PEARL

I wasn't sure if I was asleep or awake.

Metallic clanking and thumps were indistinguishable from my dreams and bitter reality. My brain couldn't understand or concentrate on any stimuli—even my own thoughts were far too much, turning everything audible and physical into a lump of clay. Molded, pressed together.

I was lying on something cold. Maybe metal? As I focused on the chill to ground me, the odd noises went away. All that was left was a low, steady hum.

I fought through the mess in my head, trying to figure out what transpired before the now. A sharp pain blossomed from the top of my neck into my skull. My hand flitted to my head, rubbing the offending sharpness.

There was shuffling. Then it stopped.

I'm not alone.

I opened my eyes. My lashes muted the bright light filling the space, but they still burned like hellfire. I closed them again, letting them rest as I took in clean, deep gulps of air. I felt like someone had tossed me into a washing machine with a couple of bricks.

"Pearl."

I frowned. My name. Said with that voice...

It was velvet, deep, and close by. I put my hand to my forehead. My pulse hammered in my veins, pounding in my aching head.

"Can you hear me?"

There it was again, that voice. Laced with a deep baritone. I didn't realize I was biting my lip until I tasted pennies. I cleared my raw, scratchy throat and spoke. "Fuck."

What I meant to say was I'm here, but I guessed that worked, too. I wanted to open my eyes, but they burned in my sockets along with my skull. "Whad'ya want?"

No response. My words were sort of slurred. Was it hard to understand me?

There was pressure on my left wrist; it felt like fingers. They were warm and calloused, like that of a worker.

"Give me a minute to open my eyes." I licked my dry lips, but it did little to help. My tongue felt like sandpaper. "My head hurts somethin' fierce. Ouuuuuuch."

More shuffling.

Then I heard only what could be described as the most terrifying sound ever.

It was abrasive, close, and booming, like the rumble of an oncoming stampede, but with tones. Almost like words, but somehow... not. A rush of fear sent me curling into a ball as I tried to shield myself from it. My eyes flew open.

I was on a metal table in a brilliant white room with nothing on the walls. The floor was much the same; white, clean. I tried to make sense of my surroundings, but my eyes were still blurry, like I was seeing underwater. Disorienting.

When the sound grew louder, I decided to heck with this, and scrambled off the table. I ducked underneath it, bringing my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself. What the hell was that?

I was not alone; there were people, because there were pairs of shoes. One pair, two pairs, three pairs... I swallowed as I counted.

The noise couldn't have been them, could it? There had to be something else in the room, something that ate flesh or needed to be splashed with holy water, because that noise was horrifically frightening. I searched around for some kind of exit, but I couldn't see one. Today was not the day I got eaten.

Blinking, I peered up and focused on a figure approaching me.

My heart nearly stopped. A man.

A man with purple eyes.

Everything came flooding back. The memories tasted like the wrong end of a battery, zapping my brain. The night at the ranch. The conversation in the bunker. The deal that I made, almost begging to be taken into a saucer.

How stupid was I?

I stared at this... man, alien, whatever, sure that I should freak out at actually seeing one, but I wasn't. I was more concerned with whatever nightmarish creature was skulking around the room. But cripes, I couldn't keep my eyes off of him even if I tried, not even to study the other aliens.

"You are frightened," he said.

No shit, Sherlock Holmes.

I just gawked at him. He had to be eight feet tall and built like a mack truck; muscled, yet lean, like a runner or swimmer. I blinked, my heart rate slowing as I stared. I knew that was rude, but that was all I could do.

Stare.

Eyes gazed right back—clear, framed by dark eyelashes. The voice and the eyes. It was the being from before, but not wearing an old man as a costume. His eyes were the deepest shade of purple, like the skin of a passionfruit, and did not glow like before. This body was his.

His skin was tan—tanner than mine—and clear of any blemishes. A lock of white hair fell into his eyes. The hair was very long, all the way down the shoulders and arms. If I wasn't so terrified, I would have focused on the fact that he was very attractive.

Very, very attractive. My cheeks heated, and my breath whooshed out of my lungs like I'd taken a swift punch to the gut. He seemed utterly unreal, like a fever dream, and so beautiful that it hurt.

He did not have eyebrows, though. Maybe they got singed off during the explosion?

Leave it to me to crack internal jokes in a serious situation.

"What was that noise? Is there a monster or something in here?" I cleared my raw throat. "Better watch out. It sounded hungry, and you look good enough to eat."

No response at all—not even so much as a twitch. It was like he was a statue. A very hot, very tall, otherworldly statue. I guessed I could understand that, being that I might have just hit on him in a very weird, cringe way.

He had no hint of emotion on his face. Nothing that I could work with. For a moment, I wondered if he had actually frozen. There were tiny movements to his broad shoulders. He was breathing, so he wasn't frozen.

Whoever else was in the room thankfully moved away. I peered up at him from under the table. "You heard it too, right?"

No change in him at my question. How could he not hear what I was talking about? It was like a thousand voices at once, high-pitched and low-pitched. Assaulting. Unnerving.

He just looked at me, unblinking, the lights in the room so bright that they made him glow. The intelligence in his gaze made me feel like I was under a microscope. There was an air about him that felt... ancient. Knowing. Entirely too complex to begin unraveling in my head, even for me.

"I think you might understand English, so why aren't you answering me?" I frowned. "How the flaming heck did you do what you did in that shelter?"

The corners of his mouth twitched and turned down. I'd never seen an expression like that in my life. It made the feeling of this person is not human only stronger. My senses prickled with awareness even though I was pretty out of it. Something, like a gut feeling, told me that he could lift a finger and end me if he wanted to. Somehow.

There were many people in the room with us, but I didn't care. I was too busy trying to figure him out. He glanced away and met gazes with somebody else, I guessed.

"Get out. All of you. Now," he ordered, his voice dripping with authority. He cocked his head to the side—another strange movement. The glossy black shoes around me dispersed.

Then we were alone.

He made a noise that sounded like he was clearing his throat. Then he spoke. "You have made the choice to leave, human. So here you are."

Okay, but where?

I rose an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, here I am. A mess as usual. I forgot my tin foil hat at home, though."

It was like I said nothing.

"Is this better for you?"

I blinked, not understanding him. "Better for me?"

What did he mean? Not being on my planet that was on fire? Him actually speaking to me? My question hung in the air awkwardly. Irritation made my teeth gnash together. I'd interviewed a couple of senators, and this felt a lot like that. Always dancing around questions or giving non-answers.

"Okay, start talking." I was tired of the silence and weird responses. "Where am I? Am I in a floating disk or something?"

No answer, again.

I'm about to lose my sanity.

My body ached with exhaustion, but I could still get up and dust myself off. I glared at him. I had to tilt my head up to do so—and when I did, I immediately felt stupid. I was way too small to seem threatening in any capacity. I took in a breath to settle myself and was hit with the smell of something pleasant. Like flowers, petrichor, and warmth.

Was that him?

What a delightful change from the smell of gross men, garbage, and piss. My cheeks heated again. My insides swirled with a familiar feeling—a feeling I had once before, but I couldn't quite place it at the moment.

"That answer is likely too complicated for you right now," he said, his tone and pitch never changing. It was almost mechanical—robotic, deep. The words would have made me angrier—because they might have been insulting my ability to think there—but I was too focused on the way his lips moved.

His eyes, ever-staring, which had yet to blink, swept over my form. He was so large and frustrating already, and I'd just met the guy only minutes before. These were the aliens the government was talking about?

Fuck, dude.

"I can handle it," I assured, and winced when the headache came back in full force.

I was in rough shape. I badly needed a glass of water and a nice, warm bed. Rubbing the back of my head, I studied his attire—which was dusty grey, every inch of fabric. He wore what looked like a cloak or a coat; I wasn't sure. His undershirt fit snugly to his enormous chest. Did the dude lift trains or something in his free time?

"You are in transit. I apologize if this creates distress for you. I am not accustomed to seeing your kind in person, and I am making a conscious effort not to frighten you. I'm here to assist and have personally been assigned to you. For the time being."

He wore another expression I didn't understand while I tried to come up with something to say. Goosebumps sprouted on the surface of my skin. I took a step back. I took another until the metal table pressed into my back.

I looked at my nails and noted they were clean. I was clean, and wearing white pants and a grey shirt. Did that mean they undressed me?

For some reason, that didn't bother me, even though it probably should. I smelled much, much better than before. "Okay, cool. So you're like a chaperone. Nice."

"Only temporarily."

His voice sounded lighter, losing some of its gravel. I searched his face again and found nothing that matched the tone. Only high cheekbones, a straight nose, a perfect jawline, and purple eyes. How is this man even real?

When a wave of dizziness made it hard to stand, I leaned back against the table. "Earlier, you asked if this was better for me. What did you mean?"

He cocked his head to the side. My stomach did an uncomfortable flip. Bizarre. This is all just bizarre.

"It will be easier to converse with you if there is less in the room."

Oh. That made sense. "And that weird noise?"

"You are referring to me."

I looked away from him to stare at the white wall, unable to compute that information. That was him? Every question brought up more questions.

"I-I just, I don't understand." My voice sounded sad. I cleared my throat again. "And if that noise was you, see a demonologist or a priest and get that exorcised. For heaven's sake, I almost pissed myself."

"I was communicating in my language."

I was sure my eyes were as wide as saucers. I didn't want to seem insensitive, even more than I probably already did, so I just nodded. Man, there wasn't even texture to the walls. Everything was just so... bland.

But not him. Far from it. I could stare at him all day, but that would make me a weirdo. "Sorry if I offended you, then. Where do you all come from?"

"It is important for me to know how you are feeling."

"What? I asked you a question. Answer it first before I give you mine."

A noise came from his chest—something like a sigh, so I tore my eyes away from the wall. I looked into his strange-colored irises and thought back to my podcast and everything I uncovered in my career. Aliens were always pictured as slightly humanoid, small little creatures in media and books.

This was not that.

I always thought that was a bit too egotistical to assume aliens would look remotely like us; to have two arms, two legs, and a head. Wouldn't different planets with different evolutionary principles make beings that looked and acted nothing like us?

But here he was, looking similar yet different, and certainly breathtaking, but... headache-inducing. I needed to know why. I stumbled back a bit, rubbing my forehead. The edges of my vision blurred.

"So be it."

I waited.

"Quite a distance separated us from your kind. This is all you need to know. The condition in which we found you suggests that your mental state is likely frail. "

My jaw ticked. Was he serious? I was a journalist. Why did they bring me here if they didn't want to answer my questions? Didn't the guy already tell me I was saved because of my brilliant mind? "You're joking."

His head cocked to the side. What did that movement mean? Confusion like a dog or something? "I do not joke."

His voice was flatter than a pancake. Somehow, I didn't doubt that—he never reacted to my off sense of humor. Then again, hardly anybody did to begin with.

I was prepared to gush on this guy, to demand answers, to do what Pearl does best, but my ears rang and my legs went numb from the knees down. Tinnitus took away the ability to speak for a moment. I felt sick. Frustrated, overwhelmed—the whole damn works.

He said I was in transit, which meant I was going somewhere. But where? Even though I had asked for this, anxiety twisted my guts. Oh, god. A sheen of cold sweat bloomed across my upper lip. Maybe I did make too much of a hasty decision to leave, but what choice did I really have?

My inner need to know things always warred with my rationale. It was my most fatal flaw and my strongest asset.

"Are you going to faint?"

I made a face. I really hoped not. It would be inconvenient and embarrassing to pass out again. Could I at least stay conscious for a normal period of time? I needed to figure out exactly where they were taking me. The mere idea of not knowing was what was making me flip out.

Nausea curled my stomach into a tight knot. No, no, no. "What? No. I'm fine. Even though I asked for this, this is just, like, a lot, so give me a second. I need to know where I am going."

He glanced down at my shaking legs and muttered, "You are, indeed, about to faint."

"No, I said I'm fine—"

My view went sideways.