“Ah, yes, the old saying. Now I remember.” He glared at the sky before he stepped into the crate. The lid came down immediately and he was alone in the dark with the two demons, neither of whom seemed to be breathing.
This was normal, he told himself. It wasn’t at all worrisome.
“So…how did you come to work with Elantria?” Ben asked.
A hissing sound unnerved him until he realized it was a laugh.
“She hired us for a job,” said one of them. “An impossible job for one of the mortal races. She had a hunch after it about what we were, so she got us drunk and talked our real names out of us.”
“I…” Ben had not anticipated this.
“She doesn’t hurt us,” one of them said. “She merely bound us to an oath to not hurt any of the mortals in the city.”
Both made disappointed hissing noises.
He didn’t know what to say to that, especially since he was shut in a crate with them. “Ah,” he said finally.
Both burst out laughing at that.
“We’re kidding,” one of them said.
“We’re dark elves,” the other added.
“There aren’t many of us,” said the first.
“Everyone gets freaked out about our eyes,” the second concluded.
Ben sighed.
“Oh, come on,” his partner said. “We don’t get a chance to freak new people out very often.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He tried to ignore the sound of Prima laughing in his head.
The trip to Kerill’s house lasted longer than he would have liked. The two elves seemed content to wait in silence and made no complaint when the heat began to build. Neither seemed to get motion sick in the carriage, either, which he certainly did.
Eventually, the cart was unloaded, which was even worse. He braced himself while the crate was hauled into someplace dark and blessedly cool.
“Now what?” he asked as quietly as he could.
“Now we wait for nightfall,” said one of them.
“Kerill was expecting a shipment of rare artifacts from the fae lands,” said the other.
“Elantria has those now.”
“And instead, Kerill has a warehouse full of enemy soldiers,” Ben finished before the other one could. “Not bad. She must be rather pleased with herself.”
“Probably,” said one of them. They sounded sulky that he hadn’t let them finish their game of imparting wisdom as a pair.
The hours ticked past interminably. There was nothing to do except stretch at various intervals to stop his muscles from cramping, but the activity didn’t do much at this juncture. By the time he heard rustling around them, he ached all over and he almost leapt out of the box when the lid was removed.
Everyone eased stiff muscles and shared a light meal, but his heart beat wildly. He almost wasn’t able to eat.
“Are you well?” Prima enquired worriedly.
“I think so,” he murmured. “But I’m usually gone by this point. You know, the fight. Once I’ve stirred things up.”
“Would I be correct in assuming that once you leave this game, you’ll have rather a lot of apologies to make?”
He sighed. “Yes.”
“Mmm. Well, good luck with that.”
“Thanks.” He looked around, located Kule and Havern, and jerked his head at them.
It was time to go before he could think better of this crazy plan he’d set in motion.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Amber was several hours deep in one of her spreadsheets when Nick came to find her. He waved a cup of fresh coffee under her nose until she looked up blearily.
“Hey, do you have a sec?”
“What’s up?” She removed her earbuds.
“Ben’s friends are calling in a few minutes about his progress. I thought it might be good to have us on the call as well as DuBois.”
“Oh.” She took her ponytail out hastily and combed her hair back slightly more neatly. “Sure. Thanks for the coffee. What time is it?”
“Almost noon.”
“Oh.” She yawned as she followed him through the lab toward the hall to the conference room. “Oof. It’s been a long morning.”
“Yeah, when did you come in?”
She decided to drink her coffee instead of answering and hoped he wouldn’t notice.
“Amber?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Four AM. Give or take.” She shrugged. “I had an idea and then I couldn’t let it go, so I came in.”
“You woke at four AM with an idea about accounting?” Nick asked skeptically.
“I was already up.”
“Why were you—” He broke off at the slight smile on her face. “Never mind, don’t tell me. I can fill in the blanks. Although I have to say, getting an idea about spreadsheets during that is worse than waking up with one.”
“That wasn’t what gave me the idea,” she protested, laughing.
“Uh-huh. Sure. Do you two dirty talk by saying excel formulas at each other, or what?”
Amber gave up on trying to drink coffee through her laughter. “Well, not only that. We also recite obscure parts of the US Tax Code to each other.”
He mimed fanning himself. “We shouldn’t talk about this at work.”
The two friends were still laughing when they entered the room to see that the video call had already started. They shut up hastily and waved at the two people on the screen.
“These are my colleagues,” Dr. DuBois said.
“Hi, I’m Amber,” she said with a wave.
“And I’m Nick,” he added. “We’re two of the three founders of PIVOT.”
“Nice to meet you,” said the woman on the screen. She had wildly curly hair and a slim, lanky frame. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Natasha, and this is my fiancé, Mike.”
The man beside her managed a weak wave of one arm. His skin was pale and he seemed to have lost a great deal of muscle recently, but he looked miles better than he had the first time they had seen him. Most of the casts had been removed and they could see crutches and a wheelchair in the background.
“Of course we remember you.” Nick smiled. “Mr. Parker, you’re looking very well.”
The man grimaced. “Thanks.”
His companion smiled sympathetically at him. “Physical Therapy isn’t exactly a walk in the park,” she explained, “and it’s hard to miss a whole summer of climbing and surfing and all that. But he’s recovering so well—much better than the doctors thought he would.”
“They only say that so I feel special,” Mike muttered, clearly in bad humor.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Amber told him. “Because they’ve been flabbergasted by Ben, and if the two of you are best friends, I’d bet you’re equally stubborn.”
Both Mike and Natasha laughed.
“I refuse to incriminate myself,” the man said, “but I will throw Ben under the bus. He’s a stubborn son of a bitch.”
His fiancée pointed at him and mouthed, “He is, too.”
Amber and Nick nodded.
“Wait, what did you say to them?” Mike demanded.
“Nothing,” Natasha said innocently.
“Uh-huh.” He narrowed his eyes. “Anyway. We were wondering what Ben’s progress looked like for the wedding.”
“We know you might not be able to tell us,” the woman said.
“Ah…actually, Ben authorized us to share his progress with you.” Amber smiled. “He said that either of you would be a better resource for bouncing treatment ideas off than his parents.”
“Awkward,” Mike said, “but not wrong. I hope you’re able to at least share information with his parents.”
“We are and I promise they haven’t been in the dark this whole time.”
“Whew,” he said. “Okay, so how is he doing?”
“Well,” DuBois said readily, “his manual dexterity has increased greatly within the game, as well as him mastering more precise movements. He has also been able to approximat
e rock climbing, though there appears to be a certain amount of trauma associated with that.”
Mike’s face was strained as he nodded. “I can imagine.”
Natasha put her hand over his and they looked at each other for a moment.
“The good news is that he’s been able to work through it,” Nick said and cleared his throat awkwardly. “I wouldn’t say it’s gone by any stretch of the imagination, but he’s doing well. As you said, he’s a stubborn son of a bitch.”
The man laughed at that and some of the tension in his shoulders eased. He swallowed before he asked, “And how is he emotionally? I don’t want to be an asshole but I was very worried by how he was talking the last time he came out.”
“Ah.” The two engineers exchanged a look.
DuBois munched popcorn with a bemused expression on his face.
“Um…” Amber marshaled her thoughts. “Video games offer a unique opportunity to watch moral choices play out without affecting people. Of course, the resemblance to real life can be debated but they tend to be very impactful on an emotional level.”
“Again, not to be an ass, but…that sounds like a long way of saying nothing.” Mike shrugged and winced. “My shoulders don’t like doing that yet.”
Amber hesitated for a moment before she continued. “I don’t want to betray any confidences,” she said finally. “While Ben did authorize us to speak to you about medical issues, I think discussing particulars of his mental health would be crossing a line. With that said, I want to assure you that I am not worried at present. He seems to be in a very stable place. I…hope that helps. A little.”
“So, without specifics,” Natasha said before her fiancé could speak, “there’s nothing for us to actively worry about at this time.”
“In my opinion, no. Ben seems to be happy, shows social engagement, and copes well with complex emotional situations. I think I’m veering into specifics again.” She cut herself off by taking a long swallow of coffee.
“I can…work with that.” Mike sighed. “I want my friend back, you know? Him, not someone else.”
“He’s still him,” Amber said.
He nodded.
“And you think he might be able to come out for the wedding?” Natasha asked them.
“With several stipulations,” Nick said before DuBois could respond. “They would want two members of medical staff on-hand with him and he must not be asked to stand for more than five minutes at a time. I wouldn’t plan to involve him in any ceremony over half an hour or so.”
To his surprise, the woman pumped her fist in victory. “Oh, yeah. Awesome.”
“You’ll want some context,” Mike said. “My fiancée is not a complete bitch, I promise.”
“Only mostly,” she said with a grin. “No, it’s only that my family has pressed for a huge wedding with a super elaborate ceremony and now, we can go, ‘no, we really can’t, it would be too much for Ben, doctor’s orders.’” She began to chair-dance.
Her fiancé laughed silently in the background. He shook his head and shrugged.
“Don’t you shake your head at me,” she said. “You don’t want to stand up for a long ceremony either.”
“I said we should elope to New York,” he pointed out.
“Oh!” DuBois looked happy. “Oh, that would be much better.”
Natasha opened her mouth, then closed it.
“Think about it.” Mike leaned close to her. “No sisters bitching about their bridesmaid gowns…no mothers trying to get pictures…”
“I feel like we shouldn’t be here for this,” Nick muttered. He and Amber averted their eyes hastily, although the doctor continued to watch with interest.
“I don’t know,” Natasha said.
“Everyone already has their flights on standby,” he pointed out. “We can afford to lose the deposits. Come on, I saw you staring at the stack of wedding papers yesterday and you know you didn’t look like you were looking forward to doing that paperwork.”
“I wasn’t. I’m not.” She looked at him. “But can we do that? Like, can we truly do that?”
“We can do anything we want,” he told her. “We can go to the greatest city on earth, see the Empire State Building—”
“Boy, do you know the way to a girl’s heart.” She laughed. “But…oh, my God, that sounds so much better than a big wedding. How mad do you think they’d be if we did this?”
“We could turn our phones off,” Mike suggested. “And then we won’t know.”
“Deal,” she said instantly. She swung to look at the camera. “We’ll be there tomorrow. Does tomorrow work?”
DuBois and Amber looked at Nick, who nodded. “We can have him out by tomorrow.”
“Awesome.” Natasha smiled. “Okay, I have to handle…so many things.”
“We have rooms available at one of the hotels near us,” Nick said. “We have enough people flying in from out of town that we always have them. Let me check their availability and I’ll send you an email.”
“Holy crap, really?”
“It’s much cheaper than us sending Ben cross-country with a full medical team,” he pointed out.
“Oh. Um… Okay.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up and he stretched luxuriously. “Working with a real budget? This is the life.”
Amber shook her head and smiled, then yawned again. “Okay, I’ll go home and sleep. Can you take care of the details for Natasha and Mike? And text Jacob that they’re coming into town and to pull Ben out?”
“Uh-huh.” Nick nodded. “Go. Rest. I’ll arrange it and see if I can’t get another surprise in the works for Ben too.”
“What were you thinking?”
“You’ll see. Go rest.” He smiled.
“Right.” She yawned and headed out of the room. “Oooof, I’m tired. Oh, and text the doctors to come in for another assessment of Ben’s—”
“I swear to God I will crush drugs up and put them in your coffee if you don’t get out of here.”
“Point taken.” She snatched her coat and headed out.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ben had memorized the layout of the entire compound while he was closed inside, waiting for the first heist. Now, he led Kule and Havern unerringly across the warren of streets and alleys that made up the outer edge of the location.
It was truly incredible how rich the nobles of this city were. Kerill practically commanded an entire city of his own, with livestock and metalsmithing as well as a veritable army of servants.
Those servants, if they noticed the sudden influx of people, took no notice. Despite the late hour, people trudged past with packages or handcarts. Some made their way wearily into the apartments that lined the outer wall.
He looked over his shoulder once and saw the flash of Orien’s hair in the fading light. The half-elf walked straight-backed and dignified. He watched him for a moment and knew he did not envy him at all in this moment. The man joked and made a point of looking forward instead of back, but he also had the memory of being bought and sold—not to mention learning he was destined to die in an arena.
Now he was about to confront the man who had done it.
It was important to make sure Orien’s courage meant something. When this was over, he couldn’t let the elf feel as if this had been for nothing. He had to make sure the way was paved for a better city. He remembered the dwarf in Jorys’ study and felt a simmering rage ignite in his chest.
This would end. He would end it himself, dammit.
They entered the main building via a passage that Nemon had marked on one of the maps. However the man had learned of it, it pained him to share the information, yet he had done so. The tunnel ran from the buttery on the eastern side of the mansion and directly into the kitchens.
Kule and Havern stepped aside to wait in the shadows outside the kitchens, while Ben adjusted his disguise and poked his head in.
“The Lady Birra—a man sent a message for Lord Kerill but said I was only to tell
him if the lady wasn’t there. Is she at dinner with the lord?”
The servants exchanged a glance.
“We’re only cooks,” a heavy-set man said gruffly. “We don’t know a thing about what goes on upstairs.”
They clearly knew something and he was interested to find out exactly what. He cast a glance over his shoulder as if to check for eavesdroppers and crept closer.
“Is it happening now?”
The servants all stopped and a couple of them leaned closer.
“Is what happening now?” one of them asked.
“He said it’d be tonight,” he said, speaking of the fictitious event with the most conviction he could manage. “He said there would be a whole hue and cry about it. If it’s happening now, he needs to know what I have to say.”
The servants looked at each other and he saw their pleasure.
They hated Birra, as far as he could see. Whatever he was insinuating about a rift between Kerill and his heir, they were eager to see it happen.
“She’s not at the dinner,” one of them whispered. “She went snooping and she’s in his study.”
“What?” Ben drew a sharp breath and put on an appropriately outraged face.
“Whatever ʼis lordship is planning, she seems to have guessed,” another cook said. “’Ey, Yamira, any chance of sneaking a bottle of wine out of the cellars? I’m guessin’ there’ll be goodly gossip tonight.”
The cook shushed them but everyone’s eyes were alight with anticipation.
“As long as she’s not at dinner, I can deliver the message,” he said. “Thank you—and if you ever come by the Howling Coyote, drinks are on me.”
They cheered at that and he stepped out into the hallway. Birra was alone in the study. This was the best way he could have hoped for this to go.
“What’s a coyote?” Kule asked as they hurried through the mansion.
“It’s a…wolf-thing. Kind of.” He shook his head. “How many of them do you think will be out searching for that bar tomorrow night?”
“All of them,” Havern guessed with a grin. “And it’s too bad it doesn’t exist because the gossip from tonight will be legendary.”
Holding Onto Hope Page 18
