“A precaution, perhaps.” Evening palmed the water glass, turning it slowly. “Likely to determine if she shared the information with someone else, or quite possibly to scare her. Intimidation often makes people rethink what they’ve seen.”
Caden clenched his jaw. No doubt Jerome would find Evening’s revelations exhilarating, but trying to stay on top of the twists and turns was giving him a headache.
“I believe Mr. Kline was able to decipher a precise time when my father would appear in physical form,” Evening continued. “That is the information he passed to Mr. Kelly.”
“Yeah, I know about that.” Caden rolled a hand, wanting to move the conversation along. “Cold is supposed to rendezvous with Parker on Halloween.”
“No.” Evening’s black eyes glinted. “My father intends to meet with someone he abandoned centuries ago. A creature, who like this plant”—he motioned to the spindly cluster of dried leaves in the center of the table—“is dying.”
Dying.
The word echoed in Caden’s head. Pushing his sleeve back, he dropped his gaze to the brand on his arm. He’d experienced the creature’s melancholy and fatigue, been battered by its crushing sense of depression. It wanted to die.
But like Eve’s plant, it was trapped in some agonizing state of limbo.
“The Mothman is the last of his kind.” Evening caressed the side of the water glass with a finger. “Eons ago, my father arrived on your planet with others from Lanulos. Our atmospheres are much the same, and our planet was undergoing volcanic changes that made the terrain unstable.”
“So you were looking for a new world to inhabit?” It sounded like the plot of a science-fiction movie.
“Precisely. Earth was unlike it is now, the landmasses and oceans structured differently, your dinosaurs the only true predators. My people stayed for a time, studying, paving the way for others of our kind to follow. My father, however, returned to Lanulos with news that Earth had proven habitable. As it turned out, our own planet stabilized and an exodus wasn’t necessary.”
Caden took a swig of beer. Bully for Earth. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of Evenings and Colds running around in number. “The Mothman doesn’t look anything like you.”
“Your atmosphere changed my people, warped their physical form, even their minds. They chose to remain rather than return to Lanulos where they would have been outcasts. Those who stayed became like the being you call the Mothman.”
It was a lot to absorb. “Damn.”
“As the leader of the expedition who brought our people here, my father feels responsible. He has returned to Earth time and again, offering what comfort he could to those he abandoned. But the eons have weakened his connection.” Evening dipped a slender finger into the glass. Retracting his hand, he rolled a bead of water around the bulbous tip below his nail. “All of those he left behind have died—with the exception of one.”
Caden wet his lips. “The Mothman.”
“The creature yearns to pass on.” Evening’s gaze flashed to his face, steady and hard. “You’ve felt that. But his time isn’t now. Unlike this fragile plant, which can be revived, his death will come in a desolate hour when a tear in time renders past and present as one.”
Stretching out his hand, Evening brushed his wet fingertip lightly across Eve’s plant. One stroke, then two, the touch as gentle as a father caressing a sick child. As if spelled by magic, the wilted stalk stretched upright. Buds sprouted, opened, and grew. Withered leaves unfurled into glistening fronds, fresh and green with new life.
Caden sucked down a breath. For a moment he couldn’t move, mesmerized by the sight. “How did you do that?” His voice came out a strained whisper.
Evening’s smile was thin. “I’m not without power. Unfortunately, I can’t do the same for the Mothman, nor can my father. Do we understand each other now, Sergeant?”
“Yeah.” The admission came freely, twined up with admiration he hadn’t expected. “There’s only one thing I’m still not clear about.”
“Lyle Mason.”
Caden nodded.
“Everything I told you in Sheriff Weston’s office is true. Unlike my father who travels between dimensions, I exist solely in your world. My people have since found ways to adapt our body chemistry to your planet, unlike our forebears who arrived in a time when Earth was primal. We may not blend perfectly, but for the most part we’re able to fade into your society as needed.”
“Except you don’t age. Katie Lynch said you were here before…in ’67 before the bridge fell. You were looking for her mother.”
“Ah. Yes.” Another tight smile. “Word reached me that Mrs. Lynch had witnessed an interdimensional UFO crossing. I arrived to warn her not to speak of the event, but the tragedy of your Silver Bridge overshadowed my mission. Even I was emotionally affected by that catastrophe.” He dropped his gaze momentarily, a pained expression crossing his face.
Caden was surprised by the glimpse of feeling. From the moment he’d met Lach Evening, he’d considered the man detached, possessed of a patronizing attitude. Tonight’s discussion had proven many of his perceptions wrong. “You left.”
“Yes. I didn’t feel the need to intrude afterward, given the misery plaguing your town.” Evening sat straighter, recovering his usual control. “You have, however, hit upon the one characteristic of my people that remains problematic. Because of our slow progression in aging, I am frequently forced to relocate. Others like me—those you call Men in Black—also staff the facility I operate.”