The following day…

Scott knocked on Katie’s bedroom door. “Dinner’s ready,” he said.

No response from the room. Scott’s dead drooped and scratched his hair.

Since yesterday, the fight with the Livingstons, Katie was effected the most. She stayed in her room since. At least the door was unlocked.

Scott opened the door and walked into Katie’s bedroom. It could be called the little sister of the master bedroom. Her desk was always cluttered with papers back in high school, but now it was magic studies. More books of New Age thought and magic were stacked on the floor in several places; from practical spells and rituals, to headache inducing politics and idealistic philosophy. The deep hobby from high school was sparked thanks to Robert Walsh showing her the supernatural. She pretended to be a witch, or a conjurer, and loved it until she went to college and packed it all up in an antique trunk. The same trunk was still at the foot of the bed. It has been open since they came home, and not once she closed it.

But the books were all reference material.

Scott never grasped magic and never could, but he had do. He wished he was not stabbed by the Reaper, but grateful his terran body saved his life.

Katie did some renovating too, but not to the whole room. She and Jonathan cut a hole through the wall near the window. Outside it was tacked to a branch-like perch. Inside was a bed made of reclaimed wicker. Arana’s perch. She was out with Keeji hunting pests in the vineyards.

Katie was on the bed. She was reading her terran spellbook, the one found in her Inner Sanctum, materialized out of her body. Katie’s spellbook was bound in a brilliant red leather cover. The spine was etched with Celtic artistry. The padlock was shaped the same symbol as Scott and Katie’s Celtic pendants each wore every day.

She was draped in a thick handmade quilt by her late grandmother. Only her head and hands were exposed as she turned the page.

“It’s chicken and dumpling soup,” Scott said.

“Not hungry.” Katie’s voice was still filled with sadness.

“You’ve been in here all day. I’m worried about you.” He sat beside Katie. He peered at a section in the book about imagination focus. Scott’s spellbook had a much different cover than Katie’s. Since he could not practice magic yet, he loaned it to Jaruka for the investigation.

“Don’t. I’m fine,” Katie said.

“Liar.” Scott placed his right arm around Katie’s shoulders. “I really hate to see you like this.” His left hand clasped around Katie’s, and she accepted the touch.

Katie let out her breath. “Deryl can make Andrea happy. He has to,” she said. “I just wish we could do something for her sake.”

After the emotional fight yesterday, they got a hold of Deryl Porter last night. He was out doing whatever the FBI ordered him too, then back home to his family. He was brought up to speed, but the choices were hard to swallow.

Legal custody of Andrea was one option. They called the police, but ran into two roadblocks. The justice system was bombarded with terran abuse and civil rights cases, and the police force had little interest in pursuing it. More because it was a terran issue, and they selfishly stood out of it. There was a bill on Capitol Hill to make a stand on terran rights, but even the Senate had their strong opinions. Deryl wanted to help no matter what. His wife agreed too on top of their daughters.

The other was the hardest—relinquish Andrea and put her in the foster system. Let the government deal with her, Morgan screamed. Even that was tied into the courts. Having an emotional terran child with magic, it was a dangerous combination. She would be labeled as any other unstable terran in the country, a living weapon and a demon.

“Well,” Scott said, “if we win, we can do a partial custody.”

Katie smiled and looked up. “I know you would,” she said. She still cried that day, eyes red and puffy. Now they were clear. “Sucks being broke and jobless.”

Scott agreed. “You know what would be funny?”

“What?”

“You would be her magic teacher.”

Katie smiled.

“You know more magic than those idiots on TV. And self-control too.”

It seemed he was getting through. Katie smiled wider. “Andrea always loved the Star Wars movies. I can call her my padawan. Master Jedi Walsh sounds good.”

“That’s the spirit. And give her a braided rattail and plastic lightsaber.”

Katie closed the book after laughing a little. “You always know how to cheer me up,” Katie said and leaned on Scott a little.

“I always do.” Scott kissed her forehead, then a long kiss on her lips. “Come on. Can’t leave your mom and Jacob waiting.” He took off the quilt and let Katie off the bed.

For the time being, whether they get to keep Andrea or not, she was put in Scott’s room for the time being. She only been out a couple times since they came back, but mostly resting. It was best to give her space, to think things over, and make the right decision.

Katie knocked on the door opposite of her bedroom. “Andrea, you awake? Dinner time,” she said and opened the door. “What the?”

The room was vacant. The couple became worried. Soon, after coming through the estate and winery calling out her name, Andrea was nowhere. They came back to Scott’s room and Scott was the first to find the note on his desk.

“Oh no,” Scott said after reading it. “She going back.”

“Back?” Katie asked? “Her parents?”

Scott nodded with shock on his face. “With Jaruka.”

“Fuck.”

Jaruka rang the house bell three times, then several times in random intervals. Everybody hated annoying sounds, say for the Kumberbac with their atrocious rhythm-free music.

In the dark, they waited. He had to knock out the front porch lights, but it did not alert the owners or the neighborhood. There were light poles along the street, but peculiar that all other buildings had their lights off. He knew that with lights, they would call the police in an instant if they spotted the alien mercenary and young terran girl.

But would would dare attack him?

Sneaking onto the porch was easy. Almost too easy.

Jaruka parked his Howler Cycle a block away in the shrubs, but still no disturbance. A few skin dreads curled from the uneasy feeling the neighborhood gave off, just like yesterday, and unyielding.

“I hear Dad,” Andrea whispered. “And… I think Mom is hiding. I’m scared I’m hearing this good.”

“Cu sah,” Jaruka whispered.

“What?”

“Ah… keep quiet. Don’t pressure me. Dad’s the fat one right?”

“Promise you won’t hurt them? My totem thinks you will.”

Jaruka looked back at Andrea, rolling his eyes. “Things won’t go to hell. I’m not in the mood to kill primitives.”

Footsteps inside came closer. Jaruka heard a man talking to someone, the guy’s wife he imagined. The door opened inward and Morgan stepped out, holding a hunting rifle Jaruka never seen before.

“Who’s out there? You’re trespassing on pri—“ He raised his rifle poised to fire at anything in the front yard, but was interrupted by Jaruka’s plasma pistol poking Morgan in the left temple.

“Ah, shit,” Morgan said, then the human looked and froze. Jaruka stood a foot taller than Morgan, wearing a grey shirt, brown cargo vest, dark brown cargo shorts, and sandals. And not wearing his DNA mask. Morgen got a good look, even Jaruka’s black eyes and gold iris’. “You…”

“Evening,” Jaruka whispered. “Walk inside, slowly.”

Hatred surfaced on Morgan’s face. “No.”

Jaruka pressed a button under the hammer. Green light lined the sides and seven-bullet cylinder, enough to generate heat and radiate out the barrel onto Morgan’s skin. He then yanked the rifle out of Morgan’s hands.

“Okay. You win. I’ll cooperate.”

“Good thinking. Do it quick or your head gets splattered on the wall.” Andrea gasped. “Figuratively. Force of habit, kid.”

Morgan did as told while the pistol came off and aimed at his left eye. He wore the same sweats as before, but were now stained with grease and food over his chest and belly.

“Kid, close the door.” Jaruka said after they came in. Andrea closed it then stayed close and behind Jaruka.

“I know you,” Morgan said. “You’re that alien hanging out near Lake Skinner. The same hanging around the winery.”

“So does every knucklehead out there. What’s new?” He examined the rifle in left hand. “For a fact, this is more like a peashooter than a formidable weapon.” Jaruka aimed the barrel to the floor, then stepped and bent the barrel with his boot.

“Hey, that was my father’s!” Morgan protested.

“He’s dead ain’t he? Sit down.” Jaruka had lowered his voice to cause a doom feeling across the living room.

Morgan did as told and sat on the couch.

Still keeping the pistol pointed at Morgan, Jaruka unlatched from his pant hooks a white cable tie he snatched from the police a while ago. He liked the invention. He tied Morgan’s hands behind his back.

“You make another word and things will get ugly. I’ll even tell your daughter to power up,” Jaruka said. “Where’s your wife?”

Morgan gulped and said nothing.

Jaruka pushed the pistol to Morgan’s forehead. Andrea took a breath. “Relax, kid. Where is she?”

He was able to make him look toward the stairs.

“Good human,” Jaruka said. “Stay there and don’t do shit. Scream if he does something stupid, kid.” He still aimed the pistol right to the second floor.

Jaruka found Beth in the bedroom hiding in the closet, but was obedient, not even a peep when he called her out. She still wore her sweats. In a calm tone, he told her he wanted to get some real answers. She agreed without causing a fight. Jaruka walked behind Beth down the stairs, to the couch, tied her hands, and let her sit beside Morgan’s right.

“Why the zip ties?” Andrea asked.

“For my safety,” Jaruka said and lowered his pistol but not out of his hand.

“W-Why are you here?” Beth asked without crying.

“You can guess why, but that would take time. I’m here to cure an itch.”

Andrea sat in a chair far from her parents, holding her tail in both her hands.

He placed the pistol on the coffee table and noticed Morgan flinch. “Ah, ah, ah. No funny business. I can still smack you cold without my gun. We can’t have that, can’t we?”

“Do you even know how many laws you are breaking right now? Do you even know any American laws?”

“This isn’t about your country. This is about your daughter. Right?”

“Ah huh,” Andrea said. “And I want to come home.”

“You can’t come home, you’re dangerous,” Beth said.

“I can smell a repeat already,” Jaruka said. “Before this fight gets on my nerves, I have something to say about family.”

The act of pulling something from his cargo vest alerted the parents and child. Jaruka expected that fear tactic. Humans are so gullible.

Instead of an alien weapon of instant death, it was a color printout.

He had no prints before but on storage media. Jaruka spent the whole day looking for a functional printer in town, scan the picture from a touchpad and print it, on top of creating enough plasma bullets to make his cargo pockets jingle from space cylinders. Wearing the DNA mask was an embarrassment all together.

The picture was set on the table in front of the parents.

What Jaruka showed would be considered evidence of an alien civilization. Except, Jaruka rarely showed this picture to anyone, not even the couple, Deryl, or goddess forbid Victor Mathews or President Winchester.

In the picture, three green skinned Halcunacs stood together.

The man towered the children and dressed a cross between a modern Italian gentleman and feudal Japan citizen, leather-made clothes dyed in red, blue and purple. A two-buttoned jacket covering a low-neck white tunic along with bottoms crossed between dress pants and a skirt covered the back only. Gems of similar color were embedded in the leather. A third of his bone white skindreads were free, another third bound up behind his head, and the last third were tied and cinched around a much longer dread down to his double knees. The end of the longer dread had a loop. Inside the loop was weave work that of Native American dreamcatchers.

The female stood the same height as the young male. Her skindreads were similar to the male, but the top was wrapped in a black headband with a green gem in the center. Her clothes were also leather; skirt over tights, compression shirt under short sleeve form fitting blouse, and long brown leather straps from her shoulders down the front. Small breasts indicated that Halcunacs are mammals. Her gaze showed no emotion as did the older gentleman, but she appeared to have the same nose and dread structure as him, including her longer dread.

For the little boy, he was dressed the same as the gentleman, except his dreads were unshaven, all bound behind him, his longer dread had no trinkets or strings, and he was smirking. Between the boy and girl, they resembled so much just by their faces. But with a closer look, the boy’s eyes showed pain.

The backdrop was a coastline. A village scape resembling New England fishing towns. Some farming plots. Flowers in brown bushes. A blue sky with two moons too close to the planet.

As the Livingstons looked, Jaruka explained. “This is my family. Yes you selfish twits, my people have them. Two counting Nova Company. This girl here.” He pointed at her. “Her name’s Shaotzi, my big twin sister. And this big guy. He’s my father, the most hard working son of a bitch you’ll ever know.

“These two protected me since I was born. They loved me no matter what I am. I had a rough childhood, not as short as your daughters, but extreme. These two did everything for me, to stay alive, to fend for myself. I respect them.” He leaned over, hands on the table, to be eye level with the parents. “When I heard about you two, I felt disgusted, even though you’re humans. You kicked your daughter out for selfish and fear-driven reasons. Maybe this is not my place, but it surly makes me want to break your legs off with that much disrespect and dishonor in your souls.”

“Can I see?” Andrea asked.

Jaruka passed the picture to her.

The parents looked unfazed. “We can choose not to embrace it,” Morgan said. “We believe in God and God will protect is.”

“Right, I almost forgot about that. You’d think ‘God’ would protect you? Crog no. I highly doubt it from what I’ve seen and know.”

“He makes miracles,” Beth said.

“Yeah,” Jaruka said. “Where I come from, gods and goddesses are living, breathing entities. I spoke to two of them, one of them cooked for me. It’s not surprising you ignorant freaks aren’t listening to your planet, but what do I care, my goddess never spoke to me.”

Jaurka took up his revolver, but did not point it at them. “Now, if you so choose to believe your god will protect you and banish your daughter, by all means, be the biggest unprotected assholes in the city. But breaking up a family over ridiculous notions, that is where it draws the line of life’s rights.”

“But…” Morgan started.

“No excuses, no pointless reasons without merit. None of that. I want you two to take her back, to learn and understand magic. You know what happens when you don’t learn about the basics of magic? You die, slowly, and painfully. Bullets and missiles are a tool, but nothing compares to a citywide curse, or a deadly ritual wiping out a demographic. You learn it, you build from it, and you protect yourself as long as you can. The same goes for you, kid.” He nudged at Andrea.

“Also you hurt my host’s feelings, which for their sake I’m doing them a big favor to get Jonathan and Brenda off my back,” Jaruka said. “And I can’t stand kids.”

“H-Hey,” Andrea said from the remark.

“What? It’s the truth.”

When Jaruka turned back to the parents, a bone cracking sound came up.

The parents twisted their necks and their torsos skewed from another. The sound made Jaruka and Andrea jump and yell. Jaruka aimed his pistol at them out of reflex. The parents slouched over their laps.

“What the crog was that!?” Jaruka asked, aiming between the two.

“Mom! Dad!” Andrea screamed, but Jaruka pressed his hand on her shoulder to keep her from getting closer.

“Wait,” he said.

“What happened to them?” Andrea protested.

“Shut up, kid.” Jaruka noticed the signs, and pointed.

Blood dripped from the parent’s faces. Blood so potent Jaruka could smell the iron. Each drip stained the beige carpet and their clothes.

“No,” Jaruka said with wide eyes. “No, no, no. Kid…back up… to the door…and run for it.”

“I don’t understand. Are they dead?” She tried pushing him away, but the young terran was no match for his strength.

“Don’t ask, kid, just get out of here.”

The mother and father took huge breaths with a large load of mucus behind their throats, followed by a low, unmistakable growls that Jaruka remembered well. “Crog.” His firing arm’s muscled tensed up, finger on the trigger. The lights got brighter as he pulled the hammer. They paced faster to the door.

“You dare leave this house without a formal chat, Halcunac?” The mother’s voice was not hers.

“You are far from safe, dreadhead.” The father’s voice wasn’t his either.

In face, both were that of demons, but not what Jaruka remembered before.

Morgan and Beth lifted their torsos and disjointed heads, staring at the alien and child with anger-filled, blood dripping eyes. Andrea looked away, even from their predatory smiles.

“Like I said,” the two spoke in unison. “Terrans are dangerous. They all must run, and die.”