Alien in the House (40 page)

D
INNER OVER,
everyone went to bed, either in their own rooms or assigned guest rooms, or, in Tito's case, back to the infirmary. Jeff tried to get Bellie to stay with us, but I put the ambassadorial foot down and she and her perch went along with Oliver to his room over at the Zoo.

We got Dad settled into his room in our apartment and then got Jamie ready for bed. “What's this?” Jeff asked as he picked up the stuffed eagle.

“I found it in Santiago's office. I want to keep it. To have something to remember him by.”

Jeff kissed my forehead. “Fine with me, baby. Again, his death isn't your fault.”

“No, but finding out who really caused him to be killed is my responsibility. And I don't feel any closer to doing that than we were before.”

“We'll figure it out,” Jeff said confidently. “But for now, let's get our little Jamie-Kat into bed.”

After bath time, Jeff and I still sang songs to Jamie. Decided to work the eagle into the act, so I slid it onto my hand mid-song. My fingernails brushed against something in the head. It didn't feel like a bug or anything dangerous, so I waited until the song was over to see what was in there.

Retrieved a piece of paper that had been folded many times over. Figured it was a note from one of the kids from Reyes' old school. I'd look at it later—now was Jamie Time. Dad came in for the second half of our songfest and Jamie went to bed a very happy little girl.

“You two look exhausted,” Dad said after we closed the door to the nursery. “Get some sleep. I'm going to do the same.” After hugs and kisses, Dad trotted down the hall.

Tossed the paper I'd found inside the eagle onto our dresser, which was where the all the bills Jeff had to go over were sitting. Decided all of that crap could wait.

“We're having brunch with the Brewers tomorrow,” I told Jeff as we got undressed and into the standard-issue pajamas.

“Great. See? They're not as bad as they used to be, are they?”

“No. They seem genuinely interested in being our friends.”

“Yeah. I didn't pick up any guile or fake interest. I mean, they could have been wearing an emotional overlay, but if they weren't, they feel just like they always have to me—that they're interested in us as people.”

“That's nice. Edmund said he'd help you with the bills if you want.”

“Yeah, I think I will. Is that part of tomorrow's plan?”

“Uh huh. You two will do that while Nathalie and I, or Nathalie, Jamie, and I, look at her portfolio.” We snuggled into bed.

“Do we want to bring Jamie along?” Jeff sounded worried.

“Well, Nathalie said they love kids, but I'm sure it's not them you're concerned about.”

“No. There's a lot of dangerous things going on right now. I think I'd prefer to keep Jamie safe in the Embassy or at the Pontifex's Residence. Unless you think that much time away from us is going to be bad for her or hurt her feelings.”

“You'd be the one who could tell that for sure. But I think she'll be okay with it.” Had a thought. “Can Jamie be affected by the emotional blockers and such? Or are the blocks you put in strong enough that she won't notice?”

Jeff sighed. “I don't know. The blocks Christopher and I put into Jamie should mean that she couldn't pick up anything, any more than a regular, non-talented child could. But she obviously can pick up things, and I think it's more than her, as you put it, baby animal senses. Whether that means she's learned how to manipulate the blocks like Christopher and I do, or if they just aren't as strong as her powers, I don't know. And I'm honestly afraid to ask.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. She's going to be okay, though, right?”

He hugged me. “I'm sure she is, baby. She's our daughter. She's got guts and gumption and common sense from you. Jamie will be able to handle anything. Not that I want to find out what she can handle just yet.”

“Me either.” Snuggled closer. “So, you tired?”

Jeff chuckled. “Not too tired to make you happy, baby.”

“Oh, I like where the Distinguished Gentleman from New Mexico's head's at.”

We weren't too tired to do the deed, but we were both too tired to get fancy about it. Of course, Jeff's version of nothing fancy meant I had a nice selection of orgasms before we finished up and fell asleep, wrapped around each other.

Woke up in the middle of the night, my face buried in between Jeff's pecs. This was a great position to wake up in, but I could tell he was still fast asleep.

As with the night before, tried to figure out if I was up for any significant reason. Didn't hear anything other than the baby sleep sounds Jamie made coming from the baby monitor. So I either had to go back to sleep or move out of one of my favorite positions.

Under the circumstances, figured I should take one for the team and be sure that all was well. Moved carefully so I wouldn't wake Jeff up, and rolled out of bed. Nothing seemed amiss in our room. The entire Poof Contingent had returned with Jamie, as had all the cats and dogs. The dogs were happily snoozing in the guest room with my father. The cats and Poofs were asleep in their condos.

Put my nightclothes back on, got into my slippers and robe, and checked on Jamie. She was asleep, Mous-Mous snuggled in her arms, a variety of other Poofs in the crib with them. Harlie was one of them. Harlie opened its eyes, mewed quietly, and closed its eyes again. All was well in Jamie Land.

By now, I was awake. Mister Clock shared that it was 2 a.m. No wonder I was tired—I kept on waking up at these ridiculous hours for no good reason whatsoever.

Figured it was time for some hot cocoa and maybe I'd get sleepy again. Also figured that nothing was going to bore me faster than reading a bunch of bills. Gathered up all the stuff on our dresser, including the folded piece of paper that had been in the eagle puppet, and headed out of the room.

Dumped the stuff on the couch, turned on the table lamp, closed the bedroom door quietly, and went to the kitchen. “A big cup of hot chocolate with a lot of whipped cream, please, and thank you,” I said to the pantry. Opened the door, and there it was, complete with a tonnage of whipped cream. “You guys just totally rock.”

As I'd said to Stryker and the rest of Hacker International only a few hours prior, ability and desire were not the same things. I had the ability to read and comprehend pretty much anything that wasn't the highest-level science or mathematics. And despite appearances, if I'd really wanted to, I could have learned them, too, and not only because Chuckie would have helped me.

What everyone tended to forget was that I was in every class but one language class with Chuckie all through high school and most of college. He took German, I took French. That was our entire deviation. Meaning I was in honors classes. Idiots didn't score the honors track, at least not at our high school, and not at ASU, either.

However, in school, being the brain was never a fast track to popularity, which Chuckie's school career as the Bully Magnet proved. I had no ego attached to proving I was as smart as anyone, and since my best friend was the smartest guy in the entire school district, there seemed to be little point in competing with anyone else, anyway.

So I didn't worry about what anyone thought, including whether or not they thought I was smart or an airhead. Chuckie called this protective coloration—that I could give the impression that I was a fun party girl while at the same time getting straight As in honors classes all through school. He'd never mastered this skill, at least not as a kid.

Once out of college, though, I'd learned another really important lesson—in marketing, you didn't have to read every, single, minute, boring detail in order to know how to sell something well and accurately. You only needed the high-level, pertinent facts, features, benefits, and so on. Turned out, that was true for a lot of the world. I'd proved that every single day since my first superbeing had appeared on the streets of Pueblo Caliente.

But despite my desire to avoid the dull and boring reading, I had the ability to read these bills and understand exactly what they were trying to achieve, both the stated purpose, the real purpose, and the hidden purpose. That each bill had all three of these was something my father had taught me at a young age.

Took my cocoa and settled in for some dull reading. Only, it wasn't all that dull.

The bills were a variety—some from each of the major committees. And there were a lot of them. Clearly Congress felt that the way to look supremely busy to the aliens outside our solar system was to pass a lot of legislation. Or at least ask to pass a lot of legislation.

The first one I decided to read was a Transportation bill focused on the travel of “undocumented aliens” between states. I read it carefully, and was rewarded with the certain knowledge that Jeff should fight this bill with his last breath.

There were too many clauses and lines about “aliens not naturally from Earth” which was not the same as “naturalized citizens” or “illegal aliens” or “illegal human aliens”. There were a lot of negatives about all of these in the bill that I was sure was supported by the Ku Klux Klan and neo-Nazi lobbies, but far more about the aliens not naturally from Earth.

Decided I wasn't going to enjoy the rest of my cocoa if I read another bill, so I checked out the piece of paper I'd found in Reyes' stuffed eagle.

Unfolded the paper with one hand while I held my cocoa with the other. There was nothing on the paper. Turned it over. Blank on that side, too.

“What the hell?” Put my cocoa down and held the paper up to the light. Nothing, nada, zip.

“What are you doing, kitten?” Dad asked sleepily as he came into the room.

“Reading stuff. Why are you up?”

He shrugged. “I'm not used to the dogs in the room with us any more. Their snoring woke me up and I couldn't get back to sleep. Figured I'd make some cocoa and see if it helped.”

“Sit, Dad, I'll get it. Is this a whipped cream or marshmallows night?”

“Marshmallows, please, kitten.”

Went to the kitchen and retrieved another cocoa from Elf Delivery. Came back to find Dad looking at the blank piece of paper.

“What's this?” he asked as I put his cocoa down.

“No idea. I found that in something of Santiago's. I thought it was going to be a note from a student or something, because I don't know why else he'd have folded it up and shoved it into the head of a stuffed hand puppet. But there's nothing there.”

“Hmmm.” Dad stood up. “Give me a moment.” He headed for the kitchen. I followed him. He turned on the oven and put the paper into it.

“Really? We're going all
National Treasure
?”

“We lose nothing by trying it, kitten,” Dad said. He turned the oven light on. “And, I see that it was worth the effort.” Dad opened the oven and pulled out the paper. It had writing all over it.

We took it back into the living room. “What's it say?”

“It's written in Spanish,” Dad said. “I don't read Spanish very well. But I can guarantee this wasn't written by a child. The handwriting is an adult's, and so are the words that I can translate.”

Took the paper from him and turned it over. “Wow, invisible-no-longer writing on both sides. There's a lot here. And I'm just betting we need to know what this says.” Contemplated all my options. Decided that the easiest answer was in the Embassy.

Went to the com switch. “Walter, are you up?”

“Yes, Chief,” he said. He sounded drowsy, but as near as I could tell, the Security team functioned on almost no sleep. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. I need you to calmly wake up Tito and Magdalena. Please ask them to come up here quickly and quietly. This is not a medical emergency. I need people who can read and translate Spanish.”

“Yes, Chief.” The com turned off.

“Why wake up both of them?” Dad asked.

“Because all language is regional. Magdalena is from Paraguay. Her slang will be different from Santiago's. But Nevada and New Mexico aren't that far apart, so Tito should be able to translate the slang.”

“Makes sense. What about the rest of these things?” Dad indicated the bills.

“I'm trying to figure out what's going on, and why we have so many representatives dead.” Dad cocked his head at me, and I remembered we hadn't really told him what was going on. Did a fast recap and was done by the time Tito and Nurse Carter arrived.

Explained the situation as they examined the paper. “This is going to take a little while,” Nurse Carter said. “The handwriting is cramped—I think the writer was trying to get a lot on the page. Also, since he was writing with invisible ink, some of the lines are running together.”

“He didn't write this all at one time,” Tito said. “You can tell by where some lines start, and the older ‘ink' is lighter.”