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  She enjoyed her job, her single life, and the time spent with her business partner and best friend, Jackie. Patrice’s mother was always fixing her up with this man or that, usually graduate students from the university, but she was not looking for a serious relationship. I’m barely twenty-five. I have a lifetime ahead of me for that.

  Men were nice to have around, especially on cold nights, but Patrice enjoyed spending time alone with her books, another thing in which her mother did not approve. Not the books part, just the no man in her life part. Her father on the other hand, a quiet, intellectual who stayed to himself, didn’t much care how Patrice lived, as long as he didn’t have to hear about it too often. He wasn’t an uncaring man, just an introvert who got pleasure from his career as a geology professor. Lately, he took jaunts out on his boat to watch the whales migrate and check the status of local glaciers. He claimed to be studying them for some science experiment he had concocted, but Patrice suspected he just wanted to be alone. Her mother could be overbearing at times.

  Her parents were in their thirties when Patrice came along. Despite her mom’s eagerness talk about settling down, the woman had not married until she was twenty-nine. Her mom was thrilled to become a parent, but Patrice suspected her dad hadn’t much cared one way or the other. He paid the bills and his wife did the childrearing and homemaking. Four years later, they had a second child, a son, whom their mother still doted on. She didn’t even go back to teaching until he was in the third grade. Sammy, named after their grandfather, was now at Arizona State University working on his archaeology degree.

  Patrice took the mail from her rusted box and stuck the key in the door. Once inside, she flipped on the light, locked the door, tossed her purse, mail and keys onto the waiting table, then flipped on the switch to the gas fireplace. She had it converted to gas after the old chimney got damaged in the last quake. She liked to have a fire she could turn off and on at will, in case she decided to leave abruptly. Besides, she had the darnedest time getting a real fire lit. Even those fake logs tended to blow out when she tried to ignite the paper.

  If I had to be a survivalist, I’d definitely fail. After shedding her coat and boots, she frowned at the potted plant on her coffee table, brown fronds draped over the plastic container. So much for hard-to-kill plants. This was her third in so many months. Good thing I don’t want kids. They’d probably end up looking like that because mommy forgot to feed them.

  A quick trip to her bedroom to exchange her blouse and jeans for slippers and sweats, then into the second bedroom she had turned into a personal library similar to her father’s, albeit quite a bit smaller.

  Her phone needed charging so she plugged it in and checked email from her laptop. Mostly spam, but her brother had sent photos from a current dig he was helping with. He often copied her onto emails he sent to their parents, especially when he was out of cell service range. She glanced at the photos, noting that he looked very happy crouched beside a grid with what looked like a paint brush in one hand and his hat on crooked. Jackie had sent a reminder about Saturday night’s dinner date with two men she’d met at a new gym, a duplicate to the message she had texted to Patrice’s cell earlier today. Jackie had driven the two and a half hours to Anchorage just to “drop in and check out the new place”. The men were driving into Seward for this date, a bonus since Patrice’s gas tank was nearly empty and she hated the cost of filling it up. If nothing else, she figured she would at least get a decent seafood dinner and sex out of the deal.

  She still had several condoms left from her last boyfriend, a transplant from California. He lasted a whole three months in Alaska before moving back home. This place was never short of tourists, mostly retired and on a cruise, in the summer months, but winters left the little coastal town sparse and quiet, just the way Patrice like it. Well, except for the severe lack of desirable men.

  She sent another acknowledgement to Jackie, letting her know they were still on, and padded into the kitchen to stick her nose in the freezer. Another few seconds of shoving boxes around, she finally chose one and popped it into the microwave, thankful for a decent metabolism. A cold soda from the fridge completed her nutritiously deficient meal, and she flopped onto the couch to eat and watch the news.

  “Depressing.” She flipped through several channels and decided on an old sit-com. It was safe and familiar and Patrice chuckled as she ate.

  After dinner, she cleaned up, brushed her teeth, and headed into her library. Just as she reached for her current book, a blue glow filtered in from the window that faced the backyard. When she parted the blinds, she could make out a strange light inside the aurora. So, I did see something.

  In movements that seemed too slow, she made her way to the family room, threw her coat and boots on, then padded through the kitchen and out the back door. This time there was no mistaking the unusual blue light. It shone down like a giant flashlight, beaming from inside the wavering colors of the aurora. Patrice felt somewhat like a bug under a microscope as she watched it expand. A meteor maybe? Though she had never seen a blue one. A patio light went on from the home to her right, the elderly Lawson couple, and voices wafted over the fence. They seemed just as mystified.

  Patrice brushed snow off a lawn chair and huddled down in it, hands shoved into her pockets, neck craned toward the sky. The brief thought of getting a camera struck her but was instantly gone when the light flashed so brightly she had to shield her eyes. Momentary nausea took her, along with a sensation of falling, and Patrice’s entire body tingled as vertigo took hold. She fought to stay in her chair and keep her stomach under control. She thought she heard someone call her name but the sounds came and went so quickly, she couldn’t be sure. Then the light and awful sensations disappeared as quickly as they had come.

  She was lying flat on her back on the ground. Shit. Is that what a vertigo attack is like? I must’ve fallen out of my chair. Breathless, she opened her eyes and the aurora came into view, undulating above her. That’s when she noticed four, shadowy figures standing nearby.

  “You all right, dearie?” an old woman’s voice said in an accent Patrice couldn’t place. New neighbors? Tourists?

  “I think so.” She sat up on a blanket in the snow. They must have put me on it. Did I pass out? “What happened?”

  “We should get you inside.”

  “Yes. All right.” Strong arms lifted her from behind and she started to turn.

  “Just relax,” a male voice said. “I have you.” She didn’t recognize his accent either, which differed slightly from the old woman’s inflection. And he smelled like he needed a bath or a better deodorant. Though the shelters were in Anchorage and Kenai, it wasn’t unheard of to see a homeless person in Seward once in a while.

  Patrice started to walk when she realized the snow was much deeper than before. She could no longer make out her house, her neighbors’ houses, or the fences that separated them. She should be able to see these things, especially with the aurora overhead, adding light to the night sky. Instead, all she saw were snow-covered trees.

  Maybe I’m dreaming. But it doesn’t feel like a dream. This feels real. Very real. Oh, shit, maybe I hit my head. Do people hallucinate from concussions? But her head didn’t hurt.

  She studied the shadowy people. The three within her sightline wore cloaks. Cloaks, really? Two were about her height of five feet seven inches and flanked the old woman she had heard earlier. She guessed they were female, though it was a bit difficult to tell through the layers they wore. One held a tall cane with numerous jewels that reflected the aurora’s light. The thing looked like a staff from a fantasy movie.

  Is the Renaissance Faire in town? The man was still behind her so she couldn’t see him but she guessed he probably wore a costume, as well. The frigid wind picked up and she wrinkled her nose at his body odor. Okay, that’s going a bit far to skip the bath or the deodorant. Everyone knows the fair is fake. Jeez.

  It was cold. Damn cold. More like Arctic temperatures than
any Alaskan winter she remembered, though she had never actually been to the Arctic. But she had seen documentaries. Where the hell am I?

  I must be asleep. She never stayed asleep long once she realized she was dreaming, but she didn’t wake this time. Instead, her teeth began to chatter from the cold, like some crazy cartoon character. Okay, if I’m not asleep, where the hell is my house? Oh God, was someone in the yard when I came outside? Her memories seemed fuzzy from the time she fell off the lawn chair to the time she awoke here. She remembered being nauseous. Did someone drug me?

  Her heart raced like a dogsled team across the tundra and she pulled from the man’s grip, stumbling in the thick snow before regaining her balance. “What the hell’s going on here? Where’s my house? And who are you people?” Her cheeks and nose burned from the cold, and she wanted to shove her hands in her pockets but didn’t know if she would need them to fight. She had forgotten gloves before heading into her backyard. The shortest stranger stepped toward her and Patrice stumbled back.

  “Calm down, dearie.” The voice quivered slightly, like her great aunt’s had when she was alive. “I will explain everything but we need to get out of this cold before we freeze to death.”

  Patrice had no doubt they could freeze in this weather, but when she studied the tall man, she noticed his golden eyes. Even in the dim light of the aurora, she could see the odd color. She couldn’t see his features in this darkness, just those eyes peering at her from beneath a hood. Contacts? She gazed at the aurora again and her eyes rested on a single light. This one shone blue, like distant stars sometimes did, only much brighter.

  Is that what I saw earlier? Maybe it’s just a plane. She discreetly reached into her pocket for her cell phone, chiding herself that she didn’t think of that before, but her hand came out empty and she remembered that she had left the phone charging. Inside her house. Wherever the hell that was. Shit shit shit! She decided to put some distance between herself and these strangers and she turned to run.

  The old woman cried, “Stop, Patrice Aurora Gray! You will not run!” She mumbled something and Patrice froze in mid-stride as some kind of invisible barrier wrapped around her body. She lost her desire to flee. “We will not hurt you, Patrice. You must believe that.”

  Curiosity replaced fear and she turned back. “How do you know my name?”

  The old woman had one hand on the jeweled staff but didn’t take it from the other woman who held it. “I know many things about you, dearie. Now, come inside.”

  Fear swelled again, as though a curtain lifted to reveal it, and Patrice tried to go the opposite direction again, but there was that barrier and the haze in her mind about running away. Her head began to clear as she faced the strangers again. What’s wrong with me? She should at least keep them in sight if she couldn’t escape.

  “Come, child.” The old woman released the staff, turned, and walked toward a dark area with the golden-eyed man assisting her like a doting son.

  The remaining two seemed to study her a moment, then the one with the jeweled staff motioned her ahead. She obeyed, when she should have been running the opposite direction as fast as she possibly could manage.

  A cave? I don’t like this. But she didn’t seem to have much choice at the moment. Once inside, Patrice refused to do anything except stand with her back against a wall and watch these people. At least if she could see them, none could sneak up on her. She had expected a house or at least a hut of some sort. Not a damn cave. Who the hell are they? She guessed they had been here a while. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have had time to build a fire.

  Body odor assaulted her as the strangers shed their outer clothing and she wrinkled her nose. They began to move about, making their odors that much worse, and Patrice put an inconspicuous hand near her nose. It didn’t help much. She watched as they meandered toward the fire and that’s when she took a closer look at it. No wood, just a mound of glowing stones with flames that licked the air above them. The flames gave off heat. Fake, like her gas fireplace. Why in hell do they have a fake fire in the middle of a cave? What is going on? Her coat would get uncomfortable soon but she didn’t dare take it off. In fact, she buttoned it all the way up to her neck as she watched the four.

  Okay, concentrate on getting out of here. What do I know so far? Three women and one man. Now obvious without their outer clothing. The two women about Patrice’s height of five-seven also looked about her age, while the short woman was elderly, just as she’d suspected. The man had dark skin, which made those golden contacts stand out all the more, and he stood tall with broad shoulders. She doubted she could fight him off if he intended to rape her. Her body shivered, despite the fire, and she drew arms around her middle.

  Where am I and how did I get here? Had someone gotten to her food, drugged her? She had eaten a frozen meal. It was sealed and in the freezer. They couldn’t have known what she would choose for dinner. She didn’t even know until she went digging around in there. Her soda? No, that was sealed.

  Ether, maybe? A bit old-fashioned but she was desperate for an explanation. She didn’t remember smelling anything strange or feeling anyone grab her. People in the movies always reacted when someone pressed an ether-laden cloth against their noses. The last thing she remembered was watching that blue light near the aurora. Then vertigo took her. Her heart thudded against her ribs as another thought forced its way into her head.

  She had read about alien abductions. Pure fantasy, of course. Right? Her imagination had gotten her into trouble many times as a kid. Once, when she was little, she insisted her real parents were aliens who had dumped her here on Earth until the war on their planet subsided, and she had special powers that made her immune to human adults, a scenario she had read during her comic book phase. Her teachers and parents were not amused.

  Patrice chuckled at the thought of aliens, and the others turned to watch her as they took places around the fake fire. Damn nervous habit. These people looked human, not alien. Think, Patrice. Her birthday had just passed. A surprise party? Surely, her business partner and best friend of ten years wouldn’t do such a thing. But Jackie was just the person to pull off something like this. Why didn’t I think of that before? This has to be Jackie’s doing. I bet she texted me again just to make sure I was home. Though how her friend pulled off such an elaborate scheme, Patrice could only guess. Must’ve cost a fortune for this set. And actors don’t work for free. Do they? Or maybe they just found a cave and turned it into a set.

  She glanced at the fire. Manufacturers can do anything with fireplaces these days. And special effects people have even more tricks. Her gaze moved to the old woman, who whispered something to the man. Jackie was the only one besides Patrice’s parents and the IRS who knew her middle name. This woman had used it outside. Yep, definitely Jackie’s work. Her parents had no imagination for such things, but they could have provided money towards it. That thought ruminated in her head for several seconds. Would her parents give her friend money for a birthday hoax? Nah. Jackie probably had a pool going at The Book and Mug. Most of their customers were regulars who would get a huge kick out of watching Patrice squirm like this. Maybe my brother helped her. No, he’s not on break and he would never skip out on classes or a dig, even for something like this. She glanced around the cave, trying to decide the best place to hide a camera or a two-way mirror. Jackie wouldn’t set all this up without being able to watch it. She’s probably streaming it so my brother and his dorm-mates can laugh their asses off at me.

  Patrice hid a smile and decided to play along to see what these actors would do. In fact, she started to find the whole thing amusing, a bit like living out a novel. Jackie often teased her that she would fall into one of those worlds if she didn’t get her head out of a book more often. And now she’s made it happen. Yep, this is most definitely her work. I’ll wring her neck when I see her again, teach her to scare the crap out of me.

  “I know you are confused, Patrice.” The old woman’s voice startled her in the
quiet of the cave. “And I will explain. But we will be here a while, so you may as well sit down. The weather is too harsh to travel this time of year.”

  Yeah, right. Not conducive to travel for a prank like this, too damn expensive. If she wandered off too far, maybe she would run right into a theatrical flat. Jackie, how the hell did you pull this off without me finding out?

  The old woman was still talking. “Please, remove your coat and come sit by the fire.” Patrice shook her head but she chuckled again.

  The woman with dark braid and thick pants shifted her weight. Her staff leaned on a nearby boulder. “You may as well do as Sorinieve says.”

  Patrice wished she could place the accents then fought not to palm her forehead. They were fake, like the fur that lined her coat, which grew very warm now. Fake, like that fire. Which would explain why they each sounded a bit different. Even actors couldn’t get a made-up accent perfect, or else they didn’t worry over it too much, since this was just a birthday prank. The dark-haired woman’s braid fell to the middle of her back. She had a tanned body with broad shoulders and muscular arms, as though she lifted weights, which she probably did.

  Probably has a hottie of a personal trainer, too. Or else, she’s a trainer. Or maybe a stuntwoman.

  “Sorinieve will not allow you to leave.” The woman cocked a dark brow that looked like it needed grooming.

  Nice touch. “That sounds like a threat,” Patrice managed, as she fought a grin. Actually, this could be fun, this game, like acting out parts at a Renaissance Faire. As long as they didn’t keep her up too late. She was opening the store tomorrow.

  The dark-haired woman shrugged. “I thought so at first. But you should listen to what she has to say.”