Page 76 of Her Alien Neighbor

I make quick work of paying, then hop in my truck. My tires squeal as I pull out onto the road, taking a right. The inside of the truck is silent as I drive home, going as fast as I can without going more than five miles over the speed limit. My mind, however, is a funnel cloud of chaos and fury as I recall every horrific, insulting word Trevor uttered about Vanessa. My draxilio roars as he pushes me to avenge her honor.

Follow him. Hurt him. Kill him.

The chant is uttered inside my mind over and over until it is the only thing I want to do. I start thinking about what that monster did to Sam and Vanessa and who knows who else. He was not held accountable for his crimes. Now he walks through life as if he is untouchable. There is no other explanation for the sheer audacity he seems to possess, and the way he mocks and taunts not just me, but Vanessa and Sam too. His victims.

As if that were not enough, he seems to have convinced himself that he has done nothing wrong.

He is a danger to all, my draxilio reminds me.

And he is right.

By the time I pull my truck into the garage at home, I am convinced of one thing––he must be stopped.

I step into the front yard. Ours is a quiet road, and there is hardly ever traffic. Looking around, I am confident that no one but Vanessa could possibly witness my shift, and she is not home. I must do this now before I lose my nerve.

My draxilio purrs approvingly. Find him. Destroy him.

It takes mere seconds before my body transforms into the winged beast filled with fury and flames. Quickly, I launch into the sky, so I may cloak myself. I cannot cloak and become invisible while on the ground, so there is no time to stretch my limbs and shake out my wings. I must find my comfort in this body while in the air.

High above the trees, I follow the path I took back to the gas station. It is a twenty-minute drive, but since I am flying, it takes only four minutes. Then I follow the direction Trevor went. The scent of his oily scalp mixed with a cologne that smells like a chemical fire helps me track him instantly.

This part of the road is dark and desolate with dangerous curves every mile or so.

Snow begins to fall the moment I spot him. It does nothing to impair my vision, but it will make it more difficult for Trevor’s human eyes to see me coming once I remove the cloak. Excitement fills my chest. I want to savor the terror in his eyes when he realizes what is about to happen.

I fly ahead of him, then flip around in the air to change direction. As he approaches the next curve, I dive, gliding just a few feet off the road. He leans into the curve, and I remove my cloak, lifting my lips to show off my many sharpened fangs.

A frightened shriek rips from his throat upon seeing me. He jerks his handlebars to the right in an effort to avoid colliding with my chest and hits a rock the size of a basketball on the side of the road, sending his body flying over the handlebars and into a boulder that sits between the road and the cliff below.

Shifting into my flightless form, I mask as I stride toward his crumpled body. When he lets out a choked moan, I sigh in relief. He lives.

“Hello, Trevor,” I say, rolling him onto his back with my foot.

Blood pours from his nose, staining his lips and goatee, and there is a gash across his forehead so deep, I see bone. His knuckles are scraped and bloody, and a spot of red on his lower abdomen grows, getting wetter by the second.

That does not look good. Perhaps there is not a chance for Trevor to change his ways. Oh well. “It seems we do not have much time,” I tell him with a sigh. “Shame.”

“Y-y-you,” he stammers, tears streaming down his face. He coughs, one hand reaching for his chest, the other completely still at his side. The closer I look, the more I notice that arm lying at an odd angle.

I know I am supposed to feel guilt for Trevor’s current state, but I do not. If this is what it takes to prevent him from causing any more pain, so be it. His soul is as hideous as the patch of hair on his chin.

“Sh-sh-sh…” he whimpers.

“What is that?” I ask loudly, cupping my hand around my ear. “What are you trying to tell me,bro?”

He is not reaching for his chest after all, but his shoulder. He continues trying to get the word out, unsuccessfully, as he points to it with his other hand.

I step one foot over his body, straddling him. “Oh no, is your shoulder in pain?” I ask, crouching down. “Would you like me to help you?”

He nods as he continues to cry. But then his good hand drifts down below his shoulder, going lower, and lower, until it reaches the hem of his shirt at his waist. Is he reaching for his gun again? Did he take the weapon to the reunion?

Time to end this.

I rise to my full height, lift my foot waist high, and slam my boot down on his misshapen shoulder until I hear several cracks. He bellows into the night air as snow continues to fall.

“There is no one here to help you, Trevor,” I tell him. “It is just you and me,” I say, clearing my throat as I walk in a slow circle around his body.

He continues to wail through labored breaths as his hand shakes where it hovers over the decimated remains of his shoulder, the weapon in his possession completely forgotten.

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