Lathyr gave a tiny cough. “So did Kiri. She was attacked in game.”
“S’truth!” the silver-headed guy’s exclamation wasn’t loud, but intense enough to carry.
“Somehow a great Dark one reached the pocket dimension,” Jenni murmured.
Power emanated from the end of the table. Everyone looked down, including Kiri; she couldn’t help it. In fact, she couldn’t move. Otherwise she’d have slid under the table.
“I will contact the guardians to understand how that might occur.”
“Kiri defeated the Dark one,” Jenni said with satisfaction.
And now the...person’s full consideration weighed on Kiri. She met his gaze, glanced aside, stared at her hands on the table, wondered why they weren’t trembling.
“A unique individual, indeed,” the fabulous voice said.
There was a pop and a small man and woman each levitating a huge tray loaded with food stood by the door.
Kiri couldn’t deny what was going on anymore.
They were brownies.
Chapter 18
THE BROWNIES SET places and food around the table, poured tea and disappeared before Kiri got her slack-jawed, surprised hanging-open mouth shut.
And the whole room rippled and changed before her eyes and she smelled magic and everyone looked a little different. Jenni had a slightly reddish tint to her skin. Fire magic. Aric’s hair was definitely green.
So was Lathyr’s, around his pointed ears and pale white-blue skin. Merman. Kiri’s heart beat hard, pulse throbbing inside her ears.
Mrs. Daurfin was a dwarf.
Slowly, slowly, Kiri slid her gaze to the end of the table. The tall thin guy was not a man. Or rather, not a human male. Most of the magical power in the room emanated from him. He definitely had pointed ears, was gorgeous. Her nose twitched in recognition at his fragrance that confirmed the notion spinning in her mind. Elf.
He caught her glance. Caught her, and the world stilled in the moment and so did her breath, then he looked aside. More memories, recollections, snapped together. Lathyr had bespelled her at the neighborhood party. She looked at him and his face remained impassive but he almost looked worse than when she’d come in. Was she seeing through illusion, now? Were they letting her, or had she changed beyond measure?
“First, we’re sorry, Kiri. The people in the other project here at Eight Corp—the Meld Project—are all magical and have good transportation skills.” Jenni shook her head. “But you, Kiri, are human, and more targeted by the Darkfolk than we’d anticipated.” She hesitated. “Probably from the very beginning, the flyover of Dark evil minions at the neighborhood party. And since then, they were watching you.”
Kiri recalled the nightmare she’d had, the bus accident, and shuddered.
“And, Kiri,” Jenni said, leaning toward her.
“Yeah?” Kiri swallowed. “Yes?”
“Transformation isn’t just a game.”
Kiri teetered on the edge of logic.
“It’s a tool to discover whether regular humans can be transformed into Lightfolk.” Jenni’s sweeping gesture indicated the whole table. “And Lathyr isn’t from Eight Corp human resources. He is Lightfolk and can measure the potential of people who can become magical beings.”
“All right,” Kiri said, though it wasn’t. She grappled with the sharp-edged idea. “The...gentleman at the end of the table—” her gaze slipped across his gorgeous face again “—is an elf.”
“King Cloudsylph,” Aric said.
Kiri caught herself bowing as low as she could over the table, muttered, “Honored.” See, the game wasn’t useless, had taught her manners for a royal.
It wasn’t a game.
“Lathyr is mer, and you,” Kiri stared at Jenni, “are djinn.” Jindesfarne was Jenni’s true name. Big clue Kiri had missed.
“Half-human, half-Lightfolk. That’s what we call ourselves, Lightfolk. I’m a quarter-djinn and a quarter-elf.”
Kiri felt her eyes rounding. “Wow.”
“Princess Jindesfarne Weavers Emberdrake, adopted sister of the King and Queen of Fire, the Emberdrakes.” Lathyr stood and bowed, too. Looked like it hurt.
“Are you okay?” Kiri asked him.
A corner of his mouth lifted in an unamused smile. “I will be.”
“Uh-huh.” She eyed him. “How hurt are you?” Worry pushed her to rudeness, and besides, she’d rather concentrate on Lathyr.
“I’ve been healed, and my body will continue to mend at a faster rate than humans.”
She wet her lips. He’d been offended. “Okay.” She inclined her head to the receptionist, Mrs. Daurfin, the dwarf, figured she should say something but had no clue. “Thank you for helping me.” Kiri had no idea whether the woman had ever helped her or not, but the courtesy sounded good.
The dwarf eyed her suspiciously, then jerked a nod.
Kiri glanced at Jenni’s husband, Aric, and away.
“I am a Treeman,” Aric said, smiling. “The dryads and Treemen are native to earth’s dimension. The Lightfolk are not.”
Multiple dimensions. Uh-huh.
“I am also half-elf,” Aric said. He took one of Jenni’s restless hands in his own.
“Kiri, we would like to make you an offer,” Jenni said.
Frissons of excitement and anxiety jittered up and down Kiri’s spine.
Lathyr sat down again.
Jenni said, “Both Lathyr and the game’s stats show that you have a great potential to become Lightfolk, transform into a purely magical being.”
Wow. Just wow. Again she peeked at the elf. She could be an elf!
There was quiet and everyone looked at her as if she should say something. “My mind boggles.”
“However,” Jenni said, “if you wish to remain human, I want to tell you that you will always have a job on my team at Eight Corp.”
She’d gotten the job! The career! Made the cut, the grade, her personal goal. Exactly what she’d wanted just that morning. Jenni Emberdrake had faith in her. Wow.
But all of that lost its shine in comparison to becoming magical. “This is for real? I could be a...merwoman?” She looked at Lathyr, who let his longer-than-human lashes shade his eyes.
“I will explain all the ins and outs later,” Jenni said. “We need to know if you are interested.”
“Right now?” Kiri’s voice was high.
Lathyr said, “What you do need to know right now is that the transition is dangerous—you may lose your life and not become Lightfolk.”
Kiri swung her gaze to Jenni, who nodded. “That’s true.”
Continuing, Lathyr said, “You could become a brownie or a naiad, not one of the major Lightfolk races. We do not determine your, ah, race, your inherent magic does that, as it did several times in the game. And if you do not accept our offer, you will have your memories removed of the magic you’ve learned to see.”
Yup, mind dipping, spinning, boggling. “Gotta think about this,” she squeaked.
Jenni looked at the king, who said, “If you wish to accept the human position as a game developer, I believe the proper sequence of events is for you to contact your current employer from whom you are on vacation and give your notice, effective immediately.”
Kiri bobbed her head.
“If you wish to risk the transformation into a Lightfolk being, we can give you through the weekend to decide.” He stood, then Cloudsylph, King Cloudsylph of Air, waved a languid hand. “You won’t be able to communicate anything regarding our offer, or the Lightfolk, with anyone other than those in this room, and no humans at all.”
Well, she hadn’t really considered laying everything out to Shannon and Averill, but...her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She scowled.
“Your Majesty.” Lathyr stood again and made an elaborate bow, though his right arm moved a little stiffly. “This cannot be an easy decision. Perhaps you would loosen the bonds of the silence spell to include the humans Rafe and Amber Davail.”
The Kin
g’s brows rose infinitesimally. A flick of a finger. “Very well.”
Kiri’s tongue loosened but she didn’t make the mistake of saying anything. Royal guy must be extremely powerful if he was at the top of the heap. She didn’t want to alienate him. Would rather have not come to his notice at all.
But four days! She had to decide whether to become Lightfolk or have her memory wiped in four days. Crap.
“I think we can call this project meeting to an end, as well as the business day,” the king said. He tilted his head. “The damage has been repaired, though I would like you to check out the electronics and the software, Jenni. Call whomever you need to help you. Good afternoon.”
He disappeared into the faintest wisp of smoke.
Magic.
Guy gone instantly—like he and Lathyr had done at the bus accident site. Her gaze had been riveted toward the head of the table and her neck seemed to almost creak as she looked at Lathyr. Again she wet her lips. His glance went to her mouth, then rose to meet her eyes. He remained serious. No wonder. All this was...really...life-changing serious. Serious risks. Serious rewards.
“Did you get hurt much today?” she asked.
He nodded, touched his right shoulder with his opposite hand. “Nearly lost my arm.”
“Uh.” If there was Lightfolk, there would probably be Darkfolk—and real great Dark ones, just like she’d faced in the game. “A real great Dark one?”
“Couple,” Aric said, shoving away from the table and standing. “We defeated but did not kill them. They fled.” He tugged on Jenni’s hand, but she remained sitting and pulled her fingers from his.
Nodding to Kiri, Aric said, “I should double-check on the damage and repairs.” He left the room, this time regularly, by the door. She had no clue what a half-dryad, half-elf could do.
Kiri bobbed her head back at him, too late, but still stared at Lathyr. “Were you hurt during the bus accident?” She winced. “It wasn’t an accident, was it?”
“No,” he replied softly. “And I nearly lost my life. I absorbed the petrol spill into my body so neither the great Dark one nor its minions could set fire to it by lightning.”
“So becoming a Lightfolk also comes with perils,” Kiri said.
“Some, though usually only the royals are targeted.” Lathyr looked at Jenni. “Although we believe that some of our top projects may also be attracting attention. The game, Transformation, and the Meld Program—human technology has progressed to the point where we can combine it with magic.”
Nope, not making sense. And she wasn’t as interested in that as... “Archvillains?”
“There aren’t many great Dark ones left, but they’re nasty,” Jenni said. Now she got up and came over to Kiri, put her djinn-fire-warm arms around Kiri and hugged. “You have a lot to think about. Call it a day and we can talk tonight.”
“Uh-huh,” Kiri said.
“Were you hurt in the game, the pocket dimension?” Lathyr pressed.
Kiri nodded. “Yeah.” Her brows came down. “But not like you. I wonder why.”
“We had safeguards on you,” Jenni said matter-of-factly. “Apparently they continued to work.” She actually kissed Kiri’s cheek. “Good job defeating the great Dark one.” Jenni grinned.
“Not sure I did. He just pulled out.” At least she hadn’t frozen. But she’d still been in the game landscape, used to fighting there. Sounded like she might be fighting here, too. With what, magic? More thrills.
“He looked like a pincushion,” Mrs. Daurfin said as she stood, then smiled, showing red and pointy teeth.
Wow again. “Glad I amused you.”
A chuckle rolled like pebbles hitting the sidewalk from the dwarfem. She squinted, eyes surrounded by hard brown flesh. “You might do, Kiri Palger.” She walked away, heavily as always, surrounded by a golden aura of magic, and through the wall next to the door.
One last hug from Jenni. “See you later. Take one of the magically armored cars home.” She looked at Lathyr. “You’ll see her home.”
Another bow. “Of course, Princess Emberdrake.”
Jenni’s mouth quirked though her brows lowered in a mock scowl. “Call me Jenni, Lathyr, Jenni.” She paused, hissed in a breath. “My friend, Lathyr.” With a nod she left the room, too, opening and closing the door.
“Jenni is half-Lightfolk and half-human. Was she discriminated against?” asked Kiri. She moved and aches made themselves known all through her body. Her muscles had stiffened and she levered herself up with the table.
Lathyr was there, with his hand under her elbow. “You are perspicacious,” he said. “Yes, full-blooded Lightfolk often ignore or discount those with human blood.” He ran his finger over his pointed ear. “And those who are completely Water or Air or Earth or Fire didn’t often look with kind eyes or treat kindly those of us who are mixed blood.” He opened the door for her, though she got the idea that he could have somehow disappeared, too, had he wanted.
“You’re part elf?” she asked.
“Yes, very minor, and a very minor Lightfolk.”
“But a merman and an elf, major elementals.”
He inclined his head. “Indeed.”
“Just like Jenni set up in Transformation.”
“Correct.”
“Hmm. But Jenni is a princess and earlier you said the Lightfolk ‘didn’t treat her kindly,’ past tense.”
“Yes, earlier this year a great bubble of magic rose from the earth’s core...” Lathyr began. As they walked to the computer room, he told a story featuring Jenni and Aric.
Kiri noted that the King of Air was right. There was no damage to be seen, and once again Kiri understood something that she’d unconsciously noted had been “off.” No one officed on the floor except Jenni and Aric and the staff of the other project. The offices she’d passed for nearly two weeks were dummies.
Lathyr continued to speak in a low tone and with circuitous words about the Lightfolk as he picked up her tote and they descended in the empty elevator. When they got out to mix with humans, she saw an illusion, the illusion she’d believed since they’d met at the neighborhood party, flick over him until his interesting skin became pale northern-European flesh tone, the tops of his ears rounded and his fingers turned from four jointed to three.
And it was Lathyr who explained everything about the real Transformation in the car behind a privacy screen, and a magical privacy shield, as they were stuck in mundane weekday traffic on the way back to Mystic Circle.
When they pulled up to her house, he dismissed the car with a wave, and walked her to her door, took her hands in his. “We had attraction between us,” he said.
Past tense again, her heart sank. She turned her hands over to link fingers with his—he hadn’t dropped his illusion here, but she could feel the difference. Then he disengaged and stepped back, his face in that damned polite mask. “I do not want to influence your decision.”
Which meant that whatever attraction it was or had been, and if it had led to sex, he’d thought of only a passing affair, she supposed. And she’d been okay with that, had enjoyed the sexual tension, the affection. But now she was completely off balance. “Thank you,” she said.
He hesitated, angled his head as if he might hear something she didn’t. “I believe there will be a dinner tonight with some of the neighbors—the Davails, the Emberdrakes, me and you.”
She made her mouth curve. “Sounds good.”
He did a half bow and walked away. No matter that he was mer, he was still a guy, and hadn’t understood that he didn’t need to be around and kissing her to be in her thoughts.
She unlocked her door and stepped into her house, once again seeing it with a different mind behind her eyes. She’d loved this house—and would that truly be past tense if she transformed into a Lightfolk?
She didn’t know.
Tears seemed to wash through her, mixing all sorts of strange emotions in her blood, her heart, behind her eyes. Tangled stuff she couldn’t begin to so
rt out right now.
But one need was overwhelming. She had to talk to Shannon—as a touchstone to her old life, her present reality. Just general stuff, but she needed her friend.
She put a call through and got voice mail, and she had to fight the tears—reaction from truly fighting, the very real fear of the game?—to leave a calm message. “Hey, Shannon, can you please give me a call? Need to talk with you.”
Limping to the bedroom, she stripped out of her clothes—which pretty much seemed all right despite whatever she’d gone through—and heard the peep of a text message. Thumbing to the cache she saw.
Sry, K. A & I got lst minute tics 4 expcting cpls getaway. WBB Mon. Talk then. Luv, S.
Kiri sat hard on her futon. They hadn’t told her. She looked at her email. No, not one word there, either.
She needed them. Wanted them to just talk.
But Shannon was married and that change to their friendship had been weathered easily, expanding to include Averill. This baby thing was different. Kiri would always be a distant third now. Very understandable.
And if she really wanted to intrude, Shannon would take the time to listen. But Kiri couldn’t even talk to her about the major changes she was facing. Fuck.
She rolled over onto the futon and cried.
Whether she liked it or not, she’d have to make a decision to take one of two defined paths and each would exclude the other. She couldn’t have it all.
The choice of the path was under her control; what followed after might not be.
Her computer timer clicked on and music filled the room, ready to welcome her home from work. The shuffle had picked screaming rock that she just couldn’t handle. Enough screaming in the day—her own and the Dark one’s and the eel’s, and maybe she’d even heard stuff subconsciously in the offices as the others had been attacked.
She tromped toward her home office and saw the rat-thing outside her window again. Gasping, she stepped back. It hopped up onto the windowsill, four-jointed hands splayed, huge ears quivering, split pupils, stretching its mouth into a smile. “Hi, Kiri!”
Enchanted Ever After (Mystic Circle) Page 17