Nanny for the Alien Lord by Tammy Walsh

Tauas

I gotoff the stage as soon as possible and ran through the crowd searching for Belle.

Why did she run?

Why did she turn tail and leave just when this evening was getting interesting?

She wasn’t where we’d been dancing, lost in each other’s embrace.

The guests shook my hand and slapped me on the back.

At least a dozen tried to initiate conversation but I was already too distracted for that.

I marched through the crowd and peered around each clump of guests, darkened like shadows by the bright overhead spotlights.

I covered every inch of the ballroom but found no sign of her.

The restrooms, I thought. She must have taken a break!

I headed toward the female restrooms and stopped short of throwing the door open.

My heart was in my throat, beating a mile a minute.

Why?

Why had I become so attached to someone after only knowing them a few hours?

There was no rhyme or reason—at least not while I was still disturbed about where she might have disappeared to.

“Excuse me,” I said, catching the arm of a pink-haired celebrity I couldn’t put a name to. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. She might have run in the restroom. She might even be sick. Would you mind checking on her?”

The celebrity looked me over.

A spark of recognition lit her eyes.

“You’re Tauas Choer, right?”

I nodded.

And that was my mistake.

“Oh my God!” she shrieked. “I absolutely love your robots!”

My shoulders deflated as she droned on about the upcoming product launch, digging for information.

I interrupted her.

“Sorry, but would you mind checking on my friend for me please? She’s a female human and goes by the name of Belle.”

“Sure!”

The celebrity beamed happily and hopped toward the restroom.

Within two minutes, she was back, shaking her head.

“No one in the restroom answered to that name and all the stalls are empty.”

My hopes deflated further.

She’d left, I realized.

Leaving me to celebrate New Year alone.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” the pink-haired celebrity said, slipping her arm through mine.

“How about a drink? The night’s still young…”

And so are you, I thought.

There was a familiar glint in her eye that promised a good night ahead… so long as I could pay the price of admittance—and it had nothing to do with money but favors to help her career.

Her fake fixed smile was one I was well acquainted with.

I unfastened my arm from hers, smiled politely, and gave her an excuse:

“I’m going to have to take a raincheck on that drink. I have to get home to my daughter.”

The pink-haired celebrity took it in stride, beaming happily.

“No problem! Here’s my card. In case you get lonely one of these nights.”

She gave me a wink and sauntered back into the ballroom, into the waiting arms of her partner.

I knew her type.

She never released one branch before clinging to another.

Not that I could say I was disappointed.

I tossed her card in the bin and headed for the cloakroom.

If Belle had left, there was no use in me being there.

I collected my hat and coat from the cloakroom bot we’d installed and turned to leave.

Then I had an idea.

I spun to the bot.

“Tell me, was there a female human here just a few moments ago?”

“I have served three humans during the evening,” it said with the deep sultry voice we’d programmed her with. “Two male, one female.”

My ears pricked up.

“Can you tell me if the female has already left?”

“She collected her coat ten minutes ago and proceeded through the exit.”

Damn it!

“Do you know where she went?” I asked.

“Negative. Even if I knew, I could not divulge private information. If you require further information, please consult with the party organizers.”

My shoulders slumped once more.

As the sponsor of this event, I knew how jealously the identities of the ticketholders were held.

Belle might as well have never existed.

I resigned myself to the thought I would never see her again.

Considering she was a stranger that I knew little about, that truth shouldn’t have bitten hard.

But it did, and my, how sharp it stung.

My communicator bleeped.

I was slow in fishing it out of my pocket.

I glanced at the screen and saw a series of messages from Daynnis.

I scrolled through them one by one, each growing more frantic than the last.

Was it Elken?

Was she hurt?

I turned and bolted from the ball.

“I came as soonas I could,” I said, shutting the front door and approaching Daynnis.

She was middle-aged and in good shape.

One of her horns had cracked and splintered down its entire length, right through to the base.

I offered to pay to have it fixed but she refused.

“I prefer to keep my scars. Each one reminds me of a mistake I made. And we never want to forget them when they cost us so much, do we?”

Usually, she was so calm, so reserved—and she needed to be when Elken threw her occasional temper tantrum—but right now, she looked more frantic than I had ever seen her.

Her eyes darted left to right, she’d already pulled on her coat, though it was twisted.

Her boots clacked on the hard marble floor where she usually refused to tread on anything but her bare feet.

She wrung her hands and peered up at me.

“Thank you. I know you don’t go out often and I didn’t want to spoil your evening but I had no choice.”

“What’s the problem? Is Elken okay?”

Daynnis waved away my concerns.

“She’s fast asleep. The emergency is a private one. My mother’s been rushed to the hospital. She had a heart attack.”

The Yixx had three hearts, each powering a different part of the body.

So long as one still pumped, it could make up for the others shutting down, but by the look on Daynnis’s face, I sensed it wasn’t her mother’s first failed heart.

“When did it happen?” I said.

“About an hour ago. I tried to call you but there was no answer.”

“I was at the party. I’m sorry. The music was too loud.”

And my date far too distracting.

“Which hospital is your mother in?” I asked.

“Grat general in Ulet.”

Ulet…

It was a full three-hour journey by shuttlecraft—and that was with the wind behind you and no traffic.

It meant she wouldn’t be there for Elken in the morning.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to find a replacement for me,” Daynnis said, “at least for the next two weeks.”

At least?

Daynnis had taken care of Elken since she’d been born.

She’d been her primary caregiver, her mother in all but name.

I found myself overcome by the sudden turn of events.

“Will you be back after your mother gets better?”

Daynnis snorted.

“You don’t honestly expect me to miss seeing my girl growing into a fine young woman?”

I grinned at her, pleased but distracted.

Where was I going to find a replacement at such short notice?

“I wrote a list of recommendations for you to call on,” Daynnis said.

Sometimes, I thought she had the gift of mind-reading.

“I don’t know their schedules but one or more of them might be able to squeeze you in,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“I need to get to the hospital as soon as possible,” Daynnis said.

“Of course. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask.”

She smiled up at me, eyes shimmering with tears that threatened to spill down her aged cheeks.

She placed a hand on my arm and gently patted it.

“You’re a good Yixx. And an even better father. You don’t need to worry about me. You just worry about your little one.”

She was usually so strict, so closeted, that it made my heart ache to hear her talk this way.

“You take care of your mother,” I said. “And call me if you ever need anything.”

Daynnis opened the door and turned to look back at me.

Her hand was clutched tight around the knob.

She had a look of cold uncertainty on her pale, crinkled face.

“This will be the longest I’ve been away from her.”

She looked hesitant about going, about leaving me in the lurch like this.

“You should go. Elken and your position will be waiting for you when you return.”

Daynnis rolled her eyes.

“I never expected anything else.”

She waved a hand and left.

The house seemed so silent and still after the ball’s pounding music and my ears still rang at the memory of it.

I weaved through the cavernous hallways until I came to Elken’s room.

I never wanted to buy such a large house, but Lyssun had insisted.

She wanted to project our success to our business partners.

I supposed it did paint a better impression than the two-bedroom apartment I would have felt more comfortable in.

After she passed, I couldn’t bring myself to sell it.

I eased Elken’s door open and crept across the room, careful where I placed my feet in case I stepped on one of her many toys.

She was so small, tucked up under the covers.

I kissed Elken on the forehead.

She mumbled something in her sleep and rolled over, clutching her favorite stuffed toy closer.

She was so small and gorgeous, sometimes I wondered how I could keep myself from gobbling her up.

A living embodiment of her deceased mother.

I was reminded of her every time I looked upon her.

She was in her expressions, her blonde hair, her mannerisms, and curious nature.

But her eyes came from me.

I crossed to the door until it was almost shut and left a single narrow bar of golden light that spilled across the hallway.

Elken was very attached to Daynnis.

Finding a replacement wasn’t going to be easy.

Or much fun.

Elken would make sure of that.