The doctor stepped into the room, spectacles perched on the end of his nose while he looked down at a tablet. Like he needed to reread whatever was there. It was just an excuse to avoid making eye contact.
“Hello, Hailey.”
She didn’t respond until he looked up because hell if she was going to let him file her away as anonymous patient number 37, suffering from a severe autoimmune condition of a rare classification shared by around twelve hundred people in the United States. Dying of a severe autoimmune condition, if they were going to be blunt about it.
He blinked when finally meeting her eyes as if just now seeing her for the first time. The man cleared his throat. “I’m afraid the news from Cornell isn’t what we were hoping for.”
She was tempted to snap and ask whether he’d actually been hoping for an answer either way. Whether Hailey lived or died, his life would go on as usual. But she realized that he must have at least some humanity behind those watery blue eyes, so if given the choice between her acceptance into the trial and her looming death, he’d probably go for the trial.
“Figured,” Hailey said.
“So that leaves us with how to make your remaining time as comfortable as possible. Did you review the options I sent you? It’s within your rights to…request an end to your suffering.” His voice faltered a little while trying to force the last bit out, and he worked a finger under the collar of his smock as if to loosen it from his throat.
No, Hailey had not reviewed the crap he’d sent her. She was not going to just give up or fade off into a drugged stupor. She might have no hope remaining, but that didn’t mean she was a quitter. Anyway, she could escape to Relic Online much of the time.
“I intend to fight as long as I can,” she said.
The doctor nodded, face neutral. “Understood. Regarding your legal affairs, then, you’ll want to get your will in order. The facility contracts with a legal firm that is quite affordable.”
Hailey actually snorted. As if, after ten years as an invalid, she had anything worth giving away. Her parents had both died when she was in her twenties, having conceived her on accident when they were in their early 50s and already in not-so-great health. Hailey was basically a consequence of hormone therapy as a replacement for an active lifestyle in the pursuit of longevity. At least when she kicked off, whatever predisposition to laziness they might have passed on would exit the gene pool.
“I’m guessing by that response that you don’t wish to retain their services,” the doctor said. “Well, in that case, I’ll give you an update on your medical status. This is something you’ll want to watch closely, particularly if you think you might change your mind about your final options. When we’re done, I can set up a video call with a counselor if you’d like. I’ve heard from many of our patients that it helps to have someone to talk to.”
Hailey shook her head. “I’ve got an online support group.”
He brightened at her lie, no doubt relieved to unload any burden he might be carrying regarding her emotions.
“All right, then down to the nitty gritty, I wanted to show you which numbers are of the greatest concern right now.”
Hailey zoned out while he talked. It didn’t matter which of her systems would fail first, only that, without a doubt, the end was coming. For the past few days, ever since she’d bailed on Devon outside the boss cave, she’d been wandering through Relic Online’s wilderness. It was peaceful despite the hives of awakened creatures and the threat of demons across the ocean. It had been years since she just focused on the immersion, the sights and smells of a foreign world. Even now, lying in the antiseptic-smelling room, she could close her eyes and feel the sun on her face and the grass scratching her legs as she pushed through it. She smelled warmed earth and grass pollen and heard the buzz of insects lazily moving from flower to seed head and back.
When the doctor finished his oration, signaled by him dropping the tablet to his side, she nodded and lifted a couple of fingers in parting. The man spun and headed for the door. The seals engaged shortly after he disappeared, and from the antechamber beyond, she heard the hiss as air was vacuumed out to be cleaned.
After a long few minutes, Hailey pushed the button to summon her meal. Her finger hung over a second control that would order more painkillers, but she managed to resist. Instead, she opened up the special icon that had recently been added to her interface.
“Ok, Bob,” she said into the prompt. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
DEVON’S BODY TINGLED as she rematerialized at the Shrine to Veia, the last glimmers of magic from the Teleport spell dissipating from her sight. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the golden sunshine flooding Stonehaven, so bright after the jungle understory outside Ishildar.
“Traveling in style,” Torald said with a grin once he’d fully reconstituted. “I know the spell isn’t your favorite, but I’d consider it quite a blessing from Veia if I could avoid lugging my armor-clad self home after every adventure.”
Devon smirked. “I’m just greedy. My version only travels to bindstones and the shrine. Hezbek’s works in combat, and she can basically whisk her group anywhere she’s previously visited.”
“In other words, totally broken.”
“Yeah, pretty much. It’s like the game gave it to her because the woman had decided never to fight again.”
Torald glanced toward the center of the settlement, still rubbing the dent in his breastplate. “Well, I suppose I should head to the forge and speak to Garda about repairs. You think she’ll move me to the head of her queue if I bring her flowers?”
Devon cringed. “I’d advise against that if you don’t want an ax hurled in your direction. But I have heard she’s fond of pastries. Don’t tell her I told you.”
With a crooked smile, Torald bowed with a ridiculous flourish of his hand, then trotted off.
“What is wrong with that man? I can’t honestly believe that anyone thinks that such…chivalry is useful.”
Devon jumped at Greel’s voice. She turned just in time to see him detach from a patch of shadow near the cliff at the back of the settlement. What the heck? Had he just been waiting here to ambush her?
“Seems to me that he’s figured out when and where to pay proper respect. It’s something you could consider, seeing as I am your leader.”
Greel’s eyes narrowed. “You know as well as I that I have ulterior motives in remaining here. My continued presence has nothing whatsoever to do with your guidance of the community.”
Devon glanced down when Sigfried tottered past on his little stick legs. The golem squinted an eye, twigs descending to cover the shiny stone Chen had placed in the figure’s eye socket, and hucked the boomerang at Greel’s knee. The lawyer just barely managed to jump clear of the little projectile. He gave an offended snort.
“I see you’ve brought kindling for the fire,” the man snarled at Chen.
Chen shrugged. “I think you’d regret it if you tried picking him up.”
Sigfried grinned, baring teeth of sharpened sticks.
Devon smirked. It had been a long time since she’d grouped with Chen. Really, when she thought about it, they’d only hunted together a couple of times. His Tinker class abilities had been good for creating distractions, allowing him to set up crossbows and activate them remotely, things like that. She wondered what else he’d come up with in the weeks since.
“So what’s going on, Greel? Is there any particular reason you’re lurking back here?”
The man sniffed. “Not that I owe you an explanation, but yes, there is. I’m waiting for someone. I can only hope they’ll arrive before your response to my town charter proposal.”
As if on queue, light bloomed near the Shrine to Veia, and moments later, Valious appeared, flat on his back.
Greel gave what was probably the loudest scoffing sound Devon had ever heard. The man stomped over, bent at the waist—an awkward motion with the twist
in his spine—and glared down at the player.
“Seriously? You expected the blow, yet still ended up on your back? I’m beginning to think this is hopeless. Perhaps the contract should be torn up.”
Devon looked at Chen as if her friend might have a clue what was going on. Chen just shrugged.
Clearly disoriented, Valious blinked, then patted his gut as if feeling for a wound. He looked toward his outstretched weapon hand, verified that the sword was still there, and finally sat up.
When he spotted Devon, the blood seemed to drain from his face. His eyes widened, and he mouthed something soundlessly before finally stammering, “It was a quest. I was supposed to die.”
Devon cocked her head, even more confused. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. But it’s nice to see you anyway.”
A nervous smile flashed across his face, but he didn’t seem to know what to say. Remembering her earlier decision to be a little kinder to the noobs—especially since there was now a swarm of them stumbling around outside the walls—she tried to force her brain through the contortions required for small talk.
“How’s the leveling going?” she asked.
Valious swallowed as Greel rolled his eyes and sighed heavily to show his impatience. Devon glanced at him. Why had he been waiting around for Valious anyway?
“I—well, I guess it’s going okay.” Valious stood and dusted himself off, casting a dismayed look at his cloth armor in the process. “Once I go talk to Aravon and complete my quest, I should hit level 5.”
Level 5 already? For Devon to make it that far, she’d had to slay what had felt like a million tree vipers followed by an ogre tyrant. All this guy had had to do was kill a few dozen non-aggro mobs and attend a kegger. When she realized she was making an annoyed face, she quickly turned it into a smile, but it was too late. Valious had already backed off a couple of steps.
“That’s great,” she said. “Really. I was just thinking about the crap the game put me through before level 5.”
Of course, that didn’t seem to help either, probably because it sounded like she was undervaluing his accomplishment. Devon balled her free hand into a fist. NPCs were so much easier to deal with.
“Well, shall we?” Greel said, his voice carrying every bit of sneer he could put into it.
Devon sighed. Most NPCs anyway.
“I hope everything’s going well for you too, Devon,” Valious said, his face still a bit red. “Lot of responsibility, looking after the whole city.”
Greel snorted. “Haven’t I mentioned that it does us no good to inflate her already considerable ego?”
“Are you sure you don’t have some accounts to update, Greel?” Devon said. “You should leave the poor newcomers alone.”
Beside her, Sigfried planted his hands on his hips and puffed his chest as if to back her up.
Greel’s lip curled. “I expect your notarized feedback on the charter by dark. Otherwise, consider the proposal null and void. I will draw up an alternative that is more to my standards of length and precision.” With that, he turned on his heels and stalked off. When Valious didn’t immediately follow, the man whirled, face dark, and gestured impatiently.
Valious glanced at her and shrugged. “See ya. I mean—actually, do you have any time later, Devon? I have something I kinda want to talk to you about.”
Devon stared at him, speechless. How was she even supposed to respond to that? She already had a full schedule for the rest of the day between checking on Tamara’s bike, figuring out how to get through Ishildar, and working on the city preparations. If she did have any free time left over to talk to people, she’d much rather spend time with her NPC followers than a stranger. And of course, there was the issue of precedent. If she were seen making time for one-on-one meetings with one newcomer, she’d probably end up with the rest of them lining up for a turn.
Congratulations! Stonehaven’s defenses have been upgraded to Castle - Basic.
A split second after the notification appeared, trumpets blared from the walls. Valious jumped, whipped his head around, then turned bright red as he calmed himself.
“I—it sounds like my day is going to be pretty full. We just became a Castle. Raincheck?” she said, hoping that in the meantime, he would realize that the request wasn’t really something she could honor.
“Valious! To me!” Greel snapped.
“Uh, yeah, sure thing, Dev. Devon. Another time.” With that, the strange player saluted and ran off.
Devon glanced at the inner palisade as banners unfurled, scarlet fabric with a crest she’d never seen. It showed a stylized bulwark with a building behind, a ray of light descending from the sky onto the building’s roof.
Would you like to design a new crest for your castle? Y/N
Devon grinned as she brushed the popup away. She knew from experience that it would take her hours and hours to settle on a design, time she definitely didn’t have right now. A castle, though. Holy crap. She was on her way to founding a kingdom or something. As long as her new dominion didn’t get smashed by a demon horde in the next few days, anyway.
As much as she wanted to inspect the fortifications and talk to Jarleck about next steps—for that matter, she had a lot of work to do on the city’s supply lines and settlement advancement—Tamara came first. With a quick wave to Chen and Torald, Devon left the group and hurried toward the center of town to check on her friend’s bike.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
DEVON PACED BACK and forth along a narrow track between laundry piles and her bed. She tugged at the end of her ponytail. This should be an easy decision—she should just wear whatever she would normally put on for a day of gaming. But it felt way different. Being basically unconscious in your own home was one thing. Doing it in public was totally different. Even though she would look like she was sleeping, the idea that Tamara’s parents would be hanging around while she helped Tamara into the game gave her the willies.
She grabbed a knit sweater from the closet, one of the last pieces of clothing that had actually been put away rather than left in the “clean” basket. From the floor near the bed, she grabbed a pair of jeans. Seeing as her usual gaming uniform amounted to yoga pants and sweatshirts, she could be relatively certain the jeans hadn’t been worn more than once. That would have required leaving the house.
In the bathroom, she splashed water over her face and stared at herself in the mirror. In the days before Owen’s rescue, her eyes had been bloodshot and her face puffy. Now, she was sleeping better, and it showed. Even if the demon invasion was coming, she had time to prepare. A little anyway. Her dreams had been relatively untroubled.
Grabbing a brush, Devon dragged it through her dark brown hair and redid her ponytail. When she was finished, there was still an annoying lump on the side where the hair wouldn’t quite go the right direction—the typical result of having taken a shower and basically passed out five minutes later. She grabbed a stretchy headband thing and pulled it around her skull. It hid the issue, mostly.
She took a deep breath. Okay. Time to get over to Tamara’s. Her friend had been up since long before dawn spamming Devon’s messenger with chatter about the coming events. Devon shouldn’t make her wait just because she felt self-conscious. Slapping the light switch to turn it off, she hurried from the bathroom, grabbed a granola bar from the cabinet and her purse and jacket from their typical heap near the front door, and stepped out into the chill air of a desert morning.
Above the rooftops of the storage facility that stood adjacent to her apartment complex, the sandstone mountains of Snow Canyon State Park basked in the sunlight, the different layers of stone an array of hues from cream to apricot to vermillion. Dark green patches of juniper and pinyon pine tucked into steep ravines and lined the feet of the peaks. Even with the surrounding asphalt, the humming freeway, and the rows of condos separating her balcony from the desert wilderness, she could still smell hints of the trees and the sun-warmed earth, ca
rried over the city by cool breezes descending from the heights.
Devon took a moment and stretched, breathing deep. As pleasant as the in-game savanna was, especially when compared to the godawful jungle it had replaced, sometimes it was nice to inhabit her home environment a little.
A few yards down the balcony, a door opened, and a man backed out with a heaping laundry basket in his hands. That was all the urging Devon needed to get going. First of all, she had no desire to end up in a conversation. Second, she definitely didn’t need any reminders about how sorely overdue her laundry duties were.
Down at street level, she touched her palm to the autocab hailing pad and hitched her purse strap higher onto her shoulder. When the man stepped off the stairwell and walked past her toward the communal laundry building, she dug through the bag as if searching for something so that she wouldn’t have to make eye contact. It was stupid; she’d actually been getting better at interacting with others, or so she thought. But today her nerves were already singing with anxiousness over what it would be like at Tamara’s house. She’d probably just stammer or say something inane.
Fortunately, the cab arrived, sliding to a halt in front of the curb before the guy came back for another load. She ducked gratefully through the door, gave Tamara’s address, and swiped her wrist over the sensor for authentication. As she buckled her seatbelt, the vehicle accelerated along the cracked asphalt of the parking lot and turned around the far side of the building. Devon laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
***
“Good morning, sweetie!” Tamara’s mom, having all but thrown the door open, swept Devon up in a hug.
Resisting the urge to go rigid as an ironing board, Devon patted the woman’s back. “Hi. How’s Tamara?”
Vault of the Magi: A LitRPG Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 5) Page 17
