Page 7 of Her Alien Neighbor

It’s a promise I can’t make. My boss at Lou’s Bar gave me two weeks off, and that’s it. Plus, I need to see if Tia can line up more auditions for me. I need to get back to my life, which means I need to sell this place and the car immediately, and head back west.

I can’t bring myself to say any of this to Willa, though. She looks so tired. I imagine she must be after her daughter, Jane, woke up screaming at three in the morning, and demanded Willa and I read her two books each before she’d try to go back to sleep. I’m pretty exhausted, myself.

“Okay,” I finally reply, “I’ll take my time. See if I can make Aunt Franny’s place my home.” It’s a lie. Every word of it, but it seems like what Willa needs to hear right now. And I can’t think of anything beyond going inside and taking an epic nap. I open the passenger door, but then I stop. “You want to come in and get your hats?”

Willa’s mouth curves up on one side. “Why don’t you hold onto them for me? I’ll pick them up another time.”

Nodding, I grab my folder and my purse and hop out of her car. Pulling my suitcase from the trunk and waving good-bye, I take in the front yard,myfront yard, I guess. It should be an emotional moment, standing here and gazing at the house I was always excited to visit as a kid. I’d give my left arm for Aunt Franny to come rushing out the front door with arms outstretched, telling me there was nothing to stress about. That everything was going to be okay.

But that’s not going to happen. She’s gone, and her house is now mine.

I sigh heavily as I trudge toward the front door, too tired to cry over all I’ve lost and the burdens that now weigh me down.

CHAPTER 3

AXILSSANAI “AXIL”

“Icannot believe she is gone,” Zev, my younger brother, says of our late neighbor as he leans against the doorway to my shed. I spend most of my time in the shed, which I built by hand a year ago, on the edge of Lady Norton’s property.

I let out a heavy sigh as memories of her flash through my mind. “Neither can I.” I know she was of advanced age, for humans, anyway, but she seemed healthy. Her death came as a surprise to me and my brothers despite how many times she told us she was ready to pass on. It is a comfort knowing she had no unfinished business, apart from the stack of love books on her bedside table she was eager to read. “I miss her laugh.”

“As do I,” Zev says, nodding as a smile lifts the corners of his lips. “She had such a kind and generous heart.”

We spent many hours in her little home, helping her unclog drains, raking the leaves on her lawn or trimming the grass, and fixing her meals, but my favorite time with Lady Norton was when we would watch TV. She would put on some love story she had seen dozens of times, and we would ask her questions about the women onscreen, and why the man’s actions made him a heroic figure within the story in an effort to gain a better understanding of human behavior. My younger brother, Mylossanai, would then ask countless questions about the human courting rituals displayed before us.

“She could tell we were different,” Zev adds. “Did she ever ask you? Where we came from, or what we are?”

“No,” I reply with a wistful laugh. Perhaps our obvious otherness was why she enjoyed our company so much, as she seemed to have little tolerance for others. She never outright asked if we were not human, but I am certain she suspected as much. “I am not sure what my response would have been if she had.”

“True,” Zev says, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “It is not as if you could say, ‘Yes, we are draxilios from the planet Sufoi. Our ship exploded just outside of Earth’s atmosphere thirteen years ago, and our pods crashed in the middle of the woods in eastern Massachusetts. We were genetically modified at birth to change our appearance at will, giving us the ability to hide our horns and transform the color of our skin from a shimmering cerulean to whatever shade we desire in order to blend in.’”

I chuckle at his hypothetical revelation, adding, “There is no need to fear us, Lady Norton, even though we can shift forms into massive fire-breathing beasts. We request that you do not alert the authorities.”

Zev runs a hand through his wavy, black hair. “No, we certainly could not say any of that.”

We trusted Lady Norton, of course, more so than any other human we have come across, except maybe for Harper, our brother Lukassanai’s human mate, but our presence on this planet is supposed to remain a secret for as long as we live, which is a very long time in earth years.

My brothers and I fled Sufoi in search of new opportunities, freedom, and most importantly, mates. Though, the latter has taken a rapid descent on my list of priorities. Since Lukassanai fell in love with Harper, and their courtship was anything but smooth, I have ceased looking for my mate. If she even exists, that is.

Our handlers on Sufoi made it clear that no genetically modified draxilio, or “podling” as we were often referred to, deserved a mate, and was prohibited from taking one. The tampering with our cells rendered us ineligible and unworthy of the loving bond that natural-born draxilios are promised.

It was a lie, of course, that was used to control us, just as it was used to control the many podlings that came before us. Some were told mates simply did not exist for podlings. We were told taking a mate was not allowed. Our handlers shifted the lie however they saw fit in order to keep us focused on protecting the king.

The podlings that came before us were given much simpler genetic modifications than the many my brothers and I have, such as the manual calcification of a certain part of the brain rendering them incapable of feeling a particular emotion.

The original podlings were notorious for their battle skills, as the four of them together lacked fear, awe, trust, and remorse. But our handlers got greedy with the options at their disposal, and began adding more alterations to our cells, blood, and brain tissue. My siblings and I were batch thirteen, which meant our handlers had tried and failed more than ten times to design the perfect assassins for the king.

My heart squeezes at the thought of the twelfth batch of podlings. Those poor souls were doomed from the moment of their creation. Given the modifications of intense strength, a thirst for blood––any kind of blood––and an uncontrollable libido, they were used in battle only once. When they attempted to fornicate with the warriors on the opposing side, the king quickly removed them from his guard and those draxilios spent years constantly sedated before they were shipped off to an unknown planet. I do not know if they still live.

Being surrounded by the other podlings on Sufoi was a comfort. Natural-born draxilios did not see us as equals, but the podlings understood what it meant to be seen as a freakish, disposable draxilio by the rest of society. Once we realized our common goal of seeking freedom and mates, the podlings worked together to find another planet where we could live freely. Earth was not our top choice, but it ended up being the place we selected when it came time to flee.

We are lucky we crashed where we did. Luka is lucky he found Harper when he did. And after we left the city of Boston, we were lucky the house we bought was next to Lady Norton’s.

“I must go to work,” Zev says as he checks the time on his phone.

I nod. “Farewell, brother. See you for dinner.”

Zev closes the door to my shed, and memories of Lady Norton’s low and crackling laughter continue to fill my mind. She had quite the odd sense of humor, quite dark, at times, but endearing.

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