Page 22 of Wrong Bed Right Alien

The servants set down plates of assorted food items, none of it looking remotely recognizable… or appetizing.

“Each selection set before you has been hand chosen by me to increase your mental abilities. Each carefully selected food will help your brain to function at its highest ability. Just think of what we can accomplishtogetherwhen our meal is done!”

A few of the guests smiled thinly. Everyone began eating, shoveling it in with gusto.

While they ate, the servants set a small plate of raw fish with a golden hue. A thin strip of silver scales ran down the center. Pel waved an angry hand as they set a plate before Kimber.

“She and her friend won’t be eating that!”

The servant winced at the anger in Pel’s voice and quickly removed the plates.

That got her attention. “What is that?”

He ran a forefinger over the very thin attempt at a mustache arching his top lip. “Dessert. The most mind opening nourishment of all.”

“Which is?”

“I have a confession. I didn’t ask you here to conduct the clean air initiative interview.” His self-satisfied grin was the kind she’d like to slap from his face. She knew it! He’d never planned on cooperating.

She felt Ethan’s eyes on her, but she didn’t react. Weird. She could almostfeelhis anger towards Pel.

“Then why did you ask me here?”

Keeping her composure, Kimber set down her fork. There was no way in hell she was eating a single bite of this meal. Who knew what kind of illegal substances he might have laced it with?

A crack of thunder reverberated over the top of the castle. The lopsided chandelier trembled, and bits of dust rained down onto the table. No one seemed to notice.

Pel looked up from his food and pegged her with an icy, calculated stare. “I like to do my research and dig into people’s back stories, so I know who I’m dealing with. Maybe I should’ve been a journalist. I know who you are, Kimber.”

Goosebumps lit on her arms. “Do you care to expand on that?”

Keep it professional, Kimber. Just play it cool.

“Your father had quite the adventure back in the day, didn’t he? Gained some fast notoriety for being so vocal and open about his alien abduction experiences. There was more than one, correct? In fact, he claimed you were a witness to the second abduction.”

Anger turned her momentarily mute. Pel didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Is it true, Kimmie? Did you see aliens take your father away?”

She was vaguely aware of Ethan’s hands curling into fists and the slight way he shifted in his chair. Slowly, she regained her composure. This man was the truest definition of an asshole, and she would not be entertaining this nonsense.

“Mr. Cappa, respectfully, discussing my family is not the reason I came to Ireland. My boss set up an interview with you to be conducted by me about your clean air initiative. If we’re unable to do that, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to excuse myself.”

He put his hands up in supplication.

“Not so fast. You’re going to want to see the grand finale tonight, I promise. My apologies. I’m fascinated by your story and when I read your professional bio and dug into your personal history, I knew you would be the perfect reporter for the story I want to tell. Let’s enjoy our meal and take it from there, shall we?”

Another crack of thunder rent the air. The sudden downpour of rain on the castle’s makeshift roof sounded like a million tiny feet drumming on the surface. A few droplets made their way inside and plopped onto the table. Behind them, she heard the steadydrip, drip, dripof rain creating a puddle on the floor. As much as she wanted to, she could not leave this place tonight. The weather wouldn’t allow it.

Glancing quickly at Ethan, Kimber didn’t meet his gaze. Shame and embarrassment pumped through her, though she knew it was silly to feel that way. She’d done nothing wrong. Pel had tricked her from day one. He agreed to an interview with a preconceived agenda in mind. She’d come here for nothing.

“We have sauteed wheat grass, barley tips, raw salmon drizzled in extra, extra virgin olive oil, Prussian blue rock salt, and tart red wine sauce. A variety of mushrooms and for the last course, thinly sliced strips of Sarpa Salpa. We’ll eat those together when it’s time.”

Fuming and needing something to do, Kimber put her cell phone in her lap while searching ‘Sarpa Salpa’, the golden fish he didn’t want her and Ethan to try.

Several results showed up, all including the words ‘hallucinogenic fish.’

Something clicked in the back of her mind — a documentary she’d watched some time ago when she’d begun looking into her father’s claims. There was a cult in South America that claimed to contact aliens with their minds, even speak with them via extra sensory perception. Their fundamental mode of human-to-alien communication was meditation.

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