by Lisa Lace
His thoughts strayed back to the day his tribe had discovered their women and children there. They had heard their screams as the Saavi Tribe put them to the stakes. They had raced to the mountainside, trying to reach them in time, only arriving after it was too late. Blood coated the slope. The bushes surrounding them had been set on fire. He remembered the broken cries of the dying. The scent of blood and ash. He knew there was a face he should remember, but he avoided it. He had to keep moving—he was still alive. He knew the pain would swallow him whole if he didn’t focus on the task at hand.
The hike up the mountain was littered with boulders and loose scree, yet only mildly difficult for an Alpha male. He reached the top, pulling himself up and over the ledge just as the two suns were setting on either side. He looked around at the land below him, truly king of all he surveyed. The gunuk herds of the Apaknor grazed on the lands outside the small stone buildings of the settlement. Besides the Apaknor settlement, he could see the smoke rising from the distant fires of the Saavi Tribe’s settlement, which was several hours away as an Alpha runs. To his right, the dark mass of the forest stretched out as far as he could see, bordering both the Apaknor and Saavi settlements.
The Apaknor Tribe’s settlement was comprised of plain dwellings, the tallest of which was two stories high. The houses were built in several circles, along ring-shaped roads. In the center was a large communal building, which housed the war room, the tribe’s storerooms, and a large central room, which could fit the entirety of the tribe if needed. The buildings were made of stone blocks, hewn from granite that had been cut from the mountain. The roofs were made of straw, gathered from the plains. The beginnings of a wall, built from the same stone, could be seen from where he stood.
As he surveyed his corner of Erusha, he felt the presence of the goddess behind him—she was dark and old. Her vengeance, when prompted, was bloody. He turned to find her exiting her cave. Wisps of light-gray smoke followed her out.
She appeared as one of his race—shimmery green-gold skin and long, straight gray hair. Her eyes glowed a warm, golden yellow. She was thin and lissome, her arm muscles well-formed, her core slight, while her waist and bosom were curved and ample. She wore a long green silken dress that slid over the rock of the mountain. A golden headdress, shaped in a crescent moon, hugged her scalp. Golden rays shot out from it, forming a rising sun. Around her neck she wore a collar of beaten gold, encrusted with precious stones in an array of blues, greens, and reds. Her fingers dripped with rings to match her elaborate neckpiece.
“You have a problem, Jurgen Apaknor,” she stated flatly. Her voice was musical, smooth as honey. As he usually did, Jurgen had a problem seeing her as the same type of being as he. He felt it was a mask she put on, for she was something else entirely. What that was, he wasn’t sure.
“Our tribe faces extinction after the sacrifice that was made to you,” he began.
“That was a war crime. I did not ask for it.” Her lips curled into a disgusted snarl. It was common knowledge that the goddess, although a warlike aspect, prized that which was female. “Such a waste of femininity and innocence. It would have been better to bring me Alphas. That would have been a true sacrifice.” She turned away. “The piteous moans and shrieking on my mountain. It sickens me still.”
“Then you will help us?” Jurgen asked.
She turned, gliding toward him. She placed a cold hand on his face. “Why do you ask me? You are their leader,” she said. A knowing smile flashed across her features. “You worry about your Lilat’s spirit.”
“I don’t want to betray her,” he admitted.
The goddess was smiling. “But it is your duty to produce an heir to take over the leadership of your tribe when you die,” she said, her smile growing into something manic. She was saying the truth—voicing a concern that he kept buried deep within himself.
“I want my tribe to flourish, but I don’t know if buying brides of a different species will change the course for the better,” he said.
The goddess’s eyes narrowed as she studied him. Reaching up, she ran her long fingernails along his jawline. “What is it you want, Jurgen Apaknor?” she asked. “Your woman returned to you? I could do that, but she will not be the same.” She was talking of shades. The dead, returned to walk the earth. They retained none of their living emotions. They were monsters, feeding on the blood of the weak. As far as he knew, they could not be destroyed, only stopped.
“I can never love another woman again. No matter what species,” he claimed, his voice husky with emotion. “It would be disloyal to one who was murdered.”
“But, your heir…” the goddess reminded him, arching an eyebrow. “It is the only way you can continue to lead. Otherwise, you will be forfeiting your life and your lineage. You will be betraying all of your father’s fathers.” The goddess stepped away from him, her hips swinging from side to side as she walked backward. “Would you do that? Could you?”
“You know that I cannot,” he replied.
“So you will lie with a human woman?” she said.
“If I must. A chief does what he must for his tribe,” Jurgen stated. “But in my heart, I will never replace Lilat.”
“Spoken like a true leader,” the goddess murmured. She did not smile. “I give you my blessing. The Apaknor Tribe shall thrive and grow to be the strongest of the thirteen tribes. Your descendants will be the rulers of Erusha.”
As she said it, Jurgen felt himself begin to shut down. He needed to act as a leader not as a lover, grieving for his woman. He nodded then turned away from the goddess and began his descent to the Apaknor settlement.
The Alphas were all assembled when Jurgen returned. Upon his entrance to the war room, their conversations all stopped. He looked around at the silent room until he found Grav.
“Make contact with TerraMates. We must begin negotiations for the brides,” he said.
The room remained silent as they all looked at him, their faces sober. Grav nodded, turning to his computer console. Jurgen knew he would take care of everything. Grav was thorough.
“Auslur,” Jurgen said, finding him in the crowd. “Take a few you trust and inventory our gold. We must know how much we can safely spend without depleting our resources.”
Auslur inclined his head.
Jurgen looked around at his Alphas. “The goddess has given her approval. We must move forward with this solution. We will need a woman for each of the thirty Alphas, and then we can add maybe fifteen or so for the Betas who will soon move up in rank.” He looked around. His Alphas were all quiet, waiting to see how he wanted them to respond. He softened his demeanor. “This is a good thing. This many marriages are a blessing. We must prepare to celebrate.”
The men all cheered, although he knew that for some of them, this celebration was empty. He understood exactly how they felt. The Alphas began to move out, preparing for a small celebration of the tribe’s coming blessings. Jurgen watched them leave. He sighed.
Auslur stood beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Auslur had served his father before him. He smiled at Jurgen and said, “Your father would be proud of you at this moment.”
“Lilat…” Jurgen mumbled.
Auslur’s eyes were sad, but he smiled. “I know,” he replied. “I miss my daughter as well. She loved you so much. But she would want you to keep living, Jurgen.”
“I promise you I won’t dishonor her or her memory.”
“I know that you won’t, my friend.”
Zandra
Zandra yawned and took a sip of coffee from her metallic pink to-go mug. It was warm, sweetened with just a smidge of sugar. She was dressed for work in an emerald-green sheath dress and a taupe trench coat to stave off the bitter New England cold. Her heels clicked up the front steps of the office building. She crossed the cool tile lobby to the elevator bank. She waited with a large group of people, all still bundled up against the weather. She drank her coffee, taking her phone out of her pocket to check the time: 7:45. S
he was a few minutes early, just the way she liked it.
The elevator doors opened, and Zandra filed in with the rest of the crowd. The doors slid closed with the quiet efficiency that Zandra prized. Despite the confined space, no one spoke or attempted to make eye contact. It was the closest thing to being alone in a crowd as one could get. As the elevator made its way up, stopping now and then to let people off, Zandra thought about the night before. She couldn’t shake the eerie feeling she had been stalked all the way to the door of her apartment. When she had left that morning, she checked the sidewalk across from her apartment building for anyone lurking in the early morning shadows. She’d felt a little silly, especially when she saw nothing out of the ordinary.
When doors opened on the eleventh floor, she stepped out into the dove-gray offices of Bloom and Company. The front desk was empty. Zandra smelled the coffeepot from the break room right off reception. Lainey always fixed herself a coffee before she began work at eight. Knowing it was ill-advised to bother Lainey before she had caffeine in hand, Zandra walked straight down the hall to her office. She closed the door behind her so she wouldn’t be bothered for the next ten minutes. She needed some privacy for her prework morning ritual.
As far as offices went, Zandra’s was fairly nondescript. She wasn’t big on pictures or knickknacks. Her desk had the essentials—pens, stapler, Post-it notes, standard-issue office phone. She set down her coffee and her messenger bag, throwing back the flap to pull out her laptop. When the screen lit up, she typed in her password. She sat down at her desk and took her phone out of her pocket so she could browse her social media accounts while she sipped her coffee, waiting for the computer to boot up. She listened as people walked in, greeting each other in the hallway.
At exactly 8:00, Zandra closed her social media apps. She set the phone down on her desk in case she received any calls from clients who didn’t feel like calling on the company line. She began checking and answering her emails and was soon absorbed in her work for the day.
There was a knock at her door, making her jump. Zandra paused in the middle of typing and looked up. “Yes?” she called out.
Her door swung open lightly, and her boss peeked in at her. A middle-aged woman with the same wildly curly hair as Alisha, Marla was her friend’s aunt on her mother’s side. She looked concerned.
“Zandra, have you heard from Alisha?”
“No,” Zandra replied. “Is something wrong?”
“She hasn’t shown up for work,” Marla explained. “She had an important client meeting this morning. She would never miss something like that without calling to cancel.”
Zandra frowned. She knew about the meeting—Alisha had been looking forward to it for weeks. She’d been cultivating a new and promising author. This meeting would have sealed the deal.
“The one with Bill Nymand?” Zandra asked.
“The very one. I tried calling her, but her phone is off,” Marla said.
Zandra felt her stomach drop. Alisha’s phone was never off. She was always glued to it.
“Well,” Zandra said, considering, “we went out for drinks last night…” She hesitated. She didn’t want to tell Marla they had gone to an offworld matchmaking service if she could help it. “She might have had more to drink than I thought. Maybe her phone died, and she’s sleeping it off? I can run by her apartment to check.”
“Would you?” Marla asked. “I don’t want to jump the gun and call the police if I don’t need to.”
Zandra was already up and pulling her coat on. “Of course,” she assured her boss. “I’ll have her call you as soon as I get there.” She noted that she sounded a lot more confident about finding Alisha safe and sound than she felt. Alarm bells were ringing in her mind, and she was sick with fear.
“Thank you, Zandra,” Marla said. “I’ll let you know if she shows up here.”
Zandra nodded and walked quickly out of the office.
Alisha’s apartment building overlooked Boston Common, not far from the matchmaking agency. She would have been home in a few minutes—ten, tops. Remembering back, Zandra was positive she had seen Alisha drink only one glass of champagne. She wondered if her friend had had more to drink after she had left. It would have been out of character for Alisha, though, who wasn’t much of a drinker. Zandra rang the buzzer, and the doorman let her in. She didn’t know his name, but she was a pretty regular visitor, and he usually rang up for her.
“Hey,” Zandra said.
He nodded in response. “Apartment 213?” he asked, picking up the receiver to call up for her.
“Yes, please,” Zandra replied.
He punched in the number and waited. When there was no response, he tried again. He placed the phone down and shrugged. “No answer,” he said.
“Can I go up and check on her?” Zandra asked. “She didn’t show up for work this morning, and she’s not answering her phone. I’m concerned.”
The doorman frowned. “Well…” he replied. “We could go up and do a welfare check.” He came out from behind the big oak desk and opened up a locked cabinet that held a wall of keys on pegs. He took out a key and gestured for Zandra to follow him.
For the whole elevator ride, Zandra’s heart was racing and her stomach felt a bit queasy. She desperately wanted Alisha to be safe in her apartment, merely sleeping off a late night. However, part of her was sure her friend had never left TerraMates.
The elevator doors opened on Alisha’s floor. She followed the doorman as he moved slowly down the hallway, the thick carpeting muffling his footsteps. Zandra wished fervently that he would walk faster. He was an older gentleman, and he stepped deliberately, as though he had to concentrate on the simple act of moving his feet. When they reached Alisha’s apartment, the doorman knocked loudly.
“Miss Lopez?” he called.
They waited. There was no answer. He knocked again.
“Miss Lopez, this is the doorman. Is everything alright?” They waited again. Nothing.
He nodded, sliding the key into the lock. When the door opened, Zandra pushed past him, rushing into the apartment, scanning for any sign of her friend. The living room and kitchen were clean, empty. The lights were off. A quick check of the bedroom, bathroom, and the walk-in closet revealed Zandra’s worst fears to be true. Alisha was not home and had likely not been there since early yesterday evening, before the party.
She’s still at TerraMates, Zandra thought with single-minded confidence. Whirling around, she ran out of the apartment, past the bewildered doorman.
He called after her as she ran down the hallway. “Should I call the police?”
“Yes!” Zandra yelled back as she reached the elevator, pressing the button to open the doors. As she stepped inside, her mind was filled with one thought: get to the matchmaking agency. The doors closed behind her.
The doorman’s last question was lost in her panic: “Where are you going?”
When she arrived at TerraMates, she yanked the door handle. The door didn’t budge. It was locked. She exhaled in frustration. She glanced up at the redbrick building. The blinds were drawn, but there were lights on. Frowning, she reached into her pocket for her wallet. She pulled the crumpled hot pink business card out of the zipper change pocket, where she had tucked it the night before, intending to throw it out. Maxine’s name and number were printed on the card in loopy, italic gold letters. Beneath the number, it read: By appointment only.
“Of course,” she mumbled as she pulled out her phone and dialed. It rang three times before Maxine picked up. Her voice was warm, almost friendly.
“Hello. This is Maxine,” she said brightly.
“Where’s Alisha, you bitch?” Zandra was yelling, her frayed nerves getting the best of her. In her peripheral vision, she could see people walking by turn to look at her. She ignored them. Her friend was in danger, she knew it.
Maxine was silent for a moment. “Miss Zane,” she replied at last, “I don’t understand. Is something wrong?”
�
�Open the door,” Zandra growled. “This is the last place I saw her. I know you did something to her.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Maxine replied calmly. “However, I will let you in, so you can see that your friend is not here.”
“Do it. Hurry,” Zandra said, hanging up.
She waited impatiently for Maxine to open the door. She was ready to explode by the time she heard the click of the lock. The matchmaker opened the door, stepping aside to allow Zandra inside. She pushed past the woman, who was dressed in a pearly-white linen pantsuit and out-of-season espadrilles. Her hair was swept up into a loose, low bun.
Zandra looked about, suddenly feeling a tad impotent and at a loss for what to do. The main room, where the party had been held, was empty, the lights were on and the tables gone. The bar was spotless, the bottles of alcohol put away. It looked like a room with no particular purpose. Just last night, the space had looked like an upscale nightclub. There was no trace of anyone, Alisha included. Any evidence of the women who had stood, merrily planning their new lives on alien planets, had vanished. Zandra stood there, wondering where she should search first. She heard the lock of the door click again as Maxine slid the bolt into place. She whirled around to face the matchmaker, still on edge.
“As you can see, not many people are here today,” Maxine said, shrugging. “I believe a few clients are meeting with some of my colleagues. But the building was empty after the party last night. Otherwise, our cleaning crew would have called cabs to get them home.”