The Krinar Exposé--A Krinar Chronicles Novel Read online

  The Krinar Exposé

  A Krinar Chronicles Novel

  Anna Zaires & Hettie Ivers

  Contents

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Part II

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Part III

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Tormentor Mine

  About the Author

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  * * *

  Copyright © 2018 Anna Zaires and Dima Zales

  www.annazaires.com

  * * *

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  Except for use in a review, no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

  * * *

  Published by Mozaika Publications, an imprint of Mozaika LLC.

  www.mozaikallc.com

  * * *

  Cover by Najla Qamber Designs

  www.najlaqamberdesigns.com

  * * *

  e-ISBN: 978-1-63142-378-9

  Print ISBN: 978-1-63142-380-2

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Two years since the invasion.

  I couldn’t believe it had been two years since the invasion, and we still knew next to nothing about the aliens who had taken over Earth.

  Frustrated, I removed my glasses and rubbed my eyes, feeling the strain from staring at the computer screen all day. Over the past two weeks, ever since I’d decided to prove myself by writing an insightful piece about the invaders, I’d pored over every bit of information available on the internet, and all I had were rumors, a number of unreliable eyewitness accounts, some grainy YouTube videos, and as many unanswered questions as before.

  Two years after K-Day, and the Ks—or the Krinar, as they liked to be called—were nearly as much of a mystery as when they’d first arrived.

  My computer pinged, distracting me from my thoughts. Glancing at the screen, I saw that it was an email from my editor. Richard Gable wanted to know when I’d have the article on conjoined puppy twins ready for him.

  At least it wasn’t another one of those “sky is falling” emails from my mom.

  Sighing, I rubbed my eyes again, pushing away distracting thoughts about my insane parents. It was bad enough my career still hadn’t taken off. I had no idea why all the fluff pieces landed on my desk. It had been that way ever since I’d joined the newspaper three years ago, and I was sick and tired of it. At twenty-four years of age, I had about as much experience writing about real news as a college intern.

  Fuck it, I’d decided last month. If Gable didn’t want to assign me real work, I’d find a story myself. And what could be more interesting or controversial than the mysterious beings who’d invaded Earth and now resided alongside humans? If I could uncover something—anything—factual about the Ks, that would go a long way toward proving that I was capable of handling bigger stories.

  Putting my glasses back on, I quickly wrote an email to Gable, requesting a couple of extra days to finish the puppy article. My excuse was that I wanted to interview the veterinarian and was having trouble getting in touch with him. It was a lie, of course—I’d interviewed both the veterinarian and the owner as soon as I got the assignment—but I wanted to avoid getting another fluff piece for a few days. It would give me time to explore an interesting topic I came across in my research today: the so-called x-clubs.

  “Hey there, baby girl, any plans for tonight?”

  I looked up at the familiar voice and grinned at Jay, my coworker and best friend, who’d just stepped into my tiny office. “Nope,” I said cheerfully. “Going to catch up on some work and then veg out on my couch.”

  He sighed dramatically and gave me a look of mock reproof. “Amy, Amy, Amy… What are we going to do with you? It’s Friday night, and you’re going to stay in?”

  “I’m still recovering from last weekend,” I said, my grin widening. “So don’t think you can drag me out again so soon. One night of Jay-style partying a month is plenty for me.”

  Jay-style partying was a unique experience consisting of multiple vodka shots early in the evening, followed by several hours of club-hopping and a dinner/breakfast at a twenty-four-hour Korean diner. I wasn’t lying when I said I was still recovering—the combination of vodka and Korean food had given me a hangover that was more like a bad case of food poisoning. I’d barely crawled out of bed on Monday to go to work.

  “Oh, come on,” he cajoled, his brown eyes resembling those of a puppy. With his thick lashes, curly brown hair, and fine features, Jay was almost too pretty for a guy. If it hadn’t been for his muscular build, he would’ve seemed effeminate. As it was, however, he attracted women and men alike—and enjoyed both with equal gusto.

  “Sorry, Jay. Another week perhaps.” What I needed to concentrate on now was my article about the Ks… and the secretive clubs they supposedly patronized.

  Jay let out another sigh. “All right, have it your way. What are you working on right now? The puppy piece?”

  I hesitated. I hadn’t told Jay about my project yet, mostly because I didn’t want to appear foolish if I couldn’t come up with a good story. Jay didn’t get a lot of meaty assignments either, but he didn’t mind it as much as I did. His goal in life was to enjoy himself, and everything else—his journalism career included—came second. He thought ambition was something that was only useful in moderation and didn’t apply himself more than necessary.

  “I just don’t want to be a total bum—for my parents, you know,” he’d explained to me once, and that statement perfectly summed up his approach to work.

  I, on the other hand, wanted more than to not be a bum. It bothered me that the editor had taken one look at my strawberry-blond hair and doll-like features and had permanently slotted me into fluff-piece land. I would’ve thought Gable was sexist, except he’d done the same thing to Jay. Our editor didn’t discriminate against women; he just made assumptions about people’s capabilities based on their looks.

  Deciding to finally confide in my friend, I said, “No, not the puppy piece. I’ve actually been researching a project of my own.”

  Jay’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

  “Have you ever heard of x-clubs?” I cast a quick look around to make sure we wouldn’t be overheard. Thankfully, the offices around mine were largely empty, with only an intern working on the other side of the floor. It was nearly four p.m. on a Friday, and most people had found an excuse to leave early this summer afternoon.

  Jay’s eyes widened. “X-clubs? As in, xeno-clubs?”

  “Yes.” My heartbeat sped up. “Have you h
eard of them?”

  “Aren’t they the places those alien-crazy people go to hook up with Ks?”

  “Apparently.” I grinned at him. “I just learned about them today. Do you know anyone who’s been to one?”

  Jay frowned, an expression that looked out of place on his normally cheerful face. “No, not really. I mean, there’s always that ‘friend of a friend of a friend,’ but no one I know personally.”

  I nodded. “Right. And you know half of Manhattan, so these clubs, if they exist, are a closely guarded secret. Can you imagine the story?” In my best broadcaster’s voice, I announced dramatically, “Alien clubs in the heart of New York City? The New York Herald brings you the latest in K news!”

  “Are you sure about this?” My friend looked doubtful. “I’ve heard those clubs are near K Centers. Are you saying there are some in New York City?”

  “I think so. There’s some chatter online about a club in Manhattan. I want to find it and see what it’s all about.”

  “Amy… I don’t know if that’s such a great idea.” To my surprise, Jay appeared more disturbed than excited, his uncharacteristic frown deepening. “You don’t want to mess with the Ks.”

  “Nobody wants to mess with them—which is why we still know nothing about them.” My earlier frustration returned. It bothered me that everybody was still so intimidated by the invaders. “All I want to do is write a factual article about them. Specifically, about some places they allegedly frequent. Surely that’s allowed. We still have freedom of press in this country, don’t we?”

  “Maybe,” Jay said. “Or maybe not. Personally, I think they erase whatever information they don’t want to be public. Used to be, once it’s on the internet, it’s there forever, but not anymore.”

  “You think they might suppress my article somehow?” I asked worriedly, and Jay shrugged.

  “I have no idea, but if I were you, I’d focus on the puppy piece and forget about the Ks.”

  It was almost eight in the evening by the time I came across it: a mention of the x-club’s location on an obscure online sex forum. It was buried within someone’s lengthy—and rather improbable-sounding—account of his hook-up with a group of Ks. The feeling of ecstasy the man described sounded suspiciously like a drug-induced high to me, though similar tales littered the web, giving rise to all sorts of rumors about the invaders… including that of vampirism.

  I didn’t buy it, but then again, thanks to my mom’s obsession with wacky conspiracy theories, I had a natural distrust of rumors. I liked facts; that’s why I’d gone into journalism rather than choosing to write fiction.

  According to this man’s account, he had gone to the club right after his dinner in the Meatpacking District. He named the restaurant where he’d had dinner, and then he wrote that the club was directly across the street from it.

  And just like that, I had a lead.

  Jumping to my feet, I grabbed my bag and hurried out of the office, nodding to the janitor on the way.

  It looked like my Friday night was about to get a lot more exciting.

  Chapter Two

  “You don’t have to come with me,” I repeated for the fifth time, giving Jay an exasperated look. I’d made the mistake of texting him about my plans, and he’d showed up on my doorstep twenty minutes later, dressed for clubbing but doing his best to dissuade me from going.

  “If you’re going, I’m going,” he said stubbornly. “I don’t think either one of us should be doing this, but baby girl, you’re crazy if you think I’ll let you go there by yourself.”

  “You just want your name to be on the story,” I joked, flipping my shoulder-length hair upside down to work in some mousse. My reddish-blond strands were naturally fine and straight, but if I put enough product in them, I could achieve some sexy waves. Sexy wasn’t a look I normally tried for, but in this case, it was important. The Ks were not only humanoid in appearance, but downright gorgeous… and according to what I’d read online, they liked their human sex partners to be nearly as good-looking as they were.

  I was fairly certain I didn’t fit that criteria, but I was hoping that with enough makeup—and with contacts instead of glasses—I’d look pretty enough to be allowed into the club.

  “Our names will be the story,” Jay said darkly. “I can see it now: Two Missing Journalists, Last Seen Hunting Aliens in Meatpacking District.”

  “Oh, please.” I straightened and began applying mascara to my long brown lashes. “Since when are you afraid to go to a club? You do crazy stuff all the time—”

  “Yes, but I do it for fun, not to prove myself to our idiot boss. And no amount of drinking or partying compares to trying to infiltrate an alien sex club. You do see the difference between a little recreational weed and this, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, swiping blush onto my pale cheeks. “Like I told you, I only texted you about this so someone would know where I am. You don’t have to come with me.”

  “Yes, I do.” Jay gave me a “get real” look. “You’re my only female friend. You think I’d let you get spirited away on some spaceship?”

  “They live in K Centers on Earth, silly.” I grinned at him in the mirror. “Why would they take me on a spaceship?”

  “Who knows?” he said, plopping down on my couch. “Maybe they like cute, green-eyed blondes who wear glasses to work to seem smarter.”

  “Mmm, yes. I’m just their type.” Laughing, I smoothed my hands down my blue, form-fitting dress. With my curvy hips, I wasn’t exactly model material, though I was generally happy with my figure. It helped that my ex-boyfriends seemed to enjoy a rounder ass; one of them even claimed it was his favorite part of my body.

  “You never know,” Jay insisted. “Seriously, Amy, I wish you’d reconsider. Do you realize that they can do absolutely anything to you in that club, and nobody would stop them? Our laws don’t apply to them. They can kill you, and nobody would blink an eye, treaty or no treaty. You understand that, right?”

  “Of course I do.” I was beginning to get tired of this conversation. Sometimes Jay could be like a dog with a bone. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know how dangerous the Ks can be. I’ve seen those videos of them ripping people to shreds, and I’ve read the eyewitness accounts. But we’re journalists. We’re supposed to investigate stories, to uncover important truths and bring them to light, even if there’s risk involved. We didn’t choose this profession so we could be writing about puppy twins or socialite weddings or whatever bullshit Gable assigns us. We need to be doing real reporting, Jay—and this is our chance.”

  Pausing, I gave him a level look. “I’m doing this—and you can either join me or go home.”

  Chapter Three

  “Okay, this is the restaurant,” I said when our cab pulled up in front of a fancy-looking hotel. According to Google, the restaurant was on the rooftop of the building. “Now what?”

  “Now we go to some real nightclubs and forget this insanity,” Jay said, climbing out of the cab and opening the door for me. “You’re already dressed up; it’ll be perfect. We’ll have a blast, just like last weekend.”

  I blew out an exasperated breath. “I’m not repeating last weekend for a good long time. I already told you that. And we’re not here to party; we’re here to observe.”

  “Right, of course.” Jay sounded morose. “We’re just going to quietly observe some aliens—who won’t mind at all that we want to publicize their secrets.”

  I ignored him, trying to figure out where the club “across the street” could be. All around me, the area swarmed with beautiful people. Meatpacking was the clubbing district of Manhattan. Models, celebrities, Wall Streeters, and everyone else mingled on the cobblestone streets and in edgy-looking club-lounges, trying to outdo each other with designer bags and clothing. Music blared out of several open doorways, and drunk girls stumbled around in sky-high heels, giggling and flirting with every guy in sight.

  I had to admit that the Ks were smart to locate their club
here; with all the glittering crowds, even a Krinar could go unnoticed.

  Studying the building across the street, I saw a group of tall, leggy women approaching an unassuming brown door. There was no sign above it, nothing to indicate what kind of establishment it was. One of the women knocked, and the door swung open, letting the group in. Then the door closed immediately.

  My story-sniffing instincts went on full alert. “There,” I said, grabbing Jay’s arm and practically towing him across the busy street.

  “How do you know?” His voice held an undertone of anxiety. “Did you see one of them?”

  “No.” I ignored the honking of cabs as I cut in front of several cars. “But I think I saw some women who might be their types.”

  “Their types?”

  “Krinar-like,” I explained, weaving through the crowds on the sidewalk. “Tall, gorgeous… like supermodels.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything—”

  “Look, let’s just try this and see,” I interrupted, stopping in front of the brown door. Turning toward Jay, I said, “Ready?”