Dark and slithering memories crawled in Scott’s mind that triggered when they entered the Livingston’s neighborhood off Rancho California. The memories of his parents, murdered in front of him. Gruesome deaths, scarring Scott for life. Katie caught his right hand shaking and grasped it, calming Scott a little.

“Thank you,” he said.

A major feet for Scott. He had not returned to the suburbs in two years, but the neighborhood was not his.

Nearly identical buildings and mailboxes, the houses were close to wine country. He found the house and parked in front of it. Andrea’s home had unique qualities that set it apart from the rest—an herb garden in the alley by the garage and light brown house paint. The parent’s two Suburbans were parked in the driveway.

The Wave last year left its mark as well. A three foot, half-foot thick, sharped top purple crystal was in the middle of the front lawn. Scott noticed similar crystals among other homes that have not been removed yet. The Livingstons tried removing theres by ripping lawn chunks around it and digging down, but its depth would need a back hoe in the near future.

Yet the neighborhood gave Scott an uncomfortable feeling through his tail. Welcoming, but it felt suspicious, down to the few neighbors staring at the Jeep.

Keeji whimpered. I want to go home.

Not until we finish this, don’t be a wimp all the time, Scott thought.

Easy than said, Scott, the fur on my ears is standing on end.

Scott got his cell phone out and called Deryl Porter, the U.S. Marshal and Scott’s godfather.

“This is Deryl Porter’s cell number. I can’t be reached right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you later.”

“Still no answer,” Scott said and pocketed his phone.

“Darn,” Katie said, looking up at the house. “Blinds are down, cars are parked. You sure they’re home, Andrea?”

“I’m sure. They never went to the office since Christmas, but worked on their computers all the time,” Andrea said. She watched the house with a lot of worry on her face.

Remote work was not the parent’s forte. This was sudden.

Jaruka was preoccupied with the neighborhood. To Scott, that meant military scouting routine, like finding the best escape routes and locating all humans in the vicinity, or terran. “Old man walking,” Jaruka said, nodding at a bald man passing by the Jeep carrying grocery bags.

The man gave a dirty look at the group, then kept on walking.

“That’s neighbor Joe. He’s always grumpy,” Andrea said.

“Did the neighbors help?” Katie asked.

Scott looked in the rear view mirror. Andrea lowered her head. “Nobody. Not even Jerry from school. I-I don’t want to talk about it now.”

“It’s alright, sweetie. You don’t have to. Just stay strong.”

“Okay.”

Scott exhaled. “You really wanna do this? Keeji and me have bad vibes about this.”

“We too, but we got to do this for her,” Katie said. “Wish there was another way.”

“Like the cops.”

Everybody watched the house until Katie talked. “Okay, let’s go.”

Scott got out of the Jeep in a cautious mood. The neighborhood was quiet, almost a deserted feel to it. Were the neighbors watching them in hiding? We’re they armed? Katie came out next.

Once Andrea got out and closed the door, Scott saw Jaruka’s plasma pistol in his lap. A huge revolver-type steampunk-like gun with two green lights powered on. Jaruka kept it low. His personal shield was on the whole time. He never left the campsite without it.

“You staying?”

Jaruka nodded once.

“Good idea.”

“You know what these places remind me of?” Jaruka said to Scott.

“There are places like this you know of?” Scott said, not noting the space part with Andrea present.

“Stuff that can scare you three. These neighborhoods harbor bad news for mental health.” He said nothing else while watching a woman across the street walk toward the backyard.

“Okay,” Scott said, expecting anything else.

“Watch your back. I’ll yell if this goes south,” Jaruka added. Must be that bad.

Katie said to leave the totems behind, in case the parents get frightened more. Arana sat on the driver seat’s headrest. Keeji sat in the back beside Jaruka. Scott closed the doors.

Walking onto the porch, the floorboards creaked. Beth Livingston was crazy for perfection, she was the house’s handy-woman. The porch needed regular maintenance like a few nails pounded in, and she was cheep to avoid calling a contractor. Katie and Scott took note of the neglected chore.

“I got this,” Katie said and rang the doorbell, and a long breath in. “Hello? It’s Katie, Katie Walsh. Look, we need to talk. We found Andr—“

The front door opened as if it was kicked in. A man with a fireplace poker yelled with fury and barged toward Katie. Scott grabbed Andrea to protect her as she screamed.

Katie, by reflex, reacted well in defense.

She stood her ground, brought her hands up, and concentrated without effort. Blue and white marble Celtic tribal tattoos, from her fingers to elbows, emerged and glowed off her skin.

“Sciath chosanta!” Katie yelled in Celtic.

A five-foot wide shield fueled by charged mana burst out from her palms, casting its blue light on the porch and the terrans. The attacker’s poker made contact with the spell. A shockwave ripped through the air as the shield brightened for a second. Judging from the wave, the impact had to have been high. Scott’s hairs on his neck stood on end. He envied Katie, but it sucked he could not protect her just yet.

When the shield’s light lowered and Scott looked up, Morgan Livingston stood inches from the shield in shock, brown eyes wide. He was a man that never liked the gym and pride on work and family, so his stomach blew outwards and lost some white hairs above his head. Morgan preferred business suits rather casual clothing, to set an example of his accounting firm and his reputation, but he wore grey sweats.

Jesus, Scott thought.

Scott looked behind Morgan. The fireplace stick was sticking from the second story wall, wobbling a couple inches. With that much force, the poker was ripped from Morgan’s hands, grateful the attack did not injure him.

“Jesus Christ,” Morgan said. “Can’t believe you two changed.”

“Wait, you should know that,” Scott said. “And for Pete sake you scared Andrea. We need to talk.”

“No! Get away. Especially that…thing acting like our daughter. I’ll call the cops if you don’t.”

Similar insults like before with the couple, but directly at his daughter drove Katie mad.

“Awe hell not this again. We’re coming in and that’s final,” Katie said. “Look at her. We found her in our kitchen covered in dirt and crying he lights out. This is child abuse.”

“No, it’s a demon. We have rights!” Morgan yelled. His neck looked constricted to Scott.

Katie’s emotion-driven outcry was done the same as she moved forward, along with the shield. Morgan backed up and closed the door, but the shield pushed it inward to stay open. Morgan was almost clipped by it. “Andrea, stay close to Scott,” she said.

Andrea clenched tight to Scott’s arm.

Morgan backed up.

“Beth, call 911,” Morgan cried out.

Scott heard a phone dialing from the kitchen. “Beth, don’t,” Scott yelled.

“Did you hear what I said? Get out!”

“Oh, drop it! We have every rights to be here.”

“Not what I see.”

Beth came out of the kitchen corner holding the cordless phone. Beth was the same build as Morgan, her black curly hair was cut long like Andrea’s. She too wore sweats, odd considering she dressed similar to Morgan at work. “No, no. Get out!” She screamed.

Katie set the shield in one hand. She flicked her free hand’s wrist and the cordless phone was pulled right out of Beth’s hand twenty feet away, flew in the air, and into Katie’s hand. She cut the call and placed it on a side table.

“Do you even care about your only daughter?” Katie asked. “This isn’t like you two.”

“Ha, same to you, demon,” Beth said. “Morgan, I told you we should’ve answered to tell them to keep her.”

Katie gasped. “You jerks. How could you?”

Scott closed the door with Andrea still close to him.

Katie kept the shield up, showing some strain in her arm. “Look just sit down and let’s talk about this.”

“No, we want you two to leave. Get that through your mutated heads,” Morgan said. “Every single day we hear the news about terrans. Your kind. You terrans are all alike, telling us you’re the same. Not to us.”

Scott felt like punching him. His words kicked up the time in Big Bear of that homeless man bringing a mob just to kill him and Katie. “Me and Katie are the most trustworthy people you know. Every day we tell our friends were the same. I have no idea where you got the idea were not.”

“Internet,” both parents said.

“It’s full of lies. You two never sound this hypercritical or racist. Andrea is your daughter. You kicked her out. You called her a demon. She survived out there with nobody to help except her totem. She came to us for help. It’s child abuse, Morgan. Plain and simple.”

Scott may have made a clear point, but from the looks of Morgan, he was not effected.

“I know,” Beth started. “What we did was wrong. I realize that.”

“Really?” Scott and Katie said, then Andrea. “But why?”

“Beth, don’t,” Morgan said.

She walked into the living room and said. “Morgen, let me.” She breathed. “Look, I can understand it and I’m sorry, but we had no other choice. The risk was too high.”

“So I’m home, Mom?” Andrea asked wiping the tears.

Beth produced a stone face and said, “No. You’re not.”

Katie’s hand and arm started shaking, either the strain worsened or sadness was taking over. The shield’s light started to flicker. “The magic,” she said.

Beth pointed at Katie. “What you’re doing right now. This magic stuff. We don’t know it and it has no business being here.”

As if it was a strict house rule, Katie’s shield disappeared, as did her glowing tattoos. Scott and Andrea walked closer to her.

Scott then checked his surroundings. None of the parents had a gun, and if they did, I would poke from the sweats pocket or fall through their pants behind them. No other weapon found in the living room, but it was neglected of it’s cleaning and organizing routines. Food and plates were scattered on the table. That was not like them at all. Were they that scared of leaving the house just to live out their lives as hermits?

“What Beth said. There is no way were are keeping her, let her practice magic, or God forbid her talking porcupine…thing, freaking us out,” Morgan said.

“You have a porcupine totem?” Scott asked Andrea. She nodded, then muttered to herself.

Katie shook her head. “B-But magic can do more besides hurt people. It can help people, like say the house chores, decorative creations for parties. I once heard this terran in Colorado conjured a pair of wings and flew out of the forest after getting lost. I studied item enchantments like coffee mugs to keep your drink hot by feeding mana into the glyphs.”

To Scott, all what Katie described was like a foreign language to Morgan and Beth, and none of them were interested, not even keeping their drink warm.

“I’m serious. You two think that magic is trouble, but I think it’s a gift. When Scott and me were in Big Bear and Area 51 we used it to fight for our lives. Yes, our magic hurt people, but they were mostly zombies and—”

“Stop right there, terran,” Morgan interrupted. “You say that it can make our lives better, but does it, whatever you call yourselves?” Morgan approached her and Scott was about to get in between them. Even without magic he was capable of throwing some punches, including terran’s high strength over humans.

Morgan’s words were just the same as anybody else against terran magic. It was a combination of hate and fear. Fear of not knowing what magic, real magic, was, or knowing one aspect and holding onto it.

“This magic shit you preach?” Morgan started. “Fuck it. Me and Beth see it as a weapon. An uncontrollable weapon in innocent and guilty people’s hands who aren’t supposed to have it in the first place. That cure will come, we put our faith with God that it will come.”

Since day one, people have been pushing any medical corporation and government health agency for a cure. So far, no results on the effort. But Scott and Katie assumed that it might be years or decades until it was announced.

Before Katie could interject anymore, Andrea pushed passed the couple. The distressed look on her face could melt and convince any person to help her. Her small tail was lifeless, her elf ears drooped. The couple’s ears followed suit.

“Mom, Dad,” she said. “I want to come home. I’ll be good. I don’t have to use magic. I-I’ll keep my totem out of trouble and outside all the time, I swear. Just…just stop this.”

Morgan’s jaw hardened and Beth looked away. The cold feeling swept through the terrans like a barrage of icebergs.

“Andrea,” Morgan said. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

Jaruka stayed on Terra Firma long enough to understand American tolerance first hand versus what he leaned before taking the job; the country’s brief history stands for itself. He could easily get killed by a human stupid enough to listen to their ego, or honor outdated and trivial beliefs to keep them in their primitive mindset.

But these humans seemed to be smart enough, and cautious enough, to make Jaruka’s skindreads agitated. He noticed several people in neighboring houses looking out their windows, staring down at him and the Jeep.

“Bird, you got good eyes. See that guy in the window across the street?” Jaruka asked Arana, but was swatted by her wing in the face.

“Say my name?” Arana said.

“Oh, please. Arana. Okay. Sorry.” Jaruka shook his head. “You see him?”

Arana looked down at the alien for second before looking out the driver window. “Yes.”

“He waved a double barreled shotgun at me. At least I hope it was a shotgun.” He caught himself biting his thumb. “It could get ugly soon.”

“Don’t agitate the neighbors.”

“Why would I? These neighborhoods creep me out.” Jaruka held his hidden plasma pistol harder. Damn cookie-cutter houses.

Both Jaruka and Arana did similar checks the past fifteen minutes since the terrans entered the house. Jaruka was grateful he brought his pistol along for those “just in case” moments. He preferred his rifle and katana, but the pistol and PSD on his chest sufficed.

Keeji whined and his ears flicked. “Something’s wrong,” he said. “She’s screaming.”

Jaruka pulled the pistol’s hammer and looked around. “Where? What’s coming?”

A door slammed and people screamed. Jaruka looked toward the Livingston’s house.

Scott and Katie stomped off the patio. Andrea was in Katie’s arms crying. Keeji came out of the car glad to see Scott, but Scott told him something to make Keeji yell at the house, “And I hope you two get run over by Spanish bulls!”

Jaruka got the joke, but imagined the animals as blandads from Creos plains.

The house door was slammed shut by a overweight male human, the same that attacked Katie before.

Katie opened the passenger door with Andrea still in her arms. The little girl kept on crying. She slammed the door in fury. “Scott, hurry!” She yelled.

Scott got back in the driver side, ignoring Arana on the headrest. “God I can’t believe those two!” He said. “You said it, Keeji, have for the Running of the Bulls! That’s for sure.”

“So mission failure?” Jaruka asked.

“Not one flipping second, man!” Scott started the engine and drove off enough to push Jaruka in his seat.

Arana reentered Katie. The child’s cries felt like needles to Jaruka’s mind.

Keeji reentered Scott just as a couple of neighbors came out. Jaruka’s pistol rose an inch but still unseen.

“Anybody going to tell me what happened?” Jaruka asked.

“Not right now,” Katie said. Andrea kept on crying, face buried in Katie’s hoodie. “It’s okay, honey. We’re leaving.”

“Fine, leave me out, see if I care,” Jaruka said and kept looking out. But glancing back at Andrea, deep feelings he locked away years ago somehow seeped through the keyhole. Personal memories. It unsettled him so much he covered his ears until Andrea cried to exhaustion.

Dammit.

The memories had to be locked away. If only he still had his glassblowing equipment to work through the issue, but it was scrap metal thanks to Griffon’s goons. Maybe another race is starting. Watching it and drinking a full bottle of home-brew would do the trick. But the deeper he thought, Andrea’s situation kept coming to mind.

They got back to the winery. The company van was in the parking lot, right next to Jaruka’s Howler Cycle. Crog me.

“Crap,” Katie said.

Scott stopped the Jeep and the terrains got out, but Jaruka ran out and behind the building before the parents saw him. The two came out and Jaruka entered through the backyard door, grabbed the briefcase, TV cable, and snack bag. He left just as the family came in. Smooth. He overheard them furious with Katie, but more at their former friends.

The memories kicked in after getting back to his motorcycle. He punched the seat. “Dammit, it’s setting in.” The feeling became a fissure. Make that two bottles.

Scott came out and walked up to Jaruka’s vehicle. “You’re lucky. I told Jonathan and Brenda you were here a few seconds before we asked you to come. They did not notice the crap food on the table.”

Jaruka paused.“Oh. Good,” Jaruka said putting the briefcase in the cargo compartment under the seat.

“And Andrea is in Katie’s room.”

“That’s good.” Jaruka closed the seat. He attempted to pretend he was not interested.

“Can you at least look up to be interested?”

Jaruka grumbled. “I am interested. Interested to not get involved.”

Scott’s eyebrow skewed. “You said you wanted to know.”

Jaruka took off the bandana to let his dreads roam free, but not the DNA mask. He had to wait until he’s inside the ship. “Talk but it won’t mean much.”

Scott gave the full explanation, and had some choice words on Morgan’s outright burn on his daughter. Katie tried so hard not to blow Morgan across the room with magic. Jaruka would agree. Scott even showed his nasty scar from the Reaper, to shock them if Andrea stayed outside, but that failed all together when Morgan told him he should have died already. That was the last straw.

“Now Andrea has nowhere to go,” Scott finished.

“Damn,” Jaruka said, and paused. “You’re a wimp.”

Scott blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I told you, hard action works. Maybe if I didn’t hang back I would be in there smashing heads around. Or you throwing your fists around.”

Scott shook his head. “This is different, Jaruka. Me and Katie tried our best to not start a fist fight.”

“Niceness will kill you two if you don’t step up,” Jaruka said. “No matter the species, niceness gets you nowhere.”

“And where were you when Katie asked you what offense spells you know? And you promised. It might help you know.”

Jaruka said nothing. If anything was true, it was he spends all his free time getting drunk at the dropship. He said one time he would help with Katie’s magic studies but never did. He had reservations against terran magic; so many unknowns to what mana was capable of.

Scott shook his head. “Jaruka, sometimes you are one cryptic jerk.” Scott walked back into the house.

“Not cryptic, just protective,” Jaruka muttered. Realizing he did nothing but push the idea in their heads became a bad idea. He should have acted on his own, make an example, show them he was not useless.

“Dammit,” he grumbled.

Jaruka made sure he was not watched, then sprinted around the estate.

The first thing Jaruka did was survey the whole estate in the first few weeks, amongst the drinking and despising the job he was given. He knew the site, down to the crawl space under the living room, the packed attic space, and the garden plots. The winery, with the underground cellar, mapped in his head, but tried his best not to drink the wine, no matter how tempting it sounded.

Katie’s room was on the second floor facing the vineyards, best picked out by the birdhouse Arana uses to come in and out of the house near the largest window. Along the wall, with Jacob’s and master bedroom windows were, was a wire mesh for Boston ivy to grow. He spat on his hands then climbed the strong wire, just for a test, but as he climbed, he forgot how weak he was.

Halcunacs are naturally fit because of genetics, evolution, magical atonement, and how they were raised. But being on a planet without having the right foods or enough water, Jaruka lost his footing. He held tight as the wire dug into his hands.

“I need to stop drinking,” Jaruka said after one huff of air. One of many goals he promised himself to complete. He pushed himself to climb further, cussing every time his muscles ached. “Stupid bipedal limbs. Stupid mask. Stupid past.”

Between the first and second floor a roof ran two-thirds around the building just as the patio. Jaruka ducked under the master bedroom window, just in case they were there. Jacob’s window blinds were always closed. If Katie was still with Andrea, he had to wait it out.

Jaruka peeked inside. Just his luck.

Andrea was alone, sobbing on the bed, not facing the windows. The Walsh’s and Scott must be still downstairs talking. “Perfect,” Jaruka whispered.

Katie’s room had large windows, she had a thing for views. Jaruka raised the window up, enough for Jaruka to slip inside. Andrea’s sobbing helped for Jaruka—any sound would scare her.

What he forgot was Katie’s obsession and never realized how fare it got. Her room had stacks of books and papers and charts. Her desk was cluttered with material.

It was what he dreaded. Keeping Katie from knowing any more magic from Jaruka, even though the mercenary could not practice magic anymore, would be dangerous to her curious mind. And she was young. All terrans were young. One shred of help and that would become a spark of suicidal mayhem.

Jaruka pushed himself through the window and landed on the floor.

Andrea gasped and turned, sitting up too. “You!” she said. “From the Jeep.”

“Hey,” Jaruka said. Standing up, he still missed his true legs. “Came by to talk.”

“Y-You didn’t use the door.” Andrea wiped her tears away with her sleeve.

“I have issues with Jonathan and Brenda. Look I came by to talk about what happened. Scott told me everything.”

Andrea sniffed, and yet, she did not scream for help. People that recognized his DNA mask would yell, scream, even attempt to run away. Not Andrea. Was that gun to the head hours ago not enough? Jaruka had trouble understanding why.

“You can trust me. I won’t even hurt you, just talk.” Maybe trust can be earned.

The girl sniffed again and her tail came around her legs. “My parents…they never acted that way. They were so protective of me, not selfish.”

“I can understand some of that,” Jaruka said.

“They don’t want me anymore, not even my totem,” Andrea said. “I hope Katie and the others takes me in. I always liked them, even her.”

“Right.”

Andrea sniffed again. “You’re the alien the news talked about.”

“Anything new?”

“My totem told me you’re friendly,” Andrea said before wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I trust her.”

Jaruka never forgot the totem. It made him question why it did not show itself lately. “I doubt your spirit guide’s judgement.”

Andrea looked up at his eyes and said, “And that time with your gun…You wouldn’t shoot me. My totem thought you wanted to calm me down, and I listened.”

Jaruka had a moment of fright. Do totems read minds? “I’ll give her credit on that,” he diverted.

“What do you want?”

“To talk,” Jaruka said. “Did you really survive in the wild?”

She nodded.

Jaruka’s hands went into his pockets. “Where I come from, that’s a sign that you’re capable of handling yourself. For a child hybrid that’s…let me think…better, I guess. I’m not sure what terran magic can do for food gathering, but everything else is easy, I think.”

“I never used any magic,” Andrea admitted.

“I remember that.”

“I’m afraid of hurting somebody.”

“Scott dodged it, so you were lucky. It’s best to learn from your mistakes.”

Andrea plopped back down on the bed, face half buried in the pillow. “I just want this nightmare to end,” she muffled.

Repeat and riches will come, Jaruka thought. Shouldn’t have said that.

Andrea looked up, tucking her hair back. “You need friends.” She sniffed. “Friends from school showed me YouTube videos of you. At the ship. You scare a lot of people. I watched a lot of Disney movies that tell me you just need a hug and family.”

Jaruka felt uncomfortable from the comment. “I also question your entertainment choices.”

“No, I like it,” Andrea said. “Makes you stand out. Makes you cool.”

“Alright I get it, you’re forgiving, but let me be the judge of being cool, not you,” Jaruka said. “Say, do you love your parents?”

“What?”

“Do you?” Jaruka repeated.

“Right now, no.”

“Not now, kid, before the change. Did they house you? Raise you? Protected you?”

Andrea sat right back up, and nodded. “I did, and I want it back.”

That’s for sure, humans respect families as much as my people do, Jaruka thought. “I will be honest,” he started. “Scott and Katie did their best, but they are too good to raise a fist at them.”

“Slap them!” Andrea covered her mouth.

“Oh… figuratively,” Jaruka cleared.

“What’s that?”

“Meh, I don’t know. I’m still learning English. Hear me out.”

Andrea perked up to listen.

“When I see a youngling treated like crap, I get mad, really mad. It get’s personal.”

Andrea nodded.

“And when I mean personal, I mean it. I want to help.”

Help Andrea, it has to work stop the painful memories. The hatred. The pain. The sacrifices…

“Give me until tomorrow night, kid. Don’t tell Katie and the others about what we said. We’re going back, and I’m calling the shots.”