Marny

by Anthea Sharp

  “Go, go,” Marny said, grabbing his arm and propelling him forward.

  The two of them careened into the clearing. Marny practically threw him into the center of the faerie ring, then leaped in herself.

  “No!” Pinebough cried.

  The spriggan lunged, stabbing with his spear, and hit Marny in the upper arm just as brilliant golden light began swirling around them. She cried out, and then the world turned upside down.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Pain drilled through Marny, accompanied by the horrible queasy sensation she always got going in and out of Feyland.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on breathing through the nausea. Getting sick all over Nyx’s equip was not an option—although she had the feeling she’d already gotten blood on his sim chair. Stupid, to let that spriggan get close enough to spear her.

  The golden light stopped spinning, then cleared to show the room where Nyx kept his sim systems. They’d made it.

  And she could not wait to get out of the constricting dimness of the gaming helmet.

  She sat up, then gasped and fell back into the chair as fire ripped through her arm and seared along every nerve ending. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them away. Just a little poke, she told herself. I’m okay. The warm liquid oozing down her arm wasn’t a good sign, though.

  “Marny!” Nyx pulled off his gear and hurried to her side.

  Before she could ask him to, he lifted off her helmet then carefully removed her gloves.

  “Is it bad?” she asked.

  “Bad enough.” He looked shaken. “We need to get you medical attention.”

  Gritting her teeth, she glanced at her arm. There was a hole in her body, partially obscured by her torn T-shirt. What she could see of the wound looked very red—and was that bit of white her bone? As she watched, blood trickled down her arm and dripped off her elbow onto the carpet.

  “Sorry about your stuff,” she said.

  “That doesn’t matter. Hang on, I’m calling the med techs, and grabbing my med kit from the bathroom. We need to stop this bleeding.”

  She nodded, and concentrated on breathing until he came back. Probably better not to sit up until they stanched the flow of blood.

  “This is going to hurt,” he said, reaching for the sleeve of her shirt. “Sorry.”

  It did, but the pain was an ocean she swam in. The trick was not to let the waves crash over her head. And not to watch what Nyx was doing. She concentrated on his face instead.

  He peeled back the cloth and went a bit pale, but his hands remained steady as he held gauze against her shoulder. After a few moments, he pulled it off and sprayed something on her skin. The wound instantly felt somewhat better, the pain notching down to an almost bearable level.

  She still couldn’t look at it, though. Only him.

  Funny—she couldn’t see the handsome guy, the Flail star, the cocky club owner any more. He was just Nyx, and weirdly, it felt like she’d known him for ages.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. “You seemed pretty woozy in-game.”

  He gave her a crooked smile. “Either the transition back out or, you know, the medical emergency, cleared my head.”

  “How long until the medics come?” she asked.

  “About five minutes.”

  That didn’t give them much time. And though he wasn’t thinking things through, she was.

  “We need to get me out of the chair,” she said. “And figure out a reasonable explanation for how I got hurt.”

  “Oh. Right.” He stared at her a second. “Speaking of which—how can you get stabbed in-game and then be sitting here in the real world, bleeding? That makes no sense.”

  “You have to be careful in Feyland. I told you it was dangerous.”

  “The hell with that!” His voice rose, echoed through her head. She winced, and he instantly looked sorry. “You got hurt, and it’s my fault.”

  “Strategy first,” she said, suddenly exhausted. “Argue later. Now help me up.”

  He put his arm around her waist, supporting her while she got unsteadily to her feet. It was all she could do not to lean heavily against him. Instead, she concentrated on balancing upright, despite the throb all down her left side.

  “Sling your arm around my shoulders,” he said. “We’re going into the warehouse.”

  There was a confidence in his voice that meant he’d come up with a plan. Good, because she had no idea how they were going to finesse her injury. Getting stabbed in-game was certainly not an explanation the med techs would believe—even if she had wanted to try the truth, which she didn’t.

  The trip down the hall and out into the cavernous space seemed to take forever. Each step jarred Marny’s wound, sending missiles of hot pain through her. Nyx was patient, his grip around her waist steady.

  He led her to one of the clusters of furniture near the dance floor and she managed to sit on a small couch without keeling over.

  “Put your feet up,” he said, already moving away. “I have to set the stage.”

  He disappeared into the back, and she could hear him rummaging about. A few moments later he returned with a pair of long spears. They were made of white wood, with red tassels on the bottom and a sharp-looking metal point on the top.

  “Handy, that you have those lying around,” she said.

  “Part of my martial arts weapons collection.” He glanced at the spears. “At first I thought I’d display them on the walls, then realized that was a dumb idea. I can’t screen everybody who walks into the club, and there are too many idiots in the world to risk them being taken down and used. Anyway, we can say I was showing you some moves, and the spear slipped.”

  “Yeah, right into my arm.” Marny brought her hand up to her wound. “Come here so we can get one bloody.”

  Nyx laid one of the spears down, then brought the other one over. He eyed her arm.

  “The plas-skin has stopped the bleeding. I’m not sure we can get enough onto the spear to look realistic.”

  “Then stab me again,” she said, bracing herself.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” He sounded horrified at the thought.

  “Squeamish? We have to make this look good.” Besides, what was more pain? She was already living inside the red hole in her body.

  “I am not reopening your wound. Sorry.”

  The sound of sirens drifted down the street. Marny made a grab for the haft of the spear, and he yanked it out of reach.

  “Nyx,” she said.

  “No.”

  He glanced around, his face tense, then sprinted over to the juice bar. Glass clinked on glass as he rummaged around. The sirens got louder, then cut off abruptly as the med techs arrived. They were out of time.

  Moving fast, Nyx lifted a bottle of something from the bar, then gathered up both spears and ran to the center of the room. He tossed one weapon behind him, then knelt and poured red liquid from the bottle over the point of the other spear. For good measure, he smeared some of it down the white wood. It looked dark red and sticky.

  The smell of berries drifted into the air, and Marny hoped that in the excitement the ambulance crew wouldn’t notice that the apparent scene of her injury featured raspberry syrup instead of blood.

  Somebody banged on the door.

  “Coming!” Nyx yelled.

  He made a quick detour to deposit the bottle of syrup back on the bar, then opened the warehouse door. Two white-garbed med techs stood there, one male, one female.

  “You have an injured person here?” the man asked.

  “Yes, my friend, Marny.” Nyx gestured to where she slouched on the couch. “We were sparring and my spear slipped and got her in the arm.”

  The female tech gave the spears on the floor a cursory glance, then hurried to Marny’s side.

  “Good, you got plas-skin on the wound right away,” she said. “How’s the pain?”

  “Bearable,” Marny lied.

  The tech narrowed her eyes. “Can I ad
minister some pain medication? It’s going to help while I take a look at your injury. Okay?”

  Not worth arguing over. Marny nodded, and the tech pressed a dispenser against her wrist. A few seconds later, blessed coolness spread through her. She took a deep breath and let it out, grateful that she could breathe without feeling like she was swimming through lava.

  “Good,” the woman said. “Timmo, got the scanner?”

  “Right here,” her partner said, lifting a slim piece of equipment. “Before we treat any further, we need some information. If you’d fill this out.” He handed his tablet to Nyx.

  “How old are you?” the woman asked Marny.

  “Eighteen,” she said. She’d be eighteen in four months, so it was only a small lie. Besides, claiming she was an adult was going to save all of them a world of hassle.

  Nyx shot her a quick look, his fingers flying over the tablet, and she wondered exactly how much he knew about her. More than she knew about him, that was for sure.

  The tech held the scanner up to her shoulder. “Relax—I need to lift your arm.”

  Marny tried to stay loose as the woman raised and lowered her arm. There was an unpleasant tugging sensation, but it wasn’t excruciating.

  “It’s clean, and luckily the bone didn’t get chipped,” the med tech said. “You’ve had some blood loss, so take it easy for the rest of the day. You should heal up pretty quick. Keep plas-skin on it, keep it clean and immobilized, take a pain med when you need to.”

  “All right,” Marny said—although the part about taking it easy was so not going to happen. She and Nyx had to go rescue his sister, which wasn’t going to be an easy-mode quest by any stretch.

  “If you get a fever or the wound swells up, numbness, redness, or shooting pains down your arm, or any other complications, seek medical attention right away. Here’s a sling—wear it for at least a week.”

  “Okay.” Marny sat up a little so the woman could put the sling on her, then signed the tablet the other tech stuck in front of her.

  The two med techs conferred with Nyx for a minute, but for some reason the dust motes sparkling in the light from the high windows were way more interesting. She heard the techs heading for the door, their footsteps reverberating almost visibly through the air.

  The pain meds were doing strange things to her head. She felt like she was floating a couple feet in the air, as if she was a grav-car. The thought made her laugh.

  Nyx came back from seeing the med techs out, and gave her a funny look.

  “You doing okay?” he asked.

  “Just great. Ready to go find your sister?”

  “There’s one problem—besides the fact that you’re hurt.”

  “I feel fine.” She waved her hand in front of his face. “See?”

  “That’s the wrong arm.” His voice was edged with exasperation. “You need to sober up.”

  “Your eyes are the color of mist,” she said. “But warm, you know, like the clouds just after sunset. Wait—I’m babbling, aren’t I?” Somehow, she wasn’t too concerned about the fact that her mouth and her brain didn’t seem very connected.

  “Stay right here,” he said, as if he didn’t trust her to not move from the couch.

  It was a comfortable place, though. She yawned, remembering that Nyx had woken her up painfully early that day.

  “Here.” He was back, pressing a cold can into her hand. “Haydeez energy drink. Favorite of gamers everywhere.”

  “That stuff is terrible for you. Corrodes your insides. I got Tam to stop drinking it years ago.”

  “Fine—but right now it’s what you need. Come on, take a sip. I need the real Marny to come back now.”

  “You’re trying to poison me.” She sent him a sideways glance.

  “I’m not, I promise.” He settled next to her on the couch and wrapped his hand around hers, holding the drink in place, then lifting it to her lips. “Please.”

  “You first.”

  He took the can from her and drank, then handed it back, his gaze never leaving hers. Damn, the look of entreaty on his face could melt a rock. She set the can to her lips, the metal still warm from his mouth, and sipped. The drink was sweet and cool, and tasted surprisingly good.

  “The whole thing,” he said, when she lowered the can.

  “Let a girl breathe.”

  Still, she went back to drinking, tipping the can up to get the last sip. A drop slid down the side of her chin. Before she could wipe it she felt his thumb there, gently smoothing the liquid away.

  “I’m not some little kid you have to clean up,” she said.

  “Believe me, I know you aren’t.”

  There was something in his voice, his eyes, that she couldn’t read. Or maybe she could, but it confused her. She filed the sensation away to figure out later.

  His hand lingered against her face for a moment, and then he slid back, his expression turning businesslike. “Feeling better?”

  She frowned. How did she feel, other than totally thrown by his attention? Her body buzzed, weirdly attuned to where he sat next to her. The floaty sensation in her head was dissipating, and her arm throbbed, like a drumbeat turned way, way down. She suspected the volume wasn’t going to remain that low, but for now it wasn’t a problem.

  “Yeah,” she said. “So—do we have to go back in-game?”

  He tilted his head. “You’d go into Feyland again with me? After what happened, and your claustrophobia and everything?”

  “Not that I’d want to, but yes.” She’d hate it, of course, but she’d fought that battle for him already, wrestled her fear down and survived.

  When Nyx had geared up and gone into the game, she’d been paralyzed. For several minutes she’d just stood there, her sick apprehension at the thought of putting on the sim helmet warring with the fact that he really did need her. Despite knowing that his sister had disappeared into the Realm of Faerie, Marny could tell he still wasn’t taking the game seriously enough.

  Part of the churning in her gut was the intuition that he could get himself in severe trouble—that, in fact, he was heading straight for it. And there was no guarantee the Feyguard would reach him in time, whereas she was right there.

  Deal with it, she’d told herself. You’re so damn proud of being strong—so be strong already.

  She needed to force herself to play, despite the clammy sweat breaking out all over her body, and her racing heart that felt like it was going to smash itself to a pulp against her ribcage.

  So she’d moved her feet, one step at a time, over to the sim chair. She’d almost choked up completely while she put on the helmet, but clung to the sound of his voice telling her he needed her.

  He needed her.

  It got a little better once she was interfaced with the FullD equipment and logged on with her Rogue character. Once the nausea passed and she stood in the faerie ring, with the warm air against her face, she felt almost functional.

  Then she’d heard the raspy voices of the spriggans gloating over capturing a human. The last vestiges of her panic had fled as she went invisible and hurried to Nyx’s rescue.

  “Hey.” He set his hand over hers, his touch warm. “I’m not asking you to do that. You came in to help me, and got hurt. I owe you for that.”

  It was true, and she didn’t bother denying it.

  “So now what?” she asked.

  It wasn’t a good idea to go back into Feyland, anyway. No doubt the spriggans, plus reinforcements, were camping the entry point, waiting for them to show up again.

  “I might have another solution,” he said.

  “What other solution?” She ignored the fact of his hand over his, and how it made her feel. “We barely set foot into Feyland before we had to run out again.”

  “Yeah, but I got these.” He reached into his jeans pocket and came out with a handful of leaves.

  They were shiny dark green, with lavender undersides. A faint sheen of silver caught the light as he tipped his hand.

&nb
sp; “Will they work?” she asked.

  “I hope so.” He peered down at the foliage. “I’ve never collected these kinds of leaves before, so I don’t know what place they’ll conjure up, or where it will take us.”

  “As long as it’s in the Realm somewhere, we can figure it out.” And they wouldn’t have to use the interface of the game. Which probably wouldn’t work anyway, since Emmie hadn’t disappeared while playing Feyland. Right?

  He stood, then gave her a wary glance. In the dimness of the warehouse he looked suddenly vulnerable.

  “Want me to leave while you do your magic spell?” she asked, scooting to the front of the couch. Her arm twinged, but she didn’t flinch.

  He regarded her a moment, then shook his head. “You’re already in deep—we both are. Might as well watch.”

  With a loose, easy stride, he went to the wall near the back of the warehouse. She couldn’t quite see what he did, but it looked like there was a built-in compartment. He moved to the right-hand wall and pressed an invisible button. Sure enough, a small drawer slid out, and he tucked some of the leaves into it.

  He repeated the action on the other side, and the remaining leaves went into a secret spot in the floor. Empty-handed, he came back to the couch.

  “Now what?” she asked. “Don’t you have to wave your hands and chant some mystical words?”

  “Nope,” he said, settling on the cushions beside her. “We wait a few minutes.”

  “You missed an opportunity to be dramatic, you know. Some fancy moves and a fake spell could have totally impressed me.”

  He gave a faint snort. “Yeah—somehow I don’t think you’re that easily impressed, Marny Fanalua.”

  She admired him more for knowing that, and not playing things up. His calm confidence was one of his more appealing qualities. That and the way he so clearly cared about his sister. Not to mention—

  Oh, dammit, she was not falling for Nyx Spenser.

  Marny resolutely turned her attention away from him and stared into the dim cavern of the warehouse. She didn’t need a boyfriend, and for sure she didn’t need a useless attraction to a guy who lived hundreds of miles from her hometown.