Celia awoke the next day with the smell of cigarettes and stale beer permeating the air. Her head was pounding and her mouth felt as dry as her backyard. She rolled over and groaned as her eyes demanded to stay shut against the cruel light of morning. It was the typical morning-after for a night at the Rusty Jug – a hangover and a hatred for humanity.

Eventually, she managed to sit up and stretch, trying to find her alarm clock in the mess that was on her floor. With a groan, she saw that it said nine A.M.

“I drank way, way too much last night,” she said thickly, her head swimming.

The smell of eggs and potatoes drifted into the room, and Celia’s stomach began an angry list of demands. It was early, but the lure of breakfast burritos was stronger than the desire to stay in bed. She got up, wrapped herself in a robe, and shuffled out of her bedroom and towards the kitchen.

“Morning,” called a handsome bald man from the couch, where he sprawled like a lion.

“Morning,” Celia mumbled, wrinkling her face with the effort to talk.

“Hungry?” asked another man, reading a newspaper while leaning against the counter.

“Yeah, it smells good out here,” Celia yawned.

Then she stopped dead, surprise hitting her like a freight train.

She turned around slowly, looking back at the man on the couch. He waved at her and gave a little wink. Suddenly, a memory flashed through her mind of the man pushing her down while bullets flew. Her foggy brain tried valiantly to process what was happening, but kept hitting an error message. She turned back to the man at the counter and looked at his newspaper. It was a copy of the New York Times.

“We…don’t…get any newspapers in this town,” she said slowly. “Too far for them…to deliver.”

She looked around the room again. There were even more men than she had originally noticed. Sprawled on couches, chairs, and even the kitchen table, sat a whole crew of muscled guys, all looking at her with a hint of mischief.

“Oh God, I’m not imagining you,” she sighed, shoulders slumped in confusion. “You are really here.”

“There is no way you could ever even try to imagine a group as sexy as us,” came a familiar voice from the kitchen.

She looked behind the guy with the newspaper and saw Xarax sitting in her father’s favorite chair, drinking tea out her mother’s favorite glass. His dark hair was slightly ruffled, and Celia thought she could detect a hint of tiredness to his eyes, but otherwise he looked as stunning as ever. He appeared to be supervising Murrat, who was making a valiant attempt at cooking eggs. Based on the copious splatters of yolk all over the floor, Murrat had already thrown away more than one pan of omelets gone wrong.

“The bar last night,” Celia said slowly, as the memories came rushing back.

“We had quite the dance,” Xarax broke in, beginning to hum Brown Eyed Girl.

Her cheeks burned at the memory of being pressed close to him. But she had other things on her mind. “Don’t flatter yourself too much. I’m talking about the fight. And Juan Reyes! Crap, he was actually here, and you fought him! You guys did some sort of…magic.”

Her voice faltered on the final word, memories from the night before rushing back. Her mind replayed how the bullets hadn’t touched anything, as if everyone was protected by a giant shield. But that was just the stuff of fairy tales…right?

“We don’t exactly do magic,” Murrat said defensively, as he tried to flip the gooey omelet in his pan. It fell on the floor with a splat. “That would be ridiculous.”

“Right. Ridiculous,” Celia said, nodding in disbelief. “And what the hell are you doing in here anyway? Where are my parents?”

Her parents.

She ran back to her parent’s bedroom and flung open the door. Inside the bed was made just like normal, and Pico could be seen sitting in his little cage on the floor. Nothing was out of place except that her parents were nowhere to be seen.

“What did you do with them?” She roared, storming back into the kitchen with fists curled. Rage was filling her body. Last night she had thought she’d never see her parents again…and now it was looking to come true in a most horrible way.

“They are at an art gallery,” Xarax said calmly, his tea glass now mysteriously gone, much like her parents.

“Yes, and I’m the pope. There are no art galleries in this town! Did you miss the part about how we don’t even have newspapers?”

“Of course they aren’t here. They drove to Los Angeles for the show.”

“They drove to L.A. without telling me?” Celia wasn’t sure who she was mad at more – her parents or the weird magical wizard in her house. And was the hot wizard guy even telling the truth?

Her brain felt like it was melting. Nothing made sense. Everything seemed wrong. And Xarax was just sitting there with his stupid sexy smile. It was infuriating.

“They left you a note. I think you were a little too hung over to notice,” Xarax said, nodding to a pink piece of paper pinned to the fridge with a magnet shaped like a chili pepper.

Celia shoved Murrat away from the stove, where he was attempting yet another egg disaster, and made her way to the note. Her mother had written a cheerful note in her round, curling style. It read:

Just got a call from an art agent in L.A. Someone wants to buy my painting ‘Cottage with Lilies’! I’m not even sure how this gallery found out about me, but apparently there is a buyer who absolutely must see me today about it. It is six in the morning, and we are just leaving out the door. See you tonight.’

Celia stared at the note for several long moments. Then she turned to Xarax’s grinning face with a mix of fury and bemusement. “Did you brainwash my parents? Or are they buried in my front yard right now?”

“I told you she wasn’t the trusting type,” the bald guy on the couch drawled out, sounding bored with the entire situation.

“Shut up, Baqtun!” Xarax yelled, his eyes getting the fiery red look that Celia had seen the night before.

“And what is up with all your weird names? Actually, never mind. I don’t even want to know! You are the weirdest men in the world, and I need you to get out of my house right now and bring my parents back! RIGHT NOW.”

They all continued to stare at her, not a single man moving. She had twelve dreamy, magical men who for unknown reasons were camped out in her kitchen making horrible food and drinking tea. They’d saved her life, but also made her parents disappear. She felt a flash of anger, which threatened to quickly reach nuclear level.

“Fine. If you aren’t leaving, then I am,” she said with all the dignity she could muster and stormed out the trailer door. “I’ll find Mom and Dad by myself.”

She was down the steps and ten feet away from the trailer before she heard Xarax slam open the door and follow her out. She could tell it was him by the smell of lemons in the air. Why did he smell so good? It only made her madder.

She whipped around and put her hands on her hips, facing him with narrowed eyes and her mouth set into a thin line. He was trying to be charming again, running his hand through his hair and looking at her with big puppy eyes.

“Your parents are fine. We just needed to be able to talk to you alone.”

“How do I know you didn’t magic them away like what happened last night? I know what I saw, and I don’t think you are people I really want to know much about. You or your psycho little friend Reyes.”

He groaned in frustration. “We already told you there was no magic.”

Xarax was now only a foot or so away from her, filling the air with the smell of a small Parisian bakery.

“Why do you always smell so good?” Celia blurted out, unable to handle why Xarax always smelled like warm cinnamon buns or apple pie or something equally delicious. He was being freaking frustrating, but it was hard to be mad when he smelled like a snack. “Stop it!”

“I smell like your favorite things,” he said while shrugging and giving a slight, knowing smile. As if that was a reasonable explanation. “What does it smell like now?”

Celia ignored the question, not wanting to discuss her favorite things with this possible kidnapper with magic powers. “Is this another voodoo spell thing?”

Xarax sighed and inched a little bit closer. “Not voodoo. We are much different beasts. Take a guess – what are we?”

Celia scrunched her face up. “I don’t want to play this game.”

“Go on, say it,” Xarax challenged, moving closer still until their faces were almost touching. “Take a wild guess.”

Celia looked up into his face with the defiance bred into her by a thousand hot, windy days. “You tell me.”

“Feisty,” he murmured, looking genuinely impressed. “I thought you’d be afraid by now.”

“I’m afraid of only two things, and you aren’t one of them.” Celia was surprised by how true it was – she didn’t feel afraid anymore. Having him so close to her was making her body relax in a surprising way. She could almost feel her skin pull toward him, his gravity capturing her and soothing her fear. “What are you doing to me?” she asked softly, trying to pull her eyes from his.

“I was going to ask the same of you,” he said, his voice becoming deeper and sending a shiver down her spine.

As much as he was making her wet, Celia tried to keep her head straight. There was still something very, very wrong happening in her town. She tried to pull herself together, straightening her back and taking a step away from him. “What happened last night? And why are you here?”

Xarax looked momentarily disappointed that she had stepped away. Disappointed and perhaps surprised.

“That man has some things very important to my people. We’ve come to claim them.” He looked a little embarrassed as he continued on. “Unfortunately, he learned to harness its power before we thought he could. That led to him being a tougher foe than we’d expected last night. It won’t happen again, though.”

“And your people…what are you? Don’t give me lies. I know you aren’t like me.”

Xarax grinned at her. “You still haven’t guessed. I want to hear what you think.”

Celia took a big breath. They had magical jewelry, and were too hot to be legal. And the weird artifacts and mysterious powers. She knew it was ridiculous, but there was only one thing she thought they could be.

“Are you…g-genies?” she asked, voice faltering slightly as she said the word. She couldn’t believe she was actually having a real conversation where she had to ask that question.

Xarax doubled over in laughter. His whole body shook and his laugh reverberated across the yard. Celia felt her cheeks redden.

“No, we aren’t genies,” he managed to croak out at last. “That’s a new one, though. I don’t think anyone has guessed that before.”

“So what are you?” Celia cried out, her patience completely gone. She was tired of the mysteries and the games and being mocked. “Tell me!”

Xarax stood up straight before her. “How about I just show you?”

He whispered a word she couldn’t understand and touched one of the dazzling rings on his hand. Almost instantly, he began to change. His skin began to fade, the dark tan becoming lighter and lighter until it completely disappeared, leaving behind a dark blue color. From head to toe, Xarax’s skin was the beautiful hue Celia had seen in the stormy ocean outside Santa Barbara one time. It was rich and dark and showed off every muscle on his body.

And she was definitely seeing more of his body. His clothes had seemingly melted off into thin air. He was standing now in a pair of tight fitting, silky looking boxers. All of his fine body was on display. Strong legs, a rippled stomach, and arms wider than her body. Across those arms he still had the tattoos she had seen earlier. But now they were moving! The black ink now was iridescent, and the designs swayed and pulsed with some unknown beat. He was gorgeous. And definitely not from this planet.

“Oh my gosh,” she gasped. “Are you an alien?”

Xarax murmured in approval. “So you finally got it right. I am Xarax, commander of Legion Force 3. We call our planet Parion, but I don’t think there is a word in your language for it.”

“Parion,” Celia whispered, trying out the name. “Is that far from here?”

Xarax smiled. “Very far. Even with wormhole travel, it several months to get here.”

“Right. Wormhole travel.” Celia shook her head. This whole thing was ridiculous. She could hardly believe it was real. But Xarax was very real, standing in front of her with his crazy blue skin and those tattoos that wouldn’t stop moving.

Her eyes started to roam his body again, trying to make sense of the fact an alien, a real alien, was standing in front of her. As she looked down, she couldn’t help but notice the very large bulge in his boxers. Very large. So big that she almost thought there might be two…

She gasped and whipped her eyes back up to his, blushing wildly.

He shot one of his cocky grins at her. “Yes, our anatomy is a little different than humans. And we have two hearts to power both of our beasts. Maybe later I’ll let you see them.

Before Celia could answer, the door to her trailer slammed open, and more alien men began pouring out of it like a horrible clown car. They seemingly had decided to also abandon their disguises. Red, blue and green skin met her gaze, all tattooed elaborately. None of those tattoos moved, however. Only Xarax’s shown and pulsed at her in the desert sun.

“Reyes and his crew have taken off into the desert. Four black cars left the main road,” reported a man with a long black ponytail and light blue skin, staring intently at Xarax.

“Where is he heading?” Xarax was obviously in his element, taking on the commanding tone that used to rub Celia the wrong way. But now it was surprisingly reassuring.

“It was hard to catch. So far away and with the sound vibrations…”

“What did you manage to get?” Xarax looked at each man in turn, his gaze demanding.

“The sparrow? Something like that. It’s all we managed to pick up.” The man looked embarrassed. “But I’m sure it is code for something. According to our research a sparrow is some sort of small flying creature.”

“Sparrow Mine,” Celia said softly, surprising even herself by speaking out loud.

All eyes turned towards her, and she could feel her skin begin to heat up. The aliens seemed to have microwave gazes or something; it was annoying when Xarax looked at her like that, but unbearable when they all joined forces.

“It’s north of here. Off road, off map, and well out of sight. It’s a good place to get in trouble, as my younger self could attest.” She looked at each of the grim faces staring at her. “Juan Reyes has something very powerful of yours. And if he controls it, it would be very bad for everyone on this planet, am I right?”

Slow nods met her words. The aliens did not attempt to speak or enlighten her as to what would be so important. She remembered the flash from the night before, as the whole bar had fallen apart. Juan Reyes was an evil, powerful man. If he could extrapolate that evil to some sort of demi-god power then Celia knew something had to be done.

“Then I guess we had better go. I’ll grab my keys,” she said at last, turning back towards the trailer.

She pushed past the wall of rainbow muscle and made her way to the front door. She could feel their microwave eyes on her as she calmly opened the door and reached inside to grab her keys off the hook. She then turned back around and jangled them in the air.

“Ready to go?”

Xarax spoke up; his normal seductive tone replaced with appreciation. “You could ride with me, on the back of my bike.”

Celia liked that he wasn’t telling her it was too dangerous or trying to convince her to stay behind. He seemed to accept that telling her no just wasn’t an option at this point.

Celia smirked and flashed a rare grin. “Nah, I’ve got a sweet ride of my own. Besides, you need me to show you the way. Let’s roll.”