Enchanted Ever After (Mystic Circle) (4 page)

The man meant in human hands like his own, not owned by the Lightfolk royals of Eight Corp. “We still have the Castle,” Lathyr murmured.

“And Eight Corp owns the other bungalow across from Kiri,” Amber Davail, Rafe’s wife, who was related to a great elf, said. “Number nine.”

“Really?” Kiri said. “I didn’t know that.”

Rafe smiled easily, but Lathyr was aware that the man was blowing spume at him for some reason. “Maybe Eight Corp will let you have number nine.”

Jenni joined them again, shaking her head. “Nope, no pool.”

Lathyr dipped his head. “Yes, a pool is necessary.”

Kiri looked puzzled and Rafe laughed.

“I am weary. I must go,” Lathyr said. “I am sorry that we didn’t speak more, Kiri.”

“I’ll expect the car at 6:50 a.m. on Thursday morning,” she said.

Lathyr smiled.

Princess Jindesfarne’s husband came forward. “I’ll see you out,” Aric said. Lathyr sighed. The Treeman meant that he would take Lathyr home by way of tree. In this dry country it
was
faster than letting his molecules disperse into water droplets and finding a stream or cloud to take him where he needed to be. But Lathyr found traveling from tree to tree profoundly disturbing. Instead of moving as individual components, he felt solid and trees seemed to move through him. Stressful. “Thank you,” he said politely but with an underwash of resignation.

Aric laughed, jerked his head toward the park, then glanced at Jenni. “Be right back.”

She grinned. “Sure.”

Lathyr decided everyone was enjoying themselves at his expense. He was the outsider. He rippled his fingers as a land man would shrug. Nothing new. That small bit of elven air magic in his being had always made him an outsider, ensured he had no permanent home. Most mers had their own space and were territorial. Ocean-living Merfolk preferred to live in communities—as structured as any other Lightfolk setting. He’d always been on the bottom level and so had become a reluctant drifter, always an outsider.

Then Tamara Thunderock was there, and he realized that he was wrong about the residents of Mystic Circle. Everyone here believed they were outsiders but had melded together as a family, and thought he was the
insider
with the Lightfolk. Jenni was half-human; Aric was Earth Treefolk, not other-dimensional Lightfolk; Tamara was fully magic but half-Earth and half-Air and no doubt despised by both due to their opposite natures; Rafe and Amber were human.

So he was the outsider of their Mystic Circle, but they believed him to be more accepted by the Lightfolk than any of the rest of them. Very discomfiting.

Right then he decided to ask his superior for leave to live in the Castle of Mystic Circle while he tested Kiri. The Castle had a huge pool in addition to a natural spring and a well on the grounds. He, too, would become one of the Mystic Circle community—for a while.

Always and only for a while, until he was more valued.

Since all their gazes were on him, he ran a finger along the curve and the point of his ear, let it show for an instant along with the bluish tinge to his skin that was all mer.

Demonstrating his own mixed heritage that would keep him from the highest ranks.

Rafe stopped laughing and narrowed his eyes. The human must not have noticed Lathyr’s mingled water-air nature before.

Tamara said, “Or I can see you out, Lathyr.”

Again they were confusing Kiri, making too much of walking him to the front door. Tamara would no doubt take Lathyr through tunnel and rock. He suppressed a shudder, worse than tree being passed through him was rock. “Thank you for your offer.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Aric assured the small dwarf-elf woman. “Tamara, why don’t you load up a plate or two for him.”

She nodded and moved toward the tables, efficiently making a box of food that Lathyr would encase in a bubble to store underwater. He’d noticed they had salmon, a treat.

He realized he’d underestimated the sun and the altitude and the dryness and had to draw on a bit of his air magic to keep the pressure around him and prop him up. His blood had to pump hard through his body.

Kiri’s eyes were wide—beautiful, beautiful sea-foam-green eyes. He also admired her curvaceous body. He’d let the attraction to her, as well as this magically balanced place, keep him too long.

His skin was beginning to tighten and flake. He needed to be in water now! Another foolish mistake that would cost him. The royals would hear of his errors, of course.

Aric or Princess Jindesfarne or Rafe Davail would tell them. Then Lathyr would be sent away.

And he didn’t want to leave this magical place. Here was community and safety.

Outside was a begrudged sleeping spot, solitariness and the threat of a Dark one and his creatures.

The threat of evil pained less than the certainty of loneliness. For the first time, ever, Lathyr considered living permanently on land, though a prized place here in this special location would not be given to the likes of him.

Despite everything, all his mistakes, all his past experiences, the sun beating on him, he wanted to stay.

“Let’s go,” Aric said, clamping a large hand that felt like wood around Lathyr’s biceps.

He shrugged off the hand. After another half bow to Kiri, he followed the Treeman.

He’d made more mistakes. The project wasn’t beginning well. He hoped that wasn’t an ill omen for the whole thing.

He didn’t want Kiri Palger to die.

Chapter 4

AFTER THE PARTY,
Jenni Emberdrake and her husband, Aric, closed up the house and sank into plump cushioned lounge chairs in the sunroom—a room her brownies had made earlier in the year. She loved the place.

Aric grunted. “Good party.”

Leaning back and closing her eyes, Jenni said, “Yes. I love the neighborhood parties, but don’t care too much for hosting them. I think Amber and Rafe should do it all the time.”

“Our turn,” Aric reminded. “Thank you, Hartha and Pred.”

From the sound of his voice above her, Jenni figured he’d stood and bowed to the two brownies who lived with them.

Opening her eyes and hauling herself up, she bowed to the couple, as well. “Thank you for all your work.”

Hartha shrugged little brownie shoulders. Taller than her husband, she still stood less than a meter high. Her mouth was straight and the tips of her huge triangular ears folded over in concern, and Jenni sat sideways on the chair so she’d be eye to eye.

“The party was easy,” Hartha said, then crossed her arms. “We don’t like that Darkfolk are flying over Mystic Circle, trying to harm our homes.”

Pred said, “We don’t like it at all.”

Jenni sat tall, stared at the brownies. “I have it handled. They can’t get in. No evil, not human and especially not Darkfolk, not even great Dark ones.”

“But only here is safe,” Hartha pointed out. “We are stuck here.”

Aric said, “We can all take care of ourselves—you brownies and Sargas the firesprite, and we Lightfolk. Amber has defensive Air Spells from her magic. Rafe has his sword and shield.”

“Kiri the human does not have anything,” Pred said. “We liked Kiri.” He grinned big. “She made us brownies.”

“And you want her to continue to make brownies,” Aric put in, coming over and sitting next to Jenni, sliding his strong arm around her waist, letting her lean on him a little. She loved that, being a couple. Loved him.

Hartha tapped her foot. “You are not listening to us. Kiri may be in danger.”

“I
do
hear you. We’ll figure something out,” Jenni said.

Hartha gave Jenni a look, sniffed and trundled away, followed by Pred, who glanced at them over his shoulder, mouthing,
We need more chocolate.

Jenni turned into her husband, rested against his broad chest, breathed in the Treeman scent of him, redwood needle spice.

“They’re right,” she said.

“I will report the Darkfolk incursion to the Eight royals, of course.”

Jenni hissed, letting off some of her fire nature steam. “You know they won’t do anything.”

“The great Dark ones rarely leave their domains, and are unassailable there. We cannot prevail against them in their strongholds.” Aric stroked her hair. “I’m sure the one who showed up today is already back on his estate.”

“But they are vicious, and since they are down to a handful, they are even more rabid.” She paused. “More violent. They’d like to kill us all.” Frowning, she forced herself to consider the matter. “The great Dark ones are more powerful than individual royals. Than some couples, too, I think.” She glanced at Aric. “Some are older than the royals, aren’t they?” Jenni was half-human, new to associating with the Eight royals. Aric had served them—and with them—for years.

“That’s right,” he confirmed. “They’re very old and powerful.”

Restless, she stood to pace back and forth. “Why are they attacking, now?”

Aric winced and she caught his expression. “What have the Eight told you that they haven’t told me?”

“The Meld Project is doing well. It would be tempting for them to get their hands on it...or people who know how to make magic and technology meld together.”

Jenni shrugged. “I don’t spend that much time on the Meld task force anymore, not with my own new concept.” She grimaced, and sank down next to her husband again. “Kiri’s in danger from my new idea, too. Maybe I’m wrong about starting up the project to discover humans who have potential to become Lightfolk, making it a mass market online game.”

He squeezed her. “You believe in humans becoming Lightfolk.”

“I really do. Despite the recent influx of magic, Lightfolk are still declining in numbers, so having humans become Lightfolk is good for both races,” Jenni insisted. “Heaven knows the Lightfolk need to become less stratified.” But images of what she’d witnessed haunted her. Human servants in a Lightfolk palace spontaneously triggered into attempting to become pure magic, and dying hideously. “But with the game we can find humans, lead them into acceptance, give them a choice to become magical or not.”

“Your project is much better than standing by and watching, or doing nothing.”

“Yes. And I’m scrambling to get the bones of the game done. At least the Fire Realm is shaping up.” Her spine stiffened as resolve banished uncertainty in her heart. “If we’re careful, we can...” She couldn’t promise even herself that Kiri might not die.

“Minimize the risk,” Aric said.

Jenni sighed, snuggled against her love. They’d survived troubles and struggles, too.

“I think mass and magic are linked,” Aric said. “The humans who died trying to transform might only have had enough magic to become a small air or fire elemental, but they had human mass and...”

“Couldn’t make the change.” Jenni scrubbed at the tears on her face, breathed through her clogged throat. No, she wouldn’t be forgetting the sight of the dying soon.

Again Aric circled her with his arm, and they rocked a little side by side, until she realized tension ran through him and became suspicious of his silence. “What’s up?”

Aric turned and looked down at her, clearing his throat. “It occurred to someone—”

“Who?”

“Amber Davail, who brought the idea to me and I spoke to the King of Air about the matter—”

“What matter and why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted the king’s input first and I am trying to tell you now. So listen.” She heard his large breath. “Have you considered that now some humans have spontaneously transformed into Lightfolk when the royals did rituals, that some near-Dark ones might also transform?”

“What! No, I hadn’t thought of that.” Jenni gasped.

“Not at all good,” Aric said. “We believe evil humans might also become magical abominations—more than human criminals.”

Jenni swallowed, twice. Looked around for a bottle of water. Hartha appeared and gave her a cup of hot and soothing tea, vanished again, obviously not wanting any part of the discussion.

After letting the horrible notion circle through her brain for a bit, Jenni said, “But the humans becoming Lightfolk have a poor survival rate. We can only hope that spontaneous Dark transformations have the same.” She nibbled her lip. “Most Dark ones are affected by their evil and, uh, twisted physically.”

Aric’s brows rose as he followed her reasoning. “Then human evil might also twist and be noticeable. Abominations and monsters in truth,” Aric said. “I’ll add that to my report to the royals.”

Jenni noticed the trickle of the fountain in the corner of the sunroom. It wasn’t very loud because the more she leaned on her magic and her natural fire nature, the less she liked water. Slowly, she said, “I think Lathyr will work well with me and my new game project.”

“The sniffer?” Aric bumped her shoulder, teasing.

“Sniffer?”

“That’s what the Water King calls him. For Lathyr’s ability to sniff out potential Lightfolk. The scholars believe that when we got that extra magic, some Lightfolk who are mixed elements also received a boost in their magic or an extra talent. Lathyr has a touch of elven blood.”

As did her Aric, and Jenni herself.

She hesitated, doubts still creeping.

“You were right to call him to scan Mystic Circle,” Aric said.

“Yes. I had a strong feeling about Kiri.”

“Did anyone else have the potential?”

“Dan. He might be able to transform.”

“Dan, but not Frank?” Aric matched her gaze.

“Dan is fully human, Frank has a touch of air in his ancestry. I’d rather just stick to fully human right now. We don’t know how other innate magics might react.”

“So we won’t be recruiting Dan or telling either of them about the project.”

“No. They’re a couple and good together.”

Aric’s smile was slow. “As we are.”

“Yes. Lathyr is handsome in a mer way, but not nearly as attractive as you. I don’t care for pale blue and shimmery skin. Though the ears are cute.” With a low chuckle she rose, sliding her hand to grasp his. “Let’s go upstairs and have a private party.”

“Sounds great.” He paused. “How’s the game making going?”

“Despite my whining yesterday, I’ve got a handle on it. I’ve decided not to make it
too
real. We’ll have control.”

Another grunt from Aric. “Good. Now let’s concentrate on
us.
”

“One last thing,” Jenni purred.

“Yes?”

“What else have the royals decided about that you aren’t telling me?”

He swept her up into his arms. “They’re involved in another scheme.”

“More important to them than me and my game, and even the Meld of tech and magic.” Jenni nodded. “Thought so. What?”

“Establishing a permanent gate to another dimension.”

Jenni gasped again, and her husband, her lover, showed his true talent in taking her mouth with his and making all thought drain away.

* * *

Lathyr slipped into the muddy lake, changing his form to full mer with genuine relief. Traveling through trees with Aric had dried Lathyr’s skin even more. Now his legs melded together into fintail, his skin scaled and his bilungs pumped as they converted from air-out-of-water atmosphere to air-in-water, and his sex was tidily tucked away and protected. He sighed out greatly relieved bubbles as water caressed him. Cracks in his scales, even a few scrapes, stung, adding a whiff of blood to the lake. Fish would come and investigate, as would his host, a very grumpy naiader—minor water Lightfolk. And there he was.

You are back,
the naiader sent mentally and with emotional vibrations that moved through the water. His accent was terrible, as if he’d always lived on this continent, never been oceangoing at all. Lathyr hid his pity, though the man had not hidden his disappointment at Lathyr’s return to the lake.

Indeed,
Lathyr said, swirling a little curtsy, inclining and twisting his torso, slipping his fintail to the side.
And I have requested another domicile.
He’d politely asked Aric to forward the suggestion that Lathyr be close at hand to Kiri during her testing, and Aric had agreed to pass the notion on.

The naiader’s heavy nostril frills showed in pride.
Mine is the greatest lake in this city.

I hope to stay in the house that the Eight royals keep at Mystic Circle.

On land! In human form!

That is correct.

Shuddering from scalp to finpoint, the naiader backswam a yard or two. Lathyr had gotten the idea that his host had not transformed into his human shape for a long time, and this seemed to confirm it.

A sizzle zapped through the lake—great and powerful magic. The Water King, Marin Greendepths, had arrived, a large and heavily muscled merman.

Well, sniffer, I heard you don’t like the ambience of this lake.
He spoke telepathically and with mer signing in the brown murk, then spurted air and laughter. Lathyr held himself courteously stiff, tips of his tail fins digging into the mud to anchor him. He didn’t know why the mer king was in the middle of a continent, or whether other royals were at Eight Corp headquarters in downtown Denver, and didn’t ask. The Water King had a sense of humor bordering on cruel.

Lathyr moved his head so hair would cover his face, helping mask his expression. The king’s long green-blond hair streamed behind him. He had enough magic to be arrogant with it.

I thought to make a change, my lord,
Lathyr said, keeping his head lower than the king’s. Due to his elven blood, Lathyr was taller than most mer and only an inch shorter than his king and had to keep track of his posture at all times.

This is a hole,
the king said.
Humans destroyed it as they do most things,
he sneered, lips curling.

Yes, my lord.

Scratching his hard-scale chest, the king said,
Landlocked. Dreadful.
He
pushed
power out in a huge underwater wave.

Lathyr swallowed a nasty air bubble with water that seized in his bilungs. He kept the pain from showing, the effort to process the air.

The King of Water smirked.

The naiader shot to the bottom of the bed, facedown, breathing dirt, then pushed backward until he was near the bank, nearly out of sight of the king.

The King of Air requested a meeting at Eight Corp. The full Eight are here.

Maybe the evil Dark one had sensed that. Lathyr was suddenly glad he was very low status. No reason a Dark one would be after him.

The Meld Project, to combine magic with human technology, goes well, actually making more magic. Just a trace for now, but soon...
The king smacked his lips; the tiny scales of his body rippled. The intricate pattern of his ridged scales gleamed silver against pale green skin.
There is more magic in the world, and more magic here. I will be pleased when it cycles through the water to the reaches of the oceans.

Lathyr kept his mouth shut.

Our other plans progress.
The vibration of the man’s thoughts and feelings carried a dark richness imbued with pleasurable secrets. Lathyr didn’t believe the royal was thinking of humans becoming Lightfolk. Some other plan delighted the king.

The king rose a little in the murky water.
We have agreed Lightfolk numbers are still below optimal.
His jaw clicked shut.
Therefore the project that involves you has been approved for eight years.

Not much time, but maybe enough for Lathyr to win a permanent estate and home. A home of his own would be a sanctuary, a place where he could be completely himself, with no one to please or impress.