Chapter 7 Laura
SEVEN
LAURA
I pad downstairs to put the coffee machine on. Ellen’s already there, her usually neat hair in a tousled plait.
“Morning.” She yawns. “Did you sleep well?”
“I got enough rest,” I tell her. I can deduce from her puffy lips and big cat-got-the-cream grin she got hardly any sleep at all; she got something else entirely.
She reaches for the kettle and I shudder, pointing to my espresso machine. “Want a proper coffee?”
At first she eyes it with suspicion, but then nods. “Sure, if you’re up for it. As long as it doesn’t take more than five minutes. I need my caffiene yesterday.”
“Of course.” I get to work, twisting the filter heads off, filling them with freshly ground beans from the hopper and tamping them down.
Ellen wrings out a rag while she waits, wiping down the table. “I’m going to let Ilia sleep in since he’s had it rough recently and walk over the whole farm to see what’s what. Want to come?”
“A morning ramble would be welcome, actually. First, let’s check in on Arabella.”
“Gara’s looking after her.”
I wrap my hands around my cup. It’s amazing how quickly we’ve learnt to trust these guys, but the evidence is there. Ellen’s returned unharmed, and they said they’d find Arabella and they did.
My stomach gives a little blip like a butterfly thinking of my idle daydream last night.
Strange that I heard Dom loud and clear being bossy, voice brassy with an order.
Mmm. I like it when a guy takes charge, curling up behind me and whispering in my ear telling me I’m a good girl.
Pity that when I try to turn the tables on them, they don’t like it as much.
I wonder if he would?
Shaking my head, I down my coffee in one. I’m not contemplating a relationship with an alien. I’m not. Nighttime fantasies are allowed, of course, as long as I keep myself focused.
Once she’s finished her coffee, Ellen slips into oilskins, wrinkling her nose at my stretchy yoga pants. “Are you sure you want to be wearing those? I’m probably going to need to jump a few fences.”
“You are, absolutely. Me, I’m just company.” I pull on a borrowed jacket and gingerly select two wellies that look roughly like they came as a pair, although they’re so mud covered it’s hard to tell. I tap out small stones and spiders before sliding my feet in.
Ellen chuckles. “Come on, then. You can tell me what’s gone on here. Oh, hang on.” She looks up over the farm buildings, eyes narrowing. “Floss and her mate have roamed all night, and she tells me everything is fine.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“So, it turns out Floss is a starhound, an interstellar traveler in her own right. She got lost and left behind here when she was younger, and over time forgot who she really was, becoming an intelligent dog. Now she can talk to me in my head.” She pats her temple.
“Goodness.” Dom did mention something about being able to hear his friends’ thoughts. There’s a lot of telepathy flying around all of a sudden. “So she’s from Oloria too?”
“No, there are even more worlds out there.” Typical Ellen, though, she delivers that bombshell while unhooking the door to the chicken house and clucking for her hens to come out.
“That’s amazing!” I say.
Ellen doesn’t move.
“What is it?” I crane around her to see.
Ellen wordlessly points at the purple creature pecking away inside the small enclosure where the chickens are kept.
“Oh, that’s Old Mae.”
My friend rubs her temples. “Ohhhkay.”
“She had a glow up. Arabella can tell you more.” I wave the oversized chicken away, surreptitiously glancing toward the lean-to where the other aliens are. I see two purple and one red, black and silver android, all sleeping soundly.
Catching Ellen up on the ins and outs of the planning permission and what I’m going to do to fix it takes us up past the garden to the first fields of sheep.
I can’t be seen to help too much: my contract with Clark and Gibson doesn’t allow me to offer legal services elsewhere, but I can file a notice for my bestie on the sly.
The sheep seem okay as sheep go, plodding around and chewing, and clearly haven’t suffered from Arabella feeding them rather than Ellen.
“What about you?” I ask as she grabs a bale of silage from a small shed set next to the field.
“I don’t even know where to start.” She talks about Oloria, about the matriarchal society and the tension between men and women playing out in the games, and how the clones and their creators fit in.
I listen carefully, mulling over how laws might work on a world like that.
“And each clone has special powers or abilities,” Ellen went on. “Ilia explained all the ones here to me. Gara is a healer, Arture is a pilot, and the triplets—what he calls wave brothers—are enforcers, kind of like police.”
“Yes, Dom said,” I let slip before I clamp my lips shut.
Ellen latches onto it. “Oh?”
“I do talk to the aliens on occasion.” I try to act casual, or as casual as I can tramping round the countryside in borrowed welly boots. This is so not my natural habitat.
“Well, good,” she says, just a little smugly.
Like I'm going to get publicly involved with an alien the way she has.
Still, one day I'd like to have a steady relationship like Ellen’s found, with a genuine partner.
It'll be hard to find the perfect guy who accepts me for me. I have… sides to me. Sides which never meet. I’ve never shown anyone all my facets, too much like laying down a hand in poker. A gamble.
I don’t gamble. I make sure.
We crest the hill dominating Ellen's land and shade our eyes from the sunrise, which finally deigns to make an appearance. It’s pretty up here, and I can feel like a Jane Austen protagonist for a little bit.
At least until the wind whips my hair into a frenzy. I’ll have to spray the hell out of it to get it to behave again.
“Who’s that?” Ellen asks, pointing down toward the lake, but as she has her hair sensibly pulled back, she has the advantage of me.
I gather my unruly locks just in time to see a glistening purple alien emerge from the water like a sexy sea monster.
His scales glint in the sun, bicep bulging as he sweeps his arm up to push his hair back from his forehead.
He’s a lighter lavender, as if he’s diluted from being submerged, and with his arm up like that, I can see all kinds of nice shoulder muscle definition.
“Dom,” I say automatically when he opens his eyes and the sparkle of amethyst gives him away. Something in my chest pings. Pings.
I bat at it with a scowl. No. Nope. Not happening.
“Awesome, I can't tell them apart yet. Let's go say good morning.” Ellen picks her way down the hill toward him.
I can't exactly argue against it, but I said I'd see him later, not at fuck off o’clock in the morning. What if he lets slip we're going to be meeting today? My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
Driving my nails into my palms, I try to walk calmly next to my friend.
“Hey there,” she says as we get close. “How's the water?”
“Tolerable, mate of Ilia Gerverstock,” Dom says, pulling himself up the bank and keeping his head lowered even when he straightens up to his full towering height. “It is more than sufficient for our needs. Thank you.”
“Great! And how were you all while we were away?”
“A few corrections were needed, but overall the crew were obedient.”
Corrections? Was that what I'd walked into last night?
He's still staring at the ground, dripping onto the grass. Mist steams off him in the cold early morning air.
“Well, I'll let you get on,” Ellen says, just as the awkward silence gets too much for me.
“Get on what?” Dom asks, glancing up at her and then at me. His purple eyes burn before he quickly drops them again.
“It's a saying, it means carry on with your day,” I explain.
The alien presses his fist to his chest. “Thank you for clarifying. I will make the most of my time and complete significant progress on the restoration.”
My muscles unwind. He's not going to even hint at meeting with me today: wonderful.
“Well, see you later,” Ellen says.
His eyes widen. “At what time? I was not aware of the appointment.”
“Another saying,” I jump in quickly. “She means she’ll no doubt run into you sometime today.”
He flexes his fists. “It is your right to run into me should you wish.” There's a hint of disappointment in his voice.
“Not run into you literally.” I can’t keep the smile from my face now. He’s adorable, and while I'll have to define every term carefully, I’m a lawyer and we revel in playing games with semantics and meanings.
“Have a good day,” Ellen says helplessly. Should be a relatively safe phrase, unless—
He bangs his fist to his chest. “I will, female!” His enthusiasm bounces off the quiet hills.
Yep, he took it as an order. Doesn't bode well for getting him to speak his mind.
I grab Ellen and head back to the farmyard. “Bye, Dom.”
“Farewell, Law-rah,” he murmurs, and I’m sure I can feel the intensity of his purple gaze as he watches me leave. He wants me, yes; but does he want to want me?