Aunt Carla raised her eyebrow. "Really?" She gave me a long look. "She looks peaky, I'll give you that. Caroline and I will help you and hopefully we can rea.s.sure you that Charles is your wonderful husband and the father of your beautiful children."

"Yeah." We stood there for a couple of seconds. Everyone looked at me. "What?"

"We're waiting for you three to leave to get you cleaned up," Reader said.

"I have no idea where to go. I've never been in this house before."

Aunt Carla, Caroline, and Dad exchanged the "oh dear" looks. "Not to worry," Aunt Carla said gently, as she put her arm around me. "Caroline and I will show you."

Max opened his mouth-to tell everyone I wasn't his mother, I was sure-but I caught his eye and shook my head just a little, and he closed his mouth. Chuckie and Reader weren't the only ones who could pa.s.s little signs around.

We went upstairs and Jamie came with us. She trotted into a room, but it wasn't the one Aunt Carla was heading me toward. "Can I see where Jamie's headed?"

"Certainly, Katherine. It's her room." Aunt Carla was being much nicer and far more solicitous than I was used to. Chose to accept this as the way things were wherever here was and go with it.

Jamie's room was a shock. First of all, it wasn't pink. Jamie loved pink. To the point where we weren't sure that, if she had the means, she wouldn't remove all other colors from the spectrum. This room was pretty-clearly done up in Little Girl Pastels, but it wasn't the Shrine to Pink that I was used to.

The other oddity was the mirror. There was a very large three-way mirror dominating this room. Jamie was sitting in front of this mirror, just staring at it. She looked happy and intent. She also didn't turn around or even look at any of our reflections in the mirrors.

"What's she looking at?" I asked softly.

"Herself," Caroline said. "At least, we think so."

Aunt Carla backed us out of the room and headed us down the hall. We pa.s.sed three more bedrooms, all larger than Jamie's. Aunt Carla had me look into each room.

One was clearly for Charlie and Max-the bunk beds and Junior Science Wizard and Future Sports Star motifs were in full force, as was the proof that Legos were the model airplanes of this generation. Unlike Jamie's room, this room was pretty normal. Filled with all the top-of-the-line stuff little boys liked, but still, normal.

The bedroom across the hall from the boys' was Reader's. I'd never seen how he decorated outside of Centaurion Division properties, which tended to conform to the Elves' preferred Functionally Austere style. The evidence showed that Modern Hipster Chic was apparently Reader's personal look. There were framed prints of a selection of his fashion covers all over, too. Some I recognized-the Calvin Klein ad that I'd had up in my dorm room, for example-but most I didn't. He looked fantastic in every one, of course.

The next bedroom was Pierre's, or rather, Mini Paris Done Tastefully. Had to admit I liked it, but then, Pierre never made a misstep in anything as far as I'd ever seen. Monet was the artistic theme here.

"What's wrong with Jamie?" I asked as we entered what was clearly the master bedroom. This was decorated exactly like I'd expect a room where Chuckie and I spent a lot of time to be decorated. Framed rock posters on the walls-all of them signed-were mixed up with eclectic artwork, much of which looked original. Smaller art pieces and little knickknacks adorned the tops of the gigantic bookcases, all packed with books, along the longest wall, a king-sized bed that looked extremely comfy, a lounger that reminded me of the one I used when Jamie was a baby, and a gigantic walk-in closet, attached to a bathroom reminiscent of the one I'd shared with Jeff in Vegas, right before we got married.

"We're not sure," Aunt Carla said carefully. "You and Charles don't like to talk about it a lot."

"Ah. Okay. Um, I have to say, this is a great house. And I've only seen some of it."

"Yeah, you guys love it," Caroline said. "Your place in Australia's great, too. Do you remember it at all?"

"No. I know no one believes me, but I don't belong here."

Caroline hugged me. "It's okay, Kit-Kat. We'll get you cleaned up and then you can relax and we'll show you pictures and remind you of things. It'll all come back to you."

Aunt Carla cleared her throat. "Ah, Katherine? Is there a reason you might not remember? Aside from a concussion, I mean."

"I honestly have no idea what you're suggesting."

She sighed. "Pressures due to all of Jamie's issues. Your nagging concern that Charles might sometimes . . . stray. The loss of your mother." She looked very sad. "You and Sol haven't handled it well. It's why I try to come by when you're in the States, at least as much as my travel schedule allows. This is the first time you've . . . let me help. I'm just wondering if there might be a trigger Caroline and I can discover that would have caused you to have this complete memory loss of so many things that you treasure."

"No, not that I can think of. In the world I'm from, Mom isn't dead, I don't worry about my husband cheating on me because A-Cs mate for life, and Jamie is a precocious, happy little chatterbox, who has no issues." Well, she was potentially one of the most powerful hybrids around, and was housing a superconsciousness in her mind, but those were very par for our particular course.

"Ah." Aunt Carla and Caroline exchanged a look. Or rather, a "look."

"What? I mean, seriously, you both seem to have reached the same conclusion."

"It sounds like you've made up a life that's just a little better and more exciting than the one you have in reality," Caroline said carefully. "It's a natural thing, especially because you told me earlier what a tough trip home you'd all had. I can understand wanting to escape for a little bit, even if it's just into your own imagination."

"I'm not making any of this up."

"Is anything in here familiar?" Aunt Carla asked.

"Well, sure. The bathroom is a lot like one at The Hotel when I was there right before I got married. To Jeff Martini. Not to Chuckie. Sorry, Charles."

"You've told me you only call him Chuckie in bed now," Caroline said. "Because it didn't sound adult enough and he was a successful businessman and deserved respect."

"Yeah, he said the same. I call him Chuckie all the time where I'm from."

"Or else you still want to call him Chuckie and don't because you feel pressured, and so in your fantasy, you call him the name you prefer," Aunt Carla suggested.

"Maybe. I think I just want to get cleaned up. Do I wear jeans, concert T-shirts, and Converse here?"

They both nodded. "When you're relaxing," Caroline said.

"Great. Then I'll change into that. I think I'm okay to shower alone, but I promise to call if I need you guys."

Aunt Carla shook her head. "We've both seen everything you own. Leave the bathroom door open. Just in case."

Chose not to argue about this compromise. Got out of these clothes and into the shower. It was a great bathroom and I felt physically better after showering using the highest-cla.s.s hair and personal care products I'd ever seen. Contemplated using hyperspeed for it, but decided that it would be better to wait, in part because I needed to relax a little.

Shower done, I dried off with the fluffiest towels in existence. If this was really the life I was "trying to escape," I had to ask myself why anyone would think I'd want to.

Contemplated things Chuckie had said to me before I got married. He'd mentioned that he'd have found a smooth, casual way to get me used to living a wealthy lifestyle. Clearly, he'd managed well. Though nothing was overdone-unostentatious was still Chuckie's watchword and apparently it was this family's as well.

Combed my hair back into a ponytail and trotted out. They'd laid clothes out for me and I stared. The underwear, jeans, and Converse were not an issue, nor was the Aerosmith hoodie. It was the T-shirt they'd picked that had me confused.

"Why the h.e.l.l would I wear, let alone own, a Jack Johnson T-shirt?"

Both women stared at me as I started to get dressed. "Ah, because he's a personal friend?" Caroline asked. "You guys went to a concert a few years ago, went backstage, bonded. You never miss him when he's on tour. The kids know him. He's their favorite."

This did not compute. "Jack Johnson? He of the slow and boring?"

"You all think he's cool." Caroline sounded ready to cry. "He's the nicest guy-he's your friend, Kitty. I count him as my friend because of you. How can you be insulting his music all of a sudden?"

Wow. Not only was everything else messed up, I suddenly liked a musical artist I found to be stultifyingly dull. It was like I was in Bizarro World.

I froze, my jeans halfway on. "Oh. Wow. That's it."

"What's it?" Aunt Carla asked.

Didn't answer and finished getting dressed instead, though I took the Jack Johnson shirt back into the ginormous walk-in closet and hung it back up in the rock T-shirts section. Chose a Mtley Cre shirt-had a feeling I was going to need double rocking support today.

Put on the hoodie and looked around for my purse. Remembered that it wasn't my purse and it was downstairs somewhere. Maybe still in the car. Couldn't recall. Decided not to care, since the likelihood that it contained a Glock was slim. Still, one never knew.

"Where do I keep my Glock?"

"In your purse," Caroline answered. "Though I don't know that you've ever fired it except at the shooting range."

Interesting. Apparently the wealthy had some serious security issues. Then again, I'd been run off the road with clear intent to kill, so those concerns seemed less like paranoia and more like brilliant planning. And, hey, I had a Glock. Chose to look at this as really good news.

Also chose to look out the bedroom window. In time to see a dark sedan with an impressive pushbar in front and blacked out windows driving slowly up the street.

"Um, Caro? Aunt Carla? Tell me . . . do we happen to have a safe room in this house?"

CHAPTER 17.

"YES," Aunt Carla answered promptly. "Angela insisted that you have a safe room here and in Australia."

More proof Mom had been in covert and clandestine ops before she was killed. Murdered, more likely. Felt rage growing. Good. I was going to need it.

"Super. Where, exactly, is the safe room? And how many can it hold?"

"Downstairs, at the back of the house," Caroline replied. "And it can hold at least twenty people. It's stocked to support those people for at least a week. And it also has full medical supplies."

"And weapons," Aunt Carla added. "Because, if you're in a safe room . . ."

"Yeah, you're not there for the thrill of playing hide and seek. But this is great news. By the way, the nausea will pa.s.s."

"Huh?" Caroline said, as I grabbed her and Aunt Carla. Contemplated grabbing Jamie, but I only had two hands and no idea if either woman would follow orders from me, ever, let alone right now. I'd come back for Jamie-those downstairs would be the first targets. Besides, I had to find the room anyway.

Took off at hyperspeed. Zoomed downstairs and ran around for a second or two, then realized I had no idea where the room was and safe rooms were supposed to be disguised, so I had no chance of guessing where it was with the limited time I had. Stopped in front of Chuckie and Reader. They both jumped as if we'd appeared out of nowhere, which, considering how hyperspeed worked, we had.

"The safe room! We need everyone in it-right now! Don't question, just go!" I shoved Aunt Carla and Caroline at them, then ran back upstairs. Grabbed Jamie, realized I hadn't seen the boys downstairs, and went to their room. Sure enough, they were in there.

Grabbed Max and threw him on my back, while I took Charlie's hand in my free one. "It's just like in Rock Creek, kids. Hang on, no strangling me, Max. Charlie, lead me to the safe room. You steer, I'll handle the speed."

Had to hand it to these kids-they didn't question. Max held on, Charlie nodded, Jamie squeezed my hand, and we took off. Charlie led me to the room the adults were thankfully heading for. We got there first, but the others were right behind us. Naturally there was a combination. Stopped and put the kids down. The running had been short, so while the kids and women were gagging, no one was tossing their cookies.

Ran back to find Chuckie starting to head upstairs, to grab the kids no doubt. Grabbed him and ran him back to the room. "Get it open," I told him, "get everyone in, then get your guns. We're about to be attacked."

He opened his mouth, and I put my hand up. "I did all this at something called hyperspeed. I'll explain it later. Just get in the d.a.m.n room. If I'm crazy, super, it's a fun family excursion right before Mommy goes to the Special Hospital for a Little Vacation. If, however, I'm not-and I guarantee that James can tell you that I wasn't making it up about those freaking machine guns-then the a.s.sa.s.sins are on our street. Move it!"

Spun around and ran back to the living room. Sure enough, the purse was on the sofa. I dumped it out and, joy and rapture, a Glock.23 dropped out. Grabbed it and ran back to the safe room. Chuckie had just gotten it opened. Hyperspeed was a great thing.

Contemplated the options. Sure, they weren't the Reader and Chuckie I knew, but they were still clearly Reader and Chuckie. Meaning some things would be the same, including who was likely to be the most adaptable and shift into teaming with me the fastest. Plus, I had the children to consider.

Grabbed Reader and shoved Chuckie inside. "Take care of everyone and if I sound totally scared, sweet, or clueless, or James doesn't give you the right pa.s.sword or whatever you two use, then a.s.sume we're hostages and come out with guns blazing. Otherwise, we'll let you know when it's over."

With that, I slammed the door. Sure enough, it locked.

Took Reader's hand and ran upstairs, to the same window where I'd spotted the car in the first place. It was just parking across the street. Hyperspeed remained the best superpower ever.

"See that car?" I asked as he gagged. "That's the car that drove us off the road. And it was filled with a.s.sa.s.sins with machine guns. I have one Glock and, as far as I saw, a single clip. I have no idea what firepower you and Chuckie possess. But I have something else that I'm now convinced this world does not have."

"Kitty, I realize something's off, and I can agree that this looks highly suspicious, but-"

"Bizarro World."

"Wait, what?"

"Bizarro World. I've switched places with the Kitty in this universe. Should we survive this attack, I'll tell you all about it, at least, what I can remember. However, survival is not a given. But, what these a.s.sa.s.sins don't know, or know how to counter, is the fact that I have hyperspeed, increased strength, and superfast healing."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm Wolverine with b.o.o.bs, James. In the world I come from. Because, I think I may have mentioned, I'm married to an alien and there was mother-and-child feedback and all that jazz I'm living to tell you later. You need to back me up. I'm going to take these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds out before they kill anyone, especially anyone in this house. By the way, should I kill them or incapacitate them? If given the option, I mean?"

He stared at me. "Incapacitate," he said, sounding shaken. "But if you have to kill them, we can take care of it. You're really not our Kitty, are you?"

"No. Welcome to the New Reality. I'm really hoping that your Kitty and I don't have to die in our respective Bizarro Worlds in order to get home, but the way my luck runs, I don't count on it. Where do you want to be-up here or downstairs?" I had my guess, but it never paid to a.s.sume.

"Here. Our weapons are stored in my room."

"I knew it!" I went to take off the safety off on my gun-sometimes I was prepared. Only . . . "What the h.e.l.l? Is this gun defective?"

"No, why?"

"Where the h.e.l.l is the safety?"

He stared at me. "Glocks don't have safeties. Well, not external safeties. It's one of their best features."

"The h.e.l.l they don't. Dude, I've used Glocks for the past, like, five years, and every one of them has had a safety."

"Well, girlfriend, in this universe, Glocks don't have safeties."

"Wow. No safeties on the Glocks and no aliens. Can't wait to find out what else you're lacking."

Reader managed to shoot me the cover boy smile. "Let's survive this attack and then we can compare universal notes."

"Works for me." With that, I took off.

Hyperspeed was such that it couldn't be caught on video or film, so the human eye didn't stand a chance. I normally needed to be enraged in order to get my skills working well, but not only had Christopher and I been working on this for ages, but I'd been on edge all day and thinking about my mother being dead had started my anger revving already. It was nothing to flip over to rage-I'd been holding that emotion back for hours.