Chapter 2
Either way, Aron’s arrival was likely to change his plans. Aron smiled in the dark. Forcing plans to change tended to be a habit of his…
* * * *
The first glow of sunrise barely illuminated the drawn drapes on Clay’s east-facing bedroom window. Even for him that was an early hour to awaken. He stretched and rolled over in bed, disturbing his sleek, tawny cat, who sprang down with a soft meow of protest.
“Sorry, Hathor. You usually sleep on the other side.”
He twisted to set his feet to the floor, stood and strode to draw open the drapes. There were not enough clouds for a real sunrise, but a few streaks of gold and rose shone in the brightening sky. One brilliant speck of light hovered a few degrees above the dusky horizon. Mercury. Is the planet in retrograde now or not?He reminded himself to check.
Although Clay wasn’t sure he believed astrology, he was long past the point of pooh-poohing anything. At any rate, Mercury retrogrades tended to coincide with all sorts of troubles and disruptions. He’d seen enough strange happenings that most folks would deem rankest fantasy to accept virtually anything couldbe possible.
He took a leak, glowered at his reflection in the mirror dimly visible by the night-light and turned to head downstairs for a hot cup of coffee. He’d set the brewmatic machine’s timer for five and since it was now almost five-thirty, coffee should be ready.
Although he slept in the nude, he seldom wandered around the house without something on, even though none of his windows were placed where anyone was likely to see him. Grabbing his bottle green velour robe off the bathroom door, he shrugged it on and tied the sash as he took the stairs to the ground floor two per stride.
“How you can stand that abominable shit coffeeis beyond me.”
He skidded to an abrupt halt in the doorway at the unexpected greeting. “What the fuck? Who are you and what are you doing in my kitchen at oh-dark-thirty in the morning?”
The stranger rose from a chair, carefully set his cup on the tile-topped table, and held out a hand. “I’m Aron. You’re going to have to put up with me for a bit, Clay. We have some business to discuss.”
“You seem to know who I am, but damned if I know you. And I wouldn’t forget—you aren’t exactly the kind of man to vanish in a crowd.”
“I’m Aron Wanderer. We haven’t met, but I know some relatives of yours, like the father you never knew. You’re Clayton Chiles, head of the Paranormal Operations Unit of the U.S. Border Patrol. I’ve come to offer you some support. Things have been getting worse lately, haven’t they?”
Clay sensed something uncannily familiar about the tall, slender man, but still felt sure they had never met. “Aron? Where are you from and who sent you?”
“You’re suspicious. I can understand that, but I assure you, I come as a friend, an ally, even a distant kinsman. Maevelle, the reigning queen of Elvenheim sent me. She’s a distant cousin to us both, a just ruler, but also hard as cold iron when need be. She’s been following the situation here and has become concerned. Even though we’ve been gone for eons, the Elven still feel a bond with Earth. We don’t want to see the current invasion succeed, but without more help, it will. You know that.”
Clayton sighed. “Yes, it’s looking more and more likely. These new critters, whatever they are, seem to be the worst yet. I’m gathering all the powered folk I can locate to be agents for our side, but there aren’t enough and they aren’t all as strong and confident as they need to be. I have some outstanding people on my team, but it’s looking more like our best won’t be enough.”
Aron nodded. “No, it won’t be. Sit and have your coffee. There isn’t yet an emergency, but we need to make some quick plans. I hope you didn’t have anything critical scheduled this morning because you’ll have to cancel or postpone it.”
Irritation flashed through Clayton, but he contained it. Changed plans were more the rule than the exception lately. He’d deal with it.
He poured his coffee and sat down opposite his surprising guest. “Aron, I’m no Elf,” he said. “What kind of cockamamie bullshit is that?”
Aron smiled. “Are you sure? Did you know anything about your father at all?”
Clay shook his head. “Not really. I only know the sorry son of a bitch knocked up my mother and disappeared. People were not very tolerant of unwed mothers forty years ago. She ended up committing suicide when I was barely old enough to remember her. That left me to be raised by her sister and my grandparents. It was really fun to be a weird bastard kid in a little east Texas town.”
Aron shook his head, what looked like a trace of sympathy on his narrow face. “You’re saying my name like the Biblical name, not mine. Actually, it’s short for Arondel. Think of a capital R there with the A almost silent. Anyway, your father didn’t leave on purpose. He had no choice. He intended to come back to live with your mother and help raise you, but that chance was not given to him. Still, he has watched you all your life.”
“I wouldn’t go across the street to see the em-effer. I don’t want to know anything about him.” A slight chill ran down Clay’s spine. He knew magic and otherworldly influences when he met them. They clung all around this tall stranger, but he took no comfort in that. “I’m no elf,” he repeated. “That’s crazy.”
“What do you think I am?” Aron tossed his head so his shoulder-length hair separated to reveal the fine points atop his large ears. “Do I look like an ordinary human?”
Clay took another gulp of coffee and slammed his cup down. “I don’t fucking know. I don’t even want to know. Yeah, I’ve always been odd, but I’m not sure I even believe in elves!”
Aron smiled. “You will. There’s no hurry. You do believe in the invasion of real other-world aliens, don’t you?”
Clay drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes, I don’t have much choice. I’ve seen and dealt with them.”
“And some of your people are not fully one hundred percent human either, you know. Take Alex, your raven shifter. There’s old Sidhe blood in his veins and in those of Rhys Davis, too. The Sidhe are our kin, a branch of Elvenkind.”
Clay did not answer, although the other man’s words made a strange kind of sense. He didn’t want to listen, much less believe, but he also knew when he needed to be open-minded. This was one of those times. He could accept all of it except perhaps the part about his father.