Nixy Vogel stared at the Silverstar Agency’s application on her computer screen—her application. The one that’d been a simple test to see how her employer’s most recent version worked—because that was what a responsible agent did for her clients. She’d done this every single time there was an update, and never, ever, had her faux applications been mysteriously sucked into the system. There one moment, then—pow!—gone the next. And it’d been in there for seven stinking months now.
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
She finger-punched the delete key on her keyboard with rapid-fire precision.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
The monitor screen blinked with each error chime filling her tiny living room.
“Why won’t you just delete?” There were a thousand better ways to spend a Saturday, but here she was once again, futilely wrestling with technology.
She fought back another wave of impending doom. The one hard and fast rule of the agency was: employees are prohibited from submitting personal applications. No exceptions. This was going to cost her her job. Eight years of stellar service notwithstanding. Sure, it was an accident, but how could she prove it?
I should have gone to Jordan immediately.
But she hadn’t. She’d been so sure she could handle it herself. What her supervisor didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Nixy pursed her lips into a pucker. Should she be relieved or disappointed that no match had been found?
A small stress-laugh escaped her. Wow. Her brain had actually gone there? Not having found a match was literally the least of her concerns. Besides, she’d already met the love of her life...and lost him. She let her gaze drift to the eight-by-ten frame on her fire place mantle. The one of her and Efrem on their wedding day, ten long years ago. Efrem tall, slim, and handsome in his black tux, with a head full of salt and pepper curls, and her in a lacey, ivory tea length dress, with baby’s breath woven into her brown hair.
A huff of dry humor escaped her. Brown hair that’d gotten too gray over the years, until she’d caved and colored it a reddish-purple. On Efrem, gray had looked distinguished. On her, not so much.
She brushed one straight, blunt-cut strand back behind her ear. Her memories of the three years they’d had together had been enough to keep her going so far. And it looked like those memories would be all she had after Jordan fired her.
Reality check, Nix: you’re not the first agent to have broken that rule.
She was just the only one who hadn’t been caught. Yet. It was only a matter of time. How could her supervisor have missed this?
Good thing I used my full name, not my nickname.
That was the only logical reason she hadn’t been busted already. Nixy would have definitely caught Jordan’s attention.
A strange tingle blossomed at the base of her skull, as if something exciting was about to happen. It spread like goosebumps down her arms and over her breasts. Damn, even her nipples stood at attention, visible through her T-shirt. Had a ghost touched her, or something?
She swept the living room with her gaze. Everything seemed normal…the well-padded couch, end tables, lamps, built-in bookcases. “Efrem?”
Silence, except for the laughter of the neighbor’s kids playing next door. But still, the feeling lingered. She gave her head a shake. It didn’t feel like Efrem, and besides, he only ever appeared to her when she revisited their wedding day at the winery in her dreams.
You’re spending too much time inside alone again.
An easy thing for a fifty-five-year-old widow to do.
Ping.
She glanced at her cell phone on the side table and grinned at the text on the screen.
Opal Lentz: Tea?
Goodness, her elderly neighbor had the best timing. It was such an unlikely friendship, but Mrs. Lentz had shown up at her door shortly after Efrem’s passing, bearing the gifts of understanding and the bond of widowhood.
Nixy picked up the phone and thumb-texted back—a skill she’d managed to teach herself despite having fat thumbs.
Nixy Vogel: Yes! Bringing shortbread.
Thank goodness Mrs. Lentz had agreed to installing a friendship gate between their backyards. Made it easier to visit.
Opal Lentz: The girls are out. Close the gate.
Ah, so the chickens were free-ranging in Mrs. Lentz’s backyard. Cute little fluff-bonnets.
Nixy Vogel: Will do. See U in 5.
She flipped the lid of her laptop closed, set it aside with the phone, and pushed out of the easy chair. Tea was just the thing she needed to distract herself from work woes and weird feelings of anticipation.
A smaller shiver went through her. What in the world would make her feel like that anyway?
Kai floated on Earth’s air currents toward a boxy building built on the right angles of a street corner. Earth was unexpectedly delightful. At least, the desert site of the galactic spaceport was. The small city where the Silverstar offices and guest residences were located was situated on the other side of a small mountain range, closer to the coast, and therefore somewhat cooler. Still within an acceptable temperate range, though.
He alighted on the roof, and adjusted the pack attached to his flying leathers. Then he squatted to run his hand over the closely cropped blades of greenery covering the landing area. The plant struck a familiar chord, a memory he could not quite grasp. He had seen something similar somewhere before, but how was that possible?
In all likelihood, it was nothing important. What he needed was an entrance to the building. Monarch Kyzel was purported to be residing on the top floor of this five-storey building, so it should not take much time to find him.
Kai scanned the rooftop. There; that glassed in archway must the access point. He rose and strode toward it. The glass double doors parted even though there was no obvious sensor visible.
He stepped through the doorway into an open space large enough to comfortably fit at least a dozen phoenixes. Frigid air surrounded him, sending a shiver down his spine and through his wings. It was as cold as winter in the mountains where part of the Rockdweller clan lived. And as barren. Just some potted plants, a tall counter, and another pair of double doors—in silver-green brushed metal, not glass. Almost the exact color as the leaves of the cinbin bush back home.
“Welcome to Silverstar. Can I help you?” The question came from a young, wingless female seated on a tall perch behind the counter.
“Aye.” His gaze fell on a meter-tall metal piece affixed to the wall next to the metal doors behind the female. “What is that?”
She glanced over her shoulder, revealing a tiny device plugged into her ear, partially hidden under her straight blonde head-silk. “That’s the letter ‘R’ in the English alphabet. R for roof.”
So, it was a letter? Why had his visual translator not recognized this? He gave the implant behind his ear a sharp tap, then focused on the letter again. An almost imperceptible click came from the implant, followed by recognition of the letter.
He breathed out a soft sigh of relief, then turned his attention back to the female. “I must go to the fifth floor.”
“You need an appointment with one of our agents before you can access the residential floors.”
“Why? I am here to see Monarch Kyzel Raptorclaw, who resides on the fifth floor of this building.”
“What’s your name?”
He straightened with self-importance. “I am Elder Kai Firewing.”
Surely now that she knew he was from the revered clan of mate-matchers, she would grant him access.
“Okay, hold on a sec.” She tapped her finger against the ear device. “Adam, there’s a visitor up here for Monarch Raptorclaw…. Elder Kai Firewing…. Okay, thanks.” She tapped it again and met his gaze. “Adam will be right up to help you.”
“Can you not take me to the monarch?”
“No, I’m sorry.” She smiled in a friendly way. “I’m stuck behind this desk until my shift ends. But he’ll only be a couple minutes.”
“Is that a long time?”
“Um, no?”
Good. “I will wait.”
It would probably be advantageous to learn how time worked on Earth, even though he should not be here long enough for it to matter. He had even packed lightly: a few changes of clothing and the portable deep-space communication device.
The silence in the space lengthened, and still no Adam appeared. Kai pursed his lips. If left to his own devices, he would have located Raptorclaw by now.
Ding.
The chime was followed by the soft swish of the silver-green doors opening. A slim, wingless male stepped out of the box-like room behind the doors. “Elevator hold.”
Human clothing varied widely, it seemed. The workers at the spaceport had been attired in loose dark-blue one-piece uniforms. The female behind the desk wore a short-sleeve white top with tiny round fasteners running down the front, and dark gray leggings with crisp, vertical creases.
This male, however, had a different style. His fitted long-sleeved shirt hinted at sinewy muscles underneath. And the black leggings, made of a thick fabric, hugged his legs, ending in narrow openings around his ankles that seemed too small for his feet to fit through.
The female stood up as the newcomer strode forward. “Thanks, Adam.”
“Sure thing, Steph. Hello, Elder Kai, I’m Adam Rosse.” Everything about the human was friendly, from his smile to his brown eyes. Even the sandy streaks through his light brown head-silk hinted at a relaxed personality. “Lucky thing I decided to come in today. I’m usually not here on Saturdays. Unfortunately, Monarch Kyzel isn’t in right now, but his advisor cleared you to come to their suite. We can take the elevator down.”
Not much of what he said made sense, except the part about Kyzel. “What is an elevator?”
“It’s a transportation contraption that gets us from floor to floor.” Adam beckoned him forward with a hand wave. “The entire building was designed to comfortably accommodate even the largest of the Alliance’s species. Step this way.”
Kai, following the younger male, stepped into the windowless box-room.
“I presume this is your first time on an Earth elevator, Elder Kai?”
“Aye.”
“Then I recommend you hold onto the bar at the back.” Adam pushed a round button directly under the one marked with an R. For roof. “It’s not fast or anything, but it might be disconcerting if you’re not used to it.”
This was all very strange, but Kai shrugged and wrapped his hand around the silver bar attached the back wall. The doors slid closed, and the sensation of downward movement pressed against his body.
He met Adam’s gaze. “This is like an Alliance lift.”
“Yup.”
Ding.
The doors opened to reveal a long, wide corridor.
“This way.” Adam stepped off the lift and strode forward, and Kai followed. “The building is ‘L’ shaped. The lower two floors are Silverstar Agency offices, and the upper three are residential units, called suites, where our clients—and sometimes their guests—stay. This floor is reserved for winged clients, so they can access the roof.”
“If an ‘L’ is the same as a right angle, then I understand.”
Adam chuckled. “Close enough. Here we are.”
The door was as wide as the ones on the roof, and matched the coloring of the elevator doors. The only thing differentiating it from the lift were the head-high symbols “5-A” in silver. Adam tapped his knuckles against it, and it opened with a swoosh.
Just inside stood the imposing figure of Rol Raptorclaw, prime advisor to the Raptorclaw monarch. Most of the clan were large, like him, but Kai had had enough dealings with them over his lifetimes to not be intimidated.
Rol nodded. “Elder Kai.”
“Prime Advisor Rol.” Kai stepped into the spacious common room. “I am sorry to intrude, but I must speak with Monarch Raptorclaw.”
“He is not here.”
Kai puckered his mouth in distaste. “So I heard. When is he expected to return?”
“Later tonight.” Rol shrugged his massive shoulders. “You may wait here, if you wish. We have an extra room if you need it.”
Adam cleared his throat. “If you’re all okay here, I’m going back to my office.”
“We are fine,” Rol replied. “Thank you, Mr. Rosse.”
The door slid shut and Rol turned away. “Make yourself comfortable, Elder.”
“Thank you.” He fumbled with his pack’s straps, disengaging it from his flying leathers then dropping it on the floor next to the back wall. “It has been a long trip.”
“I understand.” Rol sat on one of the four tall, backless perches around the eating table. “Please, take a perch, Elder. We have not seen you since Careene’s funeral. Have you been well?”
“Well enough.” He slid onto the perch directly across the table from the prime advisor. “I am eager to speak with Kyzel, though. Where is he?”
“He is spending the day with the female he has been matched with by the agency.” Rol gazed down at the tabletop with a frown.
This was not the news he wanted to hear, but there was a small, suspicious tick in Rol’s jaw that indicated he too was not entirely pleased with the situation.
Kai studied the other male. “You do not approve of his choices.”
Rol shot him a narrow-eyed glare. “He does what he believes is best for our clan, and for Bezchi.”
“But he is breaking with tradition.”
“He has the clan’s approval.” The raptor looked back down at the table. “And mine.”
“Of course.” He opened himself up to sense Rol’s feelings.
Duty struggled against a tide of discord. The clan’s approval or not, Rol was a traditionalist in conflict. His reluctance to talk about it made it clear he was torn between supporting his monarch and his own personal beliefs. The monarch’s prime advisor could be the key to ending the match before it was too late, and that would please Uri to the upper atmosphere and beyond.
As long as Monarch Kyzel was absent, it would be easy to stir Rol’s doubts until he was primed for subtle suggestion and took action. There was, after all, no hiding emotions from an empath. Something Rol should know well.
Kai folded his arms atop the table and leaned casually against them. “Once a monarch breaks with tradition, then others will follow.”
Rol raised his head and locked gazes with him. “Perhaps the elder would like a refreshing glass of lemonade?”
Raptorclaw practically flew off his perch and headed for another wide arched doorway behind Kai. Oh, yes, a nerve had been struck. A little more agitation should work to get the prime advisor to take action.
The sound of glassware tinking together came from the room Rol had entered. Kai folded his hands atop the table. Patience was easy for someone as long-lived as him. Everything happened in due time, in his experience.
A few moments later, the prime advisor plunked down a glass of pale-yellow liquid in front of him. “Lemonade.”
“Thank you.” He raised the glass to his lips and took a cautious sip. The tart-sweet flavor flowed over his tongue like a beverage from the Great Aerie itself. How could such deliciousness have been created by a race of ground-bound beings?
He swallowed, lowered the glass, and smacked his lips a couple of times. “That is quite…refreshing, as you said.”
Rol shrugged, sipping from his own glass. Not the talkative sort, that much was clear. No matter.
Kai took another larger gulp, then set his glass on the table. “You are aware that you are in the position to save our culture from such a devastating collapse.”
A hint of doubt slipped through Rol’s agitation, a sure indicator that his words were getting through.
Rol curled his lip in a silent snarl and jutted his chin in the direction of a different archway, this one set in the back wall. “The bedrooms are through there. You may use the second one on the left.”
He stood abruptly, and stomped away down the same hallway, presumably to his own quarters.
Ah, the seeds of doubt had been planted. Give him time, and Rol could be an effective means of bringing the rogue monarch to heel.
A quiver of unease churned through his stomach, and he frowned at the glass between his palms. He had done the right thing, certainly. Must just be the lemonade not settling well.