Alien Proliferation

did your mother keep you hidden and under control all this time, Ronnie?”
    He grinned. “Call me Ricky. I’m in charge now.” He swung at my face.
    I blocked, ducked, and kicked at his legs. “Your plan won’t work.”
    He snorted a laugh as he jumped to avoid my leg sweep. “You’re all so naïve. My father raised me in secrecy, so I’d be protected . . . and ready to carry on his master plan.” His eyes narrowed as he brought a hammer fist down toward my collarbone. “I’m going to enjoy avenging his death, believe me. And what I do to my little sister will make it even better. My father didn’t want her, but I have plenty of uses for her planned.”
    All the theories gelled into one certainty as I spun out of the way and managed to kick his butt at the same time. “You’re a full A-C, not a hybrid. In fact, you’re Serene’s brother, aren’t you? Same mother, same creepy father.”
    “Same powerful father, same latently powerful mother. Yeah. One of the many reasons I can control all these sheep.” He faked a punch and, when I blocked it, grabbed my upper arms.
    “Zombie mind control won’t last long.”
    “It’ll last long enough. Kill her!” He shoved me into the crowd and took off running.
    I landed in a group of people I knew well—my family. I realized the Martinis were here, too. He’d called everyone to Dulce, presumably to do whatever horrible thing his master plan called for. They were lunging for me—I couldn’t hit my grandparents, and now that we were past all of Jeff’s childhood issues, I couldn’t hit his parents, either.
    Someone landed next to me, and a hand reached down, grabbed, and pulled me up. We slammed through bodies. “Camilla, great to see you.”
    “Yeah, wonderful. You guys couldn’t kill him when he was right damned there?”
    I pulled off my iPod and dropped it into a pocket. “Who put you in place?” We were heading for the isolation area at full speed.
    “Who do you think?”
    “I only have two guesses, since I know it wasn’t Chuckie. My mother or Alfred. And, I have to go with Alfred.”
    She grinned. “Yeah. Royalty’s used to people trying to off them.”
    “How do you get away with the lying?”
    “Training. Trust me, we can do it, but it’s almost like our other talents, it’s a specialized gift, and it’s very rare—most of us can’t lie, at least not to humans. Those of us who can? Well, we learn how to do it effectively.”
    “The Diplomatic Corps is good at it, aren’t they?”
    “Some of them. Not all.”
    Reached isolation and decided to table this discussion. No one was there. “Where are they?”
    “He’s hiding.” Camilla looked around. “But where?”
    “Which he?”
    “Both, probably. But Richard’s the one with the baby. So he has more reason to hide.”
    “Let’s get the others out of isolation. They may be able to help us.”
    “They may be mind-controlled. Al Dejahl was back and had them locked up before I got here.”
    “Yeah, ’cause they were using a body double at Notre Dame.”
    “Figures.” We reached the isolation chamber with my mother in it. Camilla did something with the door. It didn’t open. She cursed. “They changed the sequence. We don’t have time to break it.”
    “Gladys! Open the damned isolation chambers.”
    “Commander Martini, the Pontifex has advised us you’re under mind-control. Cannot take your orders, therefore.”
    Camilla and I started off, looking for where Al Dejahl or White could be. “Gladys, for God’s sake. Aren’t you watching? You don’t sound mind-controlled, maybe he can’t do it to you. He couldn’t control Serene, don’t think he can control Richard. Maybe it’s a blood thing, though Lucinda seemed all over beating the crap out of me.”
    “Who is ‘he,’ Commander?”
    “Ronaldo Al Dejahl. Illegitimate son of Ronald Yates, also known as your father. Same mother as Serene. He’s a troubadour and an imageer and God alone knows what else, and, like your father, he’s pure freaking evil.”
    “You are working with an identified mole, Commander. Your views cannot be trusted.”
    We spun around a corner and saw two men. “Oh, hell, not this again.” They both looked exactly alike—both had the Timothy Dalton look going, both were holding Jamie. I knew Al Dejahl was faking it, but it was a damned good fake.
    “Who’s who?” Camilla asked.
    I could hear pounding feet in the distance. “The anti-cavalry’s coming. And I have no