by Anthea Sharp
“My mom’s out there,” he said to Zeg. “I have to get her.”
Zeg paused, one hand on his car door. “I’ll help.”
“No. Get Marny out of here.”
Tam couldn’t risk everyone—though he had no idea what he was going to do.
Zeg gave him a look, then glanced at Marny, waiting in his car. With a low curse, he threw himself into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. The guzzler started with a coughing roar and then pulled away, leaving an acrid cloud of exhaust. The drifters started yelling. One of them flung a rock that left a dent in the shiny finish of Lassiter’s car.
Pulse pounding, Tam scooped up Korrigan and tossed him into the back seat, ignoring the creature’s angry squall as protein bars littered the ground.
“Gotcha!” a harsh voice cried.
Hard fingers closed over Tam’s arm, and he pivoted to see the wild yellow eyes of Skeever glaring at him. Without thinking, he pulled Lassiter’s taser out of his pocket and jabbed it at the drifter’s arm.
Electricity arced from the end of the device, and Skeever convulsed. He doubled over with a strangled cry, letting go of Tam.
Heart racing, Tam leaped into the car. Lassiter peeled down the shadowy street, not waiting for the door to shut.
“Wait,” Tam gasped, the after-image of white lines printed on his eyelids. “We have to go back.”
“Hell, no. Close the door.”
“Roy, my mom’s back there. We can’t leave her for the drifters.”
“The timing sucks.” He let out an angry breath. “Hold on.”
Tam gripped the edge of the door as Lassiter wrenched the wheel. The grav-car spun into a U-turn, the dilapidated buildings spinning around them. Korrigan growled from the back seat.
“There.” Tam gripped the open edge of the door. “In the yellow coat, behind the drifters.”
Lassiter thumbed a switch on the dash, and the air was split by sirens and flashing lights. The smoke drifters milled, confused by the sudden noise. As they peeled past the mob, the reek of torches and unwashed bodies stung Tam’s nose. He glimpsed wild eyes and makeshift weapons. Two of the men were carrying bottles with rags stuffed in the top. Homemade bombs. His blood chilled.
“Mom!” he yelled, leaning precariously out of the car.
“Tam?” She squinted at the lights, her voice thin and scared. “What’s going on?”
He grabbed her arm and yanked her into the car. She landed awkwardly on his lap, and Tam waved the door closed. The air cracked with a gunshot, and he saw Skeever, his face lit garishly by Lassiter’s lights, waving his gun.
Lassiter accelerated, the force of it pressing Tam into his seat.
A chest-vibrating whump exploded behind them. The sky lit with flames, the buildings around them reflecting the hungry orange light. Knowing what he’d see, Tam swiveled around in the seat, trying to shield his mom from the knowledge.
The top of the old auto shop was covered in fire, accelerant-fueled flames consuming his house. The blue tarp on the roof curled and melted, the metal scorched, and anything that could burn, did, blackening before his eyes.
Korrigan watched out the back window, his claws dug into the seat where he perched.
“Fire,” he said, gleefully.
Tam turned back around, grief clogging his throat.
“What’s going on?” His mom blinked at him. “Where are we?”
Her hair was tangled and greasy, and she felt way too light on his lap. Had she eaten a single meal since she’d left? At least she recognized him. She’d been coming home—and now they had no home to return to.
“We’re…” He cleared his throat. “We’re going to visit a friend. Don’t worry, Mom.”
Lassiter turned the corner, a little more gently than usual, and they headed out of the Exe. Away from the rising column of dense black smoke that marked the only home Tam had ever known.
Korrigan chomped on protein bars in the back seat, Lassiter shot glances at Tam, and his mom sat quietly, still sunk in some half-dreaming stupor.
“Lucky we got her out of there,” Lassiter said.
He didn’t know how unbelievably lucky it was that Tam’s mom had shown up right then. What if she’d come home a day later, to an empty, burned-out shell of a house? Tam might have lost her forever.
“Mom?” he asked softly, “What made you come back tonight?”
“The little girl,” his mom said. “She was so pretty. Shiny wings. Said it was time to come home. She touched me, here, and brought me back.”
His mom held out her wrist. On the inside her skin bore the mark of four delicate fingers, a glowing spatter of silver light. Tam’s spine tingled with the recognition of fey magic. One of the faeries had led his mother home—out of her dreams and confusion, to a street filled with violence. It was impossible to tell if the creature had wished to do harm, or had simply interfered with no ill intent.
“Korr, you know anything about this?”
The changeling peered between the front seats, his bulbous eyes lit eerily by passing streetlights.
“I know naught—but the barrier separating the Realm and your world is much weakened. Many things have slipped free to wander, this night.”
“Great,” Lassiter said.
“We have to get in-game and shut the fey down, for good,” Tam said. “Hey!”
Korrigan’s dark claws had closed on his skin, pinching hard.
“Mortal boy,” the changeling hissed. “Do not rob us of sustenance. We shall waste and wither, until the Realm is no more.”
Tam pulled his arm away and rubbed at the red marks left by the changeling’s claws. “I’m doing what I have to.”
Letting the dark faeries, or the bright ones for that matter, invade the human world was not an option.
Halfway up the wide, landscaped street winding to The View, Tam spotted Zeg’s guzzler squatted at the curb.
“Pull over,” he said.
Lassiter did, his lights sweeping over the battered car. Zeg and Marny got out, Marny carrying the blanket with the last of Tam’s possessions bundled inside.
Lassiter slid the doors of the grav-car open. “Special View taxi at your service.”
“Thanks.” Zeg settled his bulk in the back seat. “I figured the gate guards wouldn’t let me through this time of night.”
Marny sat beside him, tucking the bundle at her feet.
“Crowded in here,” she said. “And no, Korr, you can’t sit on my lap.”
The changeling made a face and crouched on the floor, out of sight of the gate guards.
“We’ll be at Spark’s in a minute,” Lassiter said. “Sit tight.”
“Like we have any other choice,” Marny said.
Tam held his breath as the car slipped under the gleaming silver arch of The View, but nobody stopped them.
When they reached Spark’s mansion, he quit looking behind them for Security, and helped his mom out of the car. His mind skittered away from the thought of his house consumed in flames. Later. He’d deal with it later.
The bodyguard who opened Spark’s front door didn’t even blink to see them, though Tam knew his mom looked terrible. Not to mention the squat, otherworldly figure of the changeling.
Were such odd visitors commonplace? What kind of life did Spark lead in the outside world? Sometimes he forgot they had an international celebrity in their midst.
“Hi,” Lassiter said. “We’d like to see Spark.”
“I’ll inform Miss Jaxley you’re here,” the man said, then slid a sideways glance at the changeling. “Wait in the great room.”
He gestured down the hall, and Lassiter led the way, obviously comfortable with the layout of The View’s enormous houses. The spacious hallway smelled of flowers, real ones, in a big white cluster on a table by the door. Tam trailed after Lassiter, supporting his mom, who was still in a daze. Did she even understand all this was real?
The great room featured a huge window looking out over the lights of Crestvie
w below. Tam settled his mom in a nearby chair, then studied the night panorama, his eyes drawn to the dark blot of the Exe. It was too far to make out the smoldering remnants of his house.
There was no going back, as long as the drifters were nesting down the street. Not as long as Skeever led them. And who knew if there was anything left worth salvaging.
Marny and Zeg stepped into the room and stood nervously by the doorway, Korrigan between them.
“Take a seat,” Lassiter said to the changeling, pointing to the big couch in the center of the room.
Clearly he wanted Korrigan positioned for maximum effect when Spark walked in. The changeling bared his sharp teeth and hopped onto the plush beige upholstery, looking as unappetizing as a spider crouched on a piece of bread.
Confident footsteps sounded in the hall, and Spark Jaxley appeared at the door. She halted and surveyed her uninvited guests, one eyebrow going up. When her gaze found Korrigan, her other eyebrow rose, twin slashes of magenta surprise.
“Well,” she said. “This is interesting.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM
Jennet’s dad was late getting home, and then HANA hustled them in to dinner before Jennet could broach the topic of sneaking into VirtuMax.
And how would she even begin?
The chandelier over the table shed a perfect light—no shadows for questions to hide in. No easy way to convince Dad he needed to smuggle the beta team into headquarters.
She ate her food, barely tasting the lobster bisque, the perfectly done steak and vegetables. Dad was quiet, too. After the usual questions about how school was going, followed by her usual answers, he stared into space, chewing. His face held an abstracted expression she was used to—the sign he was deeply immersed in thoughts of work.
Finally, when their chef brought out the berry crisp for dessert, she grabbed hold of her courage.
“Dad,” she said. “The team is meeting tonight at Spark’s. We need to go over there.”
He gave her a curious look. “A party? It’s a little early for celebration, don’t you think? The testing isn’t over yet.”
“Um.” She twisted her napkin between her fingers. “Actually, we were hoping you’d let us into VirtuMax. There’s something important we need to do in Feyland.”
“You’ll be beta testing tomorrow. Whatever it is can wait.”
“It can’t!” She took a deep breath. “We have to go in-game tonight.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re asking me to break into my employer’s headquarters so the beta team can play illegally?”
“It’s not breaking in, if you have the keys and codes. And we’re supposed to play.”
“Not unsupervised, after hours.”
“You used to be the program manager.”
“That still doesn’t make it right,” he said. “In fact, you could argue it’s even worse. Think of how that would reflect on me, as if I’m trying to take over, or even sabotage the project.”
She wished—but Dad was too honorable for that. No, the only way to deal with this was from inside the game.
Marie, the house manager, came in to collect their plates. She gave Jennet a sharp look. The woman could sense when trouble was in the air, especially if that trouble had to do with Tam.
“Will there be anything else, Mr. Carter?” she asked in her clipped accent. “Coffee?”
“No, thank you.” He waved her away.
Jennet set her wrinkled napkin on the table and waited for Marie’s footsteps to fade. What else could she say to convince him? She swallowed, her throat dry.
“Dad. Thomas is in there—in the Realm. You could see him, talk to him.”
He shook his head at her, blue eyes faded and weary. “I don’t know what you think telling me stories like that will accomplish.”
“Come on.” She hated the hint of whine in her voice, but couldn’t erase it. “Find out if I’m telling the truth about Feyland. After everything that’s happened, don’t you wonder, at least a little?”
He didn’t say no right away, and tentative hope flickered, an ember in her chest. She bit her lip on further pleas and promises. There was no guarantee Thomas would be in-game—except that he was bound to the Dark Court as the queen’s bard.
Finally he sighed. “It’s just a game, honey. I’ve played it too. Remember?”
She shouldn’t have brought up Thomas. Dad still hadn’t fully dealt with his death. Frustration flashed through her. If only she could make him understand.
“At least go over to Spark’s with me.”
Somebody had to talk him into taking the next step. Roy had seen the changeling, after all, and Zeg would be there, too. Maybe faced with a united front, her dad would agree to let them into headquarters. Even if he still didn’t believe her.
“Is the team there now?” he asked.
“Yes.” Surely they would be. “If you just talk to Roy about Feyland—”
“Jennet.” He said her name heavily, like a stone dropped into a pool, ripples spreading from the word.
She leaned forward, hands clamped tightly together below the edge of the table.
“What?”
“I’ll go with you to Spark’s,” he said, “but this is the end. No more wild stories about the game. No more…” He swallowed. “No more talk about Thomas. Please. After this, you don’t raise the subject of faeries in Feyland ever again. Agreed?”
He met her gaze, held it. Heart thumping, she stared back at him. They had to get in-game, rescue Tam’s brother, and stop the fey monarchs. Or the faeries would break through into the mortal world, and Dad would find out the hard way she’d been right all along.
“Agreed,” she said.
Win or lose, everything changed. Tonight.
George pulled the grav-car up outside Spark’s mansion. The second he slid the door open, Jennet jumped out. She wasn’t taking the chance that Dad would change his mind and turn the car back around.
The chill night breeze at the edge of the bluff ruffled her hair. Below, the lights of Crestview twinkled as if everything was right with the world—except in the dark smudge of the Exe, where only a few sullen streetlamps glowed. The clouds over the city were lit with orange city-shine. No hint of stars, not even a moon.
Roy’s sporty red car was pulled up in the driveway. Jennet stuck her hands in her pockets, clenching them as though she could squeeze away the nervousness racing through her. At least the rest of the team had arrived.
“I can’t believe you kids are pulling Zeg into this mess,” her dad said, getting out of the car.
“We need a healer. And he believes us.”
Her dad shook his head and strode up to the mansion’s front doors. They opened immediately, and one of Spark’s bodyguards gestured them into the warmly lit foyer.
“The others are down the hall,” the guard said, “waiting for you in the great room.”
Jennet bit her lip and followed the sound of voices spilling from the room ahead.
Tam’s voice cut through the babble of conversation. “Look, as soon as they get here—”
“We’re here,” Jennet said, stepping over the threshold.
The spacious room was fuller than she expected. Tam stood near the door. He touched her arm, his expression tense. Zeg was a couple paces away, and for some reason he had Marny with him. Roy stood by the window, arms crossed, and Spark leaned against the back of a small sofa. Jennet blinked in surprise to see Tam’s mom perched on one of the chairs, looking fragile and confused.
But the biggest surprise of all sat on the plush couch in the center of the room.
“What the hell is that?” Jennet’s dad asked, freezing in the doorway.
The squat creature regarded them from bulbous, milky eyes, then smiled with needle-sharp teeth. It was hideous, and unmistakably not from their world.
“That,” Tam said, “is a changeling from the Unseelie Court in the Realm of Faerie.”
“I…” Jennet’s d
ad stared at the creature.
“Hard to take in, I know,” Zeg said. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but this is one of the strangest.”
“Is it real?” Her dad’s voice shook, the tiniest bit, but Jennet heard it.
The changeling got to his feet, clawed toes gripping the upholstery.
“Shall I conjure up my crawlies, the better to convince you?” he asked in a high, creaky voice.
“No need,” Marny said. “You’re proof enough, Korr. Plus, your bugs are hideous.”
“Can I… touch it?” Jennet’s dad asked.
He held his hand out toward the changeling. Korrigan hissed and swiped his black claws at Jennet’s dad, snagging the sleeve of his jacket. The changeling pulled with uncanny strength and Jennet’s dad stumbled over to face the faerie.
“Close enough, mortal?” Korrigan asked, baring his sharp teeth.
“Let him go,” Marny said.
The changeling narrowed his eyes and disentangled his claws from the cloth. Jennet’s dad hastily stepped back, his face pale.
“All right,” he said, straightening his jacket. “I believe you.”
“Finally,” Tam said.
Jennet’s dad frowned. He stared a moment longer at the changeling, then scrubbed one hand over his face.
“I owe you an apology,” he said to Tam, then turned to Jennet. “To both of you. Honey, I… you have to understand how impossible your stories sounded. I thought you were making up wild excuses.”
Jennet crossed her arms. It wasn’t easy to forgive his blindness.
“This would have been a lot simpler if you’d believed me in the first place,” she said.
“I know.” Regret laced his voice.
“Hey,” Zeg said. “We all make mistakes. The thing is to keep moving forward. Speaking of which, it’s getting late and we have plans to make.”
Despite the delayed anger simmering hotly in Jennet’s stomach, her dad looked so lost and weary that she touched him on the shoulder. He covered her hand with his and gave her a sad smile. She couldn’t quite smile back. They had a lot to talk about—later.
“Zeg’s right,” Spark said. “Everybody, sit down. We need to sort things out.”