.5 To Have and To Code

by Debora Geary

  There were no good reasons to cloak your IP address. “We have a hacker?” That was serious business—they had a lot of teenage witches in Realm to keep safe.

  The fire beginning to shoot out of her brother’s eyes was a bad sign—Jamie was a good fire witch in his own right. Nell started scanning logs and code, looking for traces. There were very few—whoever this was, they were very, very good.

  She got to the shielding spell he’d concocted behind the bush and felt the hard snap of two and two crashing together. “The Hacker. The guy who ran the levels of The Eternal Tower. It’s him.”

  “Can’t be. He doesn’t have access.” Jamie’s fingers were flying again, the raucous cadence of stampeding elephants. Or one pissed-off witch.

  “Doesn’t have legal access.” But he’d found a way in. Nell pulled up the shielding code again. “It’s him.” She was dead sure—enough time looking at someone’s code, and you learned their signature moves. The Hacker’s style was stamped all over the intruder’s game play. Hot coding, sneaky tricks, and dishonesty to the bone.

  And he’d held off some of Realm’s best players with a handful of stolen spells and a bush.

  A bush.

  Jamie leaned over her shoulder, his mind easing off high alert. A known player, even a badly behaving one, was far less of a threat than an unknown invader. “What kind of magic has he got?”

  She didn’t freaking care. He was going down. “Doesn’t matter. He’s mine.”

  Her brother just shook his head as her fingers sparked—on purpose this time. “All yours. You can crush him as soon as he shows up.”

  Dealing with hotshots who broke the rules was usually her job. Jamie had come far too recently from their ranks.

  The reformed troublemaker in question pointed at her screen. “Focus. Magic. What’s he got?”

  Players in the witch-only levels all had magic—but abilities ran the gamut from blooming a few flowers to spraying half of Realm with lightning bolts. Doing the latter required strong magic and superior coding skills, which was a fairly rare combination. Most players had glaring weaknesses in one area or the other. Knowing them gave you a leg up. Nell glared at Jamie. Brothers were so annoying when they were right.

  She toggled her screen, pulled up The Hacker’s profile, and headed straight for his spell library. “Lots of custom spells, so he can code.”

  Her brother grinned and snagged the Doritos. “Only if they work.”

  As Realm admins, they spent way too much time cleaning up spell misfires. Witches didn’t tend to proofread their code. She clicked into one of The Hacker’s spells and scanned. Efficient and to the point—under other circumstances, she’d admire his skills. “Looks like they work.”

  She clicked into a second one to be sure. Yeah, the guy could code.

  Jamie pulled up the spell library again on a second monitor. “His magic’s all over the place.” He started pointing with a Dorito-orange finger. “Lots of fire magic, but some earth spells here. A water incantation, and two different storm calls there.” He frowned. “This must be somebody we know.”

  Presuming they could code decently well, witches had the same powers online that they had in real life. Someone with all four elemental powers would be hard to miss. Nell frowned—they had plenty of renegade witches, but not any sneaky-bastard ones. “Maybe he’s done some heavy trading.” Some players had turned spell-swapping into a thriving business, although she had no earthly idea why you’d want a spell you couldn’t activate.

  Her brother raised an eyebrow. “How? He isn’t even officially qualified for these levels yet. No access to the spell flea markets.”

  She snickered—Jamie wasn’t big on spell trading either. Mostly because the merchants kept raiding his gypsy avatar’s closet. Esmerelda’s silk gowns were hot commodities.

  “Focus,” said her brother dryly, picking up her thoughts.

  Right. On the cheating scum had been sneaking around using other peoples’ avatars. Nell grabbed the donuts—bad tempers required fuel.

  Jamie reached for one and looked down at his screen. And blinked. “Damn. He’s back.” He looked up, unholy glee on his face. “And he’s checking out the code on those spells of yours he stole.”

  Nell only paused long enough to stuff one last donut in her mouth.

  And launched The Wizard, all engines blazing. Time to teach a rotten, sniveling thief a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.

  -o0o-

  “Bit of a showboat, are you?” Daniel shoveled in eggs and scanned another one of The Wizard’s spells. A storm spell this time—complicated and replete with bells and whistles meant to flagrantly display power.

  He smiled, wolf contemplating his dinner. Those kinds of gamers usually lost, thanks to their own ego.

  Not that this would be an easy take-down. The spells were a fairly typical arsenal—but he was pretty sure he knew who manned them. Powerful coding with splashes of brilliance—the signature was unmistakable, given the hours he’d spent trawling through Realm’s back end.

  The Wizard was Jamie Sullivan. Had to be. And logic said the sexy and flamboyant gypsy that was Realm’s number-two player was his older sister.

  Players probably got a real dig out of going after the game’s two creators. Smart marketing. And Jamie had some hardcore gaming skills. The gypsy wasn’t bad either, but in Daniel’s experience, girls just didn’t have the obsessive focus necessary to be a really superior player, although there had been a couple of fourteen-year-old maestros lately that had him rethinking that position.

  He wasn’t sexist. Just realistic. No woman threw a baseball harder than he did, either.

  Jamie Sullivan, however, was going to make a very worthy adversary.

  Daniel closed the folder of spells he’d swiped. Looking any closer violated his own personal set of ethics. And the battle would be more fun if he didn’t know all The Wizard’s secrets beforehand.

  He switched profiles, logged in as The Hacker, and started working his way through the ballroom ladies of the Eternal Tower. The door to the witch-only levels loomed. Time to make an entrance.

  An official one.

  -o0o-

  Sniveling creep thought he could just walk in the front door, did he? Nell glared at The Hacker’s progress, sent a very terse message to the hordes cheering him on—and used her admin override on the Eternal Tower’s entrance.

  She yanked open the door, power and might of The Wizard on full display, and looked down on the little librarian with scorn. “You’re on my turf now, asshole. And you messed with the wrong witch.”

  Surprise blasted through the watching ranks of Realm players on both sides of the door.

  Nell ignored them. Glared at The Hacker. And banged out the message that would begin his very short stay in Realm’s elite levels. I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL, YOU RAT BASTARD.

  They could have just banned him—he’d violated the game’s terms of service in about every way possible. But it was going to be way, way more fun to crush him first. As slowly and painfully as possible.

  She activated a witchfire spell and ran it up her sword. Time to show the trespassing lowlife who was in charge.

  She pointed her weapon and turned on audio. Might as well make the show a good one. It wasn’t usually possible to rage with magic in real life. Here in Realm, she was going in no holds barred.

  “I call the powers of fiery might,

  Eternally burning sound and light.

  Haunt the invader in our land

  A force for justice, I take a stand.

  Protect what’s mine from this scum I see

  As I will, so mote it be.”

  Dead silence—and then the ragtag group of shocked witches closed ranks behind her. They had no idea what the intruder had done, but they all knew whose side they were on.

  The Hacker looked around. And then looked back at her sword and raised an eyebrow. “Nice welcome.”

  Egotistical bookbrain. And he’d been duly warned. Nell pulled
fire to her fingers. En garde, idiot.

  The first fireglobe, she aimed at his feet. The second, at the bag of books on his back. Time to find out if The Hacker knew how to fight witch-style.

  She grinned as the books went up in flames. Worst spell-cache disguise ever.

  And then the prickly darts hit.

  -o0o-

  Daniel snorted as his books went up in flames. What idiot hid their tools in plain sight? He grinned as the stingers landed and The Wizard batted them away in frustrated fury. It was a minor variant on his favorite mosquito weapon—most big, burly warriors couldn’t concentrate in a barrage of prickles.

  He readied a warding spell and eyed the arrogant mage that he was darned sure was Jamie Sullivan’s primary avatar. It fit—nineteen-year-old smart-ass guys were the kind who liked to swing around fiery swords and start duels.

  Smart-ass gamers also tended to blow their biggest spells early. Ride those out tucked behind a nice shield, and the playing field got a lot more level.

  Warning. Spell activated. Crap, the stingers hadn’t worked for long. Daniel threw up his wards and watched them shake in protest as lightning bombarded the shields. Damn. The Wizard had a hell of a fastball.

  A second blast of lightning hit. No subtlety here—The Wizard was going after him with sheer power. With one hand, Daniel pulled up an illusion spell. With the other, he tried to code reinforcements to his shield. And winced. He was blowing through game points at a ridiculous rate.

  He tossed the illusion spell behind The Wizard and cursed as it blew up mid-flight. Not good.

  One hand still coding more shields, he dug for another one of his distraction weapons. Raindrops, maybe. See how a certain fire mage felt about getting wet.

  The first raindrops sizzled three feet above The Wizard’s head. But the second volley, sent in horizontally, resulted in a stream of magical curses—and more importantly for Daniel, a wavery blip in the third lightning strike.

  The fire guys never liked water.

  “Gotcha.” Daniel leaned forward, grinning, both hands on the keyboard, and coded a fountain spell on the fly. Getting it in under the radar would be tricky, but he could smell victory now.

  He sent more raindrops in for the pure annoyance factor. Coded a weakness in his own shields. And waited for The Wizard to find it.

  -o0o-

  Blasted evil thief! Nell cursed and typed mad repairs to her lightning. Who the hell used raindrops in a swordfight?

  He’s pretty creative, sent Jamie, watching bravely from the other side of the room. And he’s found your weakness.

  She growled and amused herself by firing a real lightning bolt her brother’s direction. A small one—Mom frowned on scorch marks in the basement. “It’s not a weakness.” Twenty-seven years of practice with Devin, chief Sullivan family troublemaker and water witch, had taught her plenty about surviving wet magics.

  Blowing scads of game points, she activated a heat shield over The Wizard’s head and growled again at her brother’s mental laughter. Shut up. Not scared of a few raindrops. Rain rusts my sword.

  Her moldy librarian shouldn’t have enough time on his hands to be making raindrops. She scanned The Hacker’s barriers—and found the tiniest of openings, right at the far bottom left. Ha. “Getting sloppy, are you?”

  Scenting his defeat, she threw half her arsenal at his shields. Lightning. Mage fire. Pretty fireworks just to be a smart-ass.

  And slid one very mean streak of molten lava under the vulnerability in his wards.

  She snarled in triumph as his shields melted. And then froze, horrified, as water shot up from the ground under her own feet. Tricked!

  Spluttering mad, she hurled her spell cache behind her, trying desperately to shield it from the water. And smiled in grim amusement as The Hacker tap-danced on molten lava, doing the same.

  Her cache was bigger. Way, way bigger.

  He’s new. You really gonna finish this by tossing spells back and forth until he runs out?

  Nell threw another lightning bolt at her brother, scowling as he used the Dorito bag as a shield—she hated burnt chips. He’s cheating scum.

  Yeah. Jamie grinned. You can take him.

  She could. And he was right—a war of attrition was pretty lame. Nell studied The Hacker, still working his way out of her lava maze. And sorted through her spell pile.

  Time to teach him a very hot lesson. And then finish this thing.

  -o0o-

  “That’s the guy?”

  Retha hid a smile. No man in the known universe was going to be good enough for Michael Sullivan’s only daughter.

  Which made it her job to take the new guy’s side. Maybe. He had potential. “He’s giving her a run for her money.” More than. He was a truly superior coder. It took a rare witch not to lean on magic instead of good, competent programming skills. Something her husband usually appreciated.

  Michael glowered at the screen. “Killer gaming skills hardly make someone good husband and father material.”

  This time she didn’t bother to hide her amusement. “It was one of your better qualifications.” Michael had transmitted many life lessons to his children while huddled together over a keyboard, including how quickly you could be beaten by a guy without a whiff of magic. Jamie and Nell’s coding skills weren’t an accident.

  “He’s not bad.” Said grudgingly by one of the best in the business. “That fountain spell was damned sneaky.”

  The damned sneaky part had been faking the vulnerability in his shields. And it had Retha entirely curious. Game play showed the player’s personality—far more than most gamers recognized. And The Hacker’s play was a fascinating combination of hotshot and quiet pragmatist.

  A guy who got things done. Even when lightning rained down on his head. “He’s good under pressure.” She looked down at her watch, astonished to discover an hour had passed since Jamie’s email alert. “And he’s got endurance.”

  Michael’s snorting laughter had her choosing her next words more carefully. She looked at her screen fondly, wishing she didn’t have to watch all the action from afar. “He’s held Nell to a draw.”

  “Hmm.” Her husband’s response was decidedly noncommittal.

  However, she could read his mind as easily as his words. He was impressed. And so he should be—keeping pace with Nell was a feat very few witches had ever managed, online or off. “She’s not used to finding her match.” And it had been fascinating to watch her daughter react. In Realm, Nell could let every ounce of her magic shine—and The Hacker hadn’t backed down.

  “He hacked Realm.” Michael’s voice held more than a hint of steel. Jamie had filled them in via a quick video feed, and her husband wasn’t ready to forgive the breach of their walls.

  Retha shrugged. She wasn’t either—she just had more than a passing interest in the intruder. And a gut feeling that this was far different than it looked. The Prophecy had failed to mention a certain man’s mode of arrival. Coming in Realm’s door was somehow poetic.

  She watched one more long moment—and then did the right thing. Time to give The Hacker a fighting chance, in more ways than one. Calling up her long-unused admin access on screen, she let loose a tiny, very old-fashioned code worm, ignored her husband’s loud mental snort, and shut off the lights in Realm.

  Chapter 5

  Nell added ingredients into Sammy’s monstrous cookie cauldron and tried not to take out her temper on the poor, hapless eggs. It wasn’t the eggs’ fault—and Sammy had a thing against eggshells in her cookies.

  Her best friend poured in a ridiculous amount of vanilla and raised an eyebrow. “Gonna tell me of your own free will, or do I have to bribe you with chocolate chips?”

  “I thought the chocolate chips were a bribe for helping you out today.” Sammy had managed to volunteer a thousand monster cookies for the local pet shelter fundraising drive. She had a weakness for sad puppy dogs, the cute girls in pigtails who had asked for a donation, and any excuse to hide from wedd
ing Armageddon.

  Puppy dogs and pigtails didn’t sway Nell, but she’d needed to escape The Dungeon for a while, and Sammy handled stray sparks as well as anyone who hadn’t grown up a witch. “He sprayed me with water. Me. On my own home turf. Got all my spells wet.”

  The goddess of cookies tried to arrange her face into some semblance of sympathy and failed miserably. “Oh noes. Wet lightning—off with his head!”

  Nell reined in the temptation to crack a couple of eggs on Sammy’s head. It probably wouldn’t help either of them feel better. “He got out of the lava maze.” And the black widow’s web, the straitjacket of air, and a dozen other complex and nasty spells she’d thrown at him. She cracked another egg with ten times the necessary force. “He’s a bloody librarian.”

  “Ah. A man carrying books.”

  Not anymore. The Hacker might still be standing, but she’d trashed his books. “The lights went out and he turned tail and ran. I wanted to smash him like a bug.”

  Sammy moved the rest of the flat of eggs out of Nell’s reach and handed her a Paul Bunyan-sized spoon. “Here, stir. It’ll make you feel better.”

  There were machines made to stir mongo batches of cookies. Unfortunately, said machines had a sad habit of breaking, usually right before girls in pigtails were going to show up looking for a thousand cookies.

  And the many talents of Nell Sullivan didn’t run to fixing beaters bigger than her leg.

  So she stirred. And stewed. And imagined The Hacker’s brains under her spoon. Coward.

  “What’s really bothering you?” asked Sammy, clearing counter space.

  “Getting beaten at my own game isn’t enough?” Nell tried not to melt the cookie dough. “He broke into our admin systems. Walked all over Realm without permission.”

  “First witch ever to do that, is he?”

  Nell gritted her teeth. “First in a long time.” And the last one had been her baby brother. After she’d put Jamie in charge of security, there had been no further breaches.

  Sammy nodded. “He stood up to you. When’s the last time that happened?”