Twin rows of elegantly rounded urns, each about five feet tall, stood in two parallel rows across the plaza. They were also made of green quartz. Several were cracked.
As was the case with many of the aboveground sites, the seemingly impervious stone that had been used to construct the Alien structure had been damaged by unknown forces. Through the ragged opening in one quartz wall, Alice could make out the hulking silhouette of the hotel in the distance.
The plaza and gazebo-like structure were inland, set amid a gritty, windswept landscape of defiant bushes and straggly but fiercely determined trees. Aboveground Alien outposts anywhere near the coast were rare. It was no surprise that, given their aversion to the surface world, the ancients had shown little interest in waterfront property.
The plaza within the six broken walls was free of the dirt, vegetation, and debris one would expect to accumulate in a human structure that had been standing outdoors in the elements for four thousand years. There was no indication that rodents or insects or anything else had built nests inside the barriers. No moss grew on the ancient stone.
The experts maintained that something about the specific paranormal energy infused into the quartz discouraged the growth of organic matter, but no one could explain why dirt and sand didn’t build up over time. They were still trying to understand what mechanism prevented stormwater, flooding rivers, and the occasional tsunami from washing down the open staircases into the tunnels. Alien engineering was very much a mystery.
It was the middle of the night, so the ruins were radiant. Paranormal energy was always strongest after dark.
“This way,” Owen said.
She adjusted her go bag and started across the plaza to join him at a fissure in the wall.
“Time to go, Sebastian,” she called softly.
He popped out from behind a nearby urn and trotted toward her. Moonlight sparked on the face of the hand mirror.
She scooped him up and followed Owen through the opening in the wall. A gray, nondescript compact was parked in the deep shadows beneath the trees.
“I rented it under another ID,” Owen said.
“You just happen to carry a fake ID?”
“You never know when it might come in handy.”
“I wasn’t being critical,” she said quickly. “I understand, believe me.”
“Sure you do. You’ve been living under a false identity for seven months.”
“I’m not proud of it. Needs must and all that.”
“I know.”
“Who are you, Owen March?”
“Owen March, president and CEO of Forensic Psi-Genetics Consulting and occasional screw-up artist.”
He used a remote to unlock the vehicle and start the engine. Alice slipped into the passenger seat, Sebastian on her lap. Owen got behind the wheel and floored the accelerator.
Thrilled, Sebastian gripped his treasure and vaulted up onto the back of the seat for a better view. He waved the mirror exuberantly.
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Owen warned.
“Maybe not,” Alice said, “but Sebastian and I are in a much better situation than we were a short time ago, thanks to you.”
“I keep telling you, I’m the one who got you into this mess.”
“Yes,” she said. “About that. Perhaps you would care to explain?”
Chapter Five
Okay, they were not yetclear of the danger, but things were definitely looking up, and Owen discovered he was unable to suppress an exultant sense of satisfaction. Alice Radstone was proving to be the woman he had imagined her to be as he worked to find her these past two weeks. That was gratifying from a professional point of view because it validated the psi profile he had created. But it was also deeply satisfying on a more primal level.
Yes, they were on the run, but at least he had been right about the fascinating woman in the passenger seat. She was not insane. Probably not a killer, either, although he knew from personal experience that everyone was capable of killing. Take him, for example.
Nevertheless, he was certain now that Kelbrook and Twitchell had lied about Alice from the beginning.
