We were getting close to that point. All of us who were like Tahlia, flowering instead of blooming, had abandoned solid food entirely, subsisting on nothing but blood and the occasional sunbath. The fact that they could drink other kinds of blood didn’t mean they wanted to. The logic was straightforward: donations from our small supply of sympathetic humans were free and easily accessible, whereas pig or cow blood required going to the butcher and placing a special order. Harmless enough, done once, but over and over again, for weeks? Someone was going to get suspicious, if they weren’t already.

“How much time do you think we have left before the rest of your, you know”—Mandy waved vaguely at me—“before they get here?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “No one knows. NASA has to be watching for them, right?”

“Sure, but they’re not going to tell us the danger is getting worse.” Mandy shook her head. “I still don’t understand their deal.”

“Their deal is, they stayed alive by taking any source of funding they could, and now they’re run by the people who’ve been sure for years that the aliens were coming to eat the world.”

Mandy laughed, small and bitter. “So NASA is the only government agency in the control of people who know what they’re talking about, is that what you’re saying?”

“I guess even a stopped clock is right twice a day.” I started to reach for my juice and stopped myself, looking instead at the lines around her eyes, the pallor of her skin. She looked shaky. “How are you holding up?”

This time, her laughter wasn’t nearly as small. “Oh, I don’t know. My best friend is really a killer space fern, not just pretending to be, and now I’m helping protect a group of invaders from my own government while we wait for their armada to get here. Also, none of them actually know why they’re here, so maybe they want to be friends and maybe they want to slaughter my entire species, but hey. It’s not like I could leave if I wanted to, so I may as well sit back and enjoy the show. Did you know that I’ve been doing most of the grocery shopping? Half the people out here speak Spanish, so I blend better than Graham or Toni—not that she wouldn’t betray you for a shiny cereal-box badge—or David. Or God forbid, one of the green people. Do you know how much foundation makeup I’ve bought?” Her voice rose on the last question, ending in an almost hysterical peak.

“No,” I said cautiously. “I don’t. Mandy, is someone making you do something you don’t want to do?”