Magic was just around the corner.…

Kiri Palger knew the difference between reality—new house, hard work and not too many friends—and fantasy—the fun she had playing online games. So when the chance to work for the best gaming company in the world came up, giving her a chance to merge business with pleasure, how could she not apply?

Suddenly she has more friends, interesting neighbors and an intriguing love interest. But when the game begins to awaken something inside her, Kiri is shocked by the talents she never knew she had…and an evil she’d never imagined.

Her nice, safe life is imploding around her—and if she takes up the mantle of her powers, it will never be the same again….

Praise for the novels of

“RITA® Award-winner Owens offers a world strongly imbued with a sense of magic in this contemporary fantasy series launch.… Romance and fantasy fans

will enjoy Jenni’s preparation to enter a new world of compromise

between the Folk, humans and technology.”

—Publishers Weekly, starred review, on Enchanted No More

“A multi-faceted, fast-paced gem of a book.”

—The Best Reviews on Guardian of Honor

“This book will enchant readers who enjoy strong heroines.”

—RT Book Reviews on Sorceress of Faith

“Fans of Anne McCaffrey and Mercedes Lackey will appreciate the novel’s honorable protagonists and their lively animal companions.”

—Publishers Weekly on Protector of the Flight

“Strong characterization combined with deadly danger make this story vibrate with emotional resonance. Stay tuned as events accelerate toward the final battle.”

—RT Book Reviews on Keepers of the Flame

“A glorious end to the series.”

—Wild on Books on Echoes in the Dark

Enchanted Ever After

Robin D. Owens

www.mirabooks.co.uk

To Kaia and Jane and Rose,

Thank you.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Mid-September, Denver, Colorado

LIFE WAS NOT a game. If life were a game, Kiri Palger would ace it...or reach level sixty-five with massive amounts of gold, arms and armor, not to mention a fabulous wardrobe.

But real life had no do-overs. She couldn’t go back two years and not take the energy and soul draining computer support job with a national company in downtown Denver. Big mistake. Especially when she trudged home at seven-thirty on a Friday evening too exhausted to enjoy the thought of the weekend.

Though buying this house in Mystic Circle had definitely been the right thing to do.

Her hands were full of keys and key card and she was punching in the security code when her phone rang. She swore and went in, laid the keys and workbag on the rickety console table next to the door.

The phone was not in its proper pocket, but had migrated to mix with stuff at the bottom of her tote. She found her cell after the call had gone to message. Her best friend Shannon had called—all right, her only good friend, someone she talked to a couple of times a week. Kiri could always count on Shannon, and her friend could always give her a lift.

“Hey, Kiri, it’s Shannon. Sucky that you had to work late at the sucky job and can’t play Fairies and Dragons with me tonight. I know how much you want that new job so remember you promised me you’d go to your block party tomorrow and meet Jenni Weavers. Don’t duck out of it! And, no, I can’t make it, Averill has a family thing. Tell us all the deets Sunday brunch. Smooches!”

Kiri’s smile faded. She always liked backup when entering a new social situation. She squared her shoulders. Much as she might want to, she wouldn’t skip the party. It was important on two levels—really interacting with her neighbors and meeting Jenni Weavers, Kiri’s heroine.

Her gaze went to her computer set up in the bump of the side bay window. She’d stay out of the game, Fairies and Dragons, tonight—sometimes the game beckoned more than reality. And once you began spending more time in the game than anywhere else, you were in trouble. Not in control.

She sighed. Her living room was bare—she had a lot of house and not much of anything else, like furniture.

But quiet and peaceful. Her shoulders relaxed more than just from the release of the bag’s weight.

A soft golden sunset slanted through the window. The smack of an early autumn had already swatted summer evenings gone for the year, but there was still enough light to walk around the cul-de-sac, Mystic Circle, to wind down from work. Get the kinks out. She was at the age, twenty-six, where she considered how wide her ass would spread if she stayed in a chair all day long every day.

And she’d check on the fabulous koi in the center park’s pond.

She’d recently moved from concrete and asphalt near Capitol Hill and the beautiful fish captivated her. With a smile, she slipped back out into the cool evening.

Hers was the first house of the cul-de-sac, Mystic Circle number one, located on the southeastern corner. The craftsman bungalow was the smallest home and slightly more than she could afford. But, if she could land that new job, maybe... She wanted to love her work. To live her job, not do it.

Like much of Denver, the homes in Mystic Circle were a variety of styles, each house different. She’d passed the small house named “Fanciful,” the Spanish-influence two-story with orange-tiled roof; the redbrick four-square with the many window-paned porch and neared the top of the Circle and the Castle. She walked quickly, the day dying faster than she’d anticipated with thick gray clouds blocking the sun.

A movement caught her eye and she glanced toward the round center park.

The first thing she noticed about the pale man with the pale hair was that he was tall. The next was that he had pointed ears...like a Vulcan...or an elf...and a certain shimmer like a famous vampire.

Halloween was a month and a half away.

He stepped from the shadows of the tall pine, almost as if he’d come from the pond, but there was no splashing.

“Kiri Palger?”

How did he know her name? She hadn’t seen him before, and though she hadn’t met all her neighbors, she knew them by sight.

Kiri scanned the area. No one was around. Mystic Circle was safe, but... He didn’t live here and he’d been lurking in the dark shadows of the park. She backed up to the far edge of the sidewalk. No help from the Castle residents—the owners were never home.

“I was told to approach you tomorrow, but since you’re here tonight...” He shrugged elegant shoulders under a thick capelike coat.

Not overly broad shoulders, a runner’s body. And not threatening, but she’d moved from a rather dangerous neighborhood and was wary.

Should she yell? The houses were old and nearly soundproof. There were lights in several of the homes, and if she zoomed... But the guy had a runner’s musculature. She didn’t think she could beat him.

“Pardon me.” He dipped a hand in his pants pocket. When he brought it out—something funny about his hand, too, like he might have more joints than the norm or more flexible bones—he held out a card. “I’m with Eight Corp. Human resources.”

He put an odd spin on “human.” Had some sort of soft, lilting accent she couldn’t place.

“Eight Corp,” she murmured. The parent company of the game Fairies and Dragons, where she’d applied for the job she yearned for, to create new stories for the game.

He turned his body so he looked at the two-story redbrick Denver square where Jenni Weavers lived. “Jindesfarne Mistweaver Emberdrake will vouch for me.”

Again the unfamiliar accent.

Jindesfarne Mistweaver Emberdrake? Kiri slid her glance to the house he’d indicated. Jenni Weavers’s house. Did he really know Jenni? Kiri had never heard the “Jindesfarne” bit.

Day had gone, darkness was falling. She wanted that perfect job badly, that career. She wanted to love her work.

But his hands were in his pockets now and the card seemed to be floating in midair. He puffed a breath and it drifted toward her.

She blinked and blinked again and the evening was just dark enough that she wasn’t sure she saw what she’d seen. She hadn’t been in the game; this shouldn’t be a game, but reality...but...

One too many too weird items. Kiri whirled and trotted home, her feet slapping concrete, her breathing ragged. She hopped up the stairs to the porch. Sticking the key and key card in the slots, she swept through the door of her home, slammed the door. She stood sucking in breaths in the entryway on smoothly finished honey-colored wood floor. Walls safe around her.

He hadn’t tried to stop her. Might even still be where she left him. She wasn’t going to look.

Instead, she yanked on the cord that drew the thick burgundy curtains over the front window and hustled past the bay window bump with her home office setup and into the tiny bedroom. Safe.

The man had been too fascinating—compelling—and he was so not her type, urbane and with the runner’s body. She liked men burlier. Overtly muscular. No, this man wasn’t what she wanted. Really.

He said he was from Eight Corp. The company that was looking for a story developer and writer for Fairies and Dragons. Everything she’d ever wanted. She sniffed, realized her nostrils were straining to get the last whiff of the guy’s scent. A fragrance she couldn’t pin down, just like all the rest of him. Sweetly musky? With a faint sharp tang? His skin had seemed to shimmer. That couldn’t be good.

Would she really see him tomorrow?

* * *

Lathyr Tricurrent watched Kiri Palger hurry back into her home. She seemed odd even for a human, the waves of her personal field resonating in ways that he recognized—Kiri had a potential for magic.

It was that potential vibrating around her, bending the light into tiny rainbows enveloping her, that had drawn him out.

He’d underestimated the charm of this place and of Kiri herself.

In the spring, more magic had graced the world and much had changed for the Lightfolk. Lathyr was one of those who had begun to experience new powers. And the Meld—merging magic and human technology—had rapidly increased.

Some humans could actually become Lightfolk, transform into magical elemental beings.

Lathyr was one of those who could sense such potential in certain humans—his new talent. He’d been unsure whether to be pleased with this or not.

He was not quite a full Merfolk; there was the slightest trace of elf in his background, enough to give him a point to his ears.

And the highest Lightfolk did not value anyone who wasn’t pure Lightfolk—or purely of one element. He’d been abandoned by his mother, no family claimed him, he had no home. He’d mostly lived on sufferance as a servant at the royal palaces or a guest of lower nobles, forced to be a drifter, and he hated it.

He could never reach the highest status, or even be awarded a tiny estate by the eight who controlled all the true domiciles under the ocean. He wanted a home of his own, not a rough cave.

He wouldn’t have had a chance at that home before the infusion of magic that had given him his new power.

But a notion was edging into his mind that the stratified lines of rank and status were cracking...becoming as fluid and as new as the Meld. Great change brought new opportunities.

In the spring, a halfling—half-human and half-Lightfolk—had become a Princess of the Lightfolk, a Fire Princess. Unprecedented.

He glanced toward the abode of Princess Jindesfarne Mistweaver Emberdrake. He didn’t need to see the light in her office window to know she was home. The waves of magic—human and Lightfolk and from the Treeman who was her husband—blended and flowed to him, like the taste of rich chocolate on the air. She’d summoned him because she thought the human residents of Mystic Circle could become magical. She was right.

People with such potential—as well as other Lightfolk—had migrated to the cul-de-sac because of Jindesfarne’s powers.

Evil magical ones, Darkfolk, could not live in Mystic Circle, and Lightfolk magic even kept wicked humans from the neighborhood. Too bad Kiri Palger didn’t know that—yet.

Princess Jindesfarne—Jenni Weavers Emberdrake—had been right. Lathyr should have waited until the next day to approach Kiri Palger. But Mystic Circle’s cul-de-sac threw all his talents, not only his new ones, off. He’d never been in a place so rich with magic where all four elements were balanced. When balanced, magic was so much easier to do, to experience.

Balanced magic made living heady, and he’d felt the rush when he’d coalesced from a cloud to the pond in the park a few minutes before. The richness of the place and Kiri had made him act impulsively, speak when he should have stayed silent.

Now Lathyr could feel the minor earth elementals who were attached to two of the households—brownies—running through the tunnels they’d carved under his feet.

Even as he thought of them, one of the brownies popped out of the ground before Lathyr.

“You have any chocolate?” the small man with wrinkled face and large triangular ears asked.

Lathyr frowned. “You should be able to smell that I don’t.” He’d heard the brownies in this area were out of control in their demand for the rare sweet.

The brownieman sniffed lustily. “I smell drying merskin. You go back to your pond. There’s nothing for you here, now.” The less-than-a-meter-high being glanced at Kiri Palger’s shut door.

Lathyr set his teeth, let his lower lip curl.

“When you come back tomorrow, bring us chocolate.” The little earth elemental frowned, looked up at a sky full of dark clouds and shivered. “Darkfolk are very aware of Denver, now. Glad I am here, safe.” He vanished with a discourteous pop.

And Lathyr had to face facts.

He’d liked the looks of Kiri Palger, had wanted to impress her and show her real magic. He’d floated his card to her. That had not gone well.

He’d failed at first contact with the human in a project that might bring him the chance his birth had denied him. A chance to provide outstanding service and be rewarded with an ocean home, some small ocean valley with an acceptable current. The stability of not having to move every few months. He aspired to more than a cave in the ocean or a house on land. He wanted a real home, a place where he could—perhaps—start a family or at least secure his future.

With this project, with Kiri Palger, he could get it. Gaining the notice of a high noble like Princess Mistweaver Emberdrake was the first step.

That was worth any cost.

Chapter 2

THE MYSTIC CIRCLE neighborhood party was the first since Kiri had moved in a month before. The residents she’d met seemed like a friendly bunch—most of them extroverted. Unfortunately, she wasn’t.

So the party was a big deal to her. Not only would she have to come out of her shell and be personable with her neighbors, but she wanted to impress Jenni Weavers.

Jenni Weavers was the project director of the online multiplayer game, Fairies and Dragons, that Kiri wanted to write for. Kiri had her application in to Eight Corp for the job. A new area of the game called Pegasus Valley had been announced and Kiri’d written a couple of story arcs for it.

She wanted the writing job—and a career like Jenni had—so badly Kiri could taste it.... Sweet joy like melty caramel.

As soon as she’d heard that Fairies and Dragons’ main location had changed to Denver, she’d begun watching the website for job opportunities. Then she’d discovered Jenni Weavers actually lived in Denver, had for years.

Kiri had done a tiny smidge of discreet snooping and found out Jenni lived here in Mystic Circle. Though Kiri had spent time with her grandmother in Denver on and off all of her life and lived there the past four years, she’d never heard of the small cul-de-sac. She’d driven to it...and fallen in love. With the cul-de-sac. With the houses. And one had been for sale. A month ago she’d taken all of the savings she had left from the nest egg her parents had given her and bought the place.

She didn’t regret it. Now maybe she could land her perfect job, too.

But she hadn’t actually met Jenni yet, and Jenni would be one of the people hiring.

That meant good clothes. For any other block party, Kiri would’ve gone in jeans and layered tanks, the top with a sparkly design. For Jenni Weavers, it meant pressed beige linen pants and white, man-style shirt with tiny beige pinstripes and cuffs. Kiri was glad she’d gotten only a temporary tatt of the Fairies and Dragons logo and it had worn off a long time ago. That would have been over-the-top fan-girl.

Her pants were a little loose—power walking around the Circle and down to the small business district had its benefits, as long as she didn’t stop at the gelato shop.

She slipped on her lucky silver bracelet and hurried to the kitchen to pick up the huge pan of still-warm brownies she’d made for the potluck.

As soon as she exited her house, she could hear the cheerful noise of voices at Jenni’s home. “You’re going to be fine. You like the neighbors you’ve met,” she reassured herself. “Amber and Rafe Davail, Jenni’s guy, Aric, and the gay couple, Dan and Frank. You’ll find something to talk about.”

The Mystic Circle people seemed nice, really, a real community, almost a family. Since Kiri and her parents weren’t close—hell, Dad was in Baja and Mom in Florida—and they’d emotionally abandoned her as a child, and neither had the same values as she—Kiri had the hope of joining this extended family. One more reason Mystic Circle appealed to her, she’d heard they were a tight community. Another thing she wanted to accomplish today, get further along that path to being accepted.

And if Kiri was going to work with Jenni Weavers, she’d better learn how to speak to her without stuttering.

Kiri turned and locked her door, stopped at the junction of Mystic Circle and Linden and checked for vehicles. Nothing. Crossing Mystic Circle, she skimmed the south edge of the park, taking a few seconds’ time to watch the koi, sluggish this morning in the shadows. She drew in a deep breath of flowers, including a lush bank of roses—the thick and heady last scents of summer. Then she walked to Jenni Weavers’s place, number eight. Kiri was invited; she’d be welcome.

Would the man she’d seen last night be there, or had she been in a haze of work exhaustion and created him from the shadows of the park?

Had he really said he was from Eight Corp’s human resources, the company that had the job she wanted? Well, if he was at the neighborhood party, she’d see him.

She strode up the steps to Jenni’s house and saw a brass plaque: Emberdrakes. Right! Right, Jenni wasn’t Jenni Weavers but Jenni Weavers Emberdrake—or, maybe, like the guy the night before had said, Jindesfarne Mistweaver Emberdrake. Very cool name and Kiri had better remember it. Names were important.

Another big breath and then she went through the enclosed porch and was at the front door. She rapped with the silver Hand of Fatima knocker.

Aric, Jenni’s husband, opened the door. He was a tall man with wide shoulders who looked like he had Native American blood. Again the recollection of the guy from the night before wisped through her mind in comparison. Aric had the build she preferred, but the man she’d met earlier had certainly been interesting.

“Hello,” Aric said. “It’s Kiri, isn’t it? Number one?”

“Yeah.”

He offered a huge hand and she propped the brownie pan on her other arm and put hers in his and got a quick shake before he stepped aside and held the door wide. “Welcome. Appetizers are on the kitchen counter, salads et cetera in the dining room, and we’re grilling in the back.” He glanced down at her brownies and laughed. “Brownies. We all love brownies and chocolate, but don’t often make them. Can be confusing.”

“Huh?” Kiri said.

A charming smile from Aric. “Sorry, neighborhood in-joke.”

“Oh.” She wanted to learn all the in-jokes, wanted to be truly a part of the neighborhood.

“But we’ll really appreciate your brownies,” Aric said. Since he noticeably swallowed as if saliva had pooled at the thought of the taste, Kiri believed him.

“Good,” she said.

“The dessert table is in the back, too.”

His stride was long and fast. She got tingles when she entered the house. Evidently her nerves about the job were twitchier than she’d expected. But she wanted the position, the career, so much.

And now she’d lagged behind Aric and had to hurry through the kitchen and sunroom to the backyard. That space, too, seemed to have...a little something extra. A little more of the feeling that the whole cul-de-sac had. Increased ozone, maybe.

The smell of sizzling meat teased her nostrils. She glanced over and nearly froze in place. Jenni Weavers—no, Emberdrake!—was at the grill. Kiri recognized her from web pics. The woman wore a red apron and poufy white chef’s hat and wielded a long fork as if it were a weapon.

But Jenni in the flesh was more vibrant than her photo, dark red hair instead of red-brown, light brown, very sparkling, eyes.

Kiri wrenched her gaze away to sweep over the people. Almost all of the residents of Mystic Circle were there along with folks Kiri didn’t recognize, a few guests, she supposed, clumped together in small groups talking. About fifteen people. The guy from last night—who would not have pointy ears or a shimmer to his skin that must have been some cloud-cast or rising moonlight illusion—wasn’t there.

Kiri wasn’t disappointed. Really.

Something bumped Kiri’s knee and she joggled the pan. What? She looked around and saw an old, fat cat lying in the sun. Neither of the Davails’ yellow Labs were close, they ran back and forth along the iron barred fence to the north—the Davails’ place—with the occasional bark.

Tamara Thunderock walked to Kiri and swept the pan from her hands even as Kiri lost her balance again. She windmilled. “Wow,” she said. “Good catch. I think my ankle twisted.” She wasn’t sure what had happened and offered a weak smile to the woman, who was even shorter than she. Kiri was about five feet five inches, but Tamara stood a good four inches shorter.

“Brownies,” Tamara said. “You have to watch out for them.”

“Yes, nearly dropped them,” Kiri said.

“Your treats look fabulous.”

Since Tamara was a baker, a pulse of satisfaction went through Kiri at her praise. “Thank you.”

Brows raised, Tamara said, “If you want one of these, I suggest you get one right away. They’ll go fast.”

“That’s okay,” Kiri said and relaxed enough for her smile to widen. “I got enough when I cleaned up the bowl and the spoon.”

There was a little moan and Kiri blinked. She wouldn’t have expected that from Tamara; the woman worked with goodies all day long.

“I’ll just put this on the table, why don’t I?” Tamara said, not meeting Kiri’s eyes. The smaller woman’s gaze was fixed on a lower point. “I’ll make sure the brownies are taken care of. There will be no more accidents.”

“Sure.” Which meant Kiri had to suck up her courage and greet her hostess and heroine, Jenni Emberdrake.

So she did, after hoping her smile was sincere and discreetly wiping her palms on the sides of her pants.

“Hi,” Kiri said, offering her hand. “I’m Kiri Palger. I live in number one, the craftsman bungalow without the enclosed porch,” she babbled, as if anyone in Mystic Circle wouldn’t know which house was number one. Jenni appeared to be five feet nine or ten inches.

Putting down the fork, Jenni took her hand in a really warm clasp. Kiri hadn’t thought her hands were so cold. Nerves.

“Pleased to meet you,” Jenni said with a penetrating stare. “You do fit here in Mystic Circle.”

“Ah. Thanks.”

“And my colleagues and I at Eight Corp are interested in your background and résumé.”

Kiri’s relieved breath puffed out a little harder than she’d expected. She followed that with a slight smile. “Thank you again.”

“We’ll talk in a bit, so why don’t you relax and get some food. Plenty of it here.” Jenni picked up the fork again and gestured to a steak. “What kind of meat do you want?”

Kiri wanted to resolve the job thing, but that wasn’t going to happen right now. Meat-wise, she longed for a fat hot dog. “I’ll have one of those skinless chicken strips.”

Jenni reached toward the far side of the grill for an empty plate, plopped a chicken strip on the bright red paper dish. The tender meat fell apart.

Kiri’s mouth watered. “Looks great.”

“Eat and enjoy. We’ll talk later.”

A dismissal, though said with a smile that reflected in Jenni’s eyes. Maybe Kiri would pull this off after all.

She shifted tension from her shoulders. She was so nervous she probably shouldn’t eat. Food might have trouble squeezing into her clenched stomach, but she could hardly dump her plate.

“Come and sit, Kiri!” called Amber Davail who lived with her husband, Rafe, in the Victorian house next door to Jenni. Amber gave a welcoming wave and Rafe smiled and lifted his fork.

So Kiri crossed to one of the picnic tables that had been set up in the shade of a box elder tree and sat.

It took a while for her to settle down, and she gave credit to Amber, a genealogist, and Rafe, part-owner of the Denver Fencing Lyceum, for helping her. The couple was easy to be with. They also didn’t seem to be as...intimidating as Jenni and Aric or as intense as Tamara.

Soon Kiri had munched a mixed green salad, raw veggies, chicken and fruit and felt full enough to ignore the dessert table in the corner of the yard. She was glad there were no irresistible potatoes or French fries. She even managed to stay away from the chips and salsa and guacamole, which were a real weakness. She wanted to lose a few pounds before she started her new job.

She would get the job.

“Your brownies were incredible,” said Rafe. He laughed lustily. Now that she’d spent more time with him, Kiri thought he was a man who appreciated every moment of life. “They didn’t last at all. Some folk went straight for dessert.”

“Fine with me.” Kiri drank deeply of a bottle of raspberry sparkling water and glanced around the backyard, a large pretty lawn with lilac bushes edging both side fences. The space wasn’t quite as lush or groomed as the Davails’ own next door, but Jenni’s sunroom was awesome.

“We’re glad to have you join us here in the Circle,” Amber said. “The man who lived in number one before you kept to himself. Didn’t come to the block parties, traveled a lot and disapproved of the rest of us playing together as a team in Fairies and Dragons every Thursday night.” She wrinkled her nose, then cocked a golden-brown eyebrow at her husband. “Even Rafe plays now. We’ve assimilated him.”

Again Rafe laughed and lines crinkled at the corners of his blue eyes.

Amber poured some red wine into a glass and lifted it. A ray of sun slanted through it, and it appeared as if she held a glowing jewel. Smiling, she tilted the rim toward Jenni. “And we’re close here, and want to support each other however we might.”

Kiri leaned forward and low words tumbled from her. “I want that, too.” She wetted her lips. “Jenni’s my hero. I’ve applied for a job at Eight Corp. I’d love to work with her.”

Rafe’s and Amber’s gazes zeroed in on her, one shrewd, the other considering. Kiri flushed. Did she sound like a stalker? She hoped not.

Amber dabbed some bruschetta in flavored oil. “Well, you know what you’re doing in Fairies and Dragons for sure,” she said.

“Thanks.” Kiri grimaced. “Eight Corp said on its website that they’ll be making the decision soon.” She cleared her throat. “Did you see a guy walking around the Circle yesterday evening? He said he was from Eight Corp human resources. He was a little...” Fascinating. “...odd. Might have been practicing for Halloween.” Or her vision had been off.

Rafe’s smile was brilliant. “Kiri, we’re all a little odd here in the Circle.” He pointed his bread at her. “Including you, and thank God for it.” His lips quirked up, then he popped the bread in his mouth.

Kiri smiled. She didn’t mind being different, especially in a way that meshed well with Mystic Circle people.

“We didn’t see anyone,” Amber said. “But bad guys can’t get in the Circle. It stops them.”

“What!” Kiri’d never heard of anything like that in her life.

They nodded in unison. “True.”

“Oh.” Hmm. Nope, didn’t believe that.

“Great party,” Jenni said as she walked up, holding a glass mug of frothy beer and grinning. “Glad that you started this tradition, Amber.”

“I am, too,” Rafe said. “Ancient tradition.” He winked at Kiri. “Seven months, a party a month.”

Kiri tried to keep upbeat. “Sounds fine to me.”

“We’ll move the gatherings inside when the winter comes,” Amber said. She and Rafe rose and cleared their cheerfully colored paper plates and plastic utensils. “Later, Kiri.”

“Sure. See you later.” She wondered if there really would be a later. How humiliating that she’d spilled her guts to near strangers who might repeat her words to Jenni or Aric. What if she didn’t get the job? Would she still feel okay living in Mystic Circle? Hell!

Jenni slid onto the wooden bench opposite. She glanced around the backyard at the clusters of people talking and laughing. “Just great to have neighborhood get-togethers.”

Then she turned her head to meet Kiri’s gaze. “We’ve discussed you quite a lot at Eight Corp. Aric works there, too.”

Here it came.

Chapter 3

KIRI FROZE.

Something in Jenni’s eyes, a downward curve of the corner of her lips made Kiri’s stomach clench. She wasn’t going to get the job.

The sun went behind clouds—wasn’t it supposed to be sunny all day?—drying her sweat.

She was glad she was sitting down and braced herself, forced the overwhelming disappointment back down her throat. She hoped she’d kept a pleasant smile on her face.

Jenni continued, “I—we—were very impressed with your work on the prospective story arcs for Pegasus Valley....”

Kiri said it for her. “But?”

Jenni gestured with her mug of beer. “However, our preliminary planning took the characters and story lines in a totally different direction.”

“Oh.”

Jenni smiled and it hurt Kiri. “Now for the but. We have a very new, very exclusive game we are developing we’d like your help on.”

Kiri stared. “What?”

“You’ll have to interview with Eight Corp, and take a look at the preliminary sketches and plot arcs. They need to be fleshed out. Also, there is some preliminary game testing.”

What did that mean?

Jenni’s husband, Aric, came up and wrapped a hand over her shoulder. “Enough business talk.” He frowned. “Clouds have rolled in and I don’t like the feel of the wind. Let’s talk with Rafe and Amber.” He inclined his head to Kiri, blinked, then said, “Ah, I mean socialize.”

New game. Exclusive. Preliminary testing. Before Kiri could get even one of the questions swirling in her head to her mouth, Jenni had stood and she and Aric had moved away.

Then he stepped from the shadow of a tree near the front gate and Kiri’s heart began to pound. He moved with casual sophistication through the gathering. She’d been wary of him the night before—all right, she’d been a little scared of the man—doubted his claims that he was an Eight Corp rep. But here he was. He still evoked a buzz of fascination along her nerves.

The man nodded to Aric, inclined his head at Jenni, lifted his hand to the Davails, but Kiri got the idea that he wasn’t local.

Finally, he reached her and he made a half bow that Kiri had only seen in movies and at Ren Faires. Never had one aimed at her in real life. “Lathyr Tricurrent,” he said with an accent she couldn’t place. His hand dipped into his pocket and came out with another blue-green card. He held it to her. She just stared at the pasteboard.

After a few seconds, she took it and tried a tiny experiment. She let go and it fell to the table. The card landed faceup and she saw his name and Eight Corp engraved on it in dark blue.

“I believe Jenni spoke to you about our new project.” Again that fluid accent.

Somehow, as she’d watched him move to her, in that short amount of time, she’d forgotten the first dozen questions she’d wanted to ask. She took a sip of her drink. “Jenni said it was a new game.”

“We are doing preliminary work and hope to market it before the winter holidays.”

“Ah.”

“Stage one is a prelude to the game and mostly developed.” She met his eyes and couldn’t seem to look away. They were deep blue, and his pupils dilated when he looked at her. He liked what he saw? That was nice and she felt heat crawl along her neck and up into her face. So stupid to stare, but she couldn’t stop it.

His eyes were so pretty, blue and misty, and there seemed to be even more of a depth that sucked her down and she heard the rushing of air in her ears and the humidity of the day was pressing against her so she felt droplets on her skin and her breath was caught in her chest and reality seemed to fade and gray fog edged her vision....

* * *

Lathyr glanced aside and Kiri panted, sucking air. Her shirt was sticking to her. So not sophisticated. Could she be any more lame?

“Have some water,” he said. His voice seemed to fade, then amplify in her ears. Ebb, flow.

Get a grip!

“Thanks,” she managed weakly, but she couldn’t seem to reach for the bottle. She looked up to see his long fingers twist off the top and set another plastic bottle of carbonated raspberry water into her curved fingers. Her hand trembled, tightened on the bottle, squirted water.

Damn! Now her cheeks were hot from embarrassment.

“Lathyr,” said Jenni Weavers with a scold in her tone, walking up to them.

“My apologies,” he said.

Kiri managed to get the bottle to her lips and gulp down her drink. Thankfully, she didn’t choke. Her brain felt fuzzy, as if there was stuff going on around her that she didn’t see. Maybe like she was stuck in a sepia dimension and everyone else was colors.

Yoga breaths—three, then another sip of water, blink and smile and think! She wanted to know more about the job. She wanted the job, the career, and to accomplish that, she had to impress the man.

Jenni had moved away, but left the guy a beer. He was running his index finger down one of the drips of condensation. His eyes met hers briefly and his pale lips curved in a smile that seemed genuine. “Sorry I disconcerted you.”

Was that what he’d done? Kiri didn’t know. She wiped her hand across her eyes and shook her head. “No problem.” Another deep breath. “I lost track of the conversation. You were telling me about the, uh, new game?”

“The game is called Transformation and has a preliminary stage, almost a tutorial, like a few other games in the past.” He gestured with his beer. “The individual is ‘tested’ to determine what area they begin the game in.”

“I’ve heard of that.” Vaguely...she couldn’t snag the detail, though.

“Yes, we have lands of rivers and volcanoes and aeries and caverns.”

“Hmm.” She pummeled her memory. “And there was an old game that measured...um...qualities? Like loyalty and honor and compassion?”

“That’s right.” Again the smile. “Though the prelude of the game has tests which will actually determine your powers and attributes. A...player...does not choose them ahead of time as is usual in most games now.”

“Interesting twist.” Her water went down better this time. Her breath was steady now. Whatever stupid moment she’d had before had passed.

His eyes narrowed, the color intense, though he didn’t meet her gaze. “We believe you are an excellent candidate.”

Kiri blinked. “Yes?”

“To test through the prologue. Anyone who will be working on the new game will need to go through and clear that part, so you know the basis of the world building.”

“That makes sense.”

He leaned over the table. She looked into his eyes again, then he cut his gaze away, seemed to scan the party and flicked his glance back to meet hers. “I believe that you have great potential for this...employment. Can you start on stage one, the prologue of the game on Monday?”

Her heart thudded hard. She wanted this opportunity to break into game writing so much! She tried to look casual and swallowed another gulp of water. “I can after work is over. I’m downtown—it wouldn’t take me more than a few minutes to make it to Eight Corp’s offices.”

Lathyr frowned, his fingers slid back and forth on the table. “I would like to offer you employment, but I can’t until you finish going through the preliminary stage of the game. We would, of course, prefer you to be at your best when you work with us. Naturally the person with the highest score—who develops their character to the highest level and with a minimal amount of defeats—will be offered the position first.”

He was right. She’d be better fresh instead of struggling with a new game after a tiring day of being on a computer and handling complaints.

“I overheard. We do need to move on this fast.” Jenni sat down beside Kiri. “Do you have any vacation time coming?”

Kiri gritted her teeth. How much did she want the job? How much did she believe in herself? Enough to use her full two weeks of vacation?

Yes.

Gamble, roll the dice and hope. “I can take a full two weeks, but beginning on...Thursday?” A quick glance at their faces. Lathyr seemed attentive, but Jenni had twisted in her seat at the sound of metal sliding on metal. Rafe Davail and some of the unknowns were fighting...with swords. People from the Fencing Lyceum, then.

“You can ride with me to work on Thursday, if you don’t mind getting in early and waiting while we set up,” Jenni said.

Her husband was there, shaking his head, looking at Jenni, not Kiri. “No. I’ll be taking you to work, Jenni.”

Lathyr made an abrupt sound, maybe a curse in his own language.

“Eight Corp will send a car for you,” Jenni said. “We’ll pay you for your time, though I know it’s not the same as having vacation days. I’ll let Lathyr here close the deal, tell you more.”

Another dismissal, this one distracted. “That would be good,” Kiri said.

* * *

Lathyr met Princess Jindesfarne’s eyes and inclined his head. The clouds and wind had only been a precursor. As Jenni moved away, he believed she’d be reporting to more powerful Lightfolk that minions of a great Dark one were flying over Mystic Circle.

He could feel the evil, see the gigantic stingray-like creatures as they circled and flickered against the sun. They couldn’t land, but they cast shadows that humans could uneasily sense.

It pleased his ego that the interesting Kiri Palger remained focused on him. He stood and offered his hand. “Why don’t we walk around the Circle?” This place was safe, but she was human and the others might want to use more magic that would disturb her. The park in the center of the Circle, the koi pond she liked, would be safer for her.

“You can ask me what you need to know about the project,” he coaxed. Not that he’d tell her much of the truth, but he wanted to touch her and gauge her potential for transforming into one of the Lightfolk, especially here in the Circle where magic was balanced.

The more time he spent with her, the more he liked her, though he’d made a mistake in holding her gaze. She was human and susceptible to his glamour. He wasn’t pure Waterfolk, but he was pure magic.

She stayed seated, looked around, then squared her shoulders, something he sensed showed determination. Gestures were different for the Merfolk underwater. If she’d been mer and in the ocean she’d have flipped a hand to send a push of water current aside, indicating power and the willingness to follow through. Both those qualities he thought she had, along with the most important two that he’d discovered humans needed to become Lightfolk—a flexible imagination and a high level of curiosity.

But as she didn’t rise, he deduced something held her here. “What is it?”

She flushed, a pretty habit, also not seen much below water where mers kept their body temperature steady and cool. The rush of blood to her skin was unexpectedly enticing. “I still haven’t met all of my neighbors, or interacted with them. I want to stay here.” Her fingers went to the buttoned ends of her shirtsleeves and aligned them some way that seemed right to her. “The job is really important to me, but so is my place here.”

He stared at her, blinked a couple of times to keep his eyes wet. If she turned into a dwarf or a djinn, even an elf—earth, fire, air elementals—she could possibly remain here. But if she became mer, she would have to move. What waters there were in Colorado were already claimed by naiads and naiaders.

What were the odds she’d become mer? He didn’t quite know. There had been less than twenty humans changed into magical Lightfolk and though he had recognized their potential, his guesses as to what they might become had been poor. So he dropped his hand and stepped away, disappointment cooling the blood in his veins.

Princess Jindesfarne, her husband, the Davails and several brownies had disappeared into unruly green brush in the corner of the yard and Lathyr sensed they were working magic. They didn’t seem to care that they had humans, including Kiri, in their midst, who might witness such.

A wave of balanced power pulsed under his feet, flowed through him, pushed into the sky. Princess Jindesfarne and friends sending the great Dark one’s servants away.

Sunlight became bright and hard and burning in the thin air.

Lathyr said to Kiri, “We can talk later. May we send the car for you early Thursday morning, so you and I can discuss this before the workday at seven-thirty? I will be in earlier for a meeting and we can talk after that.”

“You aren’t staying?” Kiri asked.

It was a warm autumn day and he hadn’t soaked for over twenty-four hours. His skin was drying and he also needed to breathe water and keep his bilungs damp. He’d accomplished his first goal of getting Kiri Palger to agree to the testing game, and evil had faded.

A line had appeared between her brows as she studied him—perhaps too closely. He shook his head. “I came in to Denver just a few days ago and still have not acclimated.”

Her expression cleared and she nodded. “Yes, people have trouble with the altitude.” She hesitated. “You aren’t living here on the block?”

“No, I am near—” what was the name of the park with the lake he was living in? “—near City Park.” Higher-status mers had convinced the old naiader whose lake it was to let Lathyr have a small domicile there. On sufferance, as always.

Kiri’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

He raised a brow. “Oh?”

“I just, uh, thought you’d live somewhere more sophisticated. Cherry Hills or something.”

“Eight Corp arranged my lodging. It is...sufficient.”

Now she appeared slightly offended. He tried a smile. “I am used to living near the beach.” Recently off the coast of Spain.

Kiri laughed. “Not many beaches in Denver.”

“No. I miss the ocean.” An admission he hadn’t meant to make, and not in public.

“Only natural.”

“Would you miss the mountains?” he asked.

Her smile was quick. “I suppose so. I was born here and spent time with my grandmother, and moved here four years ago, but I’d miss Mystic Circle even more.”

He nodded gravely. “It is a very special place.”

Rafe Davail, a human with a magical heritage, crossed to them with a swordsman’s swagger. “And Eight Corp doesn’t own nearly as many of the houses of Mystic Circle as it used to. I think it’s better that the homes remain in private hands.”

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.

The king’s tail flexed with muscular power; the magic that flowed from him actually cleared the water, giving more visibility. I am pleased that one of my subjects can contribute to this situation. That your power was augmented.

From the corner of his eyes, Lathyr saw the naiader twitch. That one didn’t believe the king’s last statement, either. But at least the royal merman wasn’t actively hostile.

The King flicked his fingers. You actually wish to live on land in that Castle? Water snorted from his nostrils. As if a few rooms and two turrets make a castle, a palace. Not even enough rooms for my own retinue let alone my lady’s or anyone else’s.

Keeping his head low, Lathyr said, Yes.

A massive shrug sent the water rippling. We royals come to this wretched place as needed. We have purchased a compound closer to Eight Corp’s headquarters and raised a mansion with four separate wings around a common hub. Cloudsylph has the half-breed Fire Princess balance the place as necessary, perhaps monthly. Another shrug. We prefer that place. The Castle in Mystic Circle will be used for guests only—it’s so small.

All the better, as far as Lathyr was concerned. He didn’t know the last time that the royals had stayed at Mystic Circle or visited, but it was clear to him that the neighborhood was a treasure. If they couldn’t appreciate it, too bad.

Then intensity replaced tedium in the king’s vibrations. I don’t want you anywhere near the Queen of Water, the king said.

Lathyr’s nictitating membrane flickered over his eyes as he blinked in surprise. He backswam a space.

I know you will have some contact with us eight royals, but do not come near my wife. You talk with her and you will find yourself more of a drifter than you are now, with no one offering you the hospitality of a stay space. The king grinned and dropped the illusion that his teeth were dull and humanlike. You may have to stay on land and in our weaker form forever.

Lathyr remained motionless in the water. Everyone knew the King of Water was a volatile man, did not care for fools, but did not react well to aggression. I am unaware that your queen knows of my existence.

She does not, and I wish to keep it that way.

Chapter 5

HEATING FROM THE inside in excitement, Lathyr strove to project calm, and subservience. There was a mystery here, but one he didn’t dare solve...not without powerful allies to stand behind him. I will strive to remain beneath your lady’s notice.

Good. The king’s nostrils showed frills as he unfolded them in a sneer at the place around them. His gaze went to the

naiader cowering near the bank and he nodded with royal condescension. We thank you for your service and will have gold nuggets brought to you.

A squeal of delight and vibrations of awed loyalty emanated from Lathyr’s host. Lathyr let himself sink into the silt of the lake, his head significantly below the king’s, who pivoted with a hand twist toward Lathyr. We will allow you to stay in the Castle at Mystic Circle, during this time you are associated with those other folk and humans.

Lathyr ducked his head, darkening his second eyelid so the king wouldn’t see that he still watched the royal man. My great thanks. But knowledge trickled through him. The king understood that Mystic Circle was balanced since Jenni had lived there for a decade and a half, but preferred pure water magic around him. Lathyr believed the merman hadn’t been often at Mystic Circle and experienced the difference, hadn’t spent much, if any, time at the Castle, owned by the Eight for over a decade. So he didn’t know the true boon he was granting.

Denver was not a place the merman would care to be—landlocked with no beaches for thousands of miles, high altitude instead of the deep ocean depths where the primary water palaces sat. The city was very dry. And like the king had indicated, surrounded by humans and land animals instead of ocean fish and mammals and a large society of other mers. The naiads and naiaders here would be mostly isolated.

So the king would not consider giving Lathyr leave to reside in the Castle much of a favor, if one at all, and would believe spending time human, on land, more like a trial than a pleasure.

Just a duty, my lord king. Lathyr attempted a casual note with an undertone of pain, of wanting to please and thus putting himself at a disadvantage for the king.

Since that aligned with the royal’s own ideas, the merman nodded. We have discussed reward for you.

Lathyr wanted to bring up his need for his own home, a small valley in the ocean, but kept his thoughts tight, unleaking. This royal could be fickle, best to continue to hide his own needs.

Again the king looked around and his lip curled. Some of my elder subjects, with a more scholarly bent, wish less responsibility.

Meaning they’d rather live in a palace than run an estate. Excitement pulsed through Lathyr in a burst he couldn’t control. Yes! A tiny domain, even under the royals’ scrutiny, would do.

Your reward will be commensurate with your success.

As decided by whom? The king? The entire Eight? Lathyr did a lowly swirl.

Someone will be by with a key to the Castle in Mystic Circle, where you can reside as long as Princess Emberdrake needs you. That was mocking. The king would not be able to conceive of taking orders from a Fire Princess, not to mention a half-human Lightfolk. Marin Greendepths had been born of a royal line, had moved into the position of King of Water long before Lathyr’s existence. The great mer paused. You will recall ALL that I instructed today?

A definite threat.

Of course, my liege, Lathyr said.

Schlllluuurrrppp. A column of mud and detritus swallowed the king and he vanished elsewhere.

Lathyr allowed himself a cough and swam fast out of the swirling mess. It would take days to settle. Somehow he’d make it up to the naiader who had offered him hospitality.

Lathyr would move to the Castle, a lovely idea. He had no doubt it would be a mansion fit for the Eight, luxurious, matching the palaces he’d served in as a child and now occasionally visited. That would be a pleasure, luxurious surroundings, a pool of water of his very own. Living in Mystic Circle would also be very good. Wouldn’t being there help him develop and stretch his magic? He hoped so.

Far from scorning the inhabitants of Mystic Circle, he was intrigued by them. Brownies would probably run the Castle; Princess Jindesfarne was friendly and interesting and easy to work with. What he’d seen of the Treeman, Aric Paramon Emberdrake, Lathyr liked.

Kiri Palger was enticing.

But what was important was that both Aric and Jenni worked closely with the King of Air and knew the other royals. And Lathyr might find out from them the answer to a new and urgent question. What was it about the Queen of Water that might affect him, the low-status Lathyr Tricurrent?

* * *

Kiri had stayed at the neighborhood party as long as she could manage. She’d made sure to talk with all her neighbors, and thought she was being accepted by them. Progress. She’d also conversed with some of Rafe Davail’s sparring buddies from the Denver Fencing Lyceum. Again thinking of her ass—and a better paycheck if she was hired on by Eight Corp—she toyed with the idea of taking fencing lessons.

Now, though, she lay in her sweats on her thin yoga mat, on her living room floor. Her feet were on the cushion of the comfy chair-and-a-half she’d found at a thrift store. New age music drifted around her, sank into her. She loved the tonal progression of this piece, even though it was supposed to balance her chakras. Maybe it did.

She was decompressing from the party.

That she didn’t get the job developing Pegasus Valley wasn’t as much of a disappointment as she’d imagined. No sulking there. She could be in on the launch of a new game as a writer! How cool was that? Très, très kewl.

She’d accomplished what she wanted—she’d met Jenni Weavers Emberdrake. The woman had impressed Kiri; she could only hope that she had done a bit of the same—and with Rafe and Amber Davail, too. She’d liked them, liked being in their company.

Her muscles relaxed. Her mind floated on the music and she noticed undertones she hadn’t heard before, the slow, quiet beat that sounded heartlike, the crackle of flames.... Kiri turned her head to her empty fireplace—nope, the music was not reality.

She rolled her neck back, delighting in the easing of knotted tension and shut her eyes. Yes, as a counterpoint to the fire there was the ebb and flow of surf...and the light whistle of wind.

Nice, very nice. She’d thought she’d known the music, but had never heard this before.

And in a few breaths sleep claimed her.

Then, nightmares, glassy and bright, trapped her. She heard a dome thunder down, clamp around a twisted Mystic Circle. She was stuck in the terrible landscape. Like a game world. Or a horrible snow globe.

Though Jenni’s backyard and the cul-de-sac looked the same, it had transmogrified into threat—now the clouds weren’t clouds but flickering black flying monsters, overshadowing. Huge things that would suck her soul from her body and leave her dead. Circling, circling, ready to dive when her terror was strong enough for them to taste.

Something pushed her. Hard invisible hands. More and more came at her, tiny but strong, beings she couldn’t see, couldn’t elude, pushing her from Jenni’s yard.... No sound from the nasty small ones...at first...then evil whistling giggles, laughing at her, knowing they could kill her...thrusting her south to the edge of the Circle...which fell away in a gigantic waterfall no one could survive. Crushed to death by water.

Her fingers dug into the earth, grabbing, trying to defeat the inevitable. Shards of rock jabbed under her nails. She screamed and screamed and nothing came from her mouth.

With a hiss, a fiery whip wrapped around her wrist. The giggles became long shrieks pitched at the very top of her hearing, spearing into her head. She’d stopped, but the fire ate through her skin and flesh searing down to the bone. Not saved...just dragged north to the Castle, five times its normal size, not brown brick but black stones, slick with dripping blood. Something waited there to feast on the rest of her.

The monsters in the sky dove.

Sharp beaks pierced her, ripped. A huge clawed birdlike foot grabbed her around the waist, puncturing internal organs. Hideous pain, then they flew through the Castle walls and she was dropped onto a hard stone floor inscribed with a magical pattern. A hooded figure sat on a throne above her. She knew she’d been captured and was trapped until torture brought forth every bit of information she had. And she didn’t even know why.

Lightning stormed around her, the walls of the Castle disappeared and she floated in an electric universe that transformed from lightning to brilliant fireball stars....

Kiri’s feet thunked from chair to ground and she quivered, not enough muscle control to even curl up into a ball and hide.

Whoa. Really intense scary nightmare. All from her anxieties about meeting her neighbors and fitting in and the wrenching hurt earlier of not getting the job and the excitement of being a writer on a new game and maybe a teensy fear of failure. The threat of using all her vacation time for an entire year and then washing out of the effing game prologue, having to stick with her present job with no relief.

Her breathing sounded loud and harsh, the house too quiet. Something she didn’t often notice or mind, the memories of her parents’ loud and ugly fights still echoed from her childhood so that a quiet house meant peace.

How long had she been out? She couldn’t see the clock, her arms and legs jerked once as she tried to move, then she rolled over. The cheap wall clock from the dollar store showed that her dream couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes. Though it had seemed like infinity stretching to doom.

She rocked to her feet and passed her computer and the game with no more than a glance, almost shuddering. Even if she entered Fairies and Dragons and defeated monsters there, it might spark more dreams or nightmares that night. She didn’t want to chance that.

A little scritch at the uncovered window made her jump and whirl. She thought she saw a thing, a little brown triangular-eared rat thing, peering in at her with big round eyes.

She sat down hard on the floor and noted the computer hum. It clicked and she flinched. Soothing music wafted out, the album repeating. Maybe her chakras had been overbalanced.

Rising slowly, she looked at the bay window. Nothing there, of course, no scratches on the glass, of course.

A pounding at her front door had her breath trapped in her chest and her body reflexively surging forward.

“Kiri! Kiri!” shouted her friend Shannon from beyond the door.

Kiri looked wildly around the place. Since there was only the chair and two small tables in the living room and she’d mopped and dusted that morning, the room was clean. She glanced down at her sweats. You could barely see the hot chocolate stains against the black fabric, and Shannon and Averill—Shannon’s husband who was probably with her—wouldn’t care.

Rushing to the door, she threw it open. “What is it? Is something wrong—” But Shannon’s beatific smile stopped that sentence.

Shannon flung her arms around Kiri in a tight hug, they rocked and Shannon snuffled. “I have news. Good news!”

Kiri returned the hug. “Fabulous, come in.”

With only a little geek-gawkiness, Shannon pranced in. She was a tall, skinny woman with a pale complexion that showed light freckles. Her carroty hair sprang out from her head in a thick mat and her smile made her cheeks high and round.

Kiri gestured to the big chair and unfolded a camp seat. Shannon’s joy washed over her and she grinned back at her friend. “Tell all.”

Settling into the chair with a quick butt wiggle, Shannon beamed. “I’m pregnant. Averill and I are having a baby.”

Air whisked around in Kiri’s mouth and she understood it had fallen wide open. “Wow.” Her wits scrambled. “I didn’t even know you guys were hoping for a baby.”

Shannon flushed red. “It was an accident, but we’re thrilled.”

Kiri swallowed. “That’s fabulous,” she enthused. Meanwhile her thoughts spurted in a thousand directions, like brain synapses misfiring. Shannon was her oldest and best friend and if Kiri knew anything it was that their relationship had just changed irrevocably. Shannon would be focused on Averill and the baby, rightfully so, but Kiri felt a little cold.

Then she felt a lot cold and the open door creaked. Kiri hurried to shut it. “Wow,” she said again.

“We’re so happy!”

“That’s absolutely great!” Kiri went over and hugged her friend. “I have milk for the coffee to celebrate!”

Shannon laughed. “Thanks. No more caffeine for me for the duration, but could I have some herbal tea?”

“You got it.” Kiri went to the kitchen and filled a glass measuring cup with water. She set it in the microwave, rooted in her tea drawer and found chamomile. That was supposed to be good, right? Soothing? She shrugged. The box said it was caffeine free. She plunked a bag in a mug. “How are you feeling?”

“Fabulous.” Shannon hopped up and whirled around then strode to Kiri and hugged her again. “Revved.”

“Great,” Kiri repeated. She couldn’t scrape up different words. “I’m happy for you.” That she could say with full sincerity.

“Averill and I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“That’s so nice. Thanks.”

“And I wanted to tell you myself, so Averill is getting us drinks down at the Sensitive New Age Bean. You know how restless he is,” Shannon ended fondly.

The microwave dinged. “You sure you want the tea?” Kiri asked.

“Yeah, I do. He’ll probably bring me chai. He can never remember that I hate chai.” Shannon tsked. Kiri poured water on the tea bag, handed the mug on a saucer to Shannon.

Shannon sank back into the chair. “We’ve just been to a birth center and have already gotten masses of information. They are so nice there and we met other soon-to-be parents, too.” Dimples showed in Shannon’s cheeks as she blew on the tea water, then sipped. Her glance slid away.

Kiri made herself smile as she took the camp seat. “Sounds awesome, though I think you have a ‘but’ for me?” Another “but” that would send her life in a different direction today. She glanced at the clock. It was 7:40 p.m. and getting dark, so there shouldn’t be too many other strange things coming up.

Shannon said, “Our first set of parenting classes are on Friday nights, so I can’t—”

“—play Fairies and Dragons with me.” Again Kiri deliberately put oomph in her smile. “Do you want to change nights?” she asked lightly, sure she already knew the answer, but hoping she’d still have good connections with her best friend.

“Oh. Of course. We’re working on our scheduling, but I think Tuesdays would be good.”

Kiri’s breath released on a “Whew,” and her smile turned completely genuine.

“Gotta have some amusement, right?” Shannon said.

“Right.”

Shannon patted her stomach. “And little geek here is growing up in a wired household so she-he should get used to it.”

Kiri laughed, but figured there’d be plenty of missed nights due to baby and parenting stuff.

Shannon drew in a large breath. “Averill and I are going to get a new house. Our place is too small for us and a baby and I’ll need something closer to work.”

“So you’re moving way south in the city.” That hurt. They were just within walking distance.

“Yeah.”

Kiri raised her brows. “Sounds like you’re going to be really busy.”

“Yes. A good kind of busy.”

“Of course.”

Shannon put the mug down on the tiny scarred table by the chair that Kiri had also bought at the thrift store, leaned forward and grasped Kiri’s hands. “You’re still my closest friend.”

Leaning forward herself, Kiri kissed Shannon on the cheek. “For now.” She swallowed her tears.

Chapter 6

“WE’VE HAD TO budget brunch in for twice a month instead of weekly,” Shannon said.

“Fine. That’ll be good to keep up.” Kiri felt the friendship slippery in her grasp.

Shannon’s slightly protuberant blue eyes gleamed with excitement. “Now tell me how it went with Jenni Weavers. Is she amazing?”

“Very. And really smart.”

Shannon squeezed Kiri’s hands. “And you got the job!”

“Not exactly.”

“An interview for the job?” Shannon pressed.

Kiri wet her lips. “No. The story lines for Pegasus Valley weren’t what they wanted.”

Shannon frowned, her eyes firing, and her hands clamped down on Kiri’s. “They don’t deserve you, then.”

“But,” Kiri ladened the word with meaning.

“But?” Shannon perked up, tilted her head.

“They want me to work on a brand-new game.”

“Yay, Kiri!” Shannon hopped to her feet and swung around and Kiri whirled with her. “Go, Kiri!”

“Go, Shannon and baby!”

When they were both out of breath, Shannon collapsed into the chair again and slurped her tea.

“It’s not completely set,” Kiri said. “They have a pregame prologue that they want me to clear, see how I do in the game and, um, handle the world-building, I guess.”

Shannon nodded. “You can do it.”

Kiri’s lips thinned. “I can. I will.”

Shannon studied Kiri for a minute, brows dipping. “Is this new job in Denver?”

Kiri blinked in surprise. “I didn’t think to ask, but Jenni Weavers Emberdrake is here and so is the corporation that runs the game. S’pose so.”

“Okay, you’ll let me know how it goes?”

“Of course,” Kiri said, but figured Shannon soon would be more occupied with the reality of new life in her body than Kiri’s triumphs in game-land. Watching Shannon find new friends, turn down a new path away from Kiri was going to be hard.

A scuffing kick came at the door. Averill with his hands full, no doubt. Kiri jumped up to let him in.

He was a tall man, as skinny as his wife, with a gorgeous caramel complexion and a thatch of thick, straight black hair. His grin was as infectious as Shannon’s. “Hey, Kiri.”

She stood tiptoe to kiss his lower jaw. “Hey yourself, Averill. Congratulations!” She took the tray that held three large drinks from him.

“I got you and me a mocha steamer,” he informed Kiri, and sent a tender look at Shannon. “And you some herbal chai.”

“Thanks,” Shannon said. She still smiled, but when Averill turned to close the door she rolled her eyes at Kiri. “Kiri met Jenni Weavers and is in line for a new job.”

“Most excellent. For the development of Pegasus Valley in Fairies and Dragons?” Averill grabbed a folding chair propped against a wall, put the seat down and sat, jiggling ankle across knee.

“Nope,” Kiri said. His obvious happiness, combined with Shannon’s, soothed Kiri. Life was change, after all, and she was pushing at her own changes as much as she could. “Brand-new game with a prologue that determines character attributes instead of choosing your own.”

Averill snorted into his cup. “Huh, might cut down on those who prefer close-in fighting, melee, rushing in and striking with sword or fist.” He cocked an eyebrow at his wife, who only lifted her chin and gave a little sniff. Shannon’s preferred character had stinger fingertips at the end of deadly hands.

Turning back toward Kiri, he asked, “Looks like you can get out of IT and on to a career track that suits you better? More creative?” Of the pair, he was the web designer.

“Looks like,” Kiri said.

He nodded. “Good for you.”

Then Kiri turned the talk from Eight Corp to house hunting and babies and they spent the next half hour talking before Averill stood, then pulled Shannon to her feet. “Come on. Early to bed. Since we visited so much now, shall we cancel brunch tomorrow morning?”

“Sure,” Kiri agreed.

Averill wrapped her in a strong hug. “Later.”

“Bye,” she said and hugged Shannon, and then all three of them rocked together. That was one of the best parts of Sunday brunch, the hugs.

“Keep in touch,” Kiri said, kissing Shannon’s cheek.

“I will,” she said.

But when they walked out of the door, Kiri knew things would never be the same.

She plunked down in the chair and the pillow released the slight fragrance of Shannon’s perfume, the scent she’d used since Kiri had bought her the first bottle as a birthday gift in college.

Kiri swallowed, beat back tears and allowed herself a three-minute sulk. No children in sight for her. Crap, not even a man. Visuals of the Mystic Circle couples rotated in a slide show before her mind’s eye—Jenni and Aric, Rafe and Amber, Dan and Frank. All seemed very happy.

Why was she brooding about this, for heaven’s sake? She’d decided to concentrate on her career, get to a place where she was happy there, before she started looking for a guy. Or before she expected to find the right guy looking for her.

That’s what she wanted, a good, solid career, not to depend on a man to support her, like her mother. Kiri had had acceptable jobs, but now she wished to pursue her passion and get paid for it. Husband and family would come later. She thought of Lathyr, but if there was a less-likely man to have a family, she didn’t know one. He’d seemed solitary, and liking it that way.

Her sulk time was over so she stood and stretched and cleaned up the cup, saucer and tea bag that Shannon had used, poured the untouched chai down the drain and tossed her own and Averill’s empty cups in the trash. So much for domestic chores.

The sky held streaky clouds tinted with gold and pink sunset colors. A good walk would shake off the cobweb grims. Not too long before snow would fly and the nights would be too frigid for saunters around the Circle.

Sticking her keys and key card in her pockets, she headed out and went directly to the koi pond, since she hadn’t really watched them today. A half hour of observing the fish and the sunset let her inner calm well through her. She rose to leave and saw lights on in the Castle.

* * *

Kiri’s heart bumped with excitement. For the first time, the iron gate at the bottom of the stairs of the Castle was open. She angled out of the park and back onto the walk in front of Dan and Frank’s house. As she jogged, twilight became night. The Castle’s front door was open, too. Soft yellow light washed out around Lathyr Tricurrent’s shadowy form.

And on the steps were people—Jenni and Aric, Rafe and Amber. Rustling came from the heavy plantings of bushes and Kiri thought she saw darting shadows. Cats? Didn’t seem to move like cats. She shivered again.

Amber and Jenni held food dishes in their hands. Dammit, Kiri didn’t have any food offering. Her cleaner-than-new brownie pan was back on the kitchen counter.

She did have boundless curiosity. She hesitated in going forward, just craned to see. She told herself that she hung back because she’d had enough of people today—and heaven knew that she’d been watching every minute of her behavior, very self-conscious earlier at the neighborhood party. But the truth was, the foursome had a friendly intimacy that she both yearned for, but thought she’d break up if she joined them. She wasn’t an insider yet.

“They’re opening up the Castle?” Amber Davail asked.

Jenni Emberdrake smiled at her with teeth that seemed to flash. “Lathyr Tricurrent got permission to move in.” Her dark brows dipped and her chin jutted. “Eight Corp informed us that this will be strictly a guesthouse from now on.”

“Oh, that’s such a pity,” Amber said.

Rafe Davail snorted. “Jerks.”

A corner of Jenni’s mouth lifted. “Yes. We’d been hoping for a permanent resident—”

“It is best that none of the...officers...of Eight Corp decide to live here,” Aric said in his deep voice, curving his fingers around Jenni’s shoulder. He nudged her up the steps. Amber and Rafe had already gone inside.

“Very true,” Jenni said.

At the door, Lathyr seemed to glance Kiri’s way, but said nothing, then Aric asked a question and Lathyr faded back, bowed to his guests and closed the door.

Wind tugged on Kiri’s sweatpants like tiny hands and she shuddered. Too damn imaginative the past couple of days.

Loneliness wrapped around her like the night, echoing that vague wish for a man, a life partner. Someone sort of like Averill, in the computer industry, who wouldn’t think she was wasting her life writing games as her parents and most of the other people Kiri knew believed. Not much respect from them.

She trotted faster. Like her current job of dealing with irate people and their problems was fulfilling! Maybe for some, but Kiri wanted to tell stories illustrated by graphics, let people fall into worlds and play. Entertaining people, giving them an outlet for frustration or boredom or a place away from the troubles and despair of real life was important, too. And that was what was fulfilling to Kiri. Why, she could even consider herself in the mental health field. Heaven knew she’d taken enough mental health breaks where she’d played Fairies and Dragons to rid herself of the insanity of working inside a structured and office-politics company.

She wondered how different Eight Corp was.

Again, she shivered. Yes, summer was truly gone and autumn would come soon and bring snow. She hurried home.

* * *

Lathyr had gritted his teeth at the knock on the door, sensing beyond it stood Princess Jindesfarne, her husband and the humans-with-magic couple. He should have expected this, but he hadn’t. He had only arrived a few minutes ago.

And when he opened the door, they stood there, discussing him and the Castle, rudely. He blinked. They held food in their hands—a human custom he hadn’t anticipated.

A slight wave of a more sensual feeling hit him, and he realized that Kiri stood in the shadows of the street, watching. As he had watched her the night before.

“You gonna stand there blocking the door or let us in, man?” asked Rafe Davail, the human with strong magic. Underwater, that would have ruffled the fine fins on Lathyr’s arms and along his spine. In human form, the hair on the back of his nape rose a little in challenge.

It had been too long since he’d dueled in human shape to match with Davail now. And Lathyr wanted to be accepted here.

“Welcome to Mystic Circle!” Rafe’s wife, Amber, said cheerfully, holding up a covered dish of salmon and rice that wafted to Lathyr’s nostrils. His mouth watered, and he liked how she elbowed her husband in the side.

So he smiled and stepped back, bowing.

The mansion—the Water King was right, the house wasn’t large, only four bedroom suites and eight bedrooms—was furnished like any royal palace, with the best Lightfolk and human items money could buy. But what was more important was that the balanced energy was exquisite, sliding along Lathyr’s skin and slipping through his veins carried by his water nature.

He welcomed the Emberdrakes and the Davails and they toured the Castle together since none of them had been in it before.

That didn’t stop Rafe Davail from being cocky...and Lathyr noted the man kept himself between Lathyr and his wife, and not altogether automatically like a fighter would. As if the human sensed some threat from Lathyr. Lips curling, Lathyr didn’t reassure Rafe that only Kiri Palger interested him.

Amber Davail’s magic was too developed for her to become pure Lightfolk, and too elven.

Rafe fingered some of the Lightfolk silk tapestries and slid his hand across the fine leather of the couch in the living room. The person who was least impressed seemed to be Amber Davail—a woman Lathyr gauged was more interested in people than objects.

Aric Paramon Emberdrake, Jenni’s husband, had lived with the royals often enough in their palaces to recognize and accept the quality, and Jenni, as a previously sneered at half-breed, seemed the most struck.

The glass conservatory held a good-sized swimming pool set in a floor of colorful hand-painted Italian tiles. The water was turquoise and Lathyr’s nose twitched at the Merfolk scents in the water. Large potted trees and flowering plants rimmed the windows.

“Fabulous,” Amber enthused.

“Nice,” Jenni, the quarter-air, quarter-fire Lightfolk said politely, staying at the doorway.

“Don’t think I’ve seen a merman in mer shape,” Rafe hinted.

“We have three solid shapes,” Lathyr said, then turned to find the source of water he sensed in the basement.

Underground was made especially to be comfortable for Earthfolk—with warm stone floors, thick rugs and wood-paneled walls, large pillows on the floor. But down a hall, Lathyr looked through a large porthole to a room holding a seawater reservoir, a full submersion chamber for mers. He grinned and rubbed his hands. “Wonderful.”

“I suppose,” Jenni said doubtfully.

Instead of taking one of the bedrooms resonating with royal energy, Lathyr had chosen a small room on the first floor near the conservatory, meant for a servant. The others looked at him askance, and when Rafe opened his mouth again to comment Amber elbowed him, and no one said anything.

Lathyr was very aware of always living on sufferance.

The couples stayed only long enough for the tour and a drink afterward—Rafe, Jenni and Aric drank dwarven beer, and Amber some mead.

Amber hugged him before they left. Aric and Rafe—and Jenni to a lesser degree—remained slightly formal, not quite trusting him.

Lathyr sighed as he stood at the front door and watched the couples walk arms-around-waists back to their homes. He liked them all, even Rafe, and hoped he could earn their trust during this project. They’d make good friends.

Leaning against the wide doorjamb, he strained to see Kiri’s house at the end of the street, nearly opposite the Castle. Not much was visible through the trees of the center park since like the other bungalow, it was only one story. But, there was a light from what he believed to be a back bedroom.

He’d hoped she was coming to greet and welcome him to Mystic Circle, too. She hadn’t, and he’d been more disappointed than the small slight warranted.

One thing he had determined that day, he was definitely attracted to her. It had been a long time, since his adolescence, that he’d wanted to have sex with a human woman. Perhaps it was because he sensed the inherent potential in her to become Lightfolk...but he hadn’t been drawn to the other women and men he’d seen transformed.

Should he phone her? He had her application, with telephone numbers, on his personal computer tablet, but he wanted her to be aware of him, wanted her to come to him. However, he’d inadvertently used glamour on her earlier that day; the Emberdrakes wouldn’t forget that.

So he dragged in a breath that brought him the scent of leaves ready to turn in the autumn, losing their water flexibility and becoming dry and brittle, as well as the fragrance of the pond and the koi within, stupid and not good to eat. Considered beautiful by humans—and Kiri seemed to believe that—but compared to ocean creatures, the koi were ugly and clumsy. Most of all, the scent of balanced magic curled into his nostrils, layering on the folded frills.

He felt that balanced magic in the soles of his feet, and Jenni, as she’d trailed through the rooms, had balanced the magic in them. She’d ventured into each of the royal rooms and made the fire suite all of that element, then changed the energy of each of the others to match.

Wondrous.

But he was still landlocked, still had to live in his human form, even in this very special place. And the Castle wasn’t his. He stayed here at the whim of the Eight, or the Water King.

He closed the wooden door with a thunk, walked through the entryway, then up to the top of the four-story small tower. From here he could see all of the Circle, each house with bright squares of living.

He was alone. Occasionally, he was allowed to stay in a secondary home by himself—the last perched like a carbuncle on the shelf of a deep marine trench. It had been smaller than this, and cold. But usually he was a “houseguest” of some other person or family. His own family was gone—his father, who’d been the last of his line, was dead; his mother had listened to her relatives and abandoned him soon after he was born. He shook off the memory.

Luxurious to have a home of such quality to himself. It felt good, but he wouldn’t forget that he had no permanent place, no family. That was his goal, something he could win with the success of this project.

The quiet in the mansion hummed with magic to his ears, and pleased him. No intolerant naiader begrudged him here, a relief. Even as he enjoyed the peace of being by himself in a special place, he knew he’d eventually become lonely.

He wished Kiri was here to share the serenity...and make memories.

* * *

By the time Thursday morning rolled around, Kiri and her friend Shannon had spent a couple of cherished hours on the phone speculating about details of the new game, Transformation. They’d agreed that it would probably be another fantasy-world with the magic-based systems that Jenni Weavers Emberdrake was known for.

Both Kiri and Shannon had decided that having the game determine your character—strengths, weaknesses, types like magic user or long-distance shooter—sounded extremely dubious from a marketing standpoint. Good for novelty, but there’d better be an option for character creation. Kiri hoped she had the guts to give that opinion...but at the end of the trial, not now.

She hadn’t slept much and got up when predawn light filtered into her bedroom, still undecided about what she would wear. In the game she was a fashionista—and perfectly proportioned. In the real world, her breasts and hips were full, she was short-waisted and short-legged and if she didn’t watch it, she’d be plump.

Definitely not a business suit and stockings, even though she was meeting Lathyr in a downtown Denver high-rise, and there might be other people there to interview her, too. If she knew Jenni Weavers Emberdrake a little better, she’d have called the other woman and asked for advice, but Kiri still considered Jenni as one of the people who’d be watching her.

What mattered was the game—handling herself. Her shoulders had lifted with tension and her shoulder blades had squeezed together. Learning a new game was just like learning anything else—a new craft, a new job. There was a curve. Kiri wanted to be at the top of the curve. But she had no doubt that though she might spend most of her time in the game today, appearance mattered.

She’d already worn her beige outfit to the block party. Maybe it was time for businesslike black. She dragged out black slacks and a pale gray, thin cashmere sweater, then put the sweater back. The Eight Corp offices were probably warm and she’d probably sweat during the game—no doubt in her mind that adrenaline would spike through her a few times—and she didn’t want to mess up her cashmere, no matter how comforting it might feel.

Ditch the whole professional business bit and go for what she was: computer tech and gamer. She put on a Fairies and Dragon tee, covered it with a plum-colored hoodie and wore her best cargo pants. Done. She would not dress up for Lathyr.

Breakfast was half an English muffin with cream cheese and coffee.

She perched on the edge of her living room chair until the car taking her downtown beeped out in front, and her stomach gave a little squeeze.

Whatever happened, her life would never be the same....

Chapter 7

HALF AN HOUR later, she was the only one in the elevator rising to Eight Corp’s floor, although the huge lobby of the building had bustled with other people. She adjusted her hoodie and her workbag—this one a pristine bright red Fairies and Dragons carryall—over her shoulder, and did a few deep breaths as she watched the floor numbers light.

The door opened and she was met by Jenni and Lathyr. Jenni wore casual, too, but Lathyr had on a pale gray silk suit.

No one sat at the receptionist’s desk—odd, because Kiri had only worked places where the receptionist had the earliest hours. With her first step, Kiri’s feet literally sank into a deep green rug. She got the impression of elegant luxury before Jenni held out both her hands with a big smile. “Glad to see you again.”

Once more, the woman’s hands were warmer than her own. Damn nerves. “Yes. I’m excited.”

“We are, too.” Jenni beamed.

Lathyr offered his own hand, and Kiri shook it, ignoring how nice it felt. Firm grip, meet his eyes—gorgeous deep blue. Breathe, because the initial greeting went okay.

“A pleasure,” Lathyr said.

“For me, too,” Kiri said.

Jenni turned and moved around a huge freestanding wall of granite. “Let’s head to the room where the game server is set up.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Kiri said.

“Do you want something to drink?” asked Lathyr.

Coffee would tweak her nerves even more. “Water would be great.”

He peeled off and Kiri followed Jenni down the hall to an interior room. It was painted an uninspired beige and was longer than it was wide. To Kiri’s surprise, an actual wooden counter polished to a gloss ran along the wall as a desk setup. Atop the counter, four huge monitors sat. The most comfortable of ergonomic chairs—smelling of new plastic and metal—were placed before the monitors. Several different types of game controllers waited on a floating platform a little lower than the desk under each monitor. All top-of-the-line electronics.

“Wow, nice setup,” she said.

“Thanks.” Jenni went to the last chair on the left, sat and swiveled toward Kiri.

But Kiri’s stare had fixed on several sets of gloves that appeared to have filaments embedded in them, and four wraparound visors.

“As you can see,” Jenni said easily, “we’re experimenting a bit with virtual reality, also. Put on the visor and you’ll feel as if you’re really in the game. Wear the gloves and your gestures will be translated as powers. For instance, if you want to throw a fireball—”

“I’ll really act as if I’m throwing a ball.”

“That’s right.”

“Hmm.” Kiri stayed where she was.

“We’d like you to wear the gloves and visor.”

“This isn’t monitoring my vitals, is it?”

The line between Jenni’s eyes cleared. “No. Absolutely not. The gloves and the visor are simply to immerse you in a deeper gaming experience.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I have your water,” Lathyr said from behind her.

So Kiri sidled into the room, stood near the third chair. The man offered her a large bottle of fizzy water—the same brand of raspberry that she’d chosen at the block party, and somehow she didn’t think that was by chance. “Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome.” He did a torso incline thing, then closed the door and the room felt pretty small. Reaching out, he took a pair of large teal gloves and slipped them on, raising a brow at Kiri as he did so. He held a visor by the slim end and twirled it in his fingers.

“I, um, am pretty simple in my gaming,” Kiri said. “Monitor, keyboard, mouse.”

“Please,” Jenni said, gesturing to the gloves and visors. She donned some red ones with gold “embroidery” of fiber optic filaments or something. Kiri narrowed her eyes, then blinked. It looked like the pattern might be almost a mathematical algorithm—or, in a different game, a spell—and the design lit up.

“I thought we were going to have another interview?” Kiri said weakly, looking at Lathyr.

“That’s so stuffy,” Jenni said.

It was stuffy.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jenni.

Kiri grimaced. “The gloves and visor might interfere with my play.” She swallowed. “I really don’t want to screw this up.” It meant too much to her.

Lathyr set the visor down and stripped off the gloves. He held out both hands. “I am a good judge of energy. I am sure I can reassure you that you belong here. Please?”

Kiri stared, cut her eyes to Jenni, questioning this new age stuff. The woman looked bland, so Kiri shrugged and put her hands in his. Yes, tingles, for sure. And the texture of his palms and his fingers was so smooth, but there was strength in those hands. Nice.

“Pregame visualization exercise,” Jenni said. “Close your eyes and visualize—ah—the Fairy Dome in Fairies and Dragons.”

Kiri shot her a glance. “You take the game very seriously.”

“Well, of course. It’s my livelihood. An attitude I expect from you.”

Kiri closed her eyes, recalled the Fairy Dome, tried to bring it into focus. She’d always sucked at visualization except right before and right after she slept.

She became all too aware of Lathyr, his hands, the closeness of his body to hers, as if energy cycled between them. Scents came to her nose, a hot and spicy smell, a fresh odor reminding her of the ocean—Lathyr’s aftershave? Eyes shut, she felt the atmosphere in the room...fancifully enough, she thought that Jenni’s and Lathyr’s energy clashed, did not mix well. Kiri realized her breathing matched Lathyr’s, slow and deep. Her ears strained...trying to hear the hum of the computers...no, she was too used to her barely up-to-date equipment at work. Not the tiniest buzz of fans, but she was right, the room was warm and getting warmer. In fact, the tingles within her seemed to also press against her skin, as if she were immersed in fizzy water. Fun, energizing. She stifled a giggle.

Lathyr released her hands and stepped back. Her eyelids flew open and she smiled at him, only to see he’d moved and was leaning over Jenni, speaking quietly. He glanced up at her, nodded, then said, “You will do well.”

When he returned to talking to Jenni, all Kiri’s doubts swarmed back, despite his assurance. Jenni had indicated that it was Lathyr who had decided—or would decide—whether Kiri was a good fit, hadn’t she? She wished they’d done this earlier and in a conference room or something, not where she was supposed to work.

Stiffly, Kiri walked over to the long desk, noted that the edge wasn’t squared off, but rounded, lovely. Scanning the gloves—twelve pairs in various sizes and colors—she went with impulse and chose a pair of pretty pale green ones that looked to be her size. She pulled them on—they felt like the finest chamois, and again her hands tingled. The metallic silver embroidery glittered, nearly seemed to spark. Wow. She chose a visor she thought would fit, but didn’t put it on. And she sat in the chair, turned on the monitor.

A rainbow-colored word appeared in flowing pastel script. Transformation! Frowning, tugging on the wrists of her gloves, she looked over at Lathyr and Jenni, who watched her.

“Yes?” asked Jenni. Kiri thought the woman hid a smile. Maybe that should relieve her, but it didn’t much.

“I’ve heard there are some biofeedback games out there,” Kiri said. She flexed her fingers; the gloves clung, almost massaged her hands. Felt good, but she’d definitely miss a keyboard. Obviously, she wasn’t as flexible as she’d thought. Not a good thing to consider when she was on the job interview of her life. Not when she wanted to be on the cutting edge of the gaming world.

“Yes,” Jenni said. “I’ve heard of those games, too, even tried them. But, I promise you, the gloves are not recording any information. They are for virtual reality purposes only.”

“I don’t see the connectivity to the computer system.”

“Optical,” Jenni said promptly.

Lathyr walked toward her and put his gloves on again—they weren’t the same texture, more like thin silk. Jenni’s were velvet. He said, “I assure you, Ms. Palger, that you are a prime candidate for this job.”

All the repetition brought relief. “I do want the job.”

Jenni’s brows rose. “Let’s go then.” She waved and the other monitors blinked on, along with the cheerful cheep of keyboards, game pads and mice coming online.

Kiri stared. “Wow, your gloves really work.”

“Like magic.” Jenni laughed. “Ready?”

Kiri put her visor on, nothing odd happened. What had she expected, tentacles slipping into her brain? No, don’t think that.

“Is everything...okay?” asked Lathyr.

“Fine,” Kiri said, though she felt a little stupid with the gloves and visor on. She didn’t think most casual gamers would want to wear the accessories unless the immersive factor was really amazing. But she sure wouldn’t say that yet. Not when she was at the starting post, ready to surge forward and hit the game running.

No. That might not work with this game. Not all were fast; some that mimicked real life were deadly slow in her opinion. An alternative to real life, just trying to make it better with a choice of mate and children...no, that reminded her of Shannon, and Kiri’s thoughts were too scattered!

She had to focus, to be primed.

“Ready?” Lathyr asked.

“Ready.”

Light engulfed her vision. Transformation! Brought to you by Eight Corp! The words vanished in an explosion of yellow and Kiri dropped into the game.

She stood atop a low hill, breathing in summer air and looking down on a carpet of many-colored wildflowers. She could almost believe wind lifted her hair from her neck. She touched her hair, held it before her face. Looked exactly like her own hair. She wasn’t wearing gloves, and her hands appeared to be her own, too, with the glittery tint she’d put on her nails.

She was there. No visor narrowed her vision.

“Wow.” She reached out for the water bottle on the counter beside her in real life. Nothing happened but her arm slicing thin air. “Wow,” she repeated. “This really is full immersion.”

“This is the opening sequence,” Lathyr said. He stood beside her, dressed as he had been in real life—European-cut suit, pale blue shirt, no tie.

He swept an arm around in an expansive gesture, and turned in place. Kiri did, too.

“As you can see, there are four realms in Transformation.” His smile crinkled his eyes and Kiri thought it was the first carefree one she’d seen from him. Was he easier in a game setup, too? “Since many things in the game are complex, such as the virtual reality...hardware...” Now he waved a hand and Kiri thought she saw the outline of a sparkling glove. “We are keeping the magic portion of the game fairly simple. Each realm corresponds to an ancient element—water, air, earth, fire.”

“Ah.” From the hill, the realms were vivid quarters of a round pie and looked different and colorful. Excitement and just plain fun began to seep into her—why had she balked, this looked so kewl? She flexed her fingers and tiny sparkles rose from her hands in spirals. Oh, yes, cool! She did a little rock in place, a little butt shimmy, and tried another wave. Her mouth dropped open as small butterflies rose from her fingertips. Her laugh got stuck in her throat and came out a low chuckle. “I love these gloves!”

“Good to hear,” Jenni’s smug voice came, vibrating through the band of Kiri’s visor over her ears.

“Examine the realms,” Lathyr said. “This is the only time you will be on this hill and have this panoramic view. Your time here—our time here—is limited.”

That thunked Kiri’s heels back down to the ground. Had she actually been dancing? Yeah. And this wasn’t just a new game to love and hate and be exasperated with and prize and master. This was a realm she’d help create and refine. Write for the enjoyment and entertainment of others. This was the job, the career she wanted.

The realms showed bright colors of cartoonish intensity—one was mostly green. Green, green hills, an equally verdant ridge with a wooden door in it. Towering mountains looking a lot like the front range of the Colorado Rockies rose behind the lush hills. “Earth Realm,” Kiri gestured and more butterflies streamed from her fingers down the hill toward the Earth Realm.

“Each realm has a major race and a minor race—the Earth Realm has dwarves and brownies.” A note in Lathyr’s voice had her turning her head and she caught him eyeing her—her figure? her stature?—before a bland expression covered his face.

Green and brown earth was in front of her on the left when she’d arrived. To her right appeared a blue-and-green realm with a spring becoming stream, widening to a river, flowing to lake and beach and ocean. Easy to figure that out, “Water Realm?”

“Yes. Mers—mermen and merfems—are the major race who usually live in the ocean. Naiads and naiaders of ponds and lakes and streams are the minor folk. Most Waterfolk are the size of humans.”

Kiri had bent down to sniff at the grass—something smelled fabulous—and how could she smell in the game? She didn’t know, but the scent went to her head, spiraled through her body.

Think! She straightened slowly. “So dwarves and brownies aren’t our size?”

“Dwarves are shorter and stockier than humans, perhaps the tallest is four feet tall. Brownies are even smaller.”

“Uh-huh.” She peered at the distant waves of the really blue ocean, beyond the sparkling white beach. Yes, too-bright colors, but in those faraway waves did she see the hint of a castle? Maybe turrets occasionally revealed to be pearlescent shell-pink?

Lathyr’s hands came down on her shoulders. He’d moved behind her. Pure sensation rippled through her. She couldn’t help herself from sniffing the fingers on her right shoulder, again a little salt, some sort of fresh odor, and the fragrance all around her, though more intense. “What is that smell?”

“In the game?” He chuckled. “Magic.”

“Oh, of course. I still can’t figure out how we can smell stuff in the game.” Maybe there was scent on the visors, or they emitted fragrance in bursts like air fresheners.

Another amused laugh from Lathyr. “Magic. Now turn and look at the other two realms...our time is running out.”

“Huh.” But she did turn, scanned the white-blue-violet mist and the castle in the air, perched on a huge puffy white cloud with streaks of violet. “One guy explaining the realms to me? This is a lame opening, I could write better.” Too late she realized she’d been offensive. “Sorry.”

“I didn’t write the scenario,” Lathyr said coolly. “We will have a virtual guide. We were given permission for the new game no more than a fortnight ago. Ms. Emberdrake has been concentrating on the game itself.”

Kiri winced. Yeah, she’d offended him, maybe Jenni, too. She swallowed. “I’m sure it’s amazing.” She pushed a little. “And that’s why you need me. I can help.” She waved again, still enjoying the butterflies. “Okay, that’s the Air Realm. Castle in the clouds is a big clue.”

“That’s right. The denizens of the Air Realm are elves and airsprites.”

She twisted from his grip to stare at him. “Elves? Really elves?”

“Yes.”

She couldn’t prevent a girl-squeal from emerging. “Awesome. I could be an elf?”

“In the Air Realm, yes.” His voice remained cool. Ah, well.

“How big are they? Bitty like Santa’s elves or big and—” sexy, no, she wouldn’t say that “—hunky like Tolkien’s elves in the movies?”

“They are usually taller than regular humans, but more slender,” Lathyr said austerely. Kiri guessed her “hunky” irritated him as much as “sexy” might have.

“Oh. And airsprites?”

“They might be considered your elves—though I believe airsprites appear as described more often in huma—literature and art depicting fairies.”

“Oh, small then?”

“Yes, they are humanoid-looking when they care to be.”

“All right. You’ve already done a lot of work on this game.”

“Yes,” Jenni said in her ear again, in a slightly choked voice, like she was laughing? “Though not so much on the opening.”

Kiri winced again.

“And we will have eight races, and only eight,” Lathyr said.

“Oh, no humans?”

“Not at this time,” Jenni said. “Thirty-second warning, Lathyr and Kiri.”

“Oh.” Scanning the Air Realm, Kiri didn’t see any great detail. She could definitely make a contribution there, if it really was only sketched in.

She turned to the red-yellow Fire Realm. This appeared very detailed, as if it might be the best developed realm—red and sandy rock formations, desert, sand dunes of white and brown. Multicolored hot flames dancing in the air, even forming into sheets of heat waves distorting the rest of the picture. “Wow, Jenni, Fire Realm is great. You must have worked hard on it.”

“Thank you!” Pleasure radiated in Jenni’s voice.

“Fire Realm has djinns—” Lathyr began.

“Djinns like genies?” Kiri asked.

“Yes, djinnmen and djinnfems as the major race,” Lathyr finished.

Kiri imagined herself in a turban, maybe a metallic golden one. Gold lamé with a big ruby. Tacky but wonderful. “What kind of costumes do you have?” she asked. And did djinn manifest from smoke? Did they have lamp domiciles? Did they fly? Or have flying carpets?

“Not nearly as good a range of costumes as our game Fairies and Dragons,” Jenni said with regret.

“Oh.” Kiri cleared her throat. “Yet. Not as good a wardrobe yet. I can help with that.”

“I like your attitude,” Jenni said. “And what I’ve seen of your costumes in our times playing together in Fairies and Dragons, you’ll be a great help.”

Kiri was glad she’d already deleted all hideous fashion mistakes.

“The minor folk are firesprites,” Lathyr continued. “Like airsprites, they are significantly smaller than humans, perhaps as tall as eighteen inches as the maximum. Again, they tend to be less substantial than the major folk, the djinns.”

“Time,” Jenni said. “Logging Kiri Palger and Lathyr Tricurrent out of the opening to the prologue of Transformation.”

Chapter 8

KIRI BECAME AWARE of the mesh chair under her butt. Her nose missed the scent of magic, and tears nearly squeezed from her eyes at being back in the real world. Stupid! She swallowed hard, made sure her eyes were dry before she pulled off her visor. Her monitor had gone into sleep mode. She wanted to jiggle the mouse to see if she might recapture the view from the hill.

“Well, Kiri, what do you think?” Jenni was right there, staring down at her. Kiri pulled off her gloves harder than she’d anticipated because her palms were sticky. Looking up at Jenni, Kiri had to blink a bit because the woman actually looked a little red, like she’d gotten a sunburn.

Kiri rubbed her eyes, her fingers definitely smelled like her own sweat, and said the first thing that came to her mind in response to Jenni’s question. “I’m starving.”

“Hmm.” Jenni’s brows dipped. “Maybe I’d better talk to my kitchen staff.”

Kitchen staff, in an office? Jenni sauntered to the door.

“No, no!” Kiri amended. “Don’t worry about it.”

On her way out, Jenni tossed over her shoulder. “Sounds like the virtual reality might burn some energy.”

Lose weight while game playing. Oh, yeah, a win-win situation. “If that’s true, the marketing possibilities are incredible,” she said to Lathyr. He looked just the same. “Are you hungry?”

His smile was slow and male. His eyes didn’t really linger on her. Not really. “For food? No.” He sat in the last chair, his trousers still with knife creases. Kiri felt a little wrung out, glanced down to see if the slight dampness between her breasts showed. No. Good.

“I am more accustomed to the...ah, game, than you.” He swiveled until he faced her and set his arm along the edge of the desk. The keyboard platform was still tucked under it.

“More accustomed to the game? You don’t strike me as a gamer.”

His smile frosted. “Not often in this alternate reality.”

“Huh.”

His gaze turned considering. “Perhaps I should say that I am more accustomed to a magical atmosphere.”

Like that made sense.

Jenni walked in with a steaming omelet. “Here’s a mushroom, spinach and cheese omelet for you, and an English muffin.”

Kiri stared. “I love mushrooms, spinach and cheese.” She always stocked all three items. Amazing that the kitchen here had something like that.

Jenni’s smile was close to a smirk. She set the plate, a paper napkin and a fork down on the desk beyond Kiri’s monitor. “Eat up. We’ll have to, um, generally keep track of the physical energy drain with regard to the virtual reality of the game.”

Scooting over to the meal, Kiri dug in, but only ate a scrumptious bite before replying. “Like I told Lathyr, losing weight while gaming is one hell of a marketing point.”

“Ah, hmm.” Jenni frowned as she returned to her own seat. Like Lathyr, she faced Kiri and put her arm on the desk. Unlike him, her fingers drummed on the polished wood. “Well, the hardware is very expensive. I’m not sure how widespread we’ll be disseminating the game.”

Kiri stopped midbite. This was her game, her career, her future. “What? It’s not going to be an online massive multiplayer game like Fairies and Dragons?”

Jenni’s brown eyes widened. “Yes, of course, the general software...and available in stores, too, to lead people online to Transformation. But the gloves and visors are currently quite proprietary intellectual property items.”

“Oh.”

“We may allow only some players to buy into the virtual reality aspect of the game,” Lathyr said.

Discrimination. For the rich? Kiri chewed the omelet. The flavor should have stayed the same, but it hadn’t. Bitterness on her own taste buds maybe. “Like who?” she asked.

Again Jenni answered smoothly. “Like those who do extremely well in the general game. This isn’t the only game to have tiers of players, according to who wants to pay and who wants it free,” Jenni pointed out.

“Oh,” Kiri repeated. She drank some raspberry fizzy water—it went unexpectedly well with the eggs. Her taste buds had perked up. “That’s all right then.”

Lathyr snorted.

Jenni chuckled. “I sense a discrimination by skill level, here.”

Kiri nodded. “Choice and skill. You make the choice as to how long and involved you want to be with the game, and develop your skill.”

“Meritocracy,” Lathyr said.

He actually sounded dubious.

“Americans believe in that, even though it isn’t true,” Jenni said, her accent British. And Kiri belatedly remembered that Jenni lived in Denver, but had grown up in England.

Kiri stuffed egg in her mouth, drank and hurriedly finished her meal. “I’m so sorry for this, eating on the job.”

Jenni shrugged. “Not a problem.” She glanced at Lathyr. “We’re easy enough on this project, and have some wiggle room.”

“Thanks.” Kiri stood and picked up the breakfast stuff. “Kitchen?”

“We’ll take care of that,” Jenni said easily. “I’ll show you the bathroom to wash up.”

“Thanks.” And was Kiri going to be embarrassed and repeat the word all day long? She put the plate, crumpled napkin and fork on the counter and followed Jenni down a still-empty hallway with a murmur of voices sounding only behind one door.

“This is the executive area and like many executives, ours work more out of the office than in it,” Jenni said, as if catching Kiri’s stares.

“Um-hmm,” Kiri said. She hadn’t ever worked on an executive floor so didn’t know what to expect.

“What do you think of the game?” Jenni asked.

Kiri didn’t have to fake a smile. “I really like the concept and the taste I got of it.”

“Good.” Jenni waved at the women’s bathroom door.

When Kiri had finished, Jenni was still in the corridor, talking on her cell. “That is correct. Later.” She hung up and smiled at Kiri, stuck the cell in a pocket. “Ready for full-immersion and to start play?”

Sounded a little daunting, but Kiri nodded. “Absolutely.”

Another wide smile with sparkling eyes. “Good.” Jenni actually rubbed her hands. “This project is going to be a winner.”

“I hope so.” And Kiri hoped she was a part of it.

Soon she was back in her chair, green chamois gloves on, visor wrapping around her head.

“Initiating game,” Jenni said, and Kiri heard it both aloud and as words vibrating from the visor.

To her right, Lathyr said, “I’ll accompany you initially once more.”

“Thanks.”

Meld magic swept Lathyr up and to the pocket dimension of the game. Rock slid through him, nastily. At least the transition was fast enough that it didn’t absorb his water magic. His toes—feet in shoes were not as hardy as his webbed ones—tried to dig into the earth, but he found himself standing on the stone bottom of a cave, a place just large enough for himself and Kiri.

“Wow,” she said, sounding breathless. He glanced at her temples and the tracery of veins he used to mark humans’ heartbeats...and had to glance down.

Her skin was brownish, what humans would think of as deeply tanned. Lathyr kept a mild look on his face. Like all Waterfolk the actual color—blue, green, gold—didn’t matter. Her ears were large with fleshy lobes, her features broad, her figure sturdy with not much waist but ample breasts and hips. Lovely, heavily lashed chocolate-brown eyes with split black pupils looked up at him as she smiled at him—with pointed red teeth.

Also beautiful was her golden-brown hair, the color of light honey with hints of true metallic gold and streaks of wheat-blond—all earthy comparisons for an earth elemental.

“You’re a dwarf,” Lathyr said.

She literally jumped, then appeared surprised as she didn’t rise in the air as much as a human would have.

Staring at her feet, she said, “A major earth elemental.”

“Yes. And one that other dwarves would find beautiful.” If there had been any other dwarves in this area. But no dwarves or other players were here, only in the Earth Palace, which was her goal.

“Thank you, sir.” She looked at her clothing. “Hmm. A robe.” She skipped forward and back a dwarf pace. “Comfortable and I can move in it. A nice, fine weave.” Then she turned in place. “This really feels real.”

“Yes. Your robe should have some protection spells woven into it,” Lathyr said.

Kiri cleared her throat. “Jenni?”

“I’m here,” Jenni’s voice echoed from the walls.

“How do I know what powers and equipment and spells and qualities I have?”

“You have a belt with a pouch. The info’s in there.”

Shock crossed Kiri’s face. “I have to stop and open a pouch and, what, read my data?”

“Welcome to real life, kid. It ain’t all gesturing and chanting up earthworks,” Jenni said. “And you’re at beginner level.”

“Huh.”

“Take a look at your staff against the wall.”

“Ooooh.” Kiri trotted the three steps to the wall and picked up an intricately carved staff that appeared to be solid gold.

“It’s light,” Kiri said. “Like balsa wood.”

“Gold leaf,” Lathyr said.

“Real gold?”

He knew the smell of gold. “Yes.”

“I suppose that’s a plus,” Kiri said, but a dubious note had entered her voice. She found the dark brown suede pouch, though the minute she touched it, a piece of paper popped into her hand. “Nice. But it’s too dim—” The staff brightened to a steady yellow light.

“Okay. That’s pretty,” Kiri said, then, “I don’t like the looks of this character, though. Magic user—sorceress—and magic users tend to be squishy.”

“Squishy?” asked Lathyr.

“Not many hit points, easily defeated.”

“Ah. May I see your paper?”

“Yes, how good are these spells?”

“That, I believe, you would have to ask Jenni. I am here to show you how to use them.”

“Sorry, Kiri,” Jenni said, “but that’s how your innate qualities manifested you into this game—as an earth elemental, dwarfem magic user. But you also have healing powers you can use on yourself.”

“That’s something,” Kiri said, this time absentmindedly, as she stared at the paper. “All right. My robe has a high-level defensive spell woven into it. That’s good, and I can also draw a shield around me.”

“A stone dust shield. That will protect you, but it will not allow you to throw offensive spells at your enemies.”

“A trade-off,” Kiri said. She didn’t seem as concerned as Lathyr was. He knew the spells she was being given were those practiced by true dwarves. But of what use was a purely defensive shield, except to huddle behind like in a fort—or a cave? He disapproved of the notion—but much of mer magic was based on movement.

She took back the pitiful list. “I have two offensive spells here, beginning level, I imagine. One is ‘stiffen enemy’ and the other, ‘barricade.’” Looking up at him with her beautiful eyes, she asked, “How do I cast these?”

For the first time Lathyr was glad that he’d spent a few decades in a seaport as mostly human. The town had held an unusually eclectic mix of minor Lightfolk, and he’d fought with them against sea monsters, the occasional land monster and some bloody-minded humans. At the time, he’d seen the spells often enough, and he’d learned the few that Kiri would be able to master in each realm during the short time she’d be given.

It only took three minutes for him to show her the gestures, make sure she had them memorized, before she went to the cave opening. Looking at a winding path, she touched her information sheet again. “My goal is to reach the Earth Palace and make my curtsy to the Dwarf Royals before receiving quests from them.”

“That’s right,” Jenni said. “Though due to your limited amount of time, once you reach the palace, we will call it done in the Earth Realm, then will renew the settings so you will manifest in a different elemental realm.”

Kiri’s shoulders squared as she nodded. “That’s right.” She took a step out, and glanced back at Lathyr, who hadn’t moved. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I’m afraid you are on your own,” he said, keenly regretting he couldn’t help her. “My presence here is limited to this cave.” And he was beginning to dislike the smell. The magic had gathered around Kiri and moved with her.

“Oh.”

“Fare we—” The last syllable was cut off and rock jabbed at his nerves again as Meld tech-magic moved him from the “game” back to the tall building in Denver.

Lathyr vanished from Kiri’s sight. She was on her own. Her heart jumped in her chest and she wiped her palms on her robe. Her staff stood upright beside her. Magic.

She inhaled deeply. Wow. Magic had a scent in the game, like sleeping under a tree full of spring blossoms and having them drop down and cover her, fragile and pink. Wonderful, wonderful fragrance.

Against the wall she saw a brown leather pack that turned out to be full of food and journey items and medicines. Kiri picked it up by one of the straps and her brows rose. “Also light.” She studied the bulging bag, shrugged and slipped it on her back.

So she left the cave and stepped into warm sunshine...which appeared to be more yellow, too. Hmm. She’d see if she liked that; it did seem more cheerful.

How closely would Jenni and Lathyr be watching her? She didn’t know, but time to get on with the game. Fun and stressful all at once.

* * *

“Welcome back,” Princess Jindesfarne said to Lathyr.

Lathyr shuddered as he pulled off his visor and placed it on the counter. “I do not like that construct. Real and game.”

“Face it, Lathyr, you don’t like games.”

“I have no problem admitting that.”

The princess chuckled throatily, her cinnamon-colored brows winging up. “But you do like our charge, Kiri Palger.” There was a beep from the machine in front of the princess and she swirled toward it, fingers racing over the keyboard.

“Problems?” he snapped, striding to the monitor, not even taking time to remove the loathsome gloves that soaked up and channeled his magic in ways he didn’t care for.

“Not really,” Jindesfarne said. “I have the game set up to notify me when Kiri reaches some important goals. She’s through the first rath—first magical Hill.” The large screen in front of the Fire Princess lit up and showed Kiri with a staff in one hand, a long dagger attached to her hip.

“Explain the pocket dimension to me,” Lathyr said.

Now Jindesfarne swung her chair to look at him. “We can form and populate it as we please,” she said.

“I thought all dimensions were closed to us.” He knew the more magical Lightfolk, the royals, yearned for a permanent gate to intensely magical worlds...dimensions. “How can this be?”

She gave an exaggerated shrug. “The two guardians developed it.”

“Do you mean those who are older than the royals? The dwarf and the elf?”

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