Enchanted Ever After (Mystic Circle) (18 page)

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 sort 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!”

Chapter 19

SPIT WENT DOWN
the wrong way and she coughed.

The thing yelled at her. “You can see us fully now! I am one of the Emberdrake’s brownies! I am called ROCK! Do you have some chocolate for me? I would be pleased to do any chores!”

“Uhn,” she said.

“Can I come in?”

Did she want to see a real brownie up close and personal? The events in the conference room had been so odd that she hadn’t paid much attention to the brownies. This wasn’t one of the couple, though. The kitchen staff Jenni had once mentioned? Emberdrake brownies? “Sure.”

Thankfully for her computer setup, he didn’t come straight through the window but the living room wall next to it.

He was smaller than the others, was dressed in a little brown shirt and tiny leather vest and pants. His shoes turned up at the toes. Incredible.

She licked her lips, gestured to her chair and a half. Casually she turned away and walked to the kitchen cupboard where she kept some cooking chocolate. He didn’t look like the brightest M&M’S in the bag. “What I’d really like is a little information about brownies and Lightfolk.” She drew out a bar and thought she heard him swallow. Closing the cupboard, she crossed to him with a big smile. “You’re right—I’ve just learned to see you, and about Lightfolk. Why don’t you tell me about them?”

He was sitting on the round arm of her chair. He took the bar and broke off a corner. It disappeared fast. “I like you!”

“I like you, too,” she replied automatically.

Then he began to tell stories...and it was the beginning of a night of immersion into all things Lightfolk.

Dinner was at the Emberdrakes and served by the brownies she’d met before. Rafe and Amber Davail, humans of Lightfolk descent and thus with a touch of magic, also brought their brownie and a firesprite.

Kiri liked the firesprite, too. It didn’t act too much like the game’s airsprite. She shuddered, though, when she thought of trying her own Transformation and dying if magic and her body didn’t converge well and she tried to become a sprite.

She learned more about the major and minor elemental races. Apparently the weapons and the spells she’d used in Transformation for each realm were correct.

Once again she heard Jenni and Aric’s story, and Rafe and Amber’s, and when the brownies had retired to the basement to “play” in the tunnels beneath Mystic Circle, everyone except Lathyr had been brutally frank about the Lightfolk class system.

By the time Lathyr walked her home across the Circle—again precious and serene quiet spinning between them—her head was crammed with the information the others thought she needed to make her decision.

She
had
taken Jenni up on the job, the career, in game development, whether human or Lightfolk.

As for becoming magical, most everyone thought that if she was going to be transformed, the dancing ritual should take place sooner rather than later. Decision on Monday, two days prep time, and becoming magical just as the new moon tipped into waxing early Thursday afternoon. One week from today.

Lathyr bent and kissed her cheek, saw her in, and Kiri moved to the shower, then bed, and lay staring into the dark, thinking. Feeling. Wondering.

* * *

The next morning, Thursday, Kiri called in and gave her notice, effective immediately, forfeiting her sick days. Her supervisor didn’t say much since he was a good guy and knew she’d been trying out a new job. So she was off the hook there, a great relief. And the big corp was such that her supervisor’s boss figured that most people in the department were eminently replaceable by the next IT applicant who hit their website.

The weather was great and she only needed a sweater when she walked around the Circle. She didn’t see Jenni or Aric go to work, but thought they had, by some magical means. As had Lathyr.

Amber Davail and Tamara Thunderock—another magical-type name that she’d missed, thinking it was more Native American—both worked at home. Amber was a genealogist and Tamara ran her own bakery.

Kiri wasn’t quite sure what Frank and Dan did, but they looked gone, too, probably not in a car sent for them. The gay couple might have some magic, but they didn’t seem to be in the inner circle. Though an all-Circle dinner or neighborhood party was that—everyone was included.

The car Eight Corp had sent for Kiri had been for protection against great Dark ones, but evil couldn’t get into the Circle because of the strength and the balance of elemental magic, and shields or whatnot. Another thing she was mushy on, but might be important. Later.

So she walked around the Circle as was her custom, then stood and looked at the koi pond. The fish were lethargic since the sun hadn’t crept over their pond yet.

Decisions pressed upon her, great and life-changing, and as the sunlight warmed her shoulders, she turned and went back home.

Why would she want to risk the transformation, become a Lightfolk person?

That didn’t seem to be the right question.

More like, why would she want to limit herself? A whole world of magic out there to see and explore and experience. One she hadn’t even known existed.

But a new, expandable universe wasn’t necessarily good. Change wasn’t always better, and ending up a brownie with an inbuilt need to keep places tidy and serve others and dig and build underground areas sure didn’t appeal—Rock, the brownie, had explained his race.

And despite the fun of playing in games, she didn’t see herself as a fighter or a soldier. A healer would be good, she supposed.

She gave Jenni a call and talked a little more about what her life might be as a Lightfolk—and was assured she’d still have a job with Eight Corp developing story lines and working on the Transformation project. That resonated in Kiri’s heart. A game with a purpose. Entertaining people was important. Creativity was important, both using her own and sparking others. Transformation took it a step beyond.

Jenni and Aric also explained the Meld Project—where human tech was being melded with magic as a new power source and carrier. The Emberdrakes had shown her some computers—pocket and tablet and laptops that ran on Meld—and told Kiri that she might be able to make a contribution to that project, too.

So many wonders to contemplate!

Kiri had asked how her career might be different if she remained human and Jenni answered that Kiri might be moved to the Fairies and Dragons team instead, since Transformation was all about finding humans with Lightfolk potential and them becoming magical people. Jenni had paused delicately and reminded Kiri that her memory would be altered.

Kiri had thanked Jenni and hung up and paced her empty house.

A developer for Fairies and Dragons. Just what she’d yearned for, had been the pinnacle of her hopes and dreams a month ago. If she stayed human and her memory was altered, she’d be thrilled that she’d achieved what she’d wanted, be pleased and happy and work as hard as she’d intended. Right now that seemed hollow. Maybe, at the base of her nature, was the need to reach as far as she could. Doing magic didn’t mean that she’d be richer, or independent, or have her life under control. But she’d be able to do magic. She’d be
more.

The wonder of having magic. That was a huge plus. Being
more
than normal. Way cool.

Restless, she got in her car and drove around, and to her surprise, she found herself sitting before the house that had once belonged to her grandmother in the southwest part of town. The best home of her life before Mystic Circle—with her mother’s mother. Where Kiri had spent most every summer, and had often visited when she’d gone to college here in Denver.

If she could tell anyone, and told her parents, they wouldn’t believe her, couldn’t believe in magic, were wrapped up in their own lives and not too interested in hers. They’d done their duty by her, chipped in to provide a nest egg, but sure didn’t have the same values or ideas in their heads that she did.

And her grandmother...well, her mother’s mother had been from Scotland and more than interested in fables and mythology, and dreaming large dreams and believing in what could not always be seen or proved.

Her grandmother—Kiri could see her grandmother risking all to become a Lightfolk being. Joyfully, even.

Another consideration was Shannon and Averill. Could she live as a magical creature and hide that from her friends? Lie to them on a long-term basis?

So far she was only silenced from talking about the offer. Someday she might be able to tell them. Then they would have the burden of a secret.

She wondered how long it took to cover herself with illusion. That probably was a nearly innate protective gift. But surely they’d notice something wrong. Not as if she could hide it if she became a brownie. And if she transformed into a naiad or merfem she reckoned that she’d have to live somewhere more humid and with more water than Colorado...not a lot of lakes and streams here. But maybe she’d get lucky.

If she lived.
Huge
downside. She’d risk death—and, right now, her life was good. If she stayed human, she’d be given a game development career at Eight Corp.

She’d be a human in a Lightfolk environment and would never know—they’d keep those illusions solid around her, remove the memories of the past two weeks when she played in the “virtual reality” which was actually a pocket dimension.

God, she was glad she read science fiction and fantasy and played games, otherwise her mind would just freak out.

Her grandmother’s old neighborhood had changed over the years and Kiri drove away, absently heading into the mountains, caught the gold of turning aspen and headed up her favorite hairpin road.

She knew the road, how to push the turns, go a little faster on the straightaways. She liked control of her life. And she liked independence. If she took the chance—a chance she might die—to become a Lightfolk, she might lose those two qualities, too.

She. Might. Die.

She’d already experienced the possibility twice and shivered at the thought of facing the Dark ones again.

She’d better be very clear and very committed to this action; she had no doubt that wavering intent could doom her.

All weekend long, notions and imaginings, prospects, possibilities and failure spun in her mind and wove through her actions—mostly her discussions. She spent one-on-one time with Amber and Jenni, Aric and Rafe, asking questions. Not only them, but Sargas the firesprite and Rock and Tiro and Hartha and Pred, the brownies, spoke with her, too.

She learned of the part magic played in Amber and Rafe’s life and that they expected a distant cousin of Rafe’s to move into The Fanciful House, and maybe accompany them on a quest.

Kiri even gamed a few missions in Fairies and Dragons and Transformation, scrutinizing the play, especially in the latter, since it was supposed to be based on reality.

When she went to visit Lathyr Sunday afternoon, she was admitted by a browniefem, then led to a pool where she saw him scaled and legged, lounging underwater, she knew.

She was going to do it. Sounded crazy, when all she’d ever wanted was already hers without becoming magic.

But she wanted to be more, wanted to be the best she could be. Bottom line, that was it.

And somehow, she had this bone-deep feeling that if she refused the transformation, she would always feel as if she were missing something—maybe something as major as a sense or a limb. That would probably drive her insane.

Or that particular reasoning could be a rationalization. She’d been coming up with a lot of them.

She really, really wanted this. Wanted wonder and magic in her life beyond what was already there.

But she said nothing. She’d texted Shannon that she wanted to meet with her for lunch on Monday, that she’d be at the Indian restaurant close to Shannon’s work at eleven-thirty.

Then Kiri had told Jenni that Eight Corp would have her decision at 2:00 p.m. Monday afternoon.

Sunday evening Lathyr hosted another Mystic Circle dinner. Kiri watched two brownie couples—not including Rock—whisk around the place, preparing the food and setting the table.

The Lightfolk in the gathering wore simple illusions to alter their skin or hair color. Tamara Thunderock caught Kiri staring at her and dipped her head. Kiri speculated the small woman was full Lightfolk but an elf/dwarf mix, her hair was dark brown, but her eyes a brilliant blue. Tamara was of opposite elemental natures—air and earth. The standard stratified Lightfolk wouldn’t like that. And the very idea of a mer/djinn mix messed with Kiri’s mind.

She was the last to leave, mostly because she and Lathyr had been flirting, a lovely distraction, and she lagged out the door he held open and stopped on the porch. The other couples still walked the Circle—Dan and Frank, Amber and Rafe, Jenni and Aric.

Kiri swallowed, wanted to reach out and touch Lathyr.

“I do not wish to influence you unduly,” he repeated, and she just nodded and went down the stairs and through the gate. Amber laughed and Kiri’s insides squeezed. Mystic Circle had taught her magic, and fellowship, but she was wary of the place teaching her love.

Still, Tamara Thunderock hadn’t lingered on the street. Maybe she was lonely.

Like Kiri.

Until she found Rock the brownie lurking in her bushes.

“Can I come in for chocolate? I told Hartha and Pred and Tiro I would.”

Well, that was blunt—and she figured the brownies
were
trying to unduly influence her. “Do you brownies think I’ll die?”

Rock’s small and ugly features crumpled and he shivered. “Perhaps. Tiro is grumpy like that. But Hartha and Pred and I decided we must plan for the best.”

Kiri unlocked the door and opened it and he marched in, went through her living room and paused at the kitchen door. She got down another hunk of chocolate for him. As he munched around it, his pupils enlarged and his ears rolled half-down. “We think magic likes you, muchly.”

“Oh.” That cheered her up a little.

“We have agreed that your Transformation ceremony can be the first ritual in the new main community room under the park in the center of the Circle.”