Spark - ARC (21 page)

“What, you would have disobeyed your ruler? I doubt it. Look, the queen said that without access to humans, the realm would die. I couldn’t let that happen.”

Aran tried to ignore the sick clench in his gut at Thomas’s reaction.

“Did you not see the crack in the wall?” Thomas set a fist to his forehead. “I should have spoken sooner, but I never dreamed you would succeed in such folly—or that Spark would fail to remove you from the realm. There is still time to undo the damage. Repair the break, BlackWing.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

He couldn’t close the gateway back up. For one thing, he needed the money and had won it fairly, and for the other, he didn’t want to contemplate what the queen would do to him if he backtracked and denied her.

“You must close it.” Thomas’s voice was strained. “The queen and her court are dangerous. If allowed to enter the mortal realm unchecked, they will cause utter mayhem.”

“According to you, they already have access. And there’s a police force at the ready, right? The Feyguard can handle it. Now, I’m going to collect my reward, before the queen changes her mind.”

He was beyond ready to get out of the Dark Realm and its treacherous loyalties.

On the way out, he grabbed his black cloak from its peg beside the door. He wasn’t changing into court finery, but it wouldn’t hurt to wear the cloak over his jeans and T-shirt. Plus it had a wide inner pocket big enough to carry his tablet.

“I will accompany you,” Thomas said, his voice cold.

The bard’s stride was stiff with reproach as he accompanied Aran to the clearing of the Dark Court. Still, Aran would far prefer to have the bard angry at him than the Dark Queen. Thomas wanted him to renege on his deal, but no way did the bard have enough power to protect Aran from the queen.

The purple bonfire flared up as they passed, and the noise of the feasting revelers seemed louder than usual. Harsh and chiming laughter filled the air, underscored by the sound of a furious reel played on fiddle and drum.

The queen reclined upon her throne, her face lit with a terrible mirth.

“Well done, mortal,” she cried, beckoning to Aran with her sharp-nailed fingers. “You have saved my realm.”

“Your majesty.” Aran performed his court bow, complete with the cloak swirl at the end.

Half of him was proud, but the other half wondered if he’d made a mistake. Thomas’s reaction pointed to the second. Aran swallowed. He’d get his treasure and duck out of there. Whatever other issues were going on were the Dark Court’s to deal with.

“Come closer,” the queen said.

He took a step toward the throne.

“Closer,” she said again.

Heart racing, Aran walked the three steps to the foot of the throne. The Dark Queen reached one hand and gently ran her nails down his cheek. Her eyes were full of endless midnight.

“Such a pretty one,” she said. “A pity I have to let you go.”

“Yeah. You do have to let me go. And pay me.” Aran forced the words out, trying to keep himself from falling into the queen’s fathomless eyes.

She laughed, the sound like ice shattering on a frozen lake.

“Ladyslipper, bring his reward,” she said.

One of the pale faerie maidens left her place beside the throne. She carried a black velvet sack in her hands, and wordlessly offered it to Aran.

He took it, surprised at its weight. Anticipation firing his fingers, he wrenched open the mouth of the sack, and saw the glint of gold inside. Oh yeah. He was going to be set.

“Many thanks, my lady,” he said, bowing again to the queen. “It was a pleasure working for you.”

“The pleasure was entirely ours, mortal,” she said, her expression filled with secret amusement. “I presume you wish to return to your world now?”

“Wait.” Thomas stepped forward. “BlackWing must remain in the realm. What if something goes awry with the gateway?

The look the Dark Queen gave her bard made Aran shiver.

“Methinks there is more danger of that should the boy stay,” she said, her voice treacherously soft. “The gateway is precisely as it needs to be, and you will meddle no more, Bard Thomas.”

Thomas hung his head, weary defeat in the stoop of his shoulders.

“I’m ready to go home,” Aran said.

The bard glanced up at his words. “Safely home,” he said.

“Right.” Aran said. “I’d like to be
safely
returned to my world.”

The queen’s mouth twitched with displeasure, and he wondered what fate Thomas had just helped him avoid. He tried to catch the bard’s eye in thanks, but Thomas refused to look at him. Fine. It wasn’t as if they’d become fast friends or anything.

“Fare thee well, BlackWing,” the Dark Queen said.

“I’m counting on it,” he said, hefting the sack and hearing the satisfying clink of coins.

The queen lifted her hands and frigid blue light streamed from her palms. She gestured, and the light enveloped Aran. It swirled about him like a blizzard. He caught a few last glimpses of the Dark Court whirling past, and then doubled over in pain as an icy knife stabbed him in the gut.

He fell to his knees, gasping, one hand going to his stomach, the other clasped tight about his reward. Had she tried to kill him?

The cold light faded, leaving Aran in darkness. Where the hell was he? He rubbed his shirt, and didn’t feel any blood or injury. Pain had been the queen’s parting gift.

Slowly, he took a ragged breath and tasted a familiar, musty scent on the back of his tongue. He fumbled in the cloak’s pocket and pulled out his tablet. Flicked it on.

The screen light illuminated the lumpy couch in the Chowneys’ garage, the scabby walls and stained concrete. Relief flared through him, and he sat back on his heels. He was back in the real world.

Right behind the relief came sheer, bone-numbing exhaustion. Aran nudged the gold-filled sack under the couch, then powered off his tablet, wrapped the cloak tightly around him, and barely made it horizontal before his eyes closed and he crashed into sleep.

***

As soon as she got back to the hotel from the concert, Spark hurried through the quiet halls and rapped on Niteesh’s door. She figured he’d still be up, watching mindless vids. The late-night hush was punctuated by faint snores, and the hallway smelled like bleach and perfume, the same as a million other hotels. Even the carpeting was one of about five different variations—this one in gold and red.

Niteesh cracked the door, then opened it all the way when he saw who it was.

“Sparky! Come in.”

She slipped inside and scanned his room, her stomach falling when she saw it was empty of a FullD system.

“No luck getting some extra sim time?” she asked.

“Vonda said we could sim tomorrow, since it’s an off-duty day. I guess everybody’s been asking to play more, so she’s planning to take over one of the hotel’s conference rooms and hook up a bunch of systems in the morning.”

“Oh. Great.”

That meant the only FullD systems around were locked in the VirtuMax trailer. Even if she could break in, she’d have to figure out a power source.

“Everything okay?” Niteesh peered at her, his dark eyes full of concern.

“Yeah. The concert was loud, and my wrist hurts.”

Both true. And even if part of her wanted to take Niteesh into her confidence, she couldn’t pull him into that kind of trouble.

“Then why are you here? Take some meds and get some sleep.”

“Yes, Dr. Singh. Whatever you say.”

Niteesh stuck his tongue out at her. “See you in the morning.”

She ruffled his black curls—a move calculated to annoy and distract him. “Don’t stay up too late, yourself.”

He batted her hand away and pointed to the door.

“Okay, I’m going.” Despite her bleak mood, Niteesh always managed to make her smile. “Night, you.”

She waited in the hallway until she heard the lock slide home. Then, instead of heading to her room, she went out the hotel’s back exit.

It was cold in the parking lot, the night illuminated by orange street lights. Spark shivered and looked up, but there was nothing unearthly in the sky—just city-lit clouds with streaks of darkness behind.

She circled the trailer housing the FullD systems, and yanked on the loading door’s handle a few times.

“Everything all right?”

Spark spun around, heartbeat banging in her throat. “Burt! You scared me.”

Her head of security frowned. “What’s going on, Miss Jaxley? You meeting someone?”

“No.” She gave him a weak smile. “I just... Well.”

There really was no explanation.

Burt waited a few moments, then nodded to the hotel. “Best we go inside. It’s late.”

It was—far too late. And clearly she wasn’t going to be able to get onto a sim system tonight. One of the other Feyguard would have to.

She hurried back to her room, said a terse good night to Burt, then powered on her messager. Her wrist zinged her with pain bolts every time she moved it. Gritting her teeth, she sat on her bed and sent messages to both Tam and Jennet.

One minute passed. Then five. Why couldn’t she reach them?

A strange shadow passed in front of her window. She went and peeked through the curtains, but nothing was there. Nothing she could see, anyway.

Swallowing back the sting of fear, she tried Jennet and Tam again, then keyed in a third number. Roy Lassiter’s contact.

:Hi Roy, you awake?:

:Hey there, beautiful! Missing me?:
He sent a wink icon.

She let out a sigh of relief. At least one of the Feyguard was reachable. She really hadn’t wanted to call Jennet’s dad in the middle of the night, though she would have if nobody else had answered.

:There’s a problem with Feyland,:
she sent,
:and I don’t have FullD access right now. The barrier between our world and the realm has been breached. Could you go in and check it out?:

:Whoa.:

Roy went silent for a long moment. She could almost hear him mentally switching gears.

:Okay,:
he sent,
:I’ll head in-game now. Stand by.:

:Be careful.:

:Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.:

Spark chewed her thumbnail and tried not to imagine everything that could go wrong. So much already had.

Somehow, in that one demo session, Aran had been marked by the Dark Queen. Spark didn’t know how he’d gotten back into Feyland, or what kind of promises the queen made him, but it was clear he’d done the worst thing imaginable. He’d re-opened the gateway—the one she and the rest of the beta-team had worked so hard to keep closed.

How had he done it? And why?

Dammit, she needed to get into Feyland and track him down. This time she’d knock him over the head and drag him back to the mortal world if he didn’t come of his own free will.

Despite the anxiety pulsing through her, Spark yawned. It was getting late, and the pain meds were making her sleepy. She made herself stand up and walk. Keep the blood moving.

After what felt like years, her messager pinged.

:Bad news,:
Roy sent.
:You’re right—the gate to the Dark Realm is wide open. It’s the first thing you see after logging on.:

:You couldn’t close it?:
Worry squeezed her lungs.

:Believe me, I tried, but there’s no obvious way. Force and spells don’t work.:

:Maybe it needs more than one person.:
She wanted to scream with frustration.

:Have you tried any of the others?:

:Tam and Jennet aren’t answering.:

:I could make a bad joke here, but I’m refraining.:
Roy sent.

:Good.:

: Look, I’ll get Zeg in-game with me. We’ll see what we can do.:

:Message me when you get out. I don’t care what time that is.:

:Will do. Sweet dreams.:
Roy signed out.

She felt dizzy with exhaustion. Rubbing her eyes, she sat on the bed, just for a minute. She had to keep trying to reach the others. She had to figure out how to get Aran out. She refused to think about what fey mischief could even now be creeping out into the world.

She shivered, wishing she could go back and change everything—starting with the day she’d met Aran.

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

A
ran woke with a crick in his neck from sleeping awkwardly on the lumpy couch. Early morning light smudged the windows, and a strange feeling of contentment hummed through him. It took a minute to remember why.

Right—his treasure.

Smiling, he reached under the couch and fished around for the velvet bag. His smile faded as he pulled it out. It wasn’t heavy, like it should be, and it rustled instead of clinking. Throat dry, he sat up and opened the bag. No gold coins winked up at him. There was nothing inside except handfuls of dry brown leaves.

Leaves! What the hell? He pawed through, hoping that somehow the coins were still there, hidden at the bottom. But they weren’t.

Somebody had robbed him—snuck into the garage while he slept and stolen his gold. He sprang to his feet and checked the door. The deadbolt was still in place. Turning, he inspected the windows. Locked and intact.