Alien's Concubine, The (9 page)

Shaken at last from her
self-absorption by a shoulder buffeting hers, Gaby realized she was
still in the way of the workers trying to secure the coffin and
raise it. After looking around the chamber a little dazedly, she
moved away from the other observers and found a position near the
doorway that led into the chamber.

The edges of the doorway were ragged
with broken rock from where the team had hammered down the stones
that had sealed it, but she scarcely noticed the jagged stones
digging in to her as she leaned against the frame for
support.

It came to her that she’d expected
they would find Anka entombed here, even while she’d tried to deny
it.

Why?

Did she actually know the things she
thought she knew? Or was it just … trauma from her experience
combined with a gradual mental breakdown from the harsh conditions
she’d endured here for so many weeks?

And if she did know, how did she
know?

She wasn’t psychic.

She didn’t believe it was just a
matter of having denied something she’d known all along about
herself because it defied reason and she was a scientist. Maybe
such things did actually exist, but not within her.

She found herself hoping the
government people would relieve them of the mummy. If they didn’t,
she would have to examine the remains and she didn’t think she
could be professionally detached about it.

Her heart was in her throat when they
at last secured the chains and began to slowly and carefully lift
the sarcophagus from the crypt. Like everyone else, she suspected,
she held her breath, but she doubted it was for the same
reason.

She stepped aside as the container was
brought in and moved into position to receive the sarcophagus. By
the time they’d shouldered past her and she could resume her
previous position, the casket was clear of the vault, gleaming in
the beams from the flood lights.

She stared at it unblinkingly, holding
her breath as they moved it over the container and began lowering
it, as if by doing so she was somehow helping to prevent disaster.
The men hadn’t even had the chance to remove the chains when
everyone surged forward again to get their first good look at
it.

Awe lit the faces of every member of
the archeology team, save that of Sheila, and the government
representatives. On their faces, Gaby saw pure avarice. She was
almost surprised they didn’t grab the beautifully wrought casket of
gold encrusted with gems and toss the remains onto the
floor.

Without even being aware that she’d
done so, Gaby moved closer for an unobstructed view as everyone
reluctantly moved back so that Jimmy, the student designated to
record the findings on film, could get some shots of the
sarcophagus before it was sealed in the container.

Tears blurred her eyes as she stared
down at it. She wasn’t even aware of them until the image blurred
and she had to blink to focus.

The lid of the casket had been as
faithfully wrought as the statue, she saw, wondering almost idly
how the artists had created it. Had they made a mold of his body
and used it to pour liquefied gold? Or were they just that skilled
in working precious metals?

She saw when she finally dragged her
gaze away that Sheila was studying her face, not the golden coffin.
For several moments they merely stared at one another. Sheila was
the first to look away.

* * * *

Stepping from the plane in Miami, Gaby
mused, was almost like stepping off a time machine, almost as
jarring as it had been to step off the plane when she’d first
arrived in South America. It would take a while, she realized, to
reacquaint herself with civilization after the months she’d spent
in the jungle.

She felt strangely detached, not
joyful as she’d thought she would feel, not even relieved to be
back.

When she’d deplaned, Gaby waited while
the ground crew unloaded the container she’d accompanied back,
feeling a bizarre sense of unreality, almost as if she’d escorted a
head of state to his final resting place. A half a dozen
representatives of the South American country where Anka had been
discovered deplaned before her. Most of the museum staff was
present to witness, and even some local politicians. Photographers
converged on them, held back by an inadequate line of security that
was made up of two airport security officers and two Dade county
police officers.

Finding herself under such heavy
scrutiny was unnerving to say the least. Publicity wasn’t anything
she’d ever sought, even when she’d had occasion to work with the
police department upon the discovery of twenty or thirty year old
murder victims.

She was too apathetic to be as
unnerved as she might have been otherwise, though. She didn’t
entirely understand the depression that had settled over her, the
sense of loss. It made no sense to her, but she couldn’t seem to
shrug it off.

She was glad she was back, she decided
when she had at last made it through the ordeal of customs and
watched the container escorted off to the museum. Everything had
been prepared for the all important opening of the sarcophagus and
studies of what it held, but she wouldn’t begin her examination
before the following morning. She had tonight to rest and prepare
herself.

Her apartment seemed alien to her, not
the welcoming comfort and security of something familiar. She
wondered as she stood in the center of her living room why she’d
ever thought the décor she’d chosen was homey. The place, decorated
in ultra modern chic, looked antiseptic.

But then what did she know of
homey?

It was appalling to realize that the
place looked almost as institutional as the Home for Girls where
she’d grown up … except more, somehow. Instead of looking clean and
bright, the whitewashed walls, pale beige carpet, white upholstery,
and chrome and glass tables and display cabinets made the place
seem cold, impersonal.

Maybe it was personalized space,
though, she thought dully? Colorless, like she was.

Dropping her bags in the middle of the
floor, she wandered from the living area to her room, stripping her
clothes as she went and dropping them piece by piece on the floor
in an untidy trail. When she reached her bathroom, she turned on
the shower full blast, waited until the water was the next thing to
scalding and climbed in, standing under the blast of water and
allowing it to scour her.

There was no food in the refrigerator,
naturally. She’d cleaned it out before she left, and not much more
in the cabinets.

She wasn’t really interested in eating
anyway, she decided. All she wanted to do was to fall across her
wonderfully soft mattress, wrap herself in the fluffy comforter,
and sleep.

* * * *

“
As flattering as I find
your grief, Moonflower, even oddly pleasing, I confess I’ve never
entirely understood your race.”

The voice, entwined with her dreams,
thick with a Hispanic accent, didn’t entirely rouse Gaby at first.
“Go ‘way,” she muttered groggily. “I don’t want to dream about you
anymore.”

His chuckle, deep, caressing, aroused
her as his words hadn’t. “You know it wasn’t a dream.”

Still drunk with sleep, Gaby shoved
herself upright, pushed her hair out of her eyes, and stared at the
man standing at the foot of her bed, feeling terror slowly claw its
way up her throat. She couldn’t find her voice. She merely gaped at
the stranger for endless moments, trying to command her body to
leap from the bed and run. She’d no sooner accepted the reality of
the intruder, though, than she became so excruciatingly aware of
the fact that she’d fallen into the bed completely naked she found
herself waging an internal battle with exposing herself versus
self-preservation.

The man lifted his arms, staring down
at them thoughtfully … almost as if he’d never seen them before.
“This body displeases you?” he asked doubtfully. “I confess, I was
not too taken with it myself. This man is a pathetic
specimen.”

“
I’ll scream!” Gaby
managed finally, her voice hoarse and barely above a
whisper.

The man tilted his head. “Why would
you do that?”

Gaby’s jaw slid to half mast. “What
are you doing here? How did you get in? What do you
want?”

His dark brows rose. He stepped
forward out of the shadows so that the light spilling from the
bathroom fully illuminated him at last.

She hadn’t imagined the Hispanic
accent. He was swarthy, his untidy, straight, black hair almost
shoulder length and he looked more Indian that Spanish—slight of
build. She doubted he was even five and half feet tall and her
brain instantly produced the deduction that he was Mexican—not
Cuban as she would’ve thought considering the sizable Cuban
population in south Florida.

Nevertheless, he was wiry with muscle
and he was a man, which meant he would be far stronger than her
even if he wasn’t that much bigger.

He leaned forward and placed a hand on
the bed, or rather her ankle beneath the comforter. Before his hand
could tighten, Gaby leapt up as if she’d been catapulted from the
mattress, uttering a mousy squeak. The sheets tangled around her
like an anaconda as she attempted to leap from the bed. She slammed
into the floor hard enough that it shook the floor, rattled the
glass, and completely stunned her. Before she could scramble to her
feet, he caught her, pulling her upright with unnerving
ease.

“
Let me go!” she snarled,
launching an attack with fingers curled into claws the moment she
was on her feet.

He caught her wrists, pulling her arms
out to either side of her and using her own weight and the bones of
her arms as leverage to hold her in place. Tilting his head, he
studied her curiously. “I cannot help but notice you do not seem
pleased to see me, little Moonflower,” he murmured, his deep voice
laced with amusement.

“
I don’t know you!” Gaby
gasped. “I’ve never seen you before in my life!”

His amusement deepened, his lips
curling. “Oh, but you do, Moonflower. Look into my eyes and you
will know me.”

“
Stop calling me
Moonflower!”

“
You are feisty! I believe
I like that,” he added musingly.

“
I don’t give a fuck what
you like or don’t like! Get out before I call the cops!”

“
Why would I be alarmed by
that?” he asked, obviously amused.

“
They’d put you in jail
for breaking and entering and probably for assault, you asshole,
that’s why!”

He nodded understanding but shrugged
indifferently. “This body.”

Gaby’s fear inspired anger wilted.
Coldness crept into her. The man was crazy.

“
Simple,” the man
corrected her. “Not crazy—a bit drunk, I might add.”

A bit? He reeked of beer!

It took Gaby several moments to
realize she hadn’t voiced her suspicion aloud. She swallowed with
an effort. “Who are you?” she gasped shakily.

He drew her closer. Slipping an arm
around her, he jerked her tightly against his body, gripped her
hair with his other hand, and dragged her head back so that she was
staring up at his face. His eyes were dark, dilated with desire,
but she saw emotion flickering there that seemed at odds with the
situation, doubt, confusion. For a moment, though, that cleared and
she saw something else … someone behind the man that physically
restrained her. “I can feel what this body feels, Moonflower,” he
murmured silkily, lowering his head until his hot breath caressed
the sensitive shell of her ear. “You want what I desire, to share
the carnal pleasures of the flesh denied both of us without a shell
such as this.”

A mixture of revulsion and desire
wafted through Gaby. “I don’t want this!” Gaby finally managed
through gritted teeth, wriggling one arm free at last and shoving
at the shoulder of the man.

He stared at her a long moment and
finally, to her surprise, released her. “You are not pleased with
this body,” he said, irritation threading his voice.

Gaby staggered back when he let her
go, flopping weakly on the edge of the bed when her legs connected
with the mattress and her weight overbalanced her.

She was staring straight at the man
when Anka stepped out of him.

The man wilted, landing on one knee on
the floor. Throwing his arms out to brace himself as he pitched
forward, he knelt on all fours for several moments and finally
shook his head and lifted it to stare around him, slack jawed with
stunned surprise. Uttering a string of Spanish—profanity Gaby
didn’t doubt—he lurched to his feet, staggered a little drunkenly
while he looked around and finally charged toward the
door.

She heard him slam into the outer door
of her apartment, fumble for several moments with the locks and
then the door opened and slammed closed again.

Dazed and confused, Gaby turned to
stare at the apparition.

He looked displeased. He’d folded his
arms over his chest and was studying her in frowning disapproval.
“I had not expected you would be so hard to please,” he said
irritably.