A reporter near the back yelled out the next question. “Are the others with you also Monère?”
Gotta love these guys, they recovered quick; not even a second of silence had passed.
“Yes,” I answered, “let me introduce them to you. From my left here is Nolan Morell, his wife Hannah, and their sons, Quentin and Dante. Behind me is Dontaine. The big guy over here is Lord Amber. And you all already know Jarvis and Kelly.”
“Is Kelly a Monère also?” asked another reporter.
I hesitated. “Do you want to answer that question, Kelly?”
“No, you can tell them,” Kelly said, her face carefully set without any readable expression.
“Kelly is what we call a Mixed Blood, half human and half Monère. Something I believe she was not aware of herself until today.”
More questions were thrown at me. The crowd outside the hospital had gotten much larger now, I noticed, including more policemen. A lot of people from the burn unit had also come outside.
I held up my hand and the shouting subsided. “I and my friends are here as representatives for the Monère people residing in the United States. We would like to live openly among you in peaceful harmony, and that is the reason why we have come forward. Unfortunately, people like FBI Special Agent Richard Stanton over there”—I waved to him again—“feel that since we are not fully human, that we don’t have any rights, and he wishes to take us into custody even though we have not harmed anyone or broken any laws.” My pleasant smile disappeared. “Let me make this very clear. This is a one-shot deal. We are here now, ready and willing to talk about a peaceful and legal coexistence between our people—that is my greatest wish. However, if you persist in your efforts of trying to grab us and hold us against our will, brandishing your guns, and threatening us with violence, I can promise you this: we will simply disappear and go back to living secretly among you, something we have been doing for millions of years.”
I let that sink in for a second before continuing. “Let me introduce you to George McManus, our attorney from the law firm of Adams, McManus, and Kent—and also Dr. Hubert, who is Jarvis’s and Kelly’s physician, and some others from the burn unit. They can tell you more about what they saw and heard upstairs.” I waved them to come over. Stepping back away from the microphone, I said softly, “Jarvis, if you can grab Kelly and follow us, we’ll leave now. Our van is parked several blocks away.”
With cameras still filming us, we ran, blurring out of sight, nothing more than smeared streaks of speed; one moment there, the next moment gone.
TWENTY-SEVEN
IT WAS SORT of anticlimactic to pull into the back parking lot of our hotel and exit the van without anyone gaping or pointing at us. For now, our anonymity was still intact, though I didn’t trust it to last for long.
“Jarvis.”
He turned to look at me.
“Dontaine, Amber, Dante, and I will be here,” I said, pointing to our door. “You and Kelly will be staying in the suite next door with the Morell family. Is that all right?”
“Yes, milady.”
“You both did well. Let’s get some rest while we still can, then we’ll grab something to eat. After that, we’ll get some clothes and supplies for you and Kelly. How does that sound?”
Jarvis seemed both bemused and discomfited on my seeking his opinion. “Of course, milady.”
“Don’t forget to put the Do Not Disturb sign on your door,” I told Nolan, and made sure to hang our own sign outside on the door handle.
“So what do you think?” I said as soon as we were inside. “Do you think it went badly? Did I totally blow it?”
“I thought it went well,” Dante offered. “You made our purpose and our good intent very clear. The next step is up to them.”
We talked for another half hour. The general consensus was that we had handled things pretty well—as best as the situation allowed, anyway.
“You guys must be feeling tired,” I said, noting the time. It was ten thirty in the morning, long past our normal bedtime. “So who gets what room?”
“Where would you like us to stay?” Dontaine asked, his face carefully bland.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I said, walking to the bedroom where Dontaine had unpacked all my stuff. “You guys work out the bedding arrangement. One person can stay with me, but no sex, just sleeping.”
I was already in bed when Amber came into the room with a suitcase.
“The other side,” Amber said, claiming the side closest to the window.
I obediently moved over and watched Amber undress. He was a beautiful beast, I thought, watching him strip down and walk into the bathroom with that lack of self-consciousness all Monère males seemed to possess. From the flashes I remembered of my first life, I hadn’t been shy about baring my body either, and yet now I was. How did that work? Was modesty natural or something learned?
Any further thoughts scattered when Amber returned and slid into bed with me.
One good thing about this hotel was that they didn’t skimp on the curtains. The ones in our room were heavy and thick, blocking out the morning sunlight almost completely; just a thin sliver of light on either side of the drawn curtains penetrated into the room.
“Who got the bedroom and who’s taking the pullout sofa?” I asked.
“Dante is taking first watch. Dontaine is sleeping in the bedroom.”
I turned on my side, and he pulled me in tight, spooning his big body around me. “They’ll switch in a couple of hours.”
“I’ll take the third shift,” I offered.
“That’s mine. You can stand watch after me.”
“Which probably means there won’t be any watch to take after you,” I grumbled. “I’m not a delicate flower that will wilt at the least little bit of work, you know.”
“Hush, we know that,” Amber murmured, his voice a pleasant rumble behind me. “Close your eyes.”
My lids obediently shut. I thought it would take a while to settle down, but I drifted easily into sleep moments later with Amber wrapped snugly around me.
When I blinked my eyes open, hours later, the slices of light coming into the bedroom were much dimmer, and I was alone. For a big man, Amber could move with surprising stealth. He had left the bed without waking me.
I got up and used the bathroom. The television was playing when I stepped out into the living room area where not just the people in our suite, but also everyone from next door, were gathered. They had turned on the volume when they heard me get up, so I had already heard part of the news reporting. But seeing it was an entirely different experience.
Every news channel was playing the announcement I had made in front of the hospital. I’d never been on TV before and had never seen myself this way. It was not the same as looking at your image reflected in a mirror or seeing it captured in a photo. It was more objective. Truly how others perceived you.
With my hair so fashionably styled, and the clothing and makeup bringing out the exotic lift of my dark eyes, I could honestly say that the woman on TV was attractive. Not gorgeous like the people behind me, but there was a grace and elegance and command that was indeed riveting, especially set against my obvious youth.
I had changed. And it wasn’t just the new highlights in my hair or the better haircut, although that did indeed help. It was my attitude, my confidence—my awareness of who and what I was.
The ugly duckling had transformed into a graceful swan Queen.
I had a moment to absorb this altered perception of myself before Quentin said to me, “We’re the biggest story out there. They’ve been playing this all day.”
He flipped to a channel showing Dr. Hubert in front of the hospital describing what he had seen in the burn unit. Another channel showed Jarvis pulling off his blue top, his bare arms morphing into gloriously feathered wings. Yet another station was playing the blurred streak of me running to the curb at full Monère speed, leaving the tall reporter looking as if he had been caught flat-footed at the starting point. They followed with an immediate replay at slow speed. Watching this, I was struck by a stunning realization. “Oh my God,” I said unsteadily.