Enchanted Ever After (Mystic Circle) (7 page)

Should he phone her? He had her application, with telephone numbers, on his personal computer tablet, but he wanted her to be aware of him, wanted her to come to him. However, he’d inadvertently used glamour on her earlier that day; the Emberdrakes wouldn’t forget that.

So he dragged in a breath that brought him the scent of leaves ready to turn in the autumn, losing their water flexibility and becoming dry and brittle, as well as the fragrance of the pond and the koi within, stupid and not good to eat. Considered beautiful by humans—and Kiri seemed to believe that—but compared to ocean creatures, the koi were ugly and clumsy. Most of all, the scent of balanced magic curled into his nostrils, layering on the folded frills.

He felt that balanced magic in the soles of his feet, and Jenni, as she’d trailed through the rooms, had balanced the magic in them. She’d ventured into each of the royal rooms and made the fire suite all of that element, then changed the energy of each of the others to match.

Wondrous.

But he was still landlocked, still had to live in his human form, even in this very special place. And the Castle wasn’t his. He stayed here at the whim of the Eight, or the Water King.

He closed the wooden door with a thunk, walked through the entryway, then up to the top of the four-story small tower. From here he could see all of the Circle, each house with bright squares of living.

He was alone. Occasionally, he was allowed to stay in a secondary home by himself—the last perched like a carbuncle on the shelf of a deep marine trench. It had been smaller than this, and cold. But usually he was a “houseguest” of some other person or family. His own family was gone—his father, who’d been the last of his line, was dead; his mother had listened to her relatives and abandoned him soon after he was born. He shook off the memory.

Luxurious to have a home of such quality to himself. It felt good, but he wouldn’t forget that he had no permanent place, no family. That was his goal, something he could win with the success of this project.

The quiet in the mansion hummed with magic to his ears, and pleased him. No intolerant naiader begrudged him here, a relief. Even as he enjoyed the peace of being by himself in a special place, he knew he’d eventually become lonely.

He wished Kiri was here to share the serenity...and make memories.

* * *

By the time Thursday morning rolled around, Kiri and her friend Shannon had spent a couple of cherished hours on the phone speculating about details of the new game, Transformation. They’d agreed that it would probably be another fantasy-world with the magic-based systems that Jenni Weavers Emberdrake was known for.

Both Kiri and Shannon had decided that having the game determine your character—strengths, weaknesses, types like magic user or long-distance shooter—sounded extremely dubious from a marketing standpoint. Good for novelty, but there’d better be an option for character creation. Kiri hoped she had the guts to give that opinion...but at the end of the trial, not now.

She hadn’t slept much and got up when predawn light filtered into her bedroom, still undecided about what she would wear. In the game she was a fashionista—and perfectly proportioned. In the real world, her breasts and hips were full, she was short-waisted and short-legged and if she didn’t watch it, she’d be plump.

Definitely not a business suit and stockings, even though she was meeting Lathyr in a downtown Denver high-rise, and there might be other people there to interview her, too. If she knew Jenni Weavers Emberdrake a little better, she’d have called the other woman and asked for advice, but Kiri still considered Jenni as one of the people who’d be watching her.

What mattered was the game—handling herself. Her shoulders had lifted with tension and her shoulder blades had squeezed together. Learning a new game was just like learning anything else—a new craft, a new job. There was a curve. Kiri wanted to be at the top of the curve. But she had no doubt that though she might spend most of her time in the game today, appearance mattered.

She’d already worn her beige outfit to the block party. Maybe it was time for businesslike black. She dragged out black slacks and a pale gray, thin cashmere sweater, then put the sweater back. The Eight Corp offices were probably warm and she’d probably sweat during the game—no doubt in her mind that adrenaline would spike through her a few times—and she didn’t want to mess up her cashmere, no matter how comforting it might feel.

Ditch the whole professional business bit and go for what she was: computer tech and gamer. She put on a Fairies and Dragon tee, covered it with a plum-colored hoodie and wore her best cargo pants. Done. She would
not
dress up for Lathyr.

Breakfast was half an English muffin with cream cheese and coffee.

She perched on the edge of her living room chair until the car taking her downtown beeped out in front, and her stomach gave a little squeeze.

Whatever happened, her life would never be the same....

Chapter 7

HALF AN HOUR
later, she was the only one in the elevator rising to Eight Corp’s floor,
although the huge lobby of the building had bustled with other people. She
adjusted her hoodie and her workbag—this one a pristine bright red Fairies and
Dragons carryall—over her shoulder, and did a few deep breaths as she watched
the floor numbers light.

The door opened and she was met by Jenni and Lathyr. Jenni wore
casual, too, but Lathyr had on a pale gray silk suit.

No one sat at the receptionist’s desk—odd, because Kiri had
only worked places where the receptionist had the earliest hours. With her first
step, Kiri’s feet literally sank into a deep green rug. She got the impression
of elegant luxury before Jenni held out both her hands with a big smile. “Glad
to see you again.”

Once more, the woman’s hands were warmer than her own. Damn
nerves. “Yes. I’m excited.”

“We are, too.” Jenni beamed.

Lathyr offered his own hand, and Kiri shook it, ignoring how
nice it felt. Firm grip, meet his eyes—gorgeous deep blue. Breathe, because the
initial greeting went okay.

“A pleasure,” Lathyr said.

“For me, too,” Kiri said.

Jenni turned and moved around a huge freestanding wall of
granite. “Let’s head to the room where the game server is set up.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Kiri said.

“Do you want something to drink?” asked Lathyr.

Coffee would tweak her nerves even more. “Water would be
great.”

He peeled off and Kiri followed Jenni down the hall to an
interior room. It was painted an uninspired beige and was longer than it was
wide. To Kiri’s surprise, an actual wooden counter polished to a gloss ran along
the wall as a desk setup. Atop the counter, four huge monitors sat. The most
comfortable of ergonomic chairs—smelling of new plastic and metal—were placed
before the monitors. Several different types of game controllers waited on a
floating platform a little lower than the desk under each monitor. All
top-of-the-line electronics.

“Wow, nice setup,” she said.

“Thanks.” Jenni went to the last chair on the left, sat and
swiveled toward Kiri.

But Kiri’s stare had fixed on several sets of gloves that
appeared to have filaments embedded in them, and four wraparound visors.

“As you can see,” Jenni said easily, “we’re experimenting a bit
with virtual reality, also. Put on the visor and you’ll feel as if you’re really
in the game. Wear the gloves and your gestures will be translated as powers. For
instance, if you want to throw a fireball—”

“I’ll really act as if I’m throwing a ball.”

“That’s right.”

“Hmm.” Kiri stayed where she was.

“We’d like you to wear the gloves and visor.”

“This isn’t monitoring my vitals, is it?”

The line between Jenni’s eyes cleared. “No. Absolutely not. The
gloves and the visor are simply to immerse you in a deeper gaming
experience.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I have your water,” Lathyr said from behind her.

So Kiri sidled into the room, stood near the third chair. The
man offered her a large bottle of fizzy water—the same brand of raspberry that
she’d chosen at the block party, and somehow she didn’t think that was by
chance. “Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome.” He did a torso incline thing, then
closed the door and the room felt pretty small. Reaching out, he took a pair of
large teal gloves and slipped them on, raising a brow at Kiri as he did so. He
held a visor by the slim end and twirled it in his fingers.

“I, um, am pretty simple in my gaming,” Kiri said. “Monitor,
keyboard, mouse.”

“Please,” Jenni said, gesturing to the gloves and visors. She
donned some red ones with gold “embroidery” of fiber optic filaments or
something. Kiri narrowed her eyes, then blinked. It looked like the pattern
might be almost a mathematical algorithm—or, in a different game, a spell—and
the design lit up.

“I thought we were going to have another interview?” Kiri said
weakly, looking at Lathyr.

“That’s so stuffy,” Jenni said.

It
was
stuffy.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jenni.

Kiri grimaced. “The gloves and visor might interfere with my
play.” She swallowed. “I really don’t want to screw this up.” It meant too much
to her.

Lathyr set the visor down and stripped off the gloves. He held
out both hands. “I am a good judge of energy. I am sure I can reassure you that
you belong here. Please?”

Kiri stared, cut her eyes to Jenni, questioning this new age
stuff. The woman looked bland, so Kiri shrugged and put her hands in his. Yes,
tingles, for sure. And the texture of his palms and his fingers was so smooth,
but there was strength in those hands. Nice.

“Pregame visualization exercise,” Jenni said. “Close your eyes
and visualize—ah—the Fairy Dome in Fairies and Dragons.”

Kiri shot her a glance. “You take the game very seriously.”

“Well, of course. It’s my livelihood. An attitude I expect from
you.”

Kiri closed her eyes, recalled the Fairy Dome, tried to bring
it into focus. She’d always sucked at visualization except right before and
right after she slept.

She became all too aware of Lathyr, his hands, the closeness of
his body to hers, as if energy cycled between them. Scents came to her nose, a
hot and spicy smell, a fresh odor reminding her of the ocean—Lathyr’s
aftershave? Eyes shut, she
felt
the atmosphere in
the room...fancifully enough, she thought that Jenni’s and Lathyr’s energy
clashed, did not mix well. Kiri realized her breathing matched Lathyr’s, slow
and deep. Her ears strained...trying to hear the hum of the computers...no, she
was too used to her barely up-to-date equipment at work. Not the tiniest buzz of
fans, but she was right, the room was warm and getting warmer. In fact, the
tingles within her seemed to also press against her skin, as if she were
immersed in fizzy water. Fun, energizing. She stifled a giggle.

Lathyr released her hands and stepped back. Her eyelids flew
open and she smiled at him, only to see he’d moved and was leaning over Jenni,
speaking quietly. He glanced up at her, nodded, then said, “You will do
well.”

When he returned to talking to Jenni, all Kiri’s doubts swarmed
back, despite his assurance. Jenni had indicated that it was Lathyr who had
decided—or would decide—whether Kiri was a good fit, hadn’t she? She wished
they’d done this earlier and in a conference room or something, not where she
was supposed to work.

Stiffly, Kiri walked over to the long desk, noted that the edge
wasn’t squared off, but rounded, lovely. Scanning the gloves—twelve pairs in
various sizes and colors—she went with impulse and chose a pair of pretty pale
green ones that looked to be her size. She pulled them on—they felt like the
finest chamois, and again her hands tingled. The metallic silver embroidery
glittered, nearly seemed to spark. Wow. She chose a visor she thought would fit,
but didn’t put it on. And she sat in the chair, turned on the monitor.

A rainbow-colored word appeared in flowing pastel script.
Transformation!
Frowning, tugging on the wrists of her
gloves, she looked over at Lathyr and Jenni, who watched her.

“Yes?” asked Jenni. Kiri thought the woman hid a smile. Maybe
that should relieve her, but it didn’t much.

“I’ve heard there are some biofeedback games out there,” Kiri
said. She flexed her fingers; the gloves clung, almost massaged her hands. Felt
good, but she’d definitely miss a keyboard. Obviously, she wasn’t as flexible as
she’d thought. Not a good thing to consider when she was on the job interview of
her life. Not when she wanted to be on the cutting edge of the gaming world.

“Yes,” Jenni said. “I’ve heard of those games, too, even tried
them. But, I promise you, the gloves are not recording any information. They are
for virtual reality purposes only.”

“I don’t see the connectivity to the computer system.”

“Optical,” Jenni said promptly.

Lathyr walked toward her and put his gloves on again—they
weren’t the same texture, more like thin silk. Jenni’s were velvet. He said, “I
assure you, Ms. Palger, that you are a prime candidate for this job.”

All the repetition brought relief. “I
do
want the job.”

Jenni’s brows rose. “Let’s go then.” She waved and the other
monitors blinked on, along with the cheerful cheep of keyboards, game pads and
mice coming online.

Kiri stared. “Wow, your gloves really work.”

“Like magic.” Jenni laughed. “Ready?”

Kiri put her visor on, nothing odd happened. What had she
expected, tentacles slipping into her brain? No, don’t think that.

“Is everything...okay?” asked Lathyr.

“Fine,” Kiri said, though she felt a little stupid with the
gloves and visor on. She didn’t think most casual gamers would want to wear the
accessories unless the immersive factor was really amazing. But she sure
wouldn’t say that yet. Not when she was at the starting post, ready to surge
forward and hit the game running.

No. That might not work with this game. Not all were fast; some
that mimicked real life were deadly slow in her opinion. An alternative to real
life, just trying to make it better with a choice of mate and children...no,
that reminded her of Shannon, and Kiri’s thoughts were too scattered!

She had to focus, to be primed.

“Ready?” Lathyr asked.

“Ready.”

Light engulfed her vision.
Transformation!
Brought to you by Eight Corp!
The words vanished in an explosion of
yellow and Kiri dropped into the game.

She stood atop a low hill, breathing in summer air and looking
down on a carpet of many-colored wildflowers. She could almost believe wind
lifted her hair from her neck. She touched her hair, held it before her face.
Looked exactly like her own hair. She wasn’t wearing gloves, and her hands
appeared to be her own, too, with the glittery tint she’d put on her nails.

She was
there.
No visor narrowed
her vision.

“Wow.” She reached out for the water bottle on the counter
beside her in real life. Nothing happened but her arm slicing thin air. “Wow,”
she repeated. “This really is full immersion.”

“This is the opening sequence,” Lathyr said. He stood beside
her, dressed as he had been in real life—European-cut suit, pale blue shirt, no
tie.

He swept an arm around in an expansive gesture, and turned in
place. Kiri did, too.

“As you can see, there are four realms in Transformation.” His
smile crinkled his eyes and Kiri thought it was the first carefree one she’d
seen from him. Was he easier in a game setup, too? “Since many things in the
game are complex, such as the virtual reality...hardware...” Now he waved a hand
and Kiri thought she saw the outline of a sparkling glove. “We are keeping the
magic portion of the game fairly simple. Each realm corresponds to an ancient
element—water, air, earth, fire.”

“Ah.” From the hill, the realms were vivid quarters of a round
pie and looked different and colorful. Excitement and just plain fun began to
seep into her—why had she balked, this looked so kewl? She flexed her fingers
and tiny sparkles rose from her hands in spirals. Oh, yes, cool! She did a
little rock in place, a little butt shimmy, and tried another wave. Her mouth
dropped open as small butterflies rose from her fingertips. Her laugh got stuck
in her throat and came out a low chuckle. “I
love
these gloves!”

“Good to hear,” Jenni’s smug voice came, vibrating through the
band of Kiri’s visor over her ears.

“Examine the realms,” Lathyr said. “This is the only time you
will be on this hill and have this panoramic view. Your time here—our time
here—is limited.”

That thunked Kiri’s heels back down to the ground. Had she
actually been dancing? Yeah. And this wasn’t just a new game to love and hate
and be exasperated with and prize and master.
This
was a realm
she’d
help create and refine. Write for
the enjoyment and entertainment of others. This was the job, the career she
wanted.

The realms showed bright colors of cartoonish intensity—one was
mostly green. Green, green hills, an equally verdant ridge with a wooden door in
it. Towering mountains looking a lot like the front range of the Colorado
Rockies rose behind the lush hills. “Earth Realm,” Kiri gestured and more
butterflies streamed from her fingers down the hill toward the Earth Realm.

“Each realm has a major race and a minor race—the Earth Realm
has dwarves and brownies.” A note in Lathyr’s voice had her turning her head and
she caught him eyeing her—her figure? her stature?—before a bland expression
covered his face.

Green and brown earth was in front of her on the left when
she’d arrived. To her right appeared a blue-and-green realm with a spring
becoming stream, widening to a river, flowing to lake and beach and ocean. Easy
to figure that out, “Water Realm?”

“Yes. Mers—mermen and merfems—are the major race who usually
live in the ocean. Naiads and naiaders of ponds and lakes and streams are the
minor folk. Most Waterfolk are the size of humans.”

Kiri had bent down to sniff at the grass—something smelled
fabulous—and how could she smell in the game? She didn’t know, but the scent
went to her head, spiraled through her body.

Think! She straightened slowly. “So dwarves and brownies aren’t
our size?”

“Dwarves are shorter and stockier than humans, perhaps the
tallest is four feet tall. Brownies are even smaller.”

“Uh-huh.” She peered at the distant waves of the really blue
ocean, beyond the sparkling white beach. Yes, too-bright colors, but in those
faraway waves did she see the hint of a castle? Maybe turrets occasionally
revealed to be pearlescent shell-pink?

Lathyr’s hands came down on her shoulders. He’d moved behind
her. Pure sensation rippled through her. She couldn’t help herself from sniffing
the fingers on her right shoulder, again a little salt, some sort of fresh odor,
and the fragrance all around her, though more intense. “What is that smell?”