A Small Gray Dot

I motioned at the chair beside the one in which Harlow sat and Percy shoved him down. I stood over him.

Bedlow craned his head up, squinting. I could tell he recognized me. He gripped the arms of the chair.

“Mr. Bedlow. I see you remember me. Good. Then you know I’m a reasonable man. I’m looking for a young woman. Your guard says he hasn’t seen her. I don’t believe him. Where is she?”

He did a hard swallow and said, “He is correct. There is no woman here.” Then he did that giggle thing he’d done the first day I saw him.

I didn’t have time for his lies. I stabbed him in the hand and the knife went all the way through and into the arm of the chair. Along with bluish blood, a rancid, oily smell hit our noses. Bedlow screeched. It had a giggling effect mixed in with it. I wrenched my knife out, and he grabbed his hand and held it up for a minute and the bleeding stopped. The wound began to close.

And that removed my last shred of doubt about what he was, and any last sliver of uncertainty in my mind about the doctor’s findings dissipated.

Harlow gasped, I think Duncan did, too, but I wasn’t looking.

“God! What th’ fuck are you?” burst from Percy.

“Jesus!” That was Lem. He looked wide-eyed at me. “Is he some kinda robot?”

Harlow was trying to lean away from Bedlow, his face ashen as he sucked in air.

I ignored them. “Tell me where she is or I will cut your throat.”

His eyes narrowed and he sneered. “I don’t believe you. You won’t do that. If—”

I shook my head. “Last chance, Bedlow.”

He glared at me silently, and blinked. Twice. And I saw the alien in him, even more plainly than the odd blood because he blinked with two sets of eyelids.

One thought beat at me. They could have warned us.

They. Could. Have. Warned. Us.

The rage that I kept carefully in check unfurled and roared into being, and in sharp relief, images from the most horrifying day of my life flashed in my head. Of its own volition, my arm shot out and the razor sharp knife in my hand flashed across his throat.

I had not been able to stop myself.

Chapter Thirty-three

ONE WOULD THINK HIS THROAT WOULD SPRAY blood everywhere but it didn’t. He gurgled, his eyes already glazing over as the oily smelling blue blood simply rolled out over his neck and down the front of his black suit. He slumped in the chair his head lolling back, the slash in his throat an obscene gaping smile. My hand only trembled slightly as I wiped my knife on the chair and shoved it in my pocket. I probably shouldn’t have killed him before I got some answers, but the move had been almost instinctual. I didn’t regret it.

The guys, wearing horrified expressions, had their eyes on Bedlow and I guess Harlow thought he’d make his move. He jumped up and was jerking his gun from its holster when I shot him. He screamed and grabbed his arm, flopping back down in the chair, the gun falling to the floor. I stuck out a foot and dragged it away from him. Neither Duncan nor the other two guys even flinched at the gunshot, and Lem, his eyes still on Bedlow, reached down almost absently and picked up the gun, and stuck it in his pocket.

Harlow, holding his arm, looked up at me slack jawed. “You shot me!” he whined.

No one paid him any attention.

Duncan finally tore his eyes away from Bedlow and peered at me. He seemed dazed. “Um, is this what the girl found out, what made her run?” he asked.

I took a breath, searching for calmness. I nodded. “Partially. There’s more and I’ll fill you in later. Right now, I need you to check the house.” I didn’t think Morgan was anywhere in the house but I wanted to make sure.

He nodded and darted out the door. I looked down at Harlow. I didn’t know whether he’d ever served any time on that assault charge but if he had, it hadn’t taught him not to hit women. I wondered why he’d come to Charlotte since he knew I lived here. I suppose he may have thought he was safe from me in Blue Heaven. He should’ve stayed in South Carolina.

“Remember I told you I’d shoot you if I ever saw you again and I wouldn’t be aiming for your foot,” I said softly. “You should learn to listen.” I aimed the gun at his head. “The next one won’t be in your arm. Now, where is the young woman?”

Shaking, his eyes fixed on the gun, he whined again, “I was jist doin’ what I was told! Me an’ Slim had jist got here for our shift. Mr. Bedlow told me that girl they was lookin’ for was caught at th’ gateway an’ for us to take th’ jeep an go git ‘er. We got back here an’ she was supposed to stay here but then Mr. Henderson called an’ said he wanted ‘er down to th’ Semptor so they took ‘er.” He groaned. “Please, git me to a doctor! I don’t wanna die!”

I heard a trickling sound and smelled urine. I looked down. He’d pissed himself. Again.

Lem, frowning at Harlow, said, “You know this guy?”

“We’ve met.”

He glanced at Percy who raised an eyebrow.

“He ever do that before? Piss his pants, I mean.”

“He has.”

Percy shook his head. “Weak bladder, huh?”

I shrugged. “Could be.”