probability," Jax explains.

I grab BrightSky from where she was resting near the flight console. Tightening my grip on my sword, which seems to almost hum in my hand, I follow Jax through the hatch. The four of us climb down from the craft into the crowd of curious bystanders.

My feet land with a thud on the brown metal hood of the minivan. The very startled family gapes up at us through the car windows. Including an 11-year-old boy recording us with his smartphone.

"Smile for the camera," I say to Jax as we jump down to the pavement.

When he sees the phone in the kid's hand, he frowns. "Hold that thought."

A second later, the kid hollers, staring at his empty hand. "Mom! My phone is gone. I was just holding it! I swear I was."

Jax, his face blurred for a split second, smiles. "Problem solved," he says, slipping the kid's phone in his pocket.

"Did you just use your supersonic speed thing to steal that kid's phone?"

"It's his own fault."

"That's not very nice," Ruby chimes in. "Couldn't you just erase it and give it back?"

"I could, but that wouldn't teach the little brat to mind his own business. Besides, we might need a phone," Jax answers, as our group hurries away from the flying saucer.

As soon as we're away from the gathering crowd gawking at the crashed UFO, Chad takes a moment to hold out a hand to Jax. "Hey man, didn't get a chance to introduce myself back there. I'm Chad."

Jax shakes his hand. "Yeah, I'm –"

Before Jax can say his name, Chad hauls off and slugs him in the face.

Jax reels back. "Whoa, man! That's a nice thank you for saving your ass back there."

"It's your fault anyway. If you'd just kept your promise to Astrid's uncle, the three of us would never have needed saving." Chad angrily jabs a finger at Jax.

"You don't know what you're talking about." Jax rubs his jaw.

"Guys," Ruby interrupts, pointing at the quickly growing crowd behind us. "I think we need to keep moving."

"She's right." Jax nods. "Try to blend in."

"Blend?" Chad snorts. "How are we supposed to blend in when all these people just watched us climb out of a flying saucer?"

"Try not to look like an alien," Jax snaps back.

"I'm not an alien," Chad replies.

"Obviously." Jax rolls his eyes. These two don't like each other. "Should be easy for you then."

Ruby, who has quickly become the voice of reason, tries to steer us back on track. "Astrid, I think part of the reason people are freaking out is because you're carrying a big ass sword around with you."

"What am I supposed to do with it?" I ask, pressing BrightSky vertically to the side of my body in an attempt to make it less conspicuous.

Jax says, "If you are truly connected to the sword – bound to it like one of the seven — then you should be able to mentally change the cloaking of the sword into something other than a weapon."

"Does it have to go back to being the wooden bow staff?" I ask. "Because I'm not sure that would calm people down."

"No, focus on a different object, any object, in your mind and it should transform into that."

"Wow." Ruby's amazed. "That could be handy."

"Okay," I say, squeezing my eyes shut. "Um... I can't think of anything."

"Seriously?" Jax asks.

"Give her a second, would you please?" Chad comes to my defense.

"Honey, at this point, anything is probably better than carrying Excalibur around with you," Ruby suggests.

Finally, an image appears in my mind. Stepping into the mouth of an alley, I slowly swing BrightSky around my head. A thin, cool piece of metal with white rubber caps on both ends appears in my hand.

"Is that... a baton?" Chad frowns. "Like the thing drum majorettes use?"

"It was the first thing that came to mind," I try to explain, feeling like an idiot.

Ruby smiles, "I always wanted to be the drum majorette. They get the best uniforms."

"Maybe try for something a little more... everyday," Chad suggests.

"Right." I try again, swinging the baton around, and a snow shovel appears.

"Very handy in sunny Central California," Jax shakes his head.

"Then you think of something," I bark back.

Ruby interjects. "How about a nice ordinary umbrella."

"Ugh! Why didn't I think of that?" I whirl it around again as a red umbrella appears in my hands.

"Fantastic! One problem solved," Ruby says as if she's mentally checking things off a to-do list. "Now what?"

"Now, Astrid and I go see the oracle," Jax says flatly, with no hesitation in his voice. "While you and Chad get out of here."

"Excuse me?" Chad asks, squaring his shoulders off with Jax.

"You heard me," Jax repeats. "You two need to go home."

# Chapter 38

"What? We aren't going anywhere." Ruby looks indignant.

"No, you both need to go home," Jax firmly states. "Where you'll be safe."

"He's right." I nod, knowing that Jax is right.

"Astrid?" Ruby looks at me like I've betrayed her.

"I can't thank you both enough for helping me. And I'm so sorry for everything that's happened. But the idea of either of you getting hurt – or worse – isn't worth the risk. You guys need to get out of here. Before those guys in suits come back to grab us again."

"I don't want to leave you," Ruby says, wrapping me in a big hug.

"Yeah..." Chad begins, his big brown eyes locked with mine. "I don't want to bail on you now. I'm not a guy who bails."

"I know you're not," I say, ignoring Jax's eyes attempting to burn holes into the side of my head.

Just then, two black SUVs speed around the corner coming to a screeching halt when they see the wreckage of the spacecraft precariously balanced on the hood of the minivan.

"Astrid, we've got to go," Jax says with his eyes glued to the SUVs. "Trust me. Your friends will be much safer without you. But you and I have to get out of here now."

"I love you guys," I hug Ruby again, as tightly as I can.

Then I step back, throw caution to the wind and wrap my arms around Chad. A week ago, I never could have dreamed that any of this would have happened and that Chad Olson would somehow be a part of it all. Tears blur my vision.

"Be careful, Astrid," Chad whispers to me. "I need you to come back when all of this is over."

I let go and turn away. From behind me, I hear their footsteps running down the alley, away from danger, away from me and toward safety.

Meanwhile, in front of us, half a dozen black suits are pouring out of the SUVs.

"This way," Jax says, pulling me onto the sidewalk. We hurry away from Chad and Ruby, our heads bent low. The suits are on our trail.

We aren't even halfway down the block when four more suits come around the corner from the other direction. Now we're surrounded. They're coming at us from both sides.

After we pass a busy sidewalk cafe, Jax takes my arm and pulls me inside the doorway of a nearby shop. "Stay here for a second."

"Wait -- " I reply with wide eyes, afraid he's going leave me again.

"Trust me. I'll be right back," he smiles reassuringly, sensing my fear. When I blink, he's gone. He's moved into a time shift. Alone, my chest tightens as I peek around the corner to see the suits closing in from both directions.

They'll be all over me in just a few seconds.

Suddenly, Jax reappears next to me, holding a set of car keys and a big paper coffee cup.

"Found us wheels," he grins, proud of himself.

"We're stealing a car?" I ask as he hands me the paper cup. "And a coffee?"

As the suits close in on us from both directions, we dart straight forward into the street, dodging oncoming traffic from both directions. Jax frantically clicks the key fob hoping to locate the car that belongs to the keys.

"We're just borrowing the car." He repeatedly clicks the key fob, swinging it from right to left. "Also, it's a green tea latte."

Bleeding into the street, the suits try to cut us off, hem us in from both directions.

"What kind of car is it?"

"I have no idea," he replies as he keeps clicking, clicking, clicking.

Searching for this mystery car, it occurs to me that Jax really could bail on me at any second. He could kick it into his own private hyper-drive and leave me in his dust.

But he hasn't. He promised to get me to the oracle and that seems to be what he's doing. Maybe I misjudged him after all.

Finally, a _chirp chirp_ fills the air.

"There it is," I point to a late model Audi sports car parked at an expired meter.

"Whoa! Sweet ride!" he winks, as we climb into the shiny black two-door roadster. The big engine turns over, and we pull into traffic. The suits are forced to leap out of our way as we speed off. Jax almost seems disappointed that he didn't get to run over a couple of agents.

"Where are we going?" I ask, looking back to see the suits racing to their SUVs. They won't be far behind us.

"I need to get you to the oracle."

I remember my uncle's words. He said that once I had the sword, this oracle person could give me some key that would open a Stargate that will somehow take me to safety.

"And where exactly is this oracle?"

"There's a sort of intergalactic black market called the Gathering. It's not exactly on this plane of existence. But, lucky for us, it's in this quadrant of the galaxy, which will cut way back on travel time." Jax explains like it's no biggie.

"Oh, yeah, lucky." This sounds totally crazy.

"Ever been to Haggerty's?"

"The burger place on Water Street? Only like a dozen times. It was my uncle's favorite place when we moved to this town." I'm surprised to hear him mention it. "Except... I'm pretty sure Haggertys is on this plane of existence."

He shrugs. "Part of it, at least. Haggertys is a local hotspot for us visitors. It also holds the closest portal to the Gathering."

Now I understand why my uncle liked it so much. I always thought it was just the turkey burgers.

Water Street is the old part of the city, near the college. The area around the campus is filled with little shops and quaint restaurants. Not exactly the sort of place you'd expect to find some shady backroom with a secret portal to an alien black market.

We luck into a parking spot in front of the restaurant, which maybe isn't a very good idea since we are driving a stolen car.

"Do you think it might be safer to park farther from the place we're going into?" I suggest, clutching my new umbrella. "You know, in case, the police show up."

As Jax gets out of the car, I notice he leaves the keys in the ignition. "This is an 80 thousand dollar car. I have a feeling the police are already tracking it. But none of that is going to affect you."

"And how's that?" My car door closes with a solid, impressive thunk. Guess that's what you get for 80 grand.

"Because you're about to get a one-way ticket to the stars, Princess," he replies. "Pretty sure the cops won't follow you."

Haggertys lunch rush is just winding down as we walk in. Even though I've been here a bunch of times, I'm seeing this place with fresh eyes. At first, I'm a little disappointed that everyone looks like a regular old human being. I'm sort of expecting the cantina scene from Star Wars.

Jax leans in and whispers, "Stay here and let me ask if the Gathering is open."

He saunters toward the counter and gestures to a greasy short order cook who nods in recognition. I'm watching their conversation, unsuccessfully trying to read lips, when a hostess appears.

"Hi there!" she smiles, recognizing me. "You and your dad here for lunch?"

I feel a jolt of surprise. She thinks my uncle is really my dad. Who else would he be, I suppose?

"No. I mean yes. I mean I'm here with my friend today." I stumble over my words as I gesture toward Jax. "Not my dad."

When she sees Jax, her smile vanishes. She obviously recognizes him too. "Oh." She leads me to a nearby table.

"He's, um, my math tutor."

"Whatever," she shrugs coldly, handing me a menu.

"Thanks, but I don't need a menu. I'll have the turkey burger with avocado and bacon."

"Fries?" she asks.

"Extra crispy." This is what my uncle and I always order. "And a cherry Coke."

Just then Jax slips in the booth across from me. He smiles up at the waitress. "Hey, Camille."

"Jax," she sniffs. Then sarcastically asks, "Still working "undercover"?"

"C'mon now." With a cocky grin, he leans in and whispers, "You know if I told you that, I'd have to kill you, right?"

"Right," Camille rolls her eyes. Apparently she isn't charmed by his whole bad boy routine. Jax orders a double burger and chocolate shake.

"So we're in luck," Jax explains after Camille strides off. "The oracle will see us in thirty to forty minutes. Which is weird. It usually takes weeks, or days at the least, to get a sitting with the oracle."

"Have you ever met him before?"

He laughs like I just asked him if he's ever had a beer with the Queen of England. "Yeah, no, commonplace Arcturians like me don't exactly find their way onto the oracle's schedule."

As he says this, I realize I know nothing about the way the galaxy I come from works. Apparently, it's not some utopia where everyone feels like an equal.

A moment later, Camille stalks back over with our drinks. I think about asking Jax why Camille is giving him the cold shoulder, but decide I'm not really that interested.

I take a sip of the sweet goodness that is my cherry Coke, then ask, "Why are you here?"

Jax knits his eyebrows together like I'm an idiot. "Because your uncle traded Kantaurian gold for \--"

"No, why are you here on Earth?"

"Oh." He pauses, then shrugs. "Some people enjoy all the hustle and bustle of the Pleiades, but I'm a simple guy who likes the simple rustic pleasures of this little world."

"So you're not going to tell me why you don't live back on Arcturus?"

"First of all, Arcturus isn't a place. It's a sun. An orange giant, to be exact. Brighter and much stronger than the cute little sun here," he says, gesturing out the window at the midday sunshine. "I'm from a planet that's name in your language roughly translates to bountiful harvest. However, the harvest is no more."

I can tell he doesn't want to talk about it. But, this time, I am interested. "What happened? To the harvest?"

"The Swarm happened," he replies drily. "The Crimson Lord triumphantly arrived, breast armor gleaming, sword in hand, leading his enormous fleet."

He trails off and despite his sarcastic tone, I see real pain etched across his face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize," I say, trying to apologize.

He swirls a spoon through his thick chocolate shake. "It's okay. You didn't know."

"I dream about him."

"The Crimson Lord? I know." Jax looks up. "Your uncle told me. Of course, at the time, I didn't believe him."

"He scares me."

"He should." Jax nods. "He scares me too."

"What do we do?"

"We eat, pay our bill, then go see the oracle so that you can be sent back to the Council of Light. I don't know if you're the Lost Star or one of the other Sister of Light or just some random college kid," Jax shrugs. "Either way, the council will keep you safe from the Crimson Lord."

"What if I don't want to leave?" I ask.

"Take it from someone who has seen what the Crimson Lord and the Swarm can do, as long as you're here, on this world, you're in very grave danger."

# Chapter 39

"Can we get our check?" I say as quickly as possible as Camille whizzes past carrying a tray of ice cream sundaes to another table. It sort of feels like she's ignoring us.

Jax and I inhaled our burgers. I also had to fight him off or he would have stolen half of my extra crispy fries. I had no idea I was so hungry.

"Check?" Balancing the tray with one hand, Camille stops long enough to hand me a wrinkled slip of paper pulled from her apron pocket. "Oh, it's already been taken care of. Paid some time yesterday."

"Wait?" I'm confused. "I don't understand?"

"Yeah, uh..." She scans the bill. "Two burgers -- one beef, one turkey – with extra crispy fries, a shake, and a cherry Coke paid yesterday afternoon at 1:11."

"But--" I stop, deciding not to think too hard about it.

"Thanks, Camille." Jax winks at her as we stand. "I'll call you, babe."

She ignores his offer with a flip of her hair.

"The oracle probably knew we'd be here," Jax explains as we move through the maze of tables toward the back of the restaurant.

"But... how?"

"Isn't that's sort of the definition of an oracle?" he replies, walking toward an emergency exit along the back wall. I follow, holding my umbrella. "Knowing the future and all that."

He slows his pace, but I saunter past about to push the emergency exit open. "Where you going?" he asks, standing in front of a large rough-hewn wooden door with an arched top on a side wall. "You're going to set the alarm off."

"Wait a second," I hesitate. "That door wasn't there five seconds ago."

"Yes, it was."

The new door doesn't belong in a burger joint. In fact, it doesn't belong in this century.

"No, it wasn't."

The heavy wooden panels have been stained with wide, vertical black and white stripes. A rich, burgundy velvet swag hangs over the top of the door with matching curtains draping both sides.

"You just didn't see it," Jax says. "You need to start looking at things with better eyes."

How could I have possibly walked right past it? And what does that mean - better eyes?

This big wooden door belongs in an old movie palace or vaudeville theater. It's stately and old fashion, with an air of whimsy.

"The Gathering must be ready." Jax places a hand on the scrolled iron handle then pushes the door open revealing a small square room paneled with wood that matches the door.

He steps inside, and I cautiously follow.

"I'd say the door is a good sign." Jax smiles. "I like it when the Gathering goes retro."

"So the door isn't always like this? It changes?"

"The Gathering is constantly changing." Jax closes the door behind us. "And you might want to brace yourself."

"Brace my--" But it's too late.

The floor beneath my feet plummets at the same instant a bright flash of light blinds me. I struggle to keep hold of my red umbrella.

I can't see anything, but I hear Jax yelling, "It's okay, Astrid. We're just crossing the boundary."

Maybe Sunglasses Man was right. Maybe I am Alice falling down the rabbit hole.

As quickly as the sensation of falling began, it's suddenly over. All four walls have vanished, replaced by a faint gray veil of mist. The diner is long gone. Somehow, we're outdoors with scraggly, peaty grass growing beneath our feet. The gentle sound of surf echoes across a treeless plain.

"Shouldn't be far now." Jax starts walking in what seems like no particular direction.

"How do you know where to go?"

He points up to the sun, low on the horizon, fighting to break through the fog. "The Gathering tends to situate itself in the west with the setting sun."

I'm about to say that's it's just past noon – not sundown -- but then I realize he'll probably just tell me the Gathering isn't in my time zone.

As soon as I've mentally decided that we've landed someplace like Scotland or Ireland, a small herd of grazing llamas wanders past. Maybe South America?

"Oh good!" Jax stops and points to a massive high-peaked red and white striped tent fading in through the fog, not 100 feet away. "I love circus day!"

I nod. "The circus is fun."

He must read the utter confusion on my face because he explains, "Sometimes the Gathering decides to be a medieval marketplace or a Victorian street filled with shops. When it's in a foul mood or the news is bleak, it transforms into a cavernous dungeon or a wet cow pasture. Not a good day to arrive. Be glad we got the circus."

"Is the Gathering... like, a person or some sort of committee?" I ask, trying to make sense of this.

He sighs. "The Gathering is the Gathering. Not everything in the universe takes a physical form. Some entities are... just different."

"But... what's the point of that?"

"What's the point of you? Or me?"

I've had enough of my mind being blown for one day. "Alright, Kierkegaard, how do we find this oracle?"

"We buy a ticket!" Jax marches toward the big top.

Cheers and applause filter out from inside the happy circus tent. We've arrived late for the show. Jax strolls up to a tiny white wooden ticket booth where a huge yellow alien with three curled horns on his head sits squished inside selling tickets.

"Hey Gorb," Jax knows this guy. "Two tickets, please."

"Not necessary, pal." Gorb's eyes flick down to the umbrella at my side, "The lady awaits your arrival. Tickets are complimentary. But you better hurry."

"Thanks," Jax nods.

Gorb slides two tickets over, then flips open a gold-plated pocket watch attached to a chain on his green velvet vest. "The lady doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Is she under the big top?"

"No." Gorb bobs his horns toward a fairway filled with small shops, food stalls, and game booths next to the big top. "The bakery."

We cross the well-trodden grass toward a little white outbuilding with ornately carved red shutters that looks like it was plucked right out of an Alpine village at Christmastime.

The bell on the door tinkles as we enter. As soon as we're inside, a familiar aroma swirls around me. For a moment, I can't place the scent of bread and cinnamon and lemon.

But then, I take two more steps inside into the little shop with cases filled with cakes and pastries and see a familiar face sitting at a card table.

"It's you?" I exclaim.

"Greetings, Princessa," says the oracle.

"Wait...?" Wide-eyed, Jax turns to me. "You already know the oracle?"

# Chapter 40

"Hola, Miss Astrid," the oracle grins sweetly. "So long I've been waiting for this day."

"Nice to see you, Señora Mariposa!" I say. The oracle is the lady who owns the Latin deli next to the karate studio.

"I have known Miss Astrid since she was a babe in her mother's arms," Señora Mariposa explains to Jax, taking a sip of what smells like ginger tea in a delicate cup. That news is a surprise to me. "However, she has only known me for a few months."

"You look so different," I murmur, unable to stop staring at her.

Señora Mariposa has totally transformed. It's as if someone has taken her head and put it on a different body. The once obese lady, who spends most of her time in a folding lawn chair in the back of her shop by the freezer section, is gone.

"You're so... beautiful."

"I am only unveiled," she smiles, spreading her arms wide.

Here, she's a lean, toned woman with a large pair of gossamer wings that shimmer in the light attached to her back. She's like some sort of intergalactic fairy.

"So, you're the oracle," I say, stating the obvious.

"Just a label," she sniffs, waving a dismissive hand. "I am only an old lady who bakes and reads her cards."

Suddenly the pieces fit. "The tarot cards. This is the community service job you go to on Tuesdays and Thursdays?"

After karate class the other night, she read my cards and warned me about the eerie green light that usually proceeds the appearance of the Grail. She gave me the copper penny that saved us when the flying saucer was about to crash.

She smiles and nods. "Just a volunteer thing. I like to come to the Gathering to help the local community of Earthly visitors."

"But, it's Monday?"

"Oh, don't be so literal, Miss Astrid," she laughs. "Monday, Thursday, Tuesday. Who can really say what day it is? These things are not as fixed as you might expect."

"Yeah, I'm starting to realize that." I add.

"Have a seat." She gestures to a pair of metal folding chairs on the other side of the card table. "Both you and your guardian."

"Oh, I'm not her guardian," Jax replies as we sit. "I'm just filling in. You know, until\--"

"Until you are paid?" she finishes his sentence.

Jax nearly looks embarrassed. Nearly.

The oracle continues, "You are her guardian now, my boy. The stars have chosen you."

"Okay, whatever. But now that we're here, my job as substitute guardian is almost done," Jax replies.

Señora Mariposa smiles knowingly, then turns to me. "I see you have your sword."

I realize that I am no longer holding a red umbrella. Instead, BrightSky is back in my hand.

"My, my, now... She is quite beautiful." Señora Mariposa examines my sword from her seat. "She suits you very well!" Then she vigorously claps her hands and looks up at me. "So you come for the key to the Stargate, child?"

"I have."

"You are ready to go? Ready to return to your people?"

"Um..." I didn't expect this question. Maybe because it never occurred to me that I had any say in the matter.

Before I can answer, Jax recounts the current situation. "The Crimson Lord now knows Astrid's location. He sent a pair of Grail to find her. It's important that she's returned safely to the Council of Light."

Again, Señora Mariposa nods. "I have heard this news."

"Do you know anything about... my uncle?" I ask, barely able to finish my sentence.

"He still lives," she says.

"He does!" I'm overjoyed to hear this news.

But a shadow darkens Señora Mariposa's face. "The MoonEyed Blue will be sent to the acid mines of Valdarey - a fate worse than execution. The Grail will transport him there on the orders of the Crimson Lord. Death would be kinder."

"No! When?" I ask, my heart in my throat. "When will they take him?"

"When the Earthly sun next drops beneath the horizon two more times."

"This is terrible!" I turn to Jax. "We can't let that happen to him. We have to go back."

"Astrid," Jax sounds exasperated. "Don't you get it? That's not what your uncle would want. He wants you to be safe. You were his main priority. Always. Right, Señora?"

"He speaks the truth." Her beautiful wings gracefully open and close. "Your uncle dedicated his whole life to keeping you safe, Princessa. He would want you to cross through the Stargate."

"He's protecting you even now, Astrid," Jax softens his tone, and I know he means what he says. "He's protecting you by letting you go."

I just nod, like their words all make perfect sense, like I've finally come to my senses, and I agree with them.

But I'm not. Something inside me has gone cold.

"So this key?" Jax continues. "To the Stargate."

"Child," Mariposa points at the bakery counter. "Bring my tip jar over here. It's next to the cash register."

I retrieve the heavy glass pickle jar that doubles as a receptacle for spare coins and bills, and Jax impatiently asks, "What does that have to do with the key?"

"Patience, guardian," she smiles.

"But I'm not her – " He lets it go.

I place the nearly full jar on the card table next to her teacup. It looks like your average tip jar from your average coffeehouse, except some of the coins and bills are unfamiliar. Along with the U.S. currency, there are Canadian bills, euros, pesos, and what must be old Chinese coins with the square cutout in the round coin.

But nearly a third of the contents of the jar looks, well, alien. There are strangely shaped coins made from unfamiliar metals, mixed with crazy-shaped trinkets that don't look like any sort of money at all.

"Your key resides within the container," Señora Mariposa explains, pushing the jar closer to me. "I have kept all seven in here."

"How will I know it?" I ask.

"Ah, it will know you," she says, gesturing for me to reach into the jar. "If you are truly one of the seven."

As soon as my fingertips skim the top layer of coins, something starts to glow. I push away a few coins, then pull out what looks more like a charm for a necklace than any sort of key. I hold out my hand to show them the seven-sided star that glows brightly in my palm.

"You now have the key," she says. "But be warned, the Stargate can only be opened three times."

"How does the key work?" Jax questions Mariposa.

But she doesn't need to answer. "I think I know how it works."

I hold the metallic charm up to the identical etched star on the base of BrightSky's blade. Like a puzzle piece, it snaps perfectly into place.

In less than a blink of an eye, the Stargate activates, tearing itself open with a ferocious roar. It's as if someone ripped a hole in space and time, and we're looking through a window into another world.

I'm not sure what I was expecting to see, perhaps some Hollywood version of a sci-fi landscape.

But what I see looks foreign -- futuristic even -- but not exactly alien. Three moons hang in the velvet sky. One large and very close with two smaller moons off in the distance.

There's a placid lake with a mirror-smooth surface casting a slightly lavender reflection. Crystalline highrise towers, like futuristic skyscrapers, fill the nearby horizon.

"Where is this?" I ask.

"This is your home. A small planet that orbits your birth star Asterope," Jax replies, staring in awe at what we see before us. "I've heard it described as a paradise, but it's even more beautiful that I could have imagined."

A MoonEyed Blue guard, in full battle armor, moves toward the opening on the other end of the Stargate. It's as if he's been waiting for us.

"Astrid, your new guardian approaches," Señora Mariposa explains.

"New guardian?" I mutter. This can't be. Not when my uncle, my true guardian, is still very much alive.

"See, Astrid," Jax smiles. "Your uncle was right. You'll be safe now."

When we arrived here, Señora Mariposa asked me if I was ready to go home.

Now I know the answer to that question.

If being this princess, one of the long awaited Seven Sisters, means abandoning the people you love -- the guardian who has devoted his entire life to you -- then I don't want to be one of the Seven Sisters of Light.

And I certainly don't want a new guardian.

Right then, I know exactly what I must do.

While both Jax and Mariposa are completely focused on what lies on the other side of the Stargate, I turn and walk out of the bakery.

Looking over my shoulder, I see no one is paying the slightest attention to me. With BrightSky at my side, the key still in the blade, I pass the circus big top, then walk east out onto the barren peaty moor.

Luckily, it isn't hard to find the portal back to Haggertys.

Closing the ornate wooden door behind me, only a handful of people remain in the restaurant. Camille is gone. Her shift is probably over.

No one pays any attention to me as I walk out the front door with a red umbrella in my hand. BrightSky is back in her disguise.

The stolen Audi is no longer parked at the curb. Hopefully, the owner got their fancy car back.

I stop when I get to the corner, unsure of which way to go. My house and all my belongings are gone. The karate studio isn't safe. School is out of the question.

I have several hours until sunset. Yet, I don't exactly know where to start.

Maybe the public library. They have free wifi, bathrooms, vending machines and a water fountain. Once I'm safely inside, I can figure out what to do next.

It feels strange to be all alone.

But, still, I'm thankful that Ruby and Chad are safe. And Jax, no longer required to be my guardian, is also free to go on his merry way.

With my sword and the star-shaped key, I can still open the Stargate two more times. Hopefully, once I get my uncle back, I will only need to open it once.

Just as I'm about to step off the curb to cross the street, a shiny steel gray pickup truck with dark windows screeches to a halt, cutting me off.

Oh no. Who could have found me so quickly?

As the dark passenger side window rolls down, I grip the umbrella a little more firmly.

At first, I can't identify the driver. His face in shadows, I see a figure in an army jacket and a black baseball cap.

Then he leans into the light.

"It's you?" I say to Officer Fitzgerald. "How did you find me?"

"To be honest, I think I just got lucky," he smiles at me.

"Okay, nice to see you, but I'm sort of in a hurry so\--

"Astrid, I know you think we just met," he cuts me off. "But I was your guide when you and your uncle arrived on Earth."

"That was you?" I think back to the journal entries my uncle wrote about our guide helping us get settled.

And the voice — the familiar voice — arguing with my uncle in the studio the other day, when I was just regaining consciousness after Jax hit me with the bow staff.

"Did you think it was a coincidence I just happen to show up at the mall and the house fire?" he asks.

I guess I did.

"The doll." The only thing I can think to say is, "You brought me Barbie dolls? When I was a little girl."

"I did. They belonged to my daughters." He smiles. "Let me just cut to the chase. I'm part of a worldwide organization called the Eye in the Sky. We monitor alien activity here on Earth, among other things. I'm here to help you."

"Thanks, but I don't need any help at the moment," I reply and start to walk away. I don't need someone else to try to stop me. "I'll let you know if I do."

"That's too bad," Fitz calls after me. "Thought you might like a little company when you try to rescue your uncle."

I stop and turn around. "How did you...?"

"Because if you truly are one of the Seven Sisters of Light, a real warrior princess, you would never leave your guardian behind." He opens the passenger door. "Get in. We don't have a lot of time. Let's go get your uncle."

* * *

If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon at http://amzn.to/28Yug87

# Get Unmasked: A Dark Skies Trilogy Prequel Novella Free Today!

*Find out how Astrid met Ruby.

*What happened at that Halloween party with Chad.

*How did Astrid's first boyfriend betray her?

*And what's up with Uncle Conrad's lurking?

GRAB YOUR FREE COPY HERE

# Uninvited - Chapter 1

Crashing the Omega Alpha frat formal was the last thing I thought I'd be doing tonight.

Still, I've got to say whoever's in charge of the decorations totally crushed it.

The usually drab banquet room in the college student union is now all aglow in a deep watery blue. Clusters of translucent helium-filled balloons, meant to resemble bubbles, float above cardboard treasure chests and rusty plastic anchors stuck in piles of real golden sand. A banner proclaiming "Under the Sea" hangs above it all, amid life-size glittering metallic sea creatures made from fluttering mylar that also dangle from the ceiling.

The combined effect gives those on the ballroom floor the impression of being twenty feet beneath the ocean.

Unfortunately, a booming rap ballad ruins the overall dreamy effect. Nevertheless, two hundred of my fellow Oakdale College students don't seem to care as they dance their hearts out.

Standing alone at the back of the ballroom, gazing at everyone spiffied up in their formal attire, I feel a pang of sadness. Less than a week ago, I'd been dreaming of attending this dance too.

Of course, that was before an otherworldly meteorite nearly destroyed my house setting into motion a chain of events that culminated with me discovering that I'm actually an orphaned alien princess being pursued by a shape-shifting bounty hunter who wants to turn me over to an evil alien overlord.

After that happened, going to a frat dance pretty much got crossed off my to-do list.

Feeling seriously underdressed in my jeans, shabby hightop converses, and an olive green satin bomber jacket, I'm hiding behind a six-foot-tall cardboard replica of seaweed scanning the crowd to find Chad Olson.

And while it is most certainly true that Chad is my one true love, I've mentally prepared myself to face the harsh reality that he's probably here with the queen-of-mean herself; Meegan McGovern.

And that sucks.

"Oh, hell no," a familiar voice behind me speaks. "Please tell me you haven't gone all psycho stalker on me?"

"It's possible," I confess, turning to find Ruby, my best friend, glowering at me with her hand on her hip. I feel like even more of an underdressed idiot when I get a look at her killer evening gown. "And, by the way, you look like a million bucks."

Ruby, who's natural resting state is glamour puss, looks like she belongs on the best-dressed list at Paris Fashion Week. She's draped in an amazing deep purple gown made from complex layers of silk, tulle and chiffon.

"I know," she coos with a carefree flick of her wrist. On somebody else that would sound totally conceited, but somehow Ruby makes it work. "Wait." She frowns. "Why exactly are you still here?"

"Nice to see you, too."

"You know what I mean. Weren't you supposed to be traveling on a one-way ticket off this planet via some Stargate-wormhole thingy?"

"Something came up," I shrug, avoiding her pointed look. "Sort of a long story."

"I've got time."

"Actually, at the moment, I don't. I need to find Chad. Is he here?" I ask, scanning a sea of rented tuxedos and chiffon gowns. Pink seems to be the color of choice among the ladies.

If you ask me, pink feels a little on the nose, but whatever.

"Yeah, he's here..." Ruby says, a shadow crossing her face. "Except—"

"I know he's here with her," I cut her off. I don't need to hear the pity in her voice as she tells me my super crush is at the dance with someone else.

The rap ballad fades as Sam Beglinger, the de facto big-man-on-campus and Omega Alpha's president, climbs up on the DJ's stage with a mic. "Okay people, it's time to announce this year's Omega Alpha royal court. Would all the nominees please line up."

Arm in arm, the couples nominated for court make their way to the stage. When the crowd parts, I instantly understand why 82.7% of the girls are wearing pink dresses.

Bringing up the rear — in what I assume is some sort of bizarre sorority hierarchy — is Meegan McGovern gliding along on the arm of my Chad Olson.

All laser-white smile and fluttering fake eyelashes, Meegan struts forward in her massive Pepto-Bismol colored dress. She looks like a walking, talking swirl of cotton candy.

Naturally, a gaggle of insipid sorority girls, dying to get in good with Meegan, clearly received the email blast about the pink puffy dress requirement. They look like a flock of flamingos.

Still, I'm not going to lie. It hurts to see him with her.

I study Chad, trying to read his face. Does he look at her the way he looked at me? Is he happy when he's around her? Happier than the short amount of time he spent with me?

"This was a bad idea," I mumble, humiliation rising in my cheeks.

"Astrid, please tell me what's going on?" Ruby pleads, her voice softening.

"Okay, I'm here because Chad may hold the key to rescuing my uncle, and time is quickly running out," I begin, hoping to find a way to get Ruby up to speed without having to go into too much detail. "That creepy Sunglasses guy and his men are handing my uncle over to the Draconians tonight. They're transporting him to a prison on the acid mines of Valdarey, a gajillion light years away. If that happens, I'll never see him again."

"That's awful, but what does Chad have to do with this?"

"The transfer is happening out in the canyons. Because he grew up out there and knows the area so well, we need Chad to help us find their landing site. We only know that it's someplace called Flat Ridge Canyon which isn't marked on any of the maps."

"Okay, got it." Undaunted, Ruby bobs her head. No matter what the situation, Ruby always sounds undaunted. "We just need to get his attention."

"I don't know..." I say, feeling more and more like a huge idiot.

Just as I'm about to turn to run away, Ruby grabs my arm. "Don't chicken out."

"He's not going to want to help."

"Trust me," Ruby begins. "He's only here because he felt obligated. The fraternity's royal court nominations came out almost three weeks ago. No matter how he feels about Meegan, Chad's not the type of guy to blow her off after he promised to take her to the dance."

I know that's true. I know my Chad is a stand-up sort of guy.

"This year's king and queen are..." the fraternity president's voice carries over the loud speaker. "Chad Olson and Meegan McGovern."

The ballroom erupts in cheers and applause. The king and queen step forward, bowing slightly as gaudy rhinestone crowns are placed on their now royal heads. Meegan beams. Chad seems less enthusiastic but still grins politely.

Standing straight, his eyes scan his royal subjects. When he spots me, half hidden behind a giant seaweed cutout, his eyes go wide with surprise.

"Oh jeez," I mutter. "I think my cover's blown."

Then, the edges of his perfect mouth tip up into a smile. And my heart soars.

Unfortunately, Meegan follows his gaze. When she spots Ruby and me, her eyes narrow into a death glare.

"Uh oh," Ruby whispers. "Looks like her Majesty is displeased."

Meegan swallows her rage and forces that fake little smile back on her face. She leans in, whispering something to Chad. Any innocent bystander might think she's whispering sweet nothings into his ear. But I know better.

Anger flashes in his eyes. Chad nods coolly, says something to Meegan, then turns and moves off the podium toward us.

Stunned, Meegan looks from him to me then back to him. Her face contorts into a mask of fury.

"Oh snap." Ruby grabs my arm. "That girl is pissed."

"Don't you dare!" Always one for a drama-queen scene, Meegan calls after him loud enough for all to hear, "Get back up here, Chad!"

Shaking his head, Chad ignores her threats, continuing toward us.

Now, the entire ballroom full of dance-goers is whispering and staring at me. Fantastic.

"Astrid, what's going on?" Chad asks, approaching us, his face filled with concern. "I've been so worried about you. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I say, feeling my cheeks flush.

"Did you find the Oracle?" he asks, sounding genuinely relieved that I'm okay. "What happened to the Stargate? Why are you still here?"

"Um... well," I say, unsure of exactly how to respond. "It's been put on hold because I need help rescuing my uncle first."

"He's been taken prisoner by those — things," Ruby cuts to the chase. "We need your help to find him. They think he's been taken out to the foothills. Flat Ridge Canyon."

At the name Flat Ridge Canyon, Chad's face darkens. "That's a bad place. Some pretty rough terrain out there. A lot of weird stories too."

"Can you help us get there?" I ask just as the speakers boom back to life.

"Sure," he says.

"Great! Let's go." I'm perfectly happy to get away from all of these judgmental eyeballs focused on me.

But before we can take two full steps toward the door, Meegan shrieks like a crazed banshee, "Oh no you don't, Chad Olson! You are not bailing on me in the middle of this dance."

Her voice changes as she speaks, getting lower and more gravelly like she's possessed by a demon.

We turn to look at Meegan standing all by herself up on the royal court platform. The bouquet of yellow roses and baby's breath hangs limply at her side. She looks kind of pathetic standing there all alone and, for a moment, I actually feel sorry for her.

Chad must too because he says, "Meegan, I'm so sorry. I can't explain right now, but you have to trust me when I say this is more important than the dance."

Meegan starts to tremble and shake uncontrollably. It gets worse and worse until she's a blur. Eyes blazing with an unearthly anger, she bellows in the creepy voice, "You will not leave."

"Uh oh." I suddenly have a very bad feeling about this.

Meegan's milky white face flashes red with anger, as the rest of her skin becomes redder and redder until it starts to crackle like the desert floor baking under the noonday sun.

"Whoa, what is happening to that girl?" Ruby knits her brow.

Steam literally starts to roll off of her and flames shoot out of her mouth. Meegan sways back, then spits a massive twirling ball of flames in our direction.

"Damn!!" Ruby cries as we madly scramble to get out of the way. The crowd in the ballroom panics.

I can't believe my eyes.

I frown, "Did Meegan McGovern just turn into a weird firebreathing she-bitch?"

# About the Author

Lysa Daley is a YA author, book reader, dog wrangler, karate blackbelt, cat lady, ballet school dropout, coffee addict, and french fry expert. Not necessarily in that order.

At this very moment, she is holed up in her tiny office finishing the next series entitled SHIFTING MAGIC.

She lives in sunny California with her family of muggles and non-magical creatures.

Lysa would love to hear from you! Really. Not kidding.

lysadaley@gmail.com

 Facebook

 Twitter
