Enchanted Ever After (Mystic Circle)

by Robin D. Owens

  “Oh, that’s such a pity,” Amber said.

  Rafe Davail snorted. “Jerks.”

  A corner of Jenni’s mouth lifted. “Yes. We’d been hoping for a permanent resident—”

  “It is best that none of the...officers...of Eight Corp decide to live here,” Aric said in his deep voice, curving his fingers around Jenni’s shoulder. He nudged her up the steps. Amber and Rafe had already gone inside.

  “Very true,” Jenni said.

  At the door, Lathyr seemed to glance Kiri’s way, but said nothing, then Aric asked a question and Lathyr faded back, bowed to his guests and closed the door.

  Wind tugged on Kiri’s sweatpants like tiny hands and she shuddered. Too damn imaginative the past couple of days.

  Loneliness wrapped around her like the night, echoing that vague wish for a man, a life partner. Someone sort of like Averill, in the computer industry, who wouldn’t think she was wasting her life writing games as her parents and most of the other people Kiri knew believed. Not much respect from them.

  She trotted faster. Like her current job of dealing with irate people and their problems was fulfilling! Maybe for some, but Kiri wanted to tell stories illustrated by graphics, let people fall into worlds and play. Entertaining people, giving them an outlet for frustration or boredom or a place away from the troubles and despair of real life was important, too. And that was what was fulfilling to Kiri. Why, she could even consider herself in the mental health field. Heaven knew she’d taken enough mental health breaks where she’d played Fairies and Dragons to rid herself of the insanity of working inside a structured and office-politics company.

  She wondered how different Eight Corp was.

  Again, she shivered. Yes, summer was truly gone and autumn would come soon and bring snow. She hurried home.

  * * *

  Lathyr had gritted his teeth at the knock on the door, sensing beyond it stood Princess Jindesfarne, her husband and the humans-with-magic couple. He should have expected this, but he hadn’t. He had only arrived a few minutes ago.

  And when he opened the door, they stood there, discussing him and the Castle, rudely. He blinked. They held food in their hands—a human custom he hadn’t anticipated.

  A slight wave of a more sensual feeling hit him, and he realized that Kiri stood in the shadows of the street, watching. As he had watched her the night before.

  “You gonna stand there blocking the door or let us in, man?” asked Rafe Davail, the human with strong magic. Underwater, that would have ruffled the fine fins on Lathyr’s arms and along his spine. In human form, the hair on the back of his nape rose a little in challenge.

  It had been too long since he’d dueled in human shape to match with Davail now. And Lathyr wanted to be accepted here.

  “Welcome to Mystic Circle!” Rafe’s wife, Amber, said cheerfully, holding up a covered dish of salmon and rice that wafted to Lathyr’s nostrils. His mouth watered, and he liked how she elbowed her husband in the side.

  So he smiled and stepped back, bowing.

  The mansion—the Water King was right, the house wasn’t large, only four bedroom suites and eight bedrooms—was furnished like any royal palace, with the best Lightfolk and human items money could buy. But what was more important was that the balanced energy was exquisite, sliding along Lathyr’s skin and slipping through his veins carried by his water nature.

  He welcomed the Emberdrakes and the Davails and they toured the Castle together since none of them had been in it before.

  That didn’t stop Rafe Davail from being cocky...and Lathyr noted the man kept himself between Lathyr and his wife, and not altogether automatically like a fighter would. As if the human sensed some threat from Lathyr. Lips curling, Lathyr didn’t reassure Rafe that only Kiri Palger interested him.

  Amber Davail’s magic was too developed for her to become pure Lightfolk, and too elven.

  Rafe fingered some of the Lightfolk silk tapestries and slid his hand across the fine leather of the couch in the living room. The person who was least impressed seemed to be Amber Davail—a woman Lathyr gauged was more interested in people than objects.

  Aric Paramon Emberdrake, Jenni’s husband, had lived with the royals often enough in their palaces to recognize and accept the quality, and Jenni, as a previously sneered at half-breed, seemed the most struck.

  The glass conservatory held a good-sized swimming pool set in a floor of colorful hand-painted Italian tiles. The water was turquoise and Lathyr’s nose twitched at the Merfolk scents in the water. Large potted trees and flowering plants rimmed the windows.

  “Fabulous,” Amber enthused.

  “Nice,” Jenni, the quarter-air, quarter-fire Lightfolk said politely, staying at the doorway.

  “Don’t think I’ve seen a merman in mer shape,” Rafe hinted.

  “We have three solid shapes,” Lathyr said, then turned to find the source of water he sensed in the basement.

  Underground was made especially to be comfortable for Earthfolk—with warm stone floors, thick rugs and wood-paneled walls, large pillows on the floor. But down a hall, Lathyr looked through a large porthole to a room holding a seawater reservoir, a full submersion chamber for mers. He grinned and rubbed his hands. “Wonderful.”

  “I suppose,” Jenni said doubtfully.

  Instead of taking one of the bedrooms resonating with royal energy, Lathyr had chosen a small room on the first floor near the conservatory, meant for a servant. The others looked at him askance, and when Rafe opened his mouth again to comment Amber elbowed him, and no one said anything.

  Lathyr was very aware of always living on sufferance.

  The couples stayed only long enough for the tour and a drink afterward—Rafe, Jenni and Aric drank dwarven beer, and Amber some mead.

  Amber hugged him before they left. Aric and Rafe—and Jenni to a lesser degree—remained slightly formal, not quite trusting him.

  Lathyr sighed as he stood at the front door and watched the couples walk arms-around-waists back to their homes. He liked them all, even Rafe, and hoped he could earn their trust during this project. They’d make good friends.

  Leaning against the wide doorjamb, he strained to see Kiri’s house at the end of the street, nearly opposite the Castle. Not much was visible through the trees of the center park since like the other bungalow, it was only one story. But, there was a light from what he believed to be a back bedroom.

  He’d hoped she was coming to greet and welcome him to Mystic Circle, too. She hadn’t, and he’d been more disappointed than the small slight warranted.

  One thing he had determined that day, he was definitely attracted to her. It had been a long time, since his adolescence, that he’d wanted to have sex with a human woman. Perhaps it was because he sensed the inherent potential in her to become Lightfolk...but he hadn’t been drawn to the other women and men he’d seen transformed.

  Should he phone her? He had her application, with telephone numbers, on his personal computer tablet, but he wanted her to be aware of him, wanted her to come to him. However, he’d inadvertently used glamour on her earlier that day; the Emberdrakes wouldn’t forget that.

  So he dragged in a breath that brought him the scent of leaves ready to turn in the autumn, losing their water flexibility and becoming dry and brittle, as well as the fragrance of the pond and the koi within, stupid and not good to eat. Considered beautiful by humans—and Kiri seemed to believe that—but compared to ocean creatures, the koi were ugly and clumsy. Most of all, the scent of balanced magic curled into his nostrils, layering on the folded frills.

  He felt that balanced magic in the soles of his feet, and Jenni, as she’d trailed through the rooms, had balanced the magic in them. She’d ventured into each of the royal rooms and made the fire suite all of that element, then changed the energy of each of the others to match.

  Wondrous.

  But he was still landlocked, still had to live in his human form, even in this very special place. And the Castle wasn’t his. He
stayed here at the whim of the Eight, or the Water King.

  He closed the wooden door with a thunk, walked through the entryway, then up to the top of the four-story small tower. From here he could see all of the Circle, each house with bright squares of living.

  He was alone. Occasionally, he was allowed to stay in a secondary home by himself—the last perched like a carbuncle on the shelf of a deep marine trench. It had been smaller than this, and cold. But usually he was a “houseguest” of some other person or family. His own family was gone—his father, who’d been the last of his line, was dead; his mother had listened to her relatives and abandoned him soon after he was born. He shook off the memory.

  Luxurious to have a home of such quality to himself. It felt good, but he wouldn’t forget that he had no permanent place, no family. That was his goal, something he could win with the success of this project.

  The quiet in the mansion hummed with magic to his ears, and pleased him. No intolerant naiader begrudged him here, a relief. Even as he enjoyed the peace of being by himself in a special place, he knew he’d eventually become lonely.

  He wished Kiri was here to share the serenity...and make memories.

  * * *

  By the time Thursday morning rolled around, Kiri and her friend Shannon had spent a couple of cherished hours on the phone speculating about details of the new game, Transformation. They’d agreed that it would probably be another fantasy-world with the magic-based systems that Jenni Weavers Emberdrake was known for.

  Both Kiri and Shannon had decided that having the game determine your character—strengths, weaknesses, types like magic user or long-distance shooter—sounded extremely dubious from a marketing standpoint. Good for novelty, but there’d better be an option for character creation. Kiri hoped she had the guts to give that opinion...but at the end of the trial, not now.

  She hadn’t slept much and got up when predawn light filtered into her bedroom, still undecided about what she would wear. In the game she was a fashionista—and perfectly proportioned. In the real world, her breasts and hips were full, she was short-waisted and short-legged and if she didn’t watch it, she’d be plump.

  Definitely not a business suit and stockings, even though she was meeting Lathyr in a downtown Denver high-rise, and there might be other people there to interview her, too. If she knew Jenni Weavers Emberdrake a little better, she’d have called the other woman and asked for advice, but Kiri still considered Jenni as one of the people who’d be watching her.

  What mattered was the game—handling herself. Her shoulders had lifted with tension and her shoulder blades had squeezed together. Learning a new game was just like learning anything else—a new craft, a new job. There was a curve. Kiri wanted to be at the top of the curve. But she had no doubt that though she might spend most of her time in the game today, appearance mattered.

  She’d already worn her beige outfit to the block party. Maybe it was time for businesslike black. She dragged out black slacks and a pale gray, thin cashmere sweater, then put the sweater back. The Eight Corp offices were probably warm and she’d probably sweat during the game—no doubt in her mind that adrenaline would spike through her a few times—and she didn’t want to mess up her cashmere, no matter how comforting it might feel.

  Ditch the whole professional business bit and go for what she was: computer tech and gamer. She put on a Fairies and Dragon tee, covered it with a plum-colored hoodie and wore her best cargo pants. Done. She would not dress up for Lathyr.

  Breakfast was half an English muffin with cream cheese and coffee.

  She perched on the edge of her living room chair until the car taking her downtown beeped out in front, and her stomach gave a little squeeze.

  Whatever happened, her life would never be the same....

  Chapter 7

  HALF AN HOUR later, she was the only one in the elevator rising to Eight Corp’s floor, although the huge lobby of the building had bustled with other people. She adjusted her hoodie and her workbag—this one a pristine bright red Fairies and Dragons carryall—over her shoulder, and did a few deep breaths as she watched the floor numbers light.

  The door opened and she was met by Jenni and Lathyr. Jenni wore casual, too, but Lathyr had on a pale gray silk suit.

  No one sat at the receptionist’s desk—odd, because Kiri had only worked places where the receptionist had the earliest hours. With her first step, Kiri’s feet literally sank into a deep green rug. She got the impression of elegant luxury before Jenni held out both her hands with a big smile. “Glad to see you again.”

  Once more, the woman’s hands were warmer than her own. Damn nerves. “Yes. I’m excited.”

  “We are, too.” Jenni beamed.

  Lathyr offered his own hand, and Kiri shook it, ignoring how nice it felt. Firm grip, meet his eyes—gorgeous deep blue. Breathe, because the initial greeting went okay.

  “A pleasure,” Lathyr said.

  “For me, too,” Kiri said.

  Jenni turned and moved around a huge freestanding wall of granite. “Let’s head to the room where the game server is set up.”

  “Sounds fine to me,” Kiri said.

  “Do you want something to drink?” asked Lathyr.

  Coffee would tweak her nerves even more. “Water would be great.”

  He peeled off and Kiri followed Jenni down the hall to an interior room. It was painted an uninspired beige and was longer than it was wide. To Kiri’s surprise, an actual wooden counter polished to a gloss ran along the wall as a desk setup. Atop the counter, four huge monitors sat. The most comfortable of ergonomic chairs—smelling of new plastic and metal—were placed before the monitors. Several different types of game controllers waited on a floating platform a little lower than the desk under each monitor. All top-of-the-line electronics.

  “Wow, nice setup,” she said.

  “Thanks.” Jenni went to the last chair on the left, sat and swiveled toward Kiri.

  But Kiri’s stare had fixed on several sets of gloves that appeared to have filaments embedded in them, and four wraparound visors.

  “As you can see,” Jenni said easily, “we’re experimenting a bit with virtual reality, also. Put on the visor and you’ll feel as if you’re really in the game. Wear the gloves and your gestures will be translated as powers. For instance, if you want to throw a fireball—”

  “I’ll really act as if I’m throwing a ball.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Hmm.” Kiri stayed where she was.

  “We’d like you to wear the gloves and visor.”

  “This isn’t monitoring my vitals, is it?”

  The line between Jenni’s eyes cleared. “No. Absolutely not. The gloves and the visor are simply to immerse you in a deeper gaming experience.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I have your water,” Lathyr said from behind her.

  So Kiri sidled into the room, stood near the third chair. The man offered her a large bottle of fizzy water—the same brand of raspberry that she’d chosen at the block party, and somehow she didn’t think that was by chance. “Thank you.”

  “You are quite welcome.” He did a torso incline thing, then closed the door and the room felt pretty small. Reaching out, he took a pair of large teal gloves and slipped them on, raising a brow at Kiri as he did so. He held a visor by the slim end and twirled it in his fingers.

  “I, um, am pretty simple in my gaming,” Kiri said. “Monitor, keyboard, mouse.”

  “Please,” Jenni said, gesturing to the gloves and visors. She donned some red ones with gold “embroidery” of fiber optic filaments or something. Kiri narrowed her eyes, then blinked. It looked like the pattern might be almost a mathematical algorithm—or, in a different game, a spell—and the design lit up.

  “I thought we were going to have another interview?” Kiri said weakly, looking at Lathyr.

  “That’s so stuffy,” Jenni said.

  It was stuffy.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Jenni.r />
  Kiri grimaced. “The gloves and visor might interfere with my play.” She swallowed. “I really don’t want to screw this up.” It meant too much to her.

  Lathyr set the visor down and stripped off the gloves. He held out both hands. “I am a good judge of energy. I am sure I can reassure you that you belong here. Please?”

  Kiri stared, cut her eyes to Jenni, questioning this new age stuff. The woman looked bland, so Kiri shrugged and put her hands in his. Yes, tingles, for sure. And the texture of his palms and his fingers was so smooth, but there was strength in those hands. Nice.

  “Pregame visualization exercise,” Jenni said. “Close your eyes and visualize—ah—the Fairy Dome in Fairies and Dragons.”

  Kiri shot her a glance. “You take the game very seriously.”

  “Well, of course. It’s my livelihood. An attitude I expect from you.”

  Kiri closed her eyes, recalled the Fairy Dome, tried to bring it into focus. She’d always sucked at visualization except right before and right after she slept.

  She became all too aware of Lathyr, his hands, the closeness of his body to hers, as if energy cycled between them. Scents came to her nose, a hot and spicy smell, a fresh odor reminding her of the ocean—Lathyr’s aftershave? Eyes shut, she felt the atmosphere in the room...fancifully enough, she thought that Jenni’s and Lathyr’s energy clashed, did not mix well. Kiri realized her breathing matched Lathyr’s, slow and deep. Her ears strained...trying to hear the hum of the computers...no, she was too used to her barely up-to-date equipment at work. Not the tiniest buzz of fans, but she was right, the room was warm and getting warmer. In fact, the tingles within her seemed to also press against her skin, as if she were immersed in fizzy water. Fun, energizing. She stifled a giggle.

  Lathyr released her hands and stepped back. Her eyelids flew open and she smiled at him, only to see he’d moved and was leaning over Jenni, speaking quietly. He glanced up at her, nodded, then said, “You will do well.”

  When he returned to talking to Jenni, all Kiri’s doubts swarmed back, despite his assurance. Jenni had indicated that it was Lathyr who had decided—or would decide—whether Kiri was a good fit, hadn’t she? She wished they’d done this earlier and in a conference room or something, not where she was supposed to work.