Enchanted Ever After (Mystic Circle) (12 page)

Yet, she shivered as the atmosphere around her seemed to tremble. She wouldn’t have thought the place would have drafts, but apparently so.

Jenni came to Kiri much later, as she dozed propped up in the soft corner of the fat leather couch.

“Kiri?”

“Yeah?” Her voice was hoarse from smoke...and screaming.

Sitting next to her, Jenni reached out and took her hands. Warm hands as always and for once Kiri just figured that Jenni’s body ran naturally warm. Felt good, though. “Do you want to continue with the project?”

Chapter 13

KIRI BLINKED.
“IS
something really wrong with Lathyr? Can’t he go on?” This time
her voice cracked as it went high. Her insides squeezed with fear for the
man.

Jenni’s smile reassured. “Lathyr’s a hero. And he should be
fine by morning.”

Clearing her throat and blinking more, sniffing hard, Kiri
said, “Good, that’s good.” She wiggled in the soft cushions to sit up
straighter, then tried a smile, but thought it went a little wonky. “It’s been a
long day—” She looked at the clock on the fireplace mantel, 1:00 a.m. “A long
day and a night, but, yeah, I want to continue.” Logic coagulated back into her
brain. “I only have two workweeks. That’s only two and a half days per elemental
realm.” She nodded. “Gotta do it.”

Jenni sighed. “Good, I was hoping you’d say that, though I do
have a couple more conditions.” She raised a finger before Kiri could get words
out in protest. “You don’t take the bus to or from Eight Corp. We have a driver
and he’ll take us to work...or if I have to be there early, like I do tomorrow
morning, the driver will take you and Lathyr to work. No more buses.”

“Huh.” Kiri shrugged, and movement hurt. From the unaccustomed
gestures during the day of spell-casting? From the accident? From sleeping
upright? “Okay, if you say so, I’ll go with a driver.”

“I do say so.” Jenni stood and drew Kiri up, too. The woman was
strong. “Now go home and get some sleep. The driver will pick you up at
seven-thirty tomorrow morning, and I’ll expect you in the computer room at
eight.”

“Sure. Good night.”

“Good night, Kiri.” There was a load of feeling in Jenni’s
tones—affection, respect...other stuff Kiri was too tired to sort out. It was
going to be a short night. She opened the door and cold moonlight shone on wet
stone steps and the asphalt of the street, silvered some of the soaked bushes
and trees in the park. The koi would be quiet and sleeping, not that she’d be
able to see them anyway.

The scent of a damp autumn night came to her, something she’d
smelled for years, and it was reassuring, replacing harsher scents that had
coated the insides of her nostrils, smoke and gasoline and oil and
lightning-strike.

Her jacket was a little too thin for the hour and she hurried
home, opened the door and fell into bed.

* * *

Shannon and Averill woke Kiri at six, pounding on her door and
bringing her favorite breakfast from a local place—an egg on a waffle, complete
with syrup—and it was still hot.

Seated around her card table, her friends listened to her about
the accident, and asked a few questions. Shannon was pale. Averill’s brown eyes
were dark and intense, examining her to make sure her mental health was good or
he’d haul her off to see his mother, who was a shrink—the threat they’d made
when they came in.

“You didn’t know anyone on the bus?” Kiri asked.

“Only you,” Averill said shortly, curving his fingers around
Shannon’s hand. “Thanks for letting us know you were safe.”

“Of course I would,” Kiri said, at the same time Shannon said,
“Of course, she would.”

Averill sucked in a breath and his face hardened. “My family
isn’t close and sometimes forget to tell us things.”

“You would have worried,” Kiri said.

“How are
you
doing?” Shannon
hesitated, then said, “I hear that the city and the bus company are offering
counselors for victims.”

“I’m not a victim!”

“They didn’t mention you on the news,” Shannon said. She gave a
weak smile. “Good job.”

Kiri swallowed. “To be honest, Jenni Emberdrake showed up and I
got in her car and she drove me home.” Well, nearly. “I didn’t stay to talk with
the cops.” Kiri fought incipient nausea. “You think I should?”

“You have anything important to tell them?” asked Averill.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I was in the back of the
bus. Rain, lightning, the bus turned over. I helped out in the chaos as I
could.”

“Stupid people climbed out on the damn metal bus during a
lightning storm.” Averill shook his head.

“There was the smell of gas.”

“Oh.”

A small silence enveloped them as Kiri stared at them and they
at her.

“You look okay,” Shannon said doubtfully.

“I didn’t see anyone hurt more than a scalp wound,” Kiri said.
She wasn’t going to mention the smell. Not now, maybe not ever.

Shannon sighed. “Good. That’s good. Are you sure you want to go
to work?”

“The time is running on my vacation and Eight Corp’s evaluation
of me for the game—my career.” She looked around her empty house. “What the hell
would I do here?” There were only so many minutes she could stare at the koi
pond.

“You could drive to the mountains and look at the turning
aspen,” Shannon offered.

Averill snorted, nudged his wife. “Hello, dying leaves? Coming
winter. Depression, anyone?”

Shannon winced. “Oh. I didn’t think of that.”

“Best if Kiri stays busy, and with something new to distract
her,” Averill said.

“Um, how are you getting to work?” Shannon asked.

“Not driving.” Not that she ever went the way of the bus route.
She cleared her throat. “Jenni Emberdrake and Eight Corp will be having a driver
take me to and from.”

“Good,” Averill said. He stood and came over to Kiri, pulled
her up and rocked her in a hug, kissed her cheek. “We’re here for you if you
need us.”

Shannon joined the hugfest, warming Kiri when she hadn’t known
she was cold. “Thanks a lot, I love you two.” Since she was shorter than them
both, her voice was muffled against Averill’s chest.

“Okay, that’s settled.” Shannon stepped away, swooped up the
take-out boxes and the paper plates and dumped them in the trash, quickly washed
the plasticware and put it in the dish drainer. “Call us if you need us.”

“I will.”

“Now we’ve gotta get to work,” Averill said, bussed a kiss on
Kiri’s temple. “Later.” He aimed forefingers at her. “In fact, Sunday, dim sum.
Be there at ten-thirty.”

Kiri nodded.

They left on the swirl of a cold autumn breeze.

She sighed as the quiet formed around her again. It had been
really good to see her friends. Glancing at the clock, she noticed they hadn’t
given her too much time to brood before the driver came.

She’d eaten a good breakfast—in her bathrobe. Now she dressed
in nice jeans and a winter-weight cotton-blend shirt that should be okay with
any sweat. Checking the weather on TV, she tensed when the freak rainstorm of
the day before and the bus accident and casualties were mentioned, then listened
only as far as “sunny weather, in the upper sixties, no rain at all, humidity
thirty-four percent.”

Kiri got out her computer tablet, and did some freewriting of
her feelings, a technique Shannon had taught her to let go of stuff. It usually
worked. When she’d drained out some of the grief and fears, she moved on to
typing in more notes about the game Transformation as she waited for the car to
take her to work.

She wanted to talk to Lathyr. Okay, she just wanted to
see
him, maybe touch him, make sure he was all right.
So when the car pulled up to her door, she hurried out and didn’t wait for the
driver to come around.

The backseat was empty. No Lathyr.

“Ready?” asked the driver. He held the door for her.

She sighed, but her stomach tightened a little. “Yeah.” She
beamed a smile at him, tried to make it sincere. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She slid over on the soft, smooth leather and strapped in,
swallowed. “We aren’t going by way of Fifteenth and Central, are we?”

“No, Speer all the way downtown.”

“Good.” Since he didn’t say anything more about the accident
that was still heading the news, she thought he was either a huge introvert or
had been told not to discuss it, probably the latter.

Jenni and Eight Corp were very efficient, and hired very
competent people.

Kiri hoped she’d be one of them.

She didn’t see Lathyr until she walked past a formidably
scowling Mrs. Daurfin, who only grunted in response to Kiri’s “good morning,”
and into the long and already boring computer room.

“How are you doing this morning?” Jenni asked softly.

“Pretty good,” Kiri replied.

“You are well?” Lathyr asked. He looked a little different, and
not just his casual trousers with no crease and a fisherman’s sweater, both
black. Should she have worn black, for those who died? Grief cruised through
her, again. She figured that was typical, so she nodded, still staring at him.
Something about his skin tone or texture seemed off.

“I’m fine. Are you okay?”

His smile was tired. “I am well enough.”

“Okay.”

“Are you ready for your next session? Need breakfast?” Jenni
asked, a little too heartily.

Kiri flushed. “No, I’m good.”

“We’ve decided to give you a choice,” Jenni said, swiveling
back and forth in her chair. “You can continue on with your journey to the Earth
Palace in the Earth Elemental Realm, or you can choose another for today.”

“Air?” Kiri breathed. “I could be an elf?” The day was looking
up.

Jenni and Lathyr shared a glance.

“You would prefer that as opposed to fire or water?” Jenni
asked.

“Oh, yes!” Kiri set her old and battered tote down and hurried
over to the desk and got her gloves. They looked like the shape of her
hands—creepy, but she pulled them on, set the visor around her head.

“Here we go,” Jenni said. “Countdown to the Air Realm of
Transformation, three, two, one.”

Winds whirled Kiri around and set her down on a rock surface.
She was an elf! For the first time since the bus accident, her spirits lifted
and her heart felt—unsmudged. She and Lathyr stood on a craggy cliff side,
surrounded by stepped pillars that whistled different notes as the wind caught
in the staggered holes.

“Amazing!” she shouted. Yes, being here, in a game she had a
chance of controlling, of
creating
, soothed her.
Nothing like life where there were uncontrollable things like horrific bus
accidents.

One of the pillars had a mirror-shiny side and she admired
herself. She was gorgeous, tall and slender, perfectly proportioned, with a
fabulous thin face and long platinum hair. Not much breast or hip, but a lovely
avatar. She touched the points of her ears and shuddered—they were so sensitive.
Positively erotic.

As she fingered her clothing, she scowled, dark blond brows
angling down. “Jenni, this stuff is like, like rhino hide or something, all gray
and wrinkly.”

“It’s standard elf armor,” Lathyr said.

“Level one armor,” Jenni replied at the same time.

Kiri stared at Lathyr. Sure enough, his ears were pointed, like
the first time she’d seen him—or as she’d first imagined him, and his face and
body seemed slightly elongated—taller and thinner than regularly.

“Are you accompanying me?” she asked.

“No.”

Her disappointment was stronger than she’d anticipated. Maybe
it was the deep feeling that he
had
been at the
scene of the accident, and somehow he
had
helped, at
a cost to himself. She couldn’t shake that notion, but didn’t think either he or
Jenni would speak of it.

But this was work. This was her job. And though it was a
wonderful job, if she didn’t ace the prologue tests she’d have to go back to the
one she hated. “Look.” With a sweeping motion, Lathyr gestured to the panorama
in front of them—hilltops and spires connected with rope-and-wood suspension
bridges. Kiri gulped. Normally she didn’t have a problem with heights, but it
appeared much of the Air Realm, was, in fact, walking through air.

“Elves—people of the air—don’t have wings?” Everyone in Fairies
and Dragons could earn wings, in fact the whole world was based on flying.

“No,” Lathyr said. Another graceful gesture as he pointed to a
huge cumulus cloud in the distance tinted with gold and pale pink light and
violet shadows. Naturally, there was a tall and turreted castle there. A castle
in the clouds.

“Let me guess, I have to get to the Air Palace and present
myself to the King and Queen of Air. They’re elves?”

He nodded.

She rolled her shoulders. “I’ve got experience now. Maybe I’ll
make it to the palace today. Nothing’s completely new.”

“I have every faith in you,” Lathyr said. His smile was
subdued.

“Would you like to access your companion now?” Lathyr
asked.

“I get one right away?” Another delight.

“Yes, you have proven your leadership skills with your
treatment of the brownie, Tanna.”

He rapped with his blue-green gloves on the rockface. A whoosh
of air shot from the hole just above and a white-violet tiny swirl came out and
moved to hover near his shoulder. “An airsprite,” Lathyr said.

“I don’t get a brownie?” Kiri was outrageously disappointed;
she’d really liked Tanna, and this airsprite didn’t look at all humanoid.

“Airsprite,” Lathyr repeated.

She didn’t want an airsprite. She wanted a brownie. Apparently
mixing realms at this level wasn’t an option. Yet. “Great.”

“Call me Airsprite!” said a high whistling voice as the little
whirlwind moved in front of her nose, bringing rock dust too close. Kiri
sneezed.

It laughed and stretched and the wisps gathered into a
rudimentary violet-white head and limbs. Like elves, it had a thin body.

“Hey,” Kiri said.

“Heyyy!” it squeaked, again in a high voice punctuated with a
whistle. Kiri thought she might get tired of that fast.

“Airsprite will be your guide,” Lathyr said.

“Fine,” Kiri said. Sure didn’t look as if it would be any help
in a fight.

Lathyr took one of her limp hands and kissed the back of it,
surprising her. His expression held amusement, too, but seemed to also have a
little affection...maybe even a caress of attraction. Her heart gave a little
bump in her chest and she turned her fingers to squeeze his, being rewarded when
his smile bloomed.