Page 36 of Claimed By the Alien Warlord

My compad buzzes on the coffee table, cutting through the moment. I reach for it, the screen lighting up with a message from Pyke. I open it, and his holographic face materializes above the device.

“Guvan,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “Do not use your fortune to block Hoag from finding new investors for the dam. This is a human matter, not a Veritas matter. Do you understand?”

I grit my teeth, frustration bubbling up inside me. “What am I supposed to do, then? Just let it happen?”

Pyke’s expression doesn’t change. “Act within human means. Use your influence, your connections, your reputation—but no alien technology, no Veritas resources. I don’t know the solution, Guvan, but you’re free to find one. Just keep it… conventional.”

The hologram flickers out, leaving me staring at the empty space where Pyke’s face had been. I set the compad down, my mind racing. I promised Reily I’d save Mirror Lake, but how am I supposed to do that without the tools at my disposal?

CHAPTER 16

REILY

Istep into the house, the screen door slamming behind me with a softthwack. Mom’s on the couch, her head tilted back, eyes fixed on the TV. Jeopardy’s theme music drones in the background.

“Hey, Reily,” she calls out without looking at me, “what’s the name of the Johnny Cash song about the end of the world?”

I freeze for a second, the vial of cure in my pocket suddenly feeling heavier. “Um, ‘When the Man Comes Around’?” I answer, trying to keep my voice casual as I pull the vial out and unscrew the cap.

“Ha, you were right!” Mom laughs, finally turning to look at me. Her eyes narrow as I hover near her iced tea. “Can I help you with something?”

I squirt the clear liquid into her tea, the cure disappearing without a trace. “Um, no, just make sure you drink ALL of your tea,” I say, handing it to her. “It has a new vitamin supplement in it that should help you feel a little better.”

Mom takes a sip, her nose wrinkling slightly. “Is that why it tastes funny?”

“Um, yes?”

She shrugs, taking another sip. “It’s okay, I kind of like it.” She drains the glass and hands it back to me with a smile. “Thanks, sweetie.”

I hover for a moment, watching her like a hawk. Nothing. No sudden burst of energy, no miraculous recovery. Just Mom, still pale and frail, leaning back into the cushions. My heart sinks a little, but I force a smile and head outside to the porch.

The old wooden steps creak under my weight as I sit down. The sun’s starting to dip low, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. I’m trying to be patient, really I am, but the waiting’s killing me.

The sound of boots crunching on gravel pulls me out of my thoughts. Seabus ambles up the driveway, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Hey, Reily,” he grumbles, stopping at the foot of the steps. “Heard some bigwig multinational corporation’s gonna re-start the Silver Creek dam project.”

I blink at him, my stomach tightening. “Gary said he would stop it.”

Seabus shrugs, his face scrunching like he just bit into a lemon. “I know, but no offense, I believe in a good incontinence strategy.”

I snort despite myself. “I think you meancontingentstrategy, but do go on.”

He leans against the porch railing, looking out toward the lake. “If we can collect ten thousand signatures, we can force Boss Hoag to hold a referendum vote on the dam project. The power of democracy can bring it down.”

I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “Ten thousand signatures? That’s like one fifth of the town’s population.”

“Yeah, well,” Seabus mutters, scratching the back of his neck, “it’s not like we’ve got a lot of options. Boss Hoag’s not gonnalisten to reason, and Gary—well, no offense, but he’s got his own battles to fight.”

I sigh, leaning back on my hands. “Yeah, I know. But ten thousand signatures? That’s a tall order.”

“Better than sitting around doing nothing,” Seabus fires back, his voice sharp. “Unless you’ve got a better idea?”

I don’t. And that’s the problem.

I’m sitting on the porch with Seabus, staring at the lake in the distance, when Mrs. Henderson from next door comes ambling over. She’s got a floppy sunhat and a watering can, like she just wandered off from her garden.

“Reily, honey,” she calls out, squinting at me through her oversized glasses. “You two look like you’re plotting something. What’s going on?”

---