Chapter 19: CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Chandrha was furious, ears back, tail lashing. The human named Daniel de Montelier, supposedly searching for Arak’s killer was nothing more than a misguided bigot, who thought he was better than the Tereskàdians. Like the Alharhanians, some humans had this preconceived notion that just because her species had fur and a tail, she had to be an animal, or at the least, a being with animalistic tendencies.

“Mama?”

Lhorhanha stood in front of her. Chandrha wanted to ask her what else the human had done. Had he just asked to see her vulva, or did he have something else in mind? Was he what humans called a sexual pervert, someone who gained pleasure from abusing others, someone who didn’t feel sexual satisfaction unless it was with children... or cubs?

“Did you drink?”

“Yes.”

“Time to go to sleep,” she said. “It’s dark outside.” Not totally, since the road was illuminated by the street lamps.

“I’m scared.”

“I’ll be right here.” She checked on Ad‘herha, already asleep, head turned to the wall of the bed she shared with her older sister.

She stayed with Lhorhanha and Chenharhel until they had fallen asleep, Lhorhanha beside her sister, her whistling dragon on the floor, not far from Ad‘herha’s whistling dragon Rivenhar.

What did she want to ask? The questions should be straightforward, and the truth and lies would separate like oil from water. In the kitchen Rheôvhan was dining on bone marrow. He didn’t know what she had in mind, and she reminded Jhevharel not to tell Dharhonha.

He should know, Jhevharel sent.

He won’t like it.

You’ve made up your mind.

You’re right.

She yawned for the first time tonight. The clock ticked on the wall behind her, showing 8:30. She thought it was much later. Was she so tired already she wanted to lie down right here, right now, and go to sleep?

You’re worrying too much, Jhevharel sent. It’s not up to you to find out who killed Arak.

He was a friend.

Sen Montelier...

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...has no jurisdiction here, she finished. We’re here because the government of Canada let us stay here. Can you imagine where we would be if we had landed in that other country?

She didn’t even want to mention the United States of America, a country headed by a leader called the President, the same title given to the head of the country she and her family lived in back on Alharhan. The military in the United States of America, or simply America, showed extraordinary interest in Unidentified Flying Objects, or UFOs and aliens. Majors, colonels, even generals had demanded the Canadian government release the aliens into their custody so they could be interrogated and examined.

The government had effectively told these arrogant humans in the U.S. to fuck off, these aliens landed in our neck of the woods, so they belong to us. She didn’t like the Prime Minister’s words. The aliens didn’t belong to anyone, Canada, America, or the world.

Threats were made, and counter-threats, one country trying to outdo the other. So far, nothing had developed, and she hoped nothing ever would. If humans wanted to ask questions, they’d have to come up here, but there was no way Tereskàdians would ever leave Colbert’s Landing.

No one was supposed to be here, except Arak and Alice. Arak was dead now, and Alice Baumgartner spent most of her time in that diner. And now, the humans making a movie. How long were they going to stay here?

During the night, she tried to curl up in the usual sleeping position, but thoughts kept her awake, thoughts she couldn’t hide from Jhevharel. Her whistling dragon was part of her, part of her body and mind and soul, and he read her conscious thoughts and her subconscious thoughts, and nothing was hidden.

She stood up and walked to the window, looked out into the moonless night. Jhevharel sat beside her, and he thought of flying. She asked him why, and he didn’t have an answer.

“Wait a minute,” she whispered. She shifted to her right, away from the window. Someone was out there, she didn’t know who, but he was moving cautiously along the walls of houses, staring in windows, trying door handles. He’d have no problems entering homes; doors in this village were never locked.

Her sharp vision focused on the human male, but he didn’t look like someone she’d seen before. She wasn’t familiar with all the members of the cast and crew Sen Creighton had brought up here, but this had to be one of them. Why was he sneaking through this village when everyone was asleep? Was he looking for something, someone?

He crossed the street, heading to her house. Mykharha stirred in her chamber, latched on to the teat.

He was so close now she could hear him breathing. A moment later, the doorknob rattled, as if he were testing it out. She backed away from the window, stood in the middle of the room. Rheôvhan and Dharhonha were asleep in the bedroom, and she wasn’t about to wake them just because a human tried to get into the house.

“Come in,” she called when the door swung open.

The human stepped into the room, stopped. He was wearing the uniform of an air force officer, and he stood like a soldier who had gone through rigorous training. No expression on his face, he stood ramrod straight, hands behind his back.

“Why are you snooping around this village?” she asked.

“My name is Matthew Westwood, Colonel, United States Air Force.” He removed his peaked cap, held it in his left hand.

“Colonel Westwood, United States Air Force.” She regarded him from his close-cropped gray hair to his shiny black shoes. “What brings you to Canada?”

“I have a good reason for being here,” he said.

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