Universal Alien (28 page)

He heard me gasp and spun. “Who's there?” His hand was on his gun, but he hadn't pulled it yet.

“Just me.” I stepped out, hands up in front of me. “I heard you talking and just wanted to know who else was here.”

“Ah.” He relaxed. And now looked embarrassed. “I was just . . . I needed to talk to someone who would . . . understand.”

“I hear you. And I feel exactly the same way.” Sat down on the top step.

He came and sat with me. “What brings you out to visit our nation's greatest president, ma'am?”

“I just discovered . . . many people I care about are dead or gone or very different. I'm normally a pretty cheerful person, but discovering people I love are gone, some long ago now, just . . . hurts.”

“I understand.”

“Yeah, I think you do.” Mephistopheles had said I'd been given an opportunity he'd taken away. Now I knew what he meant. And, as they said, nothing ventured, no one to say you were totally mental, right?

“Have we met, ma'am?” he asked.

“Sort of. It's a long story. Something of an unbelievable story.”

He chuckled. “I don't report to my new duty until oh-nine-hundred, ma'am.”

“Call me Kitty. And, tell me, do you prefer to be called William, Will, or Bill, or should I go for formal and call you Lieutenant Cox?”

I
HADN'T BEEN IN PARIS
for a while. I loved this city, and a part of me wished we could stay here longer. However, we had a mission, and it needed to be completed as soon as possible so that Jamie woke up with her parents there with her.

Martini caught up to me. “We can do this via hyperspeed if you want. You can lead, I provide the speed.”

“Okay, that makes sense.”

Richard took hold of Charles and Malcolm and nodded to us. “Lead on, just remember that we don't need to go at supersonic speed, Jeffrey.”

“Wouldn't want you straining, Uncle Richard, don't worry.” With that, we zipped off.

We were still going fast, but it was, somehow, slower than the other times Martini had used hyperspeed. We ran through the entire area a couple of times and I had to stop. “I'm sorry. I can handle going that fast now, thanks to whatever pill you gave me. But I can't
see
at that speed, not clearly enough to spot something I'm pulling up from memory. But I think I spotted where to start.”

“Then it was worth it,” Martini said. He kept hold of my hand. We were out in public, and that meant there was always a chance for photographers, so this was smart.

We wandered a little bit, but while I spotted some shops that were familiar, and some that were clearly new in the last couple of years, I wasn't finding the specific shop I needed. And we needed it, because if Singh had already checked everywhere online, then we only had this one shot.

“You sure it's this one item that's the key?” Martini asked me as we wound through some tiny side streets.

“Yes. I can't tell you why so much, other than that, in my world, Margie loved it. It was truly a one-of-a-kind item.”

“From eight years ago. It's either been reproduced or it could be gone, you know.”

“Reproduced it hasn't been. Per Raj, who did a thorough search. Gone? Yes, it could be, but I'm not willing to give up without trying.”

He squeezed my hand. “That's my girl.”

We rounded a corner when I heard something—a woman singing, not in French but in English. Her voice was familiar and I headed us toward the sound. As we got closer I recognized the tune and the lyrics. She was singing the Psychedelic Furs' “Heartbreak Beat.” And I was positive I recognized her voice.

We ended up at a small café that was, for whatever reason, inside a tiny courtyard off the main street. The woman singing was handing plates of food to customers. She was slender and had a heart-shaped face I knew well. Her curly brown hair was pulled back, she was in a black dress with a white apron, and it wasn't clear if she was the owner or the waitress, but she was definitely working at this café.

“Why are we here?” Martini asked quietly. “And why are you so excited?”

“Hush.” Waited until she finished. The patrons clapped and so did I. Then I went up to her. “Amadhia, what are you doing working here?”

She gave me a very pleasant smile, but looked confused. “I'm sorry, I think you've mixed me up with someone else. My name is Emily.”

“Yes, but your stage name is Amadhia.”

She shook her head. “You must indeed have me confused with someone else. I'm not on stage. Would you like to have breakfast? You're tourists from America, yes?”

“Yes, we are. And, I'm sorry, you just remind me of someone I know. And, uh, sure, let's have some breakfast.”

She led us to a table while the men with me gave me looks that said they thought I was both crazy and wasting time. Once we were seated and looking at menus, Martini leaned over. “I know who you think she is, but
she
doesn't think she's that person. We need to find what you're looking for, not ‘discover' a new vocal talent.”

“Okay, but she's local and may know the shop I'm looking for. Besides, I'm hungry, and I'll bet the rest of you are, too.”

“I confess to being a bit peckish, Jeffrey,” Richard said. “Besides, my partner tends to be correct.”

Martini sighed. “Women's intuition. Right.” He smiled at me. “Yours is rarely wrong. So, fine, I'm hungry, too.”

We ordered and ate. The food was delicious and Amadhia was an excellent waitress. She might say she was Emily, and she was, but to me she was always going to be Amadhia—I'd spent too long thinking of her that way to change now.

She also continued to sing when she delivered meals and bussed tables. I didn't recognize the song she was singing as she cleared our plates, but I was pretty sure she was singing in Catalan and I asked her about it.

“It's ‘El Cant dels Ocells,' ‘The Song of the Birds' in English,” she explained.

“It was lovely. Do you own this restaurant?”

“My grandparents do. They'd immigrated to America just before World War Two, but missed France and came back here. My parents stayed in America, but after college I came to visit and stayed.”

“Can't blame you. When did they come back, recently?”

“Oh no,” she said with a tinkling laugh. “Once my father had married my mother and they had to move to California for work, my grandparents came home. They've been here for thirty years.”

“Here, in this location?”

“Oh yes. We live above the café.”

Meaning that if the shop I was looking for existed, Amadhia's grandparents would be likely to know. “Would you or they know of a shop that was here around eight years ago?”

“Possibly.” She went off, singing a different song. “Ave Maria” in French, if I was going to guess.

“That was abrupt,” Charles said.

“She'll be back.”

Sure enough, Amadhia returned shortly with an older woman, also dressed in black with a white apron. Same curly hair, though the older woman's was white, same slim figure, same heart-shaped face. “My grandmother, Marie, might be able to help.”

Marie nodded. “What shop are you looking for, my dear?”

“I can't remember the name, or even where it was, other than somewhere in this area. It was a little gift shop that had very unusual pieces, all done by local artists. The proprietor was a woman about your age, but her hair was dark brown and she was more plump than you are. I think the shop was in an enclosed block, but I haven't been able to find it. I can just remember that the block had a sort of Art Deco feel.”

Marie looked thoughtful. “It could be you're looking for Celeste. Her shop was in
Le passage du Prado
, but she moved a few years ago because the Prado was in disrepair.”

Disappointment washed over me. “Oh.” Despite what I'd said to the political bigwigs, I didn't have a Plan B. And now I'd dragged everyone on a wild goose chase for no good reason.

Marie patted my shoulder. “Don't look so sad, my dear. Celeste moved, but she's still in this neighborhood. But that's why you can't find her shop—her shop doesn't look the same and it's not in the same place.” She looked around. The last of the breakfast crowd had left so we were the only patrons at the moment. “Emily, take them to Celeste's. They'll get lost, otherwise.”

“Happy to, grandmamma.” Amadhia kissed her grandmother's cheek as Richard paid the bill and left a generous tip. Both women beamed at him and he gave them the Silver Fox Smile in return. Richard was absolutely a ladies' man of the highest order.

He offered his arm to Amadhia. “If I may escort your granddaughter?” he asked Marie.

She laughed. “Absolutely.” She smiled at all of the men with me, then gave me a wink. “Such handsome men you journey with. You're obviously a woman of good taste, which is why you remember Celeste's shop. She only carries one-of-a-kind items.”

“I hope the item I'm looking for is still there.” Tried not to sound worried. Failed, if Marie's expression of commiseration was any clue.

Marie took my hand and patted it. “If not, you will find something else just perfect. I promise.”

Didn't think about it, just hugged her. “Thank you. And thank you for lending us your granddaughter for a little while.”

“Oh, she's young and should have an adventure now and then.”

With that we left, Richard and Amadhia leading the way. Which was a very twisty, turny way.

“Who considers shopping an adventure?” Martini asked quietly.

“Many people,” Charles said with a laugh.

Malcolm shook his head. “There's something . . . odd going on.”

“Odd dangerous?” Martini sounded on guard and protective.

“We'll find out,” Malcolm replied.

We wandered some more, turning here and there, going down some steps and up some others. Couldn't speak for the others, but there was no way I was going to be able to find the café again, let alone figure out where in Paris we actually were.

“Are we going to end up in Narnia, Oz, or Hogwarts?” I asked.

Amadhia heard me and smiled at me over her shoulder. “Maybe.” We turned down a tiny alleyway and she stopped in front of three doors—one at the end of the alley, and two facing each other on either side. “Or perhaps we're going somewhere even more magical.” She opened the door at the end of the alley and went inside.

The men all looked at me. “Think it's safe?” Charles asked.

“I think we came a long way to find out. And what's life without a little risk or excitement?” So saying, I followed Amadhia inside.

T
HE SHOP WASN'T WELL LIT,
and even though we'd been blocked from direct sunlight most of the way here, it still took a couple of seconds for my eyes to adjust.

I could hear Amadhia speaking to someone in French and as the men joined me I was able to take a look around. Relief flooded me—this was the right place.

The shop looked almost as it had eight years ago, when we'd found it on our honeymoon. The structure was different, of course, but the merchandise wasn't. There were paintings and artworks of all kinds everywhere—on the walls, on the ground, and hanging from the ceiling. Glass cases held jewelry and breakable collectibles. The shop was chock-full but somehow didn't seem ridiculously crowded.

When we'd visited before we'd wanted to buy the entire shop, but Charles had limited us to three things, one of which I'd given to Margie. Of the other two, one was in our home in Australia and the other in our home in D.C. Grabbed Charles. “Remember this place? I wanted to buy the entire shop but you managed to stop me.”

He removed my hand gently. “No, Kitty, I don't.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry. Got swept back to the past for a moment.”

Amadhia brought a woman I recognized over. She was older than when we'd first met, but she was definitely the proprietress who had helped us before. Managed to remind myself that she wouldn't remember me any more than the Charles here would remember her.

“I hear you were searching for me,” Celeste said. “But I don't remember you.”

“I was in your former location and it was a long time ago.”

“I pride myself on remembering all my customers.” Celeste sounded just slightly suspicious.

Richard stepped in and gave her a shot of the Silver Fox Smile. “The passage of time changes the young far more than the rest of us, madame.”

Celeste laughed. “True enough, monsieur. True enough. Now, look around and see what you must have.”

Everyone with me had seen my sketch, and while I was tempted to pull it out and show it to Celeste, that would make her even more suspicious, and we didn't need to create another international incident while trying to solve the first one.

So, we all wandered and searched. Other than trying to ensure that we got back to D.C. in time, this wasn't a hardship. As I had eight years ago, I still wanted to buy most of what was in this shop.

Amadhia joined me. “What are you searching for?”

“Something I saw here years ago and didn't buy.” Well, I hadn't bought it in this universe. Spotted something familiar. Sure, it wasn't what I was looking for, but it was very like one of the other items I'd bought years ago.

“Oh, that's a beautiful mask,” Amadhia said. “Is that what you're looking for?”

“Not exactly.” The mask wasn't meant to be worn, at least I didn't think so. It was meant to be displayed as art. The mask was a sun and moon design, half the sun on the left, half of the moon on the right, with a crown of stars. It was hand carved out of a single piece of wood and hand painted. None of this was unusual, other than how the artist had created the carvings. I'd never seen any sun and moon design quite like this, which was part of the point of getting a unique piece of art.

Tried to put it back, but I just couldn't. Sure, we had one in D.C., but we didn't have one in
this
D.C. And it was so beautiful.

Martini came over and took the mask out of my hands. “We'll take this, and we're still looking,” he said to Celeste. He smiled at me. “Get whatever you want. Even if it's more than you think you should. We can afford it,” he added with a grin.

“Okay.” Didn't need to tell me twice. Apparently Martini was looser with the purse strings than Charles was. Worked for me.

“Do you collect masks?” Celeste asked as she joined me and Amadhia.

“Not really. I mean, I like them, but we're more . . . appreciators of the eclectic than collectors, per se.”

She nodded. “What else are you looking for? Something special?”

“Uh, yeah, actually, I am. I'm looking for something decorative in crystal, possibly glass or acrylic, something clear. But it needs to be unusual, too.”

“How unusual?”

Considered the design. “Hoping for something that makes you think of the galaxy or universe or similar. Something that would hang on a wall. But not a painting.”

She chuckled. “No small request. But . . . I think . . .” She wandered off. They seemed to do that a lot around here.

Kept on perusing. Charles was looking at something and I went over to where he was, Amadhia trailing me. “Whatcha looking at?”

“This music box. It's so . . . unusual.”

Unusual it was. The main piece was a golden sun. The planets, Pluto included, were attached to it. Charles turned the key and as the music played, the sun turned slowly while the planets circled their star, accurately. I recognized the tune but checked to be sure—it was Mozart's Symphony #41 In C, K 551, “Jupiter,” the first movement, Allegro Vivace.

It was also familiar. “Let's get it, too,” I said quietly, as Martini came over.

“Like yours in Australia?” he asked softly. I nodded and he took it out of Charles' hands. “Nice pieces you're picking.”

“Yes, they are,” Charles agreed. He gave me a quick smile. “Nice to know we still like the same things.”

The conversation was suddenly awkward, and I noted Amadhia noting this. But Celeste returned. “I believe I have something you may want.” She indicated we should follow her, so we did, to the back of the store. “I've had it for years—it's never moved, and that's always surprised me. It's one of my favorites. Sadly, the artist who made it passed away a few years ago, so there can never be another just like it or even close. I keep on waiting for the right person to fall in love with it.”

Richard and Malcolm were already there, admiring the piece. It was small, about the size of a grapefruit, and based on the intricacies, smaller than it had any right to be. Somehow, the artist had captured the feeling of the universe within the delicate threads of crystal that created a flat yet three-dimensional piece of art. My throat caught.

“That's it,” I whispered. “That's exactly it.”

“We'll take it,” Martini said. “And we need it wrapped as carefully as possible.”

Celeste beamed. “At last. I almost hate to part with it, but your taste clearly runs to the heavens, and this is the perfect choice.”

She bustled off and Martini followed her, presumably to hand over wads of cash. I was excited and sad at the same time. There was only this one piece here, and there would never be another. In my world, the artist was still alive. I knew this because we'd found his work in a gallery on a trip to Paris. “I wonder if us buying this years ago made the difference.”

Hadn't meant to say that aloud, and was instantly sorry I had, because Amadhia caught it. She touched my arm and moved us away from the others. “You are not . . . from here, are you?”

“What do you mean?” Wondered if Martini could pick up my panic. Hoped so.

“You're aliens, or at least some of you are, but that's not what I mean. You, you yourself, seem just slightly . . . out of place. You believe I'm someone else, and I can tell you still think I'm the person you know. You know of Celeste's shop and the items you've found—you were searching not for ‘something' but for
them
, specifically. You found old friends, not new ones.”

“Ah . . .” Had no idea of what to say at this point.

She smiled. “It's alright. I would never betray you.”

“Why not?”

“Who doesn't want to experience magic at least once in their lives? And this is magic, isn't it?”

It was stupid, but I couldn't help myself. “In a way. You're meant to be a singer, internationally known, beloved by millions. You have the most beautiful voice . . . I can't understand why you haven't been signed to a recording contract.”

“I'm not a . . . bold person.”

Thought about something Charles had said earlier. “It only takes a few seconds of boldness to change your life.” As I said this, I heard music. Rock music, being played live. It would start, then stop, and it was clear there were musicians nearby who were practicing. I grabbed Amadhia's hand. “We'll be right back,” I called to the men. Then I led her to the alleyway.