Prologue

PROLOGUE

J enny Chin-Anderson stood on her balcony, staring up at the stars spreading out in an infinite blanket in the night. The wind blew, bringing the chill of autumn through the trees and up to her.

Cool and refreshing.

A change of seasons to wash off the summer of, well, it wasn’t a summer of love, that was for sure. Not every summer is a happy one, unfortunately.

This one certainly wasn’t.

Boys were dumb.

And possessive—something she wasn’t about to tolerate.

She wanted to move into the future.

Just like the shiny spire in the distance, high in the sky.

The Bridge. The space station that the aliens were landing at. At the apex, it had almost a top-hat like configuration, with the base like a tall spike from the ground.

It was a landing platform, as far as Jenny knew, anyway, for aliens to come down to Earth. A kind of check in place.

For what, though, that was the question.

And of course, everyone on Earth had their own opinions.

Some said it was so they could plan the invasion of Earth. Take over our world and enslave the people.

Others said it was because they were all looking for Earth mates, and since the humans seemed to be compatible with other alien species.

Humans could mate with aliens.

It was all the talk.

And not all of those aliens were the little Grays that all the UFO fanatics had talked about for years.

Yep, ever since a human girl, Polly, who everyone thought had been kidnapped, showed up with a green alien in tow a few years ago, everything on Earth turned upside down.

It wasn’t just speculation anymore that aliens existed.

They were there.

In all their multi-color-skinned glory. With tails and antennas and scales and horns and everything in between.

And when they showed up, they built The Bridge.

With the help of several countries, of course, and all the political noise that came with it.

It sure changed the skyline of the flat Midwest in the middle of the United States. The Bridge was visible from all around Tornado country.

Some, like Jenny, lived close enough to see it all the time. She could drive to it if she wanted, but she couldn’t get anywhere near it—security around it was ridiculous.

The lights twinkled off the topmost section, the platform that had yet to have a vessel land on it.

It made little sense, the platform so high in the sky like that, but it was up there.

Like a beacon of, well, something.

“What are they doing up there, really?” Jenny wondered aloud. The thoughts of so many people all around the world. Conspiracy theories were everywhere, from religious fanatics to the alien researchers.

The idea of new species fascinated her, and she was excited about the new developments that were going to come because of this.

Who knew what kind of technology they were going to bring to us?

It was a bioengineer’s dream.

“Curing disease? Splicing genes? Creating new species?”

She glanced at her cat, who was unimpressed with the gleaming tower in the sky.

“Rowl,” meowed her cat, Mister Fluffikins.

“You think so, Mr. F?” Jenny said, petting the cat as he walked across the balcony’s railing with that practiced grace of a five-year-old cat who did it every single night.

He purred at her, pausing just long enough to tip his head up and letting her pet the underside of his chin. Then his attention shifted.

Something must have moved in the distance, because Mr. F was suddenly serious and ready to attack. Or hunt.

Or whatever it was he did at night.

With a pounce he took off, hitting the nearby tree and sending some of the brown leaves to the ground, before he hit the ground.

“Please don’t bring me any birds,” she said.

He turned and looked back at her, flicked his tail, and was off into the night, the white splotches on his otherwise black coat disappearing as he took off, and she lost sight of him.

“I’m not kidding about the birds, I really can’t with those again.”

She shook her head, and her gaze went back to The Bridge.

“I don’t know if I want to know what they’re doing on that station.” She picked up her glass of wine and took a sip. “Probably anal probes and everything.”

Her wrist buzzed, the text alert on her watch glowing. She tapped the screen to see, but really, she shouldn’t have bothered.

It was Phil.

Again.

“Boy has to get over this,” she muttered as she walked back into her apartment.

She glanced at the message.

Please, my beautiful. Come back to me.

Phil

She shook her head. “Not going to take a hint, I guess.”

She believed that by telling him to go to hell after his offensive comment, he would get the message that she was done with him.

After all, he was supposed to be so much smarter than her.

No one was calling her a stupid anything.

Much less the slur.

He didn’t seem to get how he’d offended her, since, after all, she had Chinese features.

But he didn’t.

So there were phone calls and texts and DMs, all basically saying the same thing. That she was done with him.

He couldn’t accept it.

It’s over, Phil.

Jenny

But my lotus!

Phil

Jenny cringed. “Fetish much,” she muttered to herself.

Inheriting Chinese features from her mother, like the same dark hair and striking brown eyes, Jenny found guys seemed to always make it out like that was all she was.

An Asian doll.

Like they expected her to put on a geisha dress and wash their feet or something. Or turn into an anime character.

Not that she could be a bioengineer, who worked her ass off to get her degree and help make the world a better place.

She sighed as she walked into her kitchen to put her glass down.

Boys were dumb.

So dumb.

She ran her fingers over the Witch’s Brew cauldron on her cabinet that she’d made, feeling the texture of the little ornaments she’d put on top to look like bubbles coming out.

Phil had made fun of her.

Said it was a stupid thing to go do, to make stuff that just gathered dust.

That should have been her first sign he was not the man for her. He teased her all the time about how she had to decorate for every season, and what a waste of space it was to store all the decorations.

“He just doesn’t get it,” she said.

While it was now November, and she should have taken down her seasonal stuff for Halloween to get ready for Christmas, she still wanted it up.

The glittery skulls on her wall watched over the living room, and the hands she’d mounted on the other wall worked surprisingly well as hangers for her hats.

Maybe it was her twisted sense of humor, but she loved Halloween.

Her roommate in college swore there was a little gothic or macabre in everyone, and some days, she had to agree with that.

Especially when she’d get giddy for a new skull or really cool looking haunted house.

The apartment wasn’t huge, but she had something in every room.

Though, really, while it was still up, she knew soon she could swap it all out for her Christmas celebration stuff, then get out her pretty red and gold for Chinese New Year.

Still, she didn’t feel motivated to do it.

Maybe it was the breakup.

Maybe it was just not ready for moving toward Christmas. The spirit of the upcoming holiday just did not reach her yet.

Probably because —

Her phone alerted her again.

She sighed and opened the message.

It was a picture of her in the apartment. Taken through the balcony windows.

She stared at it.

Then the message came in.

You need to take down the Halloween decorations. That season is over.

Phil

She ran to the patio door and yanked the curtains closed. Her hands trembled and her heart hammered, her mind running in a thousand directions.

What was he doing? Was he watching her?

How much? How often?

Her stomach churned, and she ran to the bathroom, expecting to throw up the little food and wine in her stomach.

She splashed water on her face, and let the cool water rush over her.

It took a moment, but the fear shifted, and it turned to anger.

What was he doing?

How could he?

You can’t be doing that! We’re done. It’s over. What I do is none of your business! Not anymore!

Jenny

The anger, fueled by fear, overwhelmed her.

You don’t do anything.

I know…

Phil

She gritted her teeth. “No, you’re not doing this to me. No. NO!” She hurled her phone across the couch.

A thud made her jump, and she screamed.

Grabbed the nearest thing, a television remote, to hurl it at anyone who came in as she turned toward the sound, the balcony doors.

“You’re not?—”

Mmmrrrooowwwlll

And a soft scraping.

She exhaled a breath and went to the door. Pulling the curtains back just enough, she saw that yes, Mister Fluffikins was back on the porch, holding some kind of prize.

She unlocked the door and slid it open just enough for him to slip in.

“Already back for the night?”

He strolled past her, carrying…

Was that a bird?

She glanced back outside as he pranced through the apartment with his prize to the kitchen.

There was no sign of Phil out there, but she hadn’t seen him before when she was outside, so who was to say that he wasn’t still out there somewhere?

She shut the door, bolted it shut and pulled the drapes closed.

She rested against the door as Mr. F picked and poked at his kill.

Not a bird this time. But it was something that was once alive. There was blood.

And it twitched.

“Shit,” she muttered and darted over to see what mess he’d brought her today.

Of course, Mister Fluffikins took off with the prize.

“Mr. F, get back here!”

Great.

Just perfect.