Alien Caller (15 page)

“Oh no!” He
groaned quietly, knowing that she had prepared so thoroughly for
this there was little hope of getting out of it. Actually there was
none. She had stayed with him now for over a week, and in all that
time she had never backed away from a single contest. It didn’t
matter that he was stronger or bigger, she simply would not lie
down and admit it. The gym had been just as competitive every
single day as it had been on that first one, though at least they
had minimized the screaming. Now she just fumed and pushed herself
harder while he fretted for her and felt bad. But secretly he also
admired her for it.

Swimming at
least was going more smoothly. She was simply so much faster than
him that there was absolutely no point in even trying to compete.
He just let her swim rings around him, literally, while he cruised
along at his normal speed, no doubt infuriating her more, though
she held her tongue. Getting out however was still confusing, as he
stared at her curves while she studied his. It hadn’t been helped
by the fact that she had started wearing human bathing costumes.
Where she had gotten the bikini he couldn’t begin to guess, but it
certainly showed off her physique to the entire world. And the way
she’d altered it to let her tail poke out. Something about that was
simply indecent.

The afternoons
had been more bearable as he’d found ways to give himself space
from her distrust. Driving in the country, fishing, hiking, playing
with his stock options, all were things he could concentrate on. So
while she might be physically there with him, he could tune her
out, not that he necessarily wanted to. Not when she was being
nice. Better yet they weren’t competitive activities. Cyrea would
pay an interest, maybe ask some questions, tag along, but they
weren’t important to her from a security point of view.

With her beside
him in the battered four wheel drive pick-up, he knew he couldn’t
leave the local valley. While the locals were all in the loop, once
outside of this valley and the next it became a lottery. Some knew
and some didn’t. So he knew the moment he set the truck on the road
to town that it would either force her to jump out, or start a
fight to the death. He chose to do neither, instead, just blasting
round the hundreds of dirt tracks to the various fishing spots, or
even the parks. The tourists were all well shepherded, and Cyrea
had a communicator in her ear that someone would use to warn her if
she was nearing any outsiders.

He found it
amazing just how well the Leinians had the entire thing organized.
Every local tour guide was already in the know, and they planned
out every trek with the Leinians before they left. They also
watched everyone in the vicinity closely. It spoke of a
sophisticated intelligence system which troubled him a bit. But it
also indicated the true size of the army of locals that were in the
know and on their side. Good people too. And since none of them
seemed particularly stupid or under the influence of anything
stronger than alcohol, that was comforting too. Surely they
couldn’t all be wrong about the Leinians?

Either way
Cyrea didn’t seem too troubled by his outdoor interests. It was at
home that her security background seemed to kick in. She watched
his internet use like a hawk, apparently worried about illicit
e-mails. She listened to his every phone call and he was sure she
would even read his mail if given the chance. And she stressed
before his every trip to town, imagining he might be heading for
the nearest city instead of simply an hour down the road to the
supermarket. But she held her suspicious tongue, as long as he let
her see what he was doing.

In the
afternoons they’d been able to talk, finding the neutral ground
relaxing. They’d set themselves some unofficial ground rules, the
main one being that they spoke about anything that wasn’t related
to security or competition, and it worked. Once the competition
wasn’t there, and when the distrust had been pushed aside into a
corner, the conversation had started flowing. And the more they
talked, the more they discovered that they liked each other.

As Alice had
said, they were in many respects very much alike. They were both in
the security business, both were utterly dedicated to the safety of
their people, and both were isolated by their work. They understood
each other in a way that no one outside of their field could. Each
afternoon he kept hoping that things were slowly smoothing over,
and each morning they were back to square one in a world of anger
and mistrust.

The nights of
course had been shear confusion. Having lived alone for many years
it was disconcerting to have anyone else living in the house at
all, let alone an alien and a female one at that. He was constantly
aware of her and the fact that she was a woman. He no longer
wandered around the house half dressed, and locked the shower door
when he was bathing. He even found himself wearing full pyjamas for
the first time in years, though she was in the next room. He was
half surprised she hadn’t taken the floor at the foot of the bed,
but didn’t suggest it. She might well take him up on the offer.

Then there were
the endless problems associated with just having a woman in the
house. In the mornings he tried to creep past her to reach the
bathroom, though often times she was already there ahead of him. He
had at least learned to knock. He also found her hair in the sink
or shower basin. She seemed to leave it everywhere. And then there
were mealtimes. Despite her fangs Cyrea was a fruit and vegetable
lover, not a big meat eater. He on the other hand loved a good
steak.

His sleep too
was disturbed at regular intervals as she checked to make sure he
was still there. Three maybe four times a night he heard the
bedroom door creep open and watched her face poke round the corner.
At first he’d gotten up each time to ask what was wrong, but after
realizing she didn’t want him to know about her nocturnal rounds,
he feigned sleep. He was certain she suspected though. From his
haggard appearance if nothing else.

In truth
perhaps the haggardness was more due to the constant tension
between them than the late night wake up calls. It was exhausting,
for him and he guessed for her. They both sat there, day in day
out, waiting. But waiting for what they weren’t really sure. The
next fight, the next blow up, or the final battle to the death.
Twice now they’d come close, and somehow pulled themselves back
from the edge. Finding just enough reason to let peace prevail.

But the
distrust remained. The criticisms and sharp retorts. The physical
slanging matches as they each showed off their strengths and
pointed out the other’s weaknesses. Beneath their calm exteriors
they were like two cats spitting in an alleyway, always waiting to
have another go at each other.

During the
mornings they each bit their tongue and sucked it in, each waiting
to pounce on what the other said; waiting for that single remark,
that tiny proof that each was going to betray the other. Their
conversations were like chess games, with each pushing forward
pawns, waiting for the other to strike first so they could hit back
harder. Their time at the gym and the swimming were all variations
on the same theme.

The afternoons
were like rest periods, where they each caught their breath before
the next round. And when ironically they kept discovering more and
more about how similar they were. The evenings were a return to
feuding as they confined themselves once again to the four walls of
the house. The continual proximity just made it worse. And the
nights were just an endless wait while they rallied the troops,
till morning when hostilities would resume.

The worst of it
was that they were both intelligent people. They both knew what
they were doing and they should have been able to work their way
through it. But they weren’t able to. They found themselves trapped
in a cycle of anger and mistrust, and they couldn’t seem to find
their way out.

Despite that it
was also only when they fought, when they tested each other’s metal
that they were truly at their happiest. It was as if they were
designed specifically to spar with each other. David had always
thought himself a reasonably sane human being, but something in
Cyrea just drove him nuts from time to time, and it was only when
he came close to fighting with her that he felt alive. Excited as
he had never been before. Until his reasoning returned and beat him
up, that was.

Cyrea felt it
too. He knew it even if he’d never dared ask her. And he saw it
then as she approached him. It was more than just the smile on her
face as she approached him, the way she stalked him as if he was
her prey. It was an energy that radiated from her as she came to
slay her dragon. The same energy that was filling him.

“I don’t want
to hurt you.” It was both the truth and a lie, and above all else,
the very worst thing to say. Cyrea’s fur bristled as she heard his
words and he knew she was angry at the concept of losing to him.
Angry at his casual assertion that he would beat her. And possibly
angrier at the thought that he just might. But he was still much
larger and more powerful than her, well trained and very
experienced. The odds surely had to be in his favour.

He learned the
opposite as she struck like a snake, crossing the half dozen feet
between them in a flash and then throwing him across the room in a
judo style flip. He landed in a heap at the other end, and looked
at her, upside down. For a long while he wondered about the wisdom
of getting up, but he knew he would.

“What makes you
think you can?” The smile had become a grin as she clearly gave
herself first points. It was a good throw. Slowly he rose to his
feet, watching her every instant of the time, wondering how she
could be so fast. Clearly her recovery from injury had been more
far-reaching than he’d expected. And she knew it.

“I mean, I
don’t want to fight you.” He tried to sound calm, but he was still
reeling from the flip. “It can only end up hurting us both. Why
can’t we just be friends?” Finally it was the truth, and yet it
sounded completely false even to him. Deep down he did want to
fight her. To thrash her. To teach her a lesson she’d never
forget.

“You mean, that
you think you’re so much stronger than I that you would squash me
like a bug.” Cyrea was angry again and it showed. And she was
frustrated, they both were. One way or the other it was time to get
this over with so they could move on. It might be uncivilized, it
might be damn near barbaric, but they needed to establish a pecking
order. To prove once and for all who was top dog. He knew it even
if he didn’t want to admit it. She knew the same.

“Or you mean
that I’m not important enough to waste your time on. So unimportant
that you’ll even break your word.”

“No! Never!
What word?” For once he was genuinely confused.

“You said you’d
fight me in a week, when I was recovered. A week has passed and I’m
fully fit. Now you want to back out.” He cringed as he remembered
the words. They had been spoken in anger, flippant and probably
stupid, and he truly hadn’t meant them. But as he looked in her
eyes he knew that there would be no acceptance of that.

“All right, all
right. But we need some rules.” He slowly took off his shoes and
socks and threw them towards the far wall. His jacket followed
shortly after. This was going to be tough, but at least she was
listening.

“No deadly
blows, no maiming or injuring, and we fight to the point where one
of us has to yield. Okay!” She nodded and he could only hope she
accepted his words at face value. To be fair, in the past week she
had restrained herself admirably with screaming matches kept to a
minimum, and not once creeping up on him. She could obey his rules
when she chose, even if she thought they were total crap. Now would
be the ultimate test of her self-control. And his.

Carefully he
moved into an ancient karate pose, and gestured for her to come. He
knew there was no getting out of this anymore. Not after he’d
opened his big mouth and insulted her fighting prowess. In her
shoes he would have felt exactly the same. Besides having given in
to her demands he felt the anticipation growing inside him.
Something very dark and primitive in him wanted to fight. Wanted to
beat her. To make her submit.

She wasted no
time and came at him in a rush. Her arms were lower down than he
expected, swinging wildly. He quickly realized it was just a feint.
She was testing him, trying to work out his speed. He let her have
her day, and watched as her hand shot back after having missed him
by at least six inches. Despite its speed he noticed she didn’t get
turned around by its momentum. Nor had her claws been extended. A
very controlled swipe. But he in turn very carefully hadn’t
reacted, hopefully giving her the impression he was slower than he
was.

Her next strike
though was something else altogether, as she did a double handed
spinning strike from the opposite direction with no warning. It was
a speed move designed to catch him in the neck at least once, and
then trip him. But she was completely out of luck as it was exactly
what he’d expected from her. He stepped directly into her attack,
far faster than she would have thought possible of him. Being
almost immediately in her face as she spun caused her upper arms to
impact against his shoulders, and then bounce back, pushing her off
balance.