by SM Reine
“You could have left a note,” she said. “Or your number.”
“Look.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, then leaned against the side of the log. “I don’t belong in your world.”
He still had no idea what world he actually fit in.
Knowing where he didn’t was a start, though. And accepting that his family would never knit back together, that his old life was gone forever. Things would never revert to normal in that house. Setch would always be the firstborn, the golden boy, perfect in his parent’s eyes no matter how many dirty deals he did. Aran hanging on, hoping things would change, only prolonged the pain. For everyone.
He’d given up hacking, too. It felt right, but the grind of regular work was gruesome—especially the kind of job he could get with no references and a minimal background check. It was either midnight fast-food peon, or, even worse, waste disposal worker.
Spark looked at him a long moment. The breeze riffled the ends of her hair, which had been trimmed into an even line below her ears. It looked cute.
“Did you really think you could just walk away?” she asked. “After what we went through together?”
“I thought…” The words dried in his throat, and he swallowed. “It was the best thing, for everybody.”
A weak part of him had wanted to stay, to whine and beg around Spark like a stray dog hoping for scraps. But he had too much pride for that, so he’d left. Better to try and make something out of the cloth of his own life, no matter how ragged.
“You thought wrong,” she said. “You entered the realm, and battled the Dark Queen. That changes you. Don’t deny it.”
He dropped his gaze to the tide-slick stones at the water’s edge. She was right. Strange things moved through his dreams, fears and visions he couldn’t share with anyone. Unless they’d experienced the same thing.
“The queen said something, during that battle,” Spark said. “It took me a few days to figure it out. You’re BlackWing, the hacker.”
“Not anymore.” He hunched his shoulders, waiting for her scorn.
Instead she scooted over and put a hand on his arm.
“Nobody else could have done that—cracked the wall between the realms, then shut it again.”
“I was stupid. Do you hate me for it?”
“Well, I don’t admire some of your choices. But you fixed everything in the end—and you know your way around sim code.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope. “This is for you, from Vonda.”
“Your manager?” He took it and turned it back and forth in his hands.
“Open it.”
He glanced over at her. Her eyes were lit with suppressed emotion.
“Do you know what it says?” he asked.
“I have an idea—but believe me, I had nothing to do with this. Other than telling Vonda you were BlackWing.”
Aran pulled in a breath, tangy with salt, and opened the envelope. Inside was a letter typed on official VirtuMax letterhead. Sometimes going old school with real paper was far more impressive than a digital message. More weighty and real.
He scanned the words, then backed up and read the whole thing slowly. Heart pumping with crazy hope, he looked at her.
“Is this serious?” he asked.
“Let me see.”
He tilted the letter for her to read, then watched the smile blossom across her face.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “VirtuMax needs to hire the best threat testers they can find. They need you, Aran.”
“But my background—”
“The company wouldn’t have allowed Vonda to make you that offer unless they’d checked you out thoroughly. The fact that your brother set you up is pretty clear, despite the crappy public defender that let the charges stick. And I think Burt might have given you a character reference.”
Aran stared at her. “Your security guy? He hates me.”
“No, he’s just cautious and good at his job. Notice I’m alone out here?”
He glanced about the beach. No sign of a security team watching.
“I hope he’s nearby,” Aran said. “You’re a little too valuable to be completely unguarded.”
Spark rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. The pink in her hair was echoed by the wash of clouds overhead.
He refolded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope, his insides churning with choices. Of course, he knew that companies hired former hackers to help ensure that their programs and games were as impenetrable as possible. But he never thought he’d get an offer to trade his black hat in for a white one. Well, maybe gray.
Speaking of villains…
“I have a few questions,” he said. “What about those two gamers, the Terabin twins?”
“Gone,” Spark said. “All their daddy’s money couldn’t help them weasel out of the fact they deliberately set that fire. Not with Niteesh as an eyewitness. They might be able to hire good lawyers, but they’re never working for VirtuMax again.”
“They tried to kill you. And me.” He curled his fingers into fists.
Her expression hardened, and she stared out over the water. Aran wanted to touch her face, stroke that grimness away.
“They’ll pay for it,” she said. “The trial’s later this year. But I don’t want to talk about them. I want to talk about you. About us.”
She looked back at him, her eyes serious. Above them, the sky lightened to pale blue, and the sea shone like a broken mirror, bright copper at its edge.
“What do you think?” he asked. “Could you stand seeing me around?”
Her smile was answer enough.
“I talked with the others,” she said. “You’re invited to join the Feyguard. If you want.”
“I do.” It surprised him, how much that meant. And how much he wanted to. Despite everything, he’d found his tribe. And, just maybe, his heart.
“One more thing,” he said.
“Oh?” There was a mischievous tilt to her lips.
Aran leaned forward and brushed his mouth over hers. He felt her smile widen, and then she yanked him against her. Their bodies met with a shock of rightness that reverberated down to his feet.
His heart thumped so loudly he was sure it would knock right out of his chest. He’d hoped, then second-guessed, then buried that hope way down deep, knowing he’d never see Spark again.
But she hadn’t given up on him. Of course not. That girl was always right.
He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her with everything he was, and everything he hoped to be. Stronger. Kinder. Better.
She held him tightly, her lips warm and intoxicating against his, as the sun burst, brilliant gold, over the horizon.
EPILOGUE
The girl huddled away from the cold bite of the wind, a crumbling brick wall at her back. She pulled the thin blanket about her, heart beating fast as a sparrow’s. Already she had learned two things: the mortal world was a dangerous place, and she had just enough magic to slip carefully through its currents, provided she remained alert and wary.
Why had Puck let her through into this place?
Darkness had changed to light, then back to dark, a double handful of times. She’d learned how to scavenge for food, how to avoid the yellow-eyed men who stank of cloying smoke, and how to move, silent as a shadow, in and out of the dwelling places of humans.
As soon as full night fell, with its dark covering, she would make her way to the shelter she had found. There, she studied the world she had come into, learning from the flickering vids how to act and speak as a mortal girl.
The time was coming, soon and soon, when she must fully enter the world of the humans and carry out the queen’s bidding.
But not yet. Not quite yet.
The adventure continues in ROYAL: Feyguard Book 2
Discover all the earlier books in FEYLAND: The Complete Trilogy
FIND ANTHEA SHARP BOOKS AT AMAZON
THANK YOU
Thank you for reading SPARK! If you enjoyed the s
tory, please consider helping other readers find this book:
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OTHER WORKS by ANTHEA SHARP
Find out more at http://antheasharp.com/
The complete Feyland books:
FREE Prequel story ~ FEYLAND: THE FIRST ADVENTURE
FEYLAND: THE COMPLETE TRILOGY
Book 1 ~ FEYLAND: THE DARK REALM
Book 2 ~ FEYLAND: THE BRIGHT COURT
Book 3 ~ FEYLAND: THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM
Feyland short story ~ TRINKET
ROYAL – FEYGUARD Book 2
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS & THANKS
Thank you to the many people who made this book better: the invaluable feedback of my first readers Chassily, Peggy, Matt, and my fine editor, Laurie Temple. Thanks also to Arran at Editing720 for quick, professional, and stellar proofreading. And a great name.
For an absolutely gorgeous cover, huge thanks to Ravven. And for the inspiration to move forward, ongoing gratitude to all the indie authors and publishers who share their journeys and knowledge so generously.
I also greatly appreciate the readers who have taken the time to contact me, leave reviews, and give me reasons to keep writing. This series wouldn’t be here without you! Thank you.
SPARK draws on a number of traditional resources, including my go-to books for Faerie lore: An encyclopedia of fairies: Hobgoblins, brownies, bogies, and other supernatural creatures by Katharine M. Briggs, and Faeries by Froud, Larkin, and Lee.
Readers will also find references to a variety of fairy tales and story archetypes, as well as the poem The Song of the Wandering Aengus by W.B. Yeats.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Growing up, Anthea Sharp spent most of her summers raiding the library shelves and reading, especially fantasy. She now makes her home in the Pacific Northwest, where she writes, plays the fiddle, hangs out in virtual worlds, and spends time with her small-but-good family. Contact her at [email protected] or visit her website – www.antheasharp.com and join her new release mailing list at http://www.tinyletter.com/AntheaSharp.
Anthea also writes historical romance under the pen name Anthea Lawson. Find out about her acclaimed Victorian romantic adventures at www.anthealawson.com.
JUMP TO...
WITCH HUNT by SM REINE
DEATH’S SERVANT by CJ ELLISSON
TORRENT by LINDSAY BUROKER
SPARK by ANTHEA SHARP
DEATH TIMES TWO by BOONE BRUX and CJ ELLISSON
ROOK: ALLIE’S WAR EPISODES 1-4 by JC ANDRIJESKI
JUSTICE CALLING by ANNIE BELLET
ARCADIA’S GIFT by JESI LEA RYAN
WILD NIGHT ROAD by KARA LEGEND
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One: Lisa
Chapter Two: Asa
Chapter Three: Lisa
Chapter Four: Asa
Chapter Five: Lisa
Chapter Six: Asa
Chapter Seven: Lisa
Chapter Eight: Asa
Chapter Nine: Lisa
Chapter Ten: Asa
Chapter Eleven: Lisa
Chapter Twelve: Asa
Chapter Thirteen: Lisa
Chapter Fourteen: Asa
:Epilogue:
About Boone Brux
Acknowledgements from the Authors
Glossary
Death Times Two
The V V Inn Series: Book 3.5
A Grim Reality Novel
C.J. Ellisson
Boone Brux
We dedicate this book to our eternally supportive and understanding families. Thank you for everything you do!
Chapter One
Lisa
I stare at Constantine, certain I heard him wrong. “What do you mean I have to do this reap alone?”
He continues to scan the green blips on the radar. I still haven’t gotten used to the idea that those dots are people who are about to die. “Nate is on another assignment and this reap needs to get done—ASAP.”
Reaping, that’s my job. I’m an Angel of Death, a grim reaper of idiotic spirits for GRS, Grim Reaper Services. People who die in stupid ways are my clients. Lucky me. Nate, my partner, reaps violent criminals. Way more impressive than my job, and more dangerous. Admittedly, I’ve grown to depend on Nate and the thought of doing an important reap on my own is daunting. “Where am I going?”
“North of Fairbanks, near Coldfoot.” Constantine straightens and looks at me. “These are...special clients. I’m trusting you’ll get this done quickly and quietly.”
“Special? As in particularly stupid?”
“Far from it.” He steps past me and heads toward a desk. “The inn you’ll be traveling to is owned by a friend of mine.” He tears off a sheet of paper from a small tablet and hands it to me. “Finesse and discretion are mandatory.”
I give an unladylike snort. “I’m sorry, have we met? Finesse is not my greatest skill.”
He places his hands on my shoulders and slowly rubs. Sparks of electricity shoot down my arms. “I have faith in you, Lisa.” My heartbeat quickens. I’ll admit I’ve imagined Constantine and me in a few hot and heavy positions, but I’ve never told anyone. Not even my best friend Vella. There are two problems with my fantasy about Constantine. First, I’m not sure he’s human. Secondly, if he’s not, getting jiggy with him might be like supernatural crack. What if he ruins me for other men? It’s not a chance I want to take. Plus, he’s never offered.
A sigh slips from me and my shoulders slump. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”
He lowers his hands. “Nope.”
I look at the paper. “The V V Inn. Never heard of it.”
“It’s very upscale. Only the most elite clientele stay there,” he says.
I’ve lived in Alaska all my life. There are a lot of expensive remote lodges that serve the wealthy, but I’m surprised I’ve never heard of this one. Not even a mention. “When do I leave?”
Constantine hands me another sheet of paper. “In three hours.”
My mouth drops open when I look at the electronic ticket and charter flight information. I give a huff of protest. “I’ve got to make arrangements for the kids. I can’t just drop everything.”
My argument falls on deaf ears. Constantine stares at me with his beautiful, but unwavering, silver eyes. “You’ll figure it out.”
When I agreed to be a grim reaper they told me there would be village travel. But I didn’t think I’d be venturing out so soon—and so alone. “I’ll see if my mom can watch the kids.” I fold the flight information and shove the paper into my pocket. “I got this.”
He gives me a soft punch in the arm like we’re buddies. “I knew you’d come through for me, Carron.”
“Yeah,” I grumble. “That’s me—reliable.”
With only three hours until my flight I walk to the elevator, the list of things I need to do already swirling in my mind.
“Lisa.”
I glance back at Constantine.
“Remember, discretion.”
My brow furrows. “Yeah, I got it.”
What does he think? I’m going to tell my mom I have souls to reap so I’ll need her to watch my kids? Hardly. When my parents found out I took the plunge and got a job at GRS after my husband died, they weren’t all that thrilled. What would they say if I told them I was actually an angel of death and not a case manager at an employment agency? Either I’d be medicated and committed, or my mother would be. Lying by omission was the best course of action.
On the way home I call Vella and make arrangements for the kids. I also pull into a convenience store and buy some junk food. It’s a guilt purchase. Yes, I’m not above bribing my kids into c
ompliance.
By noon I’m sitting on the jet, trying to relax. For some reason this job doesn’t feel right. Why such a rush? Why me? And who are these special clients? I hate not knowing what I’m getting into. Hopefully Constantine’s request for discretion is because the spirit is rich or famous. Maybe I’ll be reaping a sheik or a movie star. My mind delves into all sorts of possibilities. Maybe I’ll be reaping Elvis. Now that would be cool.
The flight to Fairbanks is uneventful. The airport is packed from all the tourists and I have a hard time locating the charter service I’m to take to the inn. I stare at a small glassed-in kiosk in the far corner. There’s no discernible marking to indicate this is the company I’m to use, or that it’s a charter service at all. But from the vague directions on my instructions this has to be the place.
I stop in front of the glass. “Hi.”
A young guy looks up from his book and smiles. “May I help you?”
“Yes.” I drop my carry-on bag and hold up my sheet of paper. “I’m supposed to catch a charter to the V V Inn. Is this where I do that?”
His eyes widen slightly and then travel down my torso and back to my face. “Are you sure you’re going to the V V Inn?”
This pisses me off. Maybe he’s used to wealthy clients that aren’t dressed in capris and flip flops. “Lisa Carron.” I stare at him, as if my name should answer all his questions.