by Anthea Sharp
Still, she couldn’t let go of the idea. “We could try telling them, though. My dad would—”
“Your dad got kicked off the project. Even if he believed us, he couldn’t stop the game’s release. And I’m not willing to give Dr. Lassiter the keys to the Realm, are you?”
Jennet rubbed her left palm. The VirtuMax CEO had a reputation for ruthlessness, and from what they’d seen of Roy’s shaky grasp of right and wrong, Tam’s fear was well founded.
“Then what do we do?” she asked.
“Keep trying to reach the Elder Fey. Hope that Puck is able to hide our travels to the Realm.”
Beside the shore, the quest givers waited expectantly.
“Let’s go talk to them,” Tam said. “Maybe we can finesse this somehow.” He strode up to the woman NPC.
“Welcome back, travelers,” she said. “I see you have returned successfully from your expedition to the meadows of Tir. Quickly, give us the herbs you have collected, so the princess may be saved.”
Relief whooshed through Jennet. Puck had managed to cover their absence, at least in-game. What the VirtuMax people had seen on their monitors was another question. One they’d have to deal with soon.
She scanned her inventory, and there were the quest items—Rue, Sweetmeadow, and Briarblossom. She handed the herbs over, and a soft ding rang through the air, signaling their quest was complete.
“Now what?” Tam said.
“Thank you, adventurers.” The taller man gave them a digitally perfect smile. “You have performed a great service to the crown. Make your way to Stronghold Castle to claim your reward and discover what new adventures await.”
:Tam and Jennet, turn in your quests and log off immediately. You’re late. The rest of the team is already out:
“Next time,” Tam said, stepping away from the group of NPCs.
“What are we going to say about the game-play?” Jennet asked in a low voice.
He shook his head. “Depends on what the techs saw. Be vague—say the quest was challenging but not too hard, stuff like that.”
:Tam and Jennet, turn in your quests and log off immediately. You’re late. The rest of the team is already out:
“Ok, ok, we’re coming,” Tam said, raising his voice.
Jennet hit the X command. A second later she was in her sim-chair, the smoky material of the FullD visor between her and the real world. Too bad she couldn’t stay there, hiding. She stripped off her gloves and removed the sim helmet.
Mr. Chon stood beside her chair, his face tight with impatience. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
“Miss Carter,” he demanded. “Where have you and Mr. Linn been?”
“Um.”
In the next chair over, Tam pulled off his helmet, brown hair falling across his eyes. The rest of the beta team gathered behind Mr. Chon, looks of concern on their faces. Even Roy seemed anxious—but then, he knew what kind of trouble Feyland held.
“Jen,” her dad said, “We’ve been worried. Chon lost the vid feed from your FullD systems, and you’re ten minutes late coming out of game.” There was an edge of panic in his voice she hoped the others couldn’t hear.
“We’re okay,” she said. “Safe and sound.”
Though her calf still ached where the spider had bitten it. She surreptitiously rubbed the spot through her jeans. Injury carryover could be serious, but it looked like she was the only one who had sustained damage into the real world. So far.
“You lost the vid feed on us?” Tam asked. “When?”
“As soon as you went outside the walls of Stronghold,” Mr. Chon said. “There’s obviously a glitch in the game we’ll need to work out.”
Tam glanced at Jennet, relief in his green eyes. Their journeys to the Realm, and then the Twilight Kingdom, weren’t traceable.
“You did see us return and complete the quest?” Tam asked.
Mr. Chon nodded. “You’ll have to put the details into your log, as precisely as you can. I especially want to know how the mechanics of the Manticore fight went.”
“Right.” Jennet let some of her weakness show, and swayed. “I’m not feeling that great. Mind if I take a break, get a glass of water?”
“Of course,” her dad said, overriding Mr. Chon. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
He helped her out of the sim chair and gave her a searching look. Obviously he suspected something had happened to her and Tam in-game. Maybe she could explain it, later.
“Very well,” Mr. Chon said. “Everyone else, continue inputting your game-play descriptions. You have the day off tomorrow, but the next afternoon I expect you all promptly at three. We have a lot of content to get through.”
Jennet caught her lower lip between her teeth. No kidding. More content than Mr. Chon could even imagine.
CHAPTER TWELVE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM
The 6 a.m. alarm shredded Tam’s sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he forced himself out of his sleeping bag to get ready for school. Mom’s bedroom was ominously quiet and dark, and the Bug slept soundly, despite Tam’s rattling around in the kitchen.
“Mom?” He tapped on her door. “Should I get Peter up?”
She preferred that Tam use his little brother’s name, though the Bug didn’t much seem to care. He probably liked thinking of himself as a bug—in all senses of the word.
Tam heard the rustle of covers, and then his mom cracked the door open. Her eyes were hollow and haunted, her hair tangled about her face.
“I’ll make him breakfast,” she said softly, tying the belt of her tattered bathrobe.
“Don’t forget to eat something, too,” he said.
He brushed a kiss over her forehead and swallowed the pleas that wanted to spill out. Don’t leave us. Get better. Please be here when I get home.
She curved her lips at him in a smile that didn’t touch her eyes, then went into the bathroom.
Tam glanced to his sleeping brother. Moving silently, he slipped into the bedroom. Mom kept their cash in a battered blue jewelry box on her dresser. Quickly, he peeled off a few bills, put them back in the bottom of the box, then pocketed the larger roll.
When his mom emerged from the bathroom, he was at the front door, shrugging on his pack.
“Have a good day, honey,” she said.
He nodded, not trusting his voice, and went out into the bleak morning of the Exe.
Fear and urgency beat through him, giving rhythm to his steps, echoing every breath. Mom was on the verge of leaving—he’d seen it enough times now to know—and there was nothing he could do, except be there for the Bug.
Even seeing Jennet in their shared World History class wasn’t enough to calm his churning fear. He hid it, though, ducking his head until his hair fell over his eyes, and keeping his mouth shut.
At lunch, he scooted next to Jennet at the cafeteria table. Although they weren’t supposed to spend time together, their friend Marny had talked them into having lunch with her. And if Marny chose to eat with both of her friends, well, it wasn’t their fault they had to sit at the same table.
“I need you to hold something for me,” he said to Jennet in a low voice.
“What?”
He reached into his battered pack and pulled out the roll of cash, keeping it below the level of the table.
“Tam.” Her blue eyes widened. “I can’t take that. Don’t you need it?”
“I need it to be out of my house right now. For a little while. Come on Jennet, I trust you.”
“All right.” Frowning, she held open her satchel.
Tam dropped the wad of money inside, and felt the tightness around his ribs ease a little. Jennet would keep the money safe, and in a place where his mom couldn’t find it. When Mom left—the certainty of it was a stone lodged under his heart—at least she wouldn’t take all their cash with her. He and the Bug would have enough to get them through, this time. Even if…
He shook his head. Mom would come back. She always came back.
“Hey, guys.” Marny slid h
er lunch tray onto the table and took a seat across from them. “How’s the beta testing going?”
“Interesting,” Jennet said. “Are you sure you don’t want to join the team? You’re a prime player.”
“You know how I feel about simming.” Marny shuddered, her bobbed black hair swinging around her cheeks. “Nothing will convince me to stick my head in a helmet and sit in one of those chairs ever again.”
Tam knew better than to ask. Not only was Marny claustrophobic, she’d been charmed against her will into playing Feyland with Lassiter. It would take a long time for that experience to wear off.
“So, the test is interesting… as in freaky?” Marny leaned across the table. “Are the faeries still running around in-game?”
She knew what had happened to Tam and Jennet, though she hadn’t experienced the dangerous magic of Feyland inside the game. Still, she’d seen enough to believe.
“Kind of,” Tam said. “They’re not in the beta version we’re testing. But Jennet and I ended up leaving the game and going into the Realm.”
He was curiously reluctant to mention their further journey into Twilight Kingdom, even to Marny.
“And?”
“We’re working on a solution,” Jennet said, pushing her lunch aside. “Tam and I are supposed to wake up some powerful beings, and they’ll fix things.”
“Let me guess.” Marny glanced between them, a frown on her round face. “Dangerous powerful beings.”
“Probably.” Tam set down his fork, tired of gumming the mushy cafeteria food.
“At least your uncle Zeg is in the beta,” Jennet said. “I think he’s enjoying it.”
“Yeah.” Marny smiled, her eyes sly. “He loves the chance to game. And the chance to bother VirtuMax. Did you know he spent last week fiddling with his gas car to make it smokier and noisier?”
Tam let out a snort of laughter. “Did he? Well, it worked. You should see the expression on the gate guards’ faces every time we drive up.”
He should have guessed. The Fanalua family liked to shake things up; challenge the perception of normal. Especially if it meant thumbing their noses at big business and fancy money.
The blare of the bell cut through the cafeteria. Jennet gathered up the remains of her lunch, then paused and touched his arm.
“See you tomorrow.” Her eyes were full of unspoken wishes. Ones he shared.
He set his hand over hers, a fleeting warmth, then let go.
Cold wind bit through the Exe. Tam crouched in the crumbling alleyway near his house and pulled his battered brown coat closer. The yellow-eyed smoke drifters who lived down the block were all riled up.
Usually they stayed inside during the day, but this afternoon the men were scattered outside. One was banging on an abandoned dumpster with an old length of pipe. The hollow clanging echoing through the alleys had been Tam’s first clue something was wrong. Two of the other drifters huddled beside the wall of the derelict building they called home.
But the one who worried him was the guy standing in the middle of the street.
The drifter’s eyes darted back and forth. His right hand was stuck in his pocket, over a suspiciously gun-sized lump. Tam had to get past him to get home—and he had to make sure his mom stayed inside, away from the danger he could feel rolling down the street in thick waves.
“They were here!” the drifter yelled. “Right here! Come back!”
Typical smoke drifter yelling—disjointed and weird—but a shiver scraped Tam’s spine.
“I din’t like them, Skeever,” one of the men curled up beside the building said. “Creepy dogs and shining girls. Get that noise out of my head.”
Tam didn’t think he meant the metal banging that ricocheted off the abandoned buildings. Fear scorched his mouth. Could the Unseelie Court have ridden here, in broad daylight? Or worse yet, the Wild Hunt?
He cast a desperate glance up the street at the blue-tarped roof of his house. There was only one reason the Dark Court faeries would be here. To find him.
Or his family.
Tam stepped clear of the oily puddle spreading halfway across the alley. Rubble from the eroding walls littered the cracked pavement. It didn’t take him long to find a piece of concrete with a good heft to it.
He slid back to where the alley opened onto the street, the concrete cold in his hand. Throat tight with fear, he took aim and flung the hunk of rubble as hard as he could. It hit the side of the dumpster with a loud clonk.
The drifter in the street whirled and started toward the noise.
As quietly as possible, Tam slid along the shadows at the edge of the pavement. He might be a hero in-game, but it was suicide to take on a nest of drifters by himself.
Almost past. Scarcely breathing, he forced himself not to make a dash for the stairs. Sudden movement would alert the men—just keep going, slow and steady.
“Hey!” one of the drifters leaning up against the building called. He lifted an arm wrapped in tattered rags and pointed at Tam. “Is it one of them things?”
Tam froze. I’m not here, he thought. Only shadows.
“Where?” The drifter they had named Skeever looked up, his yellow eyes wide. “Gimme that.”
He wrenched the length of pipe out of the other man’s hands, hopefully forgetting the gun in his pocket. Drifters were like that; barely able to keep one thought in their brains at a time. He turned his head, scanning the street. Tam knew the exact instant the man spotted him, those creepy yellow eyes locking onto him.
Adrenaline spiked through Tam, sizzling his nerves like lightning.
“I see you,” the man said. “Damn little beastie. Can’t get away this time.”
Tam glanced at his stairs. Run for it? No, it was too far, and even if he beat the drifter to his door, he still had to get his keys out and undo all the locks.
“Argh!” the man yelled, lifting the pipe above his head and rushing forward.
Tam threw himself to the side. Dammit, he needed a weapon, he needed…
He felt the heft of his sword in his hand, the protection of his shield strapped onto his right arm.
The shock of it stopped him cold. His in-game weapons, here? The drifter brought his makeshift weapon down, and Tam forced his disbelieving body into action. He blocked the blow with his shield, then swiped at the drifter with the flat of his sword. He didn’t want to cut the guy—not in real life.
The drifter seemed oblivious to the fact his opponent was now armed. Tam shot a quick glance to the others, glad to see they didn’t look inclined to jump into the fight.
Fending off Skeever’s blows, Tam backed down the street, toward his house. Unless the guy got a lucky hit in, he’d be okay, but there was still the problem of getting up the stairs and opening his door.
He couldn’t believe his weapons had materialized, but the same thing had happened to Jennet when she was threatened in the Exe. While it was a good thing—very good, at the moment—it also meant the walls between the worlds were thinning. Which was severe, especially if the faeries had just been visiting his neighborhood.
The pipe clanged against Tam’s shield, and the drifter frowned. He stared at the length of metal, then dropped it onto the cracked pavement and started patting at his pockets.
Oh crap. He’d remembered the gun.
Keeping his shield up—maybe it would stop a bullet, if he was super-lucky—Tam backpedaled toward his stairs.
“Gotcha,” the drifter said, opening his mouth in a smile that exposed his missing teeth.
He drew the gun out and pointed it at Tam. The barrel wavered unsteadily, but it was still death staring Tam in the face. He swallowed, his throat parched, his body humming with panic.
This couldn’t be it. He had too much to do!
And he couldn’t leave Jennet.
Shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, he prepared to rush the drifter.
“Hi there!” a bright voice called from the top of his stairs.
Oh, no.
His heart cased in lead, Tam turned to see the small figure of his little brother standing on the steps. The Bug’s brown hair was tousled, and he was still in his jammies.
The drifter’s eyes went wide.
“Another one,” he growled, swinging the gun toward the Bug. His fingers twitched against the metal.
“No!” Tam cried, throwing himself forward.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM
The air exploded with the sound of the gunshot an instant before Tam bashed his shield against the drifter’s chin. Behind him the Bug wailed, high and thin.
Skeever collapsed onto the dirty street, and Tam lifted his sword. He brought the pommel down on the drifter’s temple. He still couldn’t kill the man, even if the Bug was…
Swallowing panic, he whirled and sprinted for the stairs. A small figure lay crumpled at the top in a sticky puddle of liquid. Blood.
“Oh God.”
Tam took the steps in three bounds, and gathered up his little brother. The Bug was lighter than he’d expected, and warm, too warm.
“We have to call an ambulance, get you inside, don’t die, oh crap, where’s Mom?” Tam knew he was babbling, but he couldn’t help himself. Not his little brother. No, please.
He sprinted into the house and carefully laid the Bug on the couch. No time, no time, but he had to close the door before Skeever and the other drifters headed up the stairs. Tam slammed the door and threw the deadbolts, then raced to his brother’s side. The air was thick and sludgy, like breathing tar. His vision blurred, and Tam swiped his hand across his eyes, feeling wetness on his cheeks.
“Can you hear me?” He choked the words out. “Where were you hit? Please, Peter, open your eyes.”
His brother moaned. Relief hit Tam in the chest. The Bug was alive, though his body began to shake, racked by convulsions. Tam grabbed him by the shoulders—shoulders that were soft, then oddly bony under his hands.
“I’ll call the medics,” he said. “Hold on. Just hold on.”
Then the Bug opened his eyes, and Tam froze, relief turning to ice and chilling him to the bone. Bulbous eyes with irises the color of pale milk stared at him.