Spark - ARC (10 page)

The moderator thanked everyone and the crowd applauded. The instant Mr. Chon got up, Spark pushed back her chair and stood. She took a deep breath, but her relief was short-lived as Mr. Chon beckoned her and the Terabins to the front of the stage.

“The press wants some pictures of our top gamers,” he said. Glancing at her, he shook his head. “Unfortunate that you’re not in uniform, Miss Jaxley.”

“Maybe you should dock her pay,” Roc said. “Obviously she’s not taking this launch as seriously as she should.”

“Yeah,” Cora said. “Are you sure you’ve got the right spokesperson for the FullD?”

“Yes,” Mr. Chon said. “And all three of you are representing VirtuMax equally. Is that clear?”

“Well, she—” Cora began.

“Fine,” Spark said. “I’ll wear my costume from now on.”

“Smile, everyone,” Mr. Chon said.

“Could the gamers bunch together?” one of the reporters called.

Spark edged closer to Roc.

“Miss Jaxley in the middle, please,” another photographer said.

“Come on, Fizzle,” Cora said, too softly for Mr. Chon to overhear.

She snagged Spark’s arm, fingers too tight, and hauled her to stand sandwiched between them. Roc draped his arm over Spark’s shoulders and the two Terabins, big smiles on their faces, pressed close, squeezing her until she could barely breathe. Flashes went off, leaving starry afterimages on Spark’s retinas. She put on her best photo face, enduring until she couldn’t take it any more.

Ducking backwards out of the Terabins’ false embrace, she turned to Mr. Chon.

“I need to finish getting my things together,” she said.

He nodded, frowning slightly. As she walked away, she could hear Roc say it was too bad she wasn’t a team player.

Damn them. Her throat tight, Spark moved to the stairs at the end of the stage. She still had to get through the banquet room without revealing a hint of how disturbed she was that the Terabins were back in her life.

Joe and Burt, ever the loyal guards, flanked Spark as she stepped down. Her fans surged toward her, and she felt the usual twinge of panic, as though one day she might be completely overwhelmed, trampled beneath hundreds of adoring feet.

But not today.

Spark headed for the exit, shaking hands and thanking people. It had taken a while for her to perfect the move where she stuck her hand out just in time to prevent an unwanted hug. Burt had helped her, after she’d been glommed on once too often by an overeager fan. Nothing like getting pressed into the pits of an excited guy who wanted to crush her life essence into his body. Or being clung to by a girl who didn’t want to let go so much that her long fingernails left scratches on Spark’s arms. So, no hugs.

She did her best to meet her fans’ eyes, to look at every person, to put all of her thanks and appreciation into her smile. Still, the faces tended to blur—until one set of features came into sharp focus. Aran. His dark eyes met hers, and held.

Without meaning to, she veered toward him.

“Hey,” he said, giving her a half smile.

“Hi.” She hadn’t expected to see him again, and her breath caught in her throat.

Whatever their connection, it was real. The people around them faded into the background. Though her fans were probably going to gossip like crazy, it didn’t matter.

Aran held out his hand, and she took it, his grip warm and firm.

“Since you couldn’t make it to the beach,” he said, pressing something hard and oval into her palm, “I brought part of it to you.”

She looked down, to see a pinkish stone. It was a small thing—and it meant more than she could say.

“It’s an agate,” he said. “If you get it wet, it’s pretty.”

“Thanks. For thinking of me.”

She wished she could find other words. But there was only goodbye. She closed her hand around the stone; a bittersweet memory, but better than nothing.

He dropped his gaze. “Anyway. Good luck, Spark.”

“You too.” She stepped forward and hugged him.

After a startled second, Aran’s arms came around her, sure and solid, erasing the residue of the Terabins’ touch.

Then Burt cleared his throat, Aran let go, and the crowd of fans surrounded her again.

“Goodbye,” she said, so quietly he probably didn’t hear.

He lifted his hand, and then she lost sight of him as Burt and Joe steered her toward the VIP exit.

“Time’s up,” Burt called to the crowd. “Head down the road to the Burkesville Mega-Gamma Center tomorrow, the next stop on Spark’s tour. See you there!”

She made herself smile and wave at the fans until the door closed behind her. But her other hand was tightly clenched around a small, pink stone.

***

The redcap goblin, along with two of his kin, bowed low before the midnight throne.

“Has the hour come for us to depart, my lady?” he asked.

The Dark Queen leaned forward. Her pale hands flexed, fingernails biting into the tangled vines. Her smile glittered, sharp as shattered diamonds.

“Yes,” she said.

The sibilant word echoed through the clearing. Moon-colored moths fluttered up, startled, only to be caught and devoured by stealthy, dark-winged bats. The court musicians played a low, sorrowful melody, and the night breeze stirred the shadowed oak leaves.

“The mortal moon wanes to darkness,” the queen said. “Step aside, Codcadden, and I shall open a portal.”

She drew a sharp black thorn from her robes, then gestured to one of the faerie handmaidens beside her throne. Eyes dark with knowledge, the maiden came and knelt before her ruler. The Dark Queen gently cupped her handmaiden’s cheek, a world’s wealth of sorrow in her face. Then, without a word, she took her thorn and plunged it into the maiden’s heart.

A single drop of blood fell upon the velvet-green moss. Silver light emanated upward from the spot, forming an unearthly, radiant ball. The faerie maiden breathed a last sigh and folded like a torn cobweb.

“Make haste,” the Dark Queen said to the goblins. “Fetch me the boy ’ere the new dawn wakes, and breaks this dearly won enchantment.”

“Yes, my queen,” Codcadden said.

He carried a worn leather sack, and his evil smile matched the fierce knives strapped to his belt. Roughly, he pushed his companions into the glowing sphere, leaped in after them, and was gone.

CHAPTER
NINE

A
ran didn’t bother going to sleep. He sat on the lumpy sofa, the blue flicker of his tablet the only light in the Chowneys’ garage. Too much soda surged through his system to relax, so he was wasting time following links to all Spark’s appearances. Not that he’d show up at any of them, but there was something strangely comforting about knowing where she’d be over the next couple weeks.

The VirtuMax tour would spend a few more days in the area, then head all over the country, basically. Which would be cool, if she had the time—or freedom—to actually visit the cities she appeared in. Too bad she’d missed seeing his hometown.

At least she had a rock as a souvenir.

A rock. Aran shook his head. What had he even been thinking? At the time, it seemed like a romantic gesture, but in hindsight he was embarrassed.
I have a prime crush on you, so here’s a stone I picked up.
Weak. It was probably in the bottom of the hotel’s trashcan by now.

Enough Spark obsessing. He flicked his tablet to one of his favorite music streams, turned up the earpods, and let the heavy beat and electric guitars anesthetize his brain. Despite the caffeine and sugar pumping through him, his eyes closed, weariness weighting his bones.

Silence, and the feeling of being watched, woke him. With a yawn, he glanced at his tablet. Midnight, exactly, and for some reason his music had cut off. But that wasn’t all.

An eerie glow was forming in the middle of the garage. It looked like a digital special effect—a pulsating ball of light that expanded until it was about four feet high.
What the hell?
Aran stood and pulled his earpods out, ready to sprint for the door.

A strand of melody threaded through the air, haunting and melancholy. Then three figures stepped out of the light: three squat creatures, one of which looked familiar. Shock froze Aran’s feet, and sped his breath.

No. Way. The goblin from Feyland had not just materialized on the stained concrete floor of the Chowney’s old garage.

Except that it had.

“Greetings, Eron. We have come for you, as promised.” The goblin held up a worn leather sack and smiled, sharp-toothed and malicious.

“I’m dreaming,” Aran said, the words dry in his mouth. He swallowed, and tried again. “I’m not awake. This isn’t happening.”

The goblin let out a snort. “Foolish mortal. Do you think to bargain with the fey folk and emerge unscathed? Nay, you promised to meet us at midnight on the new moon. The appointed hour has come.”

A rank, feral scent filled the garage, like skunk spray. That, more than anything, convinced Aran this was really happening, no matter how surreal. He never smelled stuff in his dreams.

“You’re taking me away with you?” His mind scrambled furiously for a way out. Stall the creatures, lull them into thinking he was cooperating, then run.

“Did you not wish to see beyond the scrim of Feyland, to the deeper realm?” the head goblin asked. Behind him, the other two waited, their eyes gleaming.

“I thought…”

What
had
he thought? That the next time he played the game, the system override codes would have something to do with the words “midnight” and “dark moon.”

Not that goblins would show up out of a glowing portal.

His heart thumped loudly in his chest.
It’s real. It’s real.
He took a ragged breath, trying to think.

“Come.” The goblin stepped forward, swinging his sack. “’Tis past time to depart.”

“Wait!” Aran held up his hands. “I need a minute.”

He glanced around the dingy garage. What did he have here? Nothing worth anything, except his friendship with Bix. No cash, no prospects.

And the goblins weren’t trying to kill him, though they weren’t exactly friendly. He didn’t trust them, but something was happening, something big.

Something magic.

Why not go with the creatures? The thought shivered through him, and with it the memory of the boy he’d once been, who had believed. Magic was real, and he had a chance to experience it firsthand.

He snatched up his tablet and opened the messager, quickly keying in the words.

:Bix, I’m going away for a bit. No worries. See you when.:

Vague yet reassuring. He sent the message, then powered off the tablet. No telling what the glowing portal would do to the electronics, but he was taking it along, wherever they were going.

Fear and excitement clogged his throat. Where
were
they going?

“All right,” he said to the goblin.

The creature smiled and opened the mouth of the sack wide. A moment later, Aran was engulfed in darkness and foul-smelling leather. He lost his balance, and somehow ended up on his back, completely enclosed by the bag.

“Hey!” he yelled. “Let me out!”

“You must pass between the realms ensconced within the sack,” the head goblin said. “Else your mortal senses will be addled beyond use.”

The goblin grunted and lifted the bag, making Aran’s stomach lurch. Bright light flared around him and the queasiness intensified. He gulped for air, refusing to be sick all over himself.

He was set down with a thump on a springy surface and, to his relief, the goblin opened the sack. Crisp night air, scented with spice and smoke, filled Aran’s lungs. A dark sky spread overhead, studded with stars brighter than he’d ever seen.

“My lady,” the goblin said. “We have returned with the mortal.”

“Unharmed?” The voice was silver and starlight.

“Yes,” the goblin said. “As you can see.”

His clawed fingers closed around Aran’s elbow, hauling him to his knees. Aran blinked as a wave of dizziness and wonder washed over him. He was in a clearing encircled by dark trees. Grotesque and beautiful creatures surrounded him, but they faded to insignificance when he looked up and saw
her
.

His breath caught, lungs aching as though he’d inhaled freezing air. A figure sat before him on a throne made of twisted leaves and vines. She was mystery and enchantment and yearning all rolled into one—but she wasn’t human. Her eyes, brilliant and dark, ensnared him with promises, and he was falling…

No. Aran yanked his gaze away, pulse pounding. He didn’t know where he was, or even why, but he was not going to lose himself. Not without a fight.

She laughed, a sound that sliced him to the heart.

“Welcome,” she said, “to the Dark Court of the Realm of Faerie.”

The what? He shot a glance at the knobbled and glimmering creatures arrayed about him. Those scary, dangerous things couldn’t possibly be fairies. They weren’t cute little flower-dressed pixies with sparkly wings and wide eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked, keeping his head bent so he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

The goblin’s claws dug into his skin, so hard Aran felt the blood rise.

“You will address the queen as befits her power and title, mortal,” the creature hissed. “You are nothing but dirt beneath her feet.”