by Anthea Sharp
Tam tilted his head at Jennet. “After you.”
As soon as her Spellcaster disappeared, he hit the X. It didn’t escape his notice that Coranne Smith was the last to leave, her arms crossed, her expression set. Spy for the company, for sure—and he didn’t trust her one bit.
CHAPTER FIVE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM
Jennet pulled off the sim helmet and took a deep breath. That had been… different. Encouraging, on one hand, that there had been no sign of fey magic—but also a little disturbing. She couldn’t shake the feeling the faeries were just biding their time. It couldn’t be this easy.
Around her, the other members of the beta team were pulling off their gear. Spark hopped out of her sim chair and stretched from side to side. She didn’t seem to care that Roy couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Have to stay limber,” she said. “Some day they need to invent a standing rig.”
“Interesting idea,” Jennet’s dad said. “Write that down.”
Mr. Chon hurried up, carrying his tablet. “It’s about time,” he said. “I expected you all forty-seven minutes ago.”
“That’s odd.” Coranne Smith glanced down at the shiny, old-school watch strapped to her wrist. “I was keeping close tabs on the time.”
“A glitch in the chronometer interface,” Mr. Chon said. “Don’t forget to flag it. Now please, don’t talk amongst yourselves. I want your individual impressions, recorded as quickly as possible. Make note of any problems you encountered or questions you had.”
The group fell silent as everyone input their experience of the new, improved Feyland. Jennet couldn’t say everything she really thought. Since VirtuMax didn’t believe the magic of the Realm of Faerie had ever seeped into their game, she could hardly point out how different Feyland felt without it.
“I’m done,” Roy said after a few minutes. “Going to get a snack before the next session, all right?”
“We’re done for the day,” Mr. Chon said.
“What?” Jennet’s dad stood and set his tablet down beside the sim chair. “Less than two hours of game play? What kind of test is that?”
“We have more than enough information to process for now,” the lead developer said, a cold note in his voice. “And this is no longer your project, Mr. Carter.”
Jennet’s dad folded his arms. “We’re back in tomorrow though, correct?”
“Yes,” Mr. Chon said. “Two gaming sessions.”
“But what about when the week starts?” Jennet asked. “Some of us have school.”
She glanced at Spark. What was the celebrity simmer going to do about school? Surely not go to Crestview High. She probably had some fancy tutoring program going anyway, since she spent so much time on the road.
Mr. Chon looked at her. “If you’d bothered to read the schedule in full, Miss Carter, you’d see that we have a number of afternoon tests lined up. Being on the beta team shouldn’t affect your studies.”
His tone implied that if it did, she wasn’t a very good student. Either that, or the testing was more important than anything she’d learn in school. And he was right—though not for the reasons he thought.
“Everyone—we’ll see you here at 10 a.m. tomorrow,” Mr. Chon continued. “Be on time.”
He gave Zeg a look the big man ignored.
“I’ll see you at home, Jennet,” her dad said. “I’m staying here with Mr. Chon and Ms. Smith to help process the feedback.”
“All right. Bye.” She gave him a little wave.
Her dad worked too much, but it was important for him to get back on the Feyland project. For him, and for her. She glanced at the two other VirtuMax employees. They didn’t look thrilled at having her dad stay—but they didn’t seem inclined to kick him out, either. Every pair of hands was needed as the company pushed for release.
The rest of the beta team trailed out of the testing area. Roy sidled over to Spark and gave her one of his toothy smiles.
“Can I show you around Crestview?” he asked. “Not that there’s much to see. Where are you staying?”
“VirtuMax is putting me up in the company guest quarters,” Spark said. “Maybe I’ll message you later if I feel like going out.”
“Great—you do that. Here’s my info.” Roy held a card out to Spark.
Somehow Jennet wasn’t surprised Roy had his own cards made up. What title had he given himself? Prince of Everything?
The gamer-girl took the card and put it in her pocket, with an expression Jennet recognized—polite, with no intention of following through.
“Nice meeting you all,” Spark said. “See you tomorrow.”
She turned and went down the hallway, her magenta hair a bright slash of color against the silver-gray walls. Two of her security people were waiting. They took their places on either side of her and escorted her away.
Roy frowned and watched her go, then stuck his hands in his pockets.
“Later, Jennet,” he said, ignoring Tam and Zeg standing behind her. “I’m going to check in at the CEO’s office and have a chat with my mother.”
“Bye,” she said, trying not to roll her eyes. As if they didn’t all know that Roy’s mom was the head of VirtuMax.
Tam fell into step beside Jennet as they headed for the lobby. She wished she could take his hand, or at least touch him on the arm.
“I didn’t know VirtuMax had guest quarters,” he said.
“They have one of the big houses set aside for visiting VIPs. I guess Spark qualifies.”
Tam nodded. “For someone that famous, she’s surprisingly real. Not as full of herself as some people.”
He meant Roy Lassiter, of course.
“I don’t think anyone can beat the Royal One when it comes to ego,” she said, using the name the fey folk had called him. “But yeah, Spark seems nice.”
Unfortunately. Here was this gorgeous, talented gamer, who—like Tam—came from a poor background, and she had to be a decent person into the bargain. It made Jennet uncomfortable, especially now, when she and Tam were off limits to one another. She let out a low sigh.
“I know,” Tam said. “I wish I could come over.”
“Why don’t you?” She couldn’t help the wistful note in her voice.
He shook his brown hair over his eyes. “You know that’s impossible. Your housekeeper would love to blow the whistle on me. No, we have to be happy with what we can get.”
Her throat tight, Jennet said, “It’s not enough.”
She’d finally gotten Tam to see that they should be together—just in time for the world to keep them apart.
His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “I’ve always had to make do, Jennet. Even this much of you is enough. For now.”
Heedless of who was watching, she reached for him. He pulled her into a quick hug, and she felt the brush of his lips over her hair.
Zeg cleared his throat. “Want a ride home, Tam?”
“Sure,” he said, stepping back. “It’s a hike to the nearest bus stop.”
They reached the gleaming lobby, where the receptionist sat at the front desk glowering at them like a black beetle.
“Care for a lift too, Jennet?” Zeg asked as they pushed out through the shiny glass doors.
“That would be great,” she said. “Let me just grab my g-board.”
Neither she nor Tam mentioned that she only lived a few blocks from company headquarters. Any extra time they could steal together was worth it.
She grabbed her board from the rack outside and tucked it under her arm. The day was cold and overcast, and she bent her head against the wind, glad she’d accepted Zeg’s offer.
“I’m in the far lot,” Zeg said. “Guess they didn’t want my guzzler too near the front of the building. Give the wrong impression, you know.” He winked.
Gas cars were still in use, but not by anybody who could afford the technology of grav-cars. Zeg’s battered white sedan sat in the very back of the lot. Missing paint scabbed the front hood, and the rear passenger-side sp
orted a huge dent.
“Put your board in here,” Zeg said, keying open the trunk. “And the right back door won’t open—crushed shut since I got hit—so go around.”
Jennet stowed her board, wrinkling her nose at the combined smells of fuel and mildew, and slid into the back seat next to Tam.
“Close the door?” he said.
“Oh, right.”
Embarrassment flushed through her. This wasn’t a grav-car, where the doors glided open and shut at the touch of a button. She took hold of the inside handle and pulled the heavy door shut with a thud. Zeg turned the key, and the engine coughed to life.
“Is everything all right with your car?” she asked after they’d sat without moving for a few moments.
“Just letting her warm up.” Zeg patted the seamed dashboard. “We’ll be good to go in a minute.”
“Come here,” Tam said to her in a low voice, lifting his arm.
He didn’t need to ask twice. Jennet slid over, tucking herself against his side, and his arm settled around her. They were breaking the rules, but Zeg was giving them good cover. If asked, she could truthfully say he’d given her a lift home. She wouldn’t mention she’d spent those five minutes soaking up as much of Tam as she possibly could.
His battered brown coat smelled faintly of smoke, and his arm felt warm and solid around her. The one safe place in the world was right there, beside him.
“Go left out of the parking lot, then right,” Tam said as Zeg finally put the car in motion.
The motor vibrated through Jennet’s chest. Surely she’d ridden in a gas car before, but she couldn’t remember it. The vehicle bumped and bounced over the road, so different from the smooth ride of a grav-car.
“That’s my house, up ahead,” she said. “The one with the fountain.”
They’d gotten there too soon. Zeg brought the car to a jolting stop and she reluctantly pulled away from Tam’s warmth. The door squeaked as she pushed it open and climbed out. Tam followed her.
“Going to sit in front,” he said, opening the passenger-side door.
Jennet leaned past him into the car, meeting Zeg’s warm brown eyes.
“Thanks,” she said, meaning more than just the quick ride.
He nodded, the smile lines around his eyes deepening.
“Any time,” he said. “Don’t forget your board.”
When she straightened, Tam was right there. Close enough to brush her lips across his—a stolen kiss that would have to last for days. He gave her a crooked smile, then stepped to the back of the car and pulled her g-board out of the trunk.
“Here,” he said.
“See you tomorrow.” She held her board tightly, since she couldn’t hold him.
He dipped his head, then climbed back into the car. Zeg pulled away from the curb in a cloud of acrid smoke that made her hold her breath.
Despite the lingering fumes, Jennet stood on the driveway, her back to the huge, empty house waiting behind her. She watched the battered guzzler carry Tam away, until it turned the corner and was gone.
CHAPTER SIX - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM
As Zeg’s car rattled and smoked through the pristine empty streets of the View, Tam tried to hold on to the warmth of Jennet pressed against him. It wasn’t much, just a scrap of brightness for him to fold away and keep close to his heart.
The tall gates of the exit slid open. Zeg gave the guards a cheery wave they didn’t return, and the car lurched under the silver archway marking the boundary between the compound and Crestview.
Back into the real world—the world of crazed little brothers and struggling moms. The world where nothing was simple or easy.
“What did you think of that?” Zeg asked.
Tam leaned his elbow on the dash and faced Zeg.
“Which part? It’s a different reality up there.”
“Certainly is. Though you’ve spent a little time in the View, I hear.”
“Yeah.”
He’d gone with Jennet a few times to her fancy, computer-controlled house—until the night Security caught him breaking in. He’d had to do it to save her, not that the cops listened to his explanation. He’d nearly been arrested, and her dad had forbidden them to see each other. Mr. Carter was deaf to their arguments that the Realm of Faerie was using the game to break into the mortal world.
Tam wished Jennet would press the issue more, but she was surprisingly timid around her dad—probably because her mom had left the family when Jennet was way young. Some residue of childhood fear kept her from pushing back too hard against the only parent she had left.
“Feyland is a fun game,” Zeg said. “They’ve obviously worked to create an immersive environment. I think it will be a hit, despite the basic level of the battle mechanics. Or do the fights get more complex?”
“Um, they do.”
And at the first sign of magic seeping into the game, Tam was going to tell Zeg everything. He tugged at the seatbelt cutting across his chest. The question was, had the Feyland he and Jennet played gradually become more challenging because of the programming, or because of the magic? He had a sinking feeling he knew the answer.
“Good,” Zeg said. “I like a challenge.”
He swerved the car around a deep pothole. Things got more run-down the closer they got to the Exe. Lurid graffiti etched the sides of abandoned buildings, their broken-out windows staring into the street like empty eyes.
“You can let me out here,” Tam said. “The streets just get worse.”
“It’s only a couple more blocks, right?” The car lurched into a rut. Zeg grinned and gunned the engine, and they shot forward again. “Heh, this is better than playing Crazed Auto.”
“Ok then.” Tam couldn’t help smiling. “Turn left at the next intersection. My place is partway down the street—the old auto shop.”
It wasn’t deep into the Exe, but even living on the outskirts was hazardous. Still, it was the only home he’d ever known.
“That it?” Zeg pointed to the old shop.
A rickety staircase ran up one side of the building, leading to the flat-topped roof where Tam’s house was built. It looked tiny and dingy, like a shack compared to the mansions in The View. The blue tarp covering most of the roof was streaked with dirt, and the rusted metal patches on the walls gave it a bruised look.
But inside was what mattered—his mom and little brother. His family, no matter how flawed. It wasn’t like he was any kind of perfect specimen, himself.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” Zeg said.
It wasn’t a question, and Tam knew arguing would be pointless. When Zeg made up his mind, he was solid as a mountain. A lot like his niece, Marny, in fact.
“Right. See you then.”
Tam climbed out of the car and closed the door, careful not to slam it. The vehicle seemed held together with wire and hope. But Zeg was good with mechanics, always fixing the consoles and interfaces at his sim café. As Zeg drove off, Tam half-expected the car to leave a trail of random parts and spewed oil behind, but it held together.
Kind of like Tam’s life. Holding together.
He went up the stairs, skipping the spongiest tread, and fished his keys out of his pocket. It took a couple of jingling moments to undo all the locks and deadbolts, but the old-fashioned tech was the only way to really be secure. Electronic scan locks were laughably easy to hack—at least, the ones they could afford.
And although it didn’t look like they had anything worth stealing, there was a big wad of cash hidden in his mom’s bedroom. Payoff from VirtuMax, after their game had put him into a coma. Blood money.
Plus, locked in the empty auto shop downstairs sat a brand-new Zing model sim-system he still couldn’t bring himself to play. He knew he’d love it, but it would be an admission that things were all right, that VirtuMax had paid off their debt.
Which they hadn’t. His life was worth more than a game system.
That debt would pale to nothing, though, if the fey folk managed to break th
rough into the mortal world. All the cash and prime sim-systems in the world wouldn’t be worth a thing.
The memory of the Dark Queen shivered through him. Midnight-deep eyes, black hair tangled with stars, her voice like burnt sugar and roses. She could command anyone. She could hold the world enthralled.
“Tam!” His little brother’s voice cut through his reverie. “Come in quick and look at this one.”
Tam shook his head, hard, and forced himself back to the present. He pushed the door open, then made sure to do up all the locks again before turning to see what the Bug was doing.
The floor of their living room was littered with folded paper airplanes, made from torn pages of ancient magazines. His brother stood, poised on the couch. He gave Tam a huge grin, then launched a plane straight at Tam’s face.
“Hey!” Tam ducked.
“Did you see it? It took me lots of tries, but I finally got it right. ’Cause it needs weight to fly, which is weird for something that’s supposed to go in the air.”
“Good job.” Tam glanced around the room. The kitchen alcove was empty and the bedroom door closed. His throat tightened. “Where’s Mom?”
“Sleeping. She told me not to set anything on fire.”
Tam let out a low breath. Mom was still home, not out roving the streets. And at least the Bug had listened to her—although the kitchen seemed messier than usual. Tam squinted.
“Peter, what did you use for ballast?”
“For which?”
His little brother plopped down and began making another plane.
“What did you weight the planes with?”
“First I tried extra paper, but that didn’t work. And then I thought maybe pieces of a plate, but it was too heavy, so I kept looking for just the right stuff.”
That explained the broken dish. And the tipped-over container of dry rice.
“You used rice?”
“Yeah—it’s perfect. Except it spills out a little.”
Tam looked at the floor—what he could see of it through the strewn and folded pages. Sure enough, little white bits were scattered all over. Still, a broken plate and some rice spread around were minimal compared to the mess the Bug usually made when unsupervised. At least the kid hadn’t gone downstairs and decided to take apart the Zing system to see how it worked.
