Page 15 of Alien in the Attic

He stopped that train of thought. This wasn’t the time to dwell on whatcouldbe. Carmen and her sisters were expecting a massive celebration that would echo through time. That was his priority now. He would worry about the dangers of love later.

The front of the mansion was bathed in ethereal red and orange light, as if fires from hell rose from the earth to light its facade. Stone gargoyles blended in seamlessly with the original structure of the house, only to occasionally change position or snarl at a passerby. In various windows, figures could be glimpsed from the corner of the eye, only to vanish when viewed straight on. Dark clouds, like bruises in the night, rolled and rumbled above everything, a mystical storm about to break.

Thanks to the hollow-emitter drones circling the perimeter, this one residence in Hollowbrook had been transformed into a haunted wonderland that dazzled trick-or-treaters and dared others to skip out on the wildest party inside.

The micro-speakers lining the walls pumped out classic Halloween jams, keeping all the witches, vampires, cowboys, and naughty nurses dancing from track to track. Almost every room in the house was stuffed with spooky revelers drinking gallons of alcohol. The only thing louder than the music were the spontaneous screams reacting to a serpent descending slithering down a banister, a masked madman swinging a chainsaw at someone’s head, and impish gnomes running up legs and jumping into drinks before disappearing in binary smoke.

As Arccoo moved through the throngs of partiers, he couldn’t help but notice the eyes following his movement. Even now, amid a horde of costumes, something about him signaled his otherness. He thought it might be the alien skin, but plenty of body paint concealed his true form. Then he considered that his size might be drawing their attention, but a long-legged creature on stilts passed by him, and he knew that couldn’t be the reason.

Perhaps it was his movements. He sensed he might be falling back on old training, gliding through the room as opposed to walking. Princes, especially those tasked with ambassadorial responsibilities, were taught to move through a room as if gliding on the air itself. He was hoping he could disappear, be just one of many faces in the crowd, but now that was proving impossible.

Leaning against a doorframe, he considered leaving altogether. He had done what he set out to do. Carmen looked delighted. She danced with her sisters unbound by self-consciousness. She was happy, and that was all that mattered right now. Even if he couldn’t fully enjoy it with her, he was thankful to be able to help her have a night of bliss.

A ghost howled above him. It wavered just below the ceiling, looking like smoke seen through water. An idea started to form. Based on what he’d read, the concept of ghosts were not all that dissimilar to the yaave from Thryal. Instead of being the lost spirits of any dead person, yaave were specifically dead soldiers who never received a true burial. Their method of haunting consisted of pranks and annoying the living until their bodies could be laid to rest. Since he and Elena already brought his home and hers together through technology, why not combine their mythology as well?

Ducking into a hallway, Arccoo slipped into a closet. From the strap around his ankle, he produced the cloaking device he’d utilized to conceal himself from Carmen upon their arrival. Activating it now, he felt the cool rush spread over him as his form disappeared from view. Cloak in place, he sought out to cause a little havoc.

The first opportunity that struck him was juvenile, but he did it anyway. A woman dressed as a French aristocrat was laughing at someone’s joke and holding up a thin glass of champagne to cheer. The others in her secluded clique did the same. Arccoo rushed up before their glasses could clink and stole them right from their hands.

The aristocrat gasped. The ninja beside her reached for a throwing star while the drag Sherlock Holmes gnawed on the end of her pipe. Arccoo drained each glass down his own throat all at once and then returned the empty containers to the stunned attendees.

Wasting no time, he moved on to a gorilla breakdancing in a circle of tipsy police officers and clowns. Using his extraterrestrial strength, Arccoo grabbed the primate off its feet and held him high above his invisible head.

At first, the guest struggled, frantically swinging their limbs to escape. Once the roar of the crowd drowned out the music, Arccoo felt the individual relax. They stuck their arms and legs out straight, pretending to fly over the party. As the prince carried him, the dancer mimed swimming through the air.

One guest hollered to their friend. “How is this possible?”

The mummy next to her proudly answered. “Wires and magnets! It’s always wires and magnets!” Humans could talk themselves into believing anything.

The gorilla drank up the adulation, seemingly failing to notice where Arccoo was taking him. All that changed a second later when the prince let go of his captive and allowed them to splash into the massive punch bowl, spraying every guest in a three-foot radius.

He could hear the person inside the gorilla costume calling out for some assistance, and another attendee called back. “Why don’t you fly some more?”

It was thrilling moving among them without being noticed, removing the occasional mask or lifting a chair and twirling it in the air. Every witness offered theories on how this was being done, allowing him to get as wild and crazy as he wanted.

On his way to the old piano, he hooked an arm around Carmen’s and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. He walked backward to watch her stunned and confused reaction before the realization of what just happened dawned on her. She was quick. He liked that.

Sitting at the musical instrument he knew nothing about, Arccoo began banging on the keys. The discordant sound that erupted startled half of the room. With the tiny remote he kept strapped around his wrist, Arccoo turned down the music and continued slamming his fist into the keys.

The effect was unsettling, even to him. As he slammed into the notes, however, his ear began to pick up a pattern. It clicked into place. He was essentially sitting down at a harpkii, the very instrument he and his siblings learned to play before reaching the age of six.

He remembered Lady Durtoo’s no-nonsense instructions and the way she flicked his ears if he played a single sour note. The memory straightened his spine, and he started playing a melody that flowed from him as naturally as breath. Closing his eyes, he allowed the song to play itself, using his fingers as a conduit.

Reaching the epic climax of the song, the walls themselves shook with the power of his playing. The crowd nearly broke the windows with the power of their whistling and applause. Arccoo grinned behind an invisible veil. He knew their approval was genuine because they had no idea a prince was behind the spectacle.

A familiar touch grazed him. Looking up from the bench, he saw Carmen leaving the room, looking back at him over her shoulder. Compelled, he followed her out.

The corridor beyond was fairly quiet. “Let me see you,” Carmen whispered.

Arccoo deactivated the cloak. He swore her eyes lit up when she looked at him, and he wondered if she felt what he did every time he was around her.

Her eyes danced with amusement. “You’re incredible. Do you know that?” she asked.

“I am only my lady’s servant,” he said, repeating the traditional bow.

“I don’t think anyone will forget this Halloween bash anytime soon,” Carmen said, her hands sliding up his chest. He didn’t stop her, despite the risk of getting caught.

“It is a night for the ages,” he agreed.

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