by Anthea Sharp
Luckily, his enhanced agility stat kept him from crashing too badly. He rose from a crouch, dusted off his leggings, and bowed to the tree. The copper leaf shone against the greenish-brown mosses and gnarled roots.
“Okay, then.” Nyx picked it up.
The leaf was smooth and cool against his fingers. He slipped it in his pocket, and his character inventory lit up, showing that he’d added one copper leaf.
Distantly, he heard the ping of an alarm. Crap. Emmie would be home from school in ten minutes. If she found him simming, she’d tattle to the parents out of jealousy. After all, who wouldn’t want to stay home from high school and game all day? It didn’t matter that he was keeping up in his classes. Mom and Dad would come down hard on him for lying.
Nyx keyed his character back to the village inn that was his in-game home and hastily logged out. He pulled off the gaming helm and sim-gloves, then hopped up out of the chair.
Something poked his thigh, like there was a pin in the pocket of his sweatpants. Wouldn’t that be just like Emmie, to sabotage his clothes? He could tell she thought he was totally faking being sick. Curses on perceptive little sisters.
He perched on the side of his bed and reached into his pocket. Something cool and slick met his fingers and he caught his breath in disbelief. It couldn’t be.
Carefully, he drew the item out of his pocket and stared at it. A perfectly formed copper leaf. From Feyland. The back of his neck prickled with disbelief.
Nyx looked from the sim system to the leaf cradled in his palm, then back again, his mind insisting it couldn’t be true. Things couldn’t appear in real life from out of a video game.
He swallowed, feeling dizzy. Was he going crazy?
He set the leaf on his bedside table. It looked strange and magical beside his tablet and half-empty can of energy drink.
Downstairs, the front door slammed. Emmie was home. He wanted to call her in to look at the leaf, but she’d only laugh at it, saying he was trying to hoax her again. He rubbed his eyes, sudden exhaustion crashing over him. Maybe he really was getting sick after all.
With a last glance at the magical leaf, he curled up on his side and pulled his covers over him. It would be gone when he woke up—the whole thing just a fever dream.
“Nyx! Ohmigod, wake up.”
Emmie’s voice, her hand on his shoulder shaking him insistently.
“Go ’way,” he mumbled, trying to roll away from her annoying presence.
“Open your eyes. Please!”
The panicky note in his sister’s voice penetrated his foggy brain. Nyx forced his eyes open.
His sleepiness shocked away like he’d been doused with a bucket of cold water. Slowly, he sat up and stared at his room.
His bedroom. His forest. Oh yeah.
The pale-trunked trees started by his bedside table and faded away into the misty distance. Bright flowers bloomed in clumps at their roots, and orange-winged butterflies danced in and out of shafts of sunlight.
“I told you,” he said to Emmie.
Wide-eyed, she sank down to sit beside him on the bed.
“It can’t be real,” she whispered. “I thought you’d just… you know. Made a really prime MR simulation.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Just look at it.” She glanced around. “I came in to ask you a question about my data homework, and thought you’d left your projectors on. But then I felt one of the trees. Really felt it. And a drop of water splashed on my face, from a leaf.”
She brought her fingers to her cheek.
“If it helps, I didn’t believe it at first, either,” he said, glancing at the copper leaf gleaming on his bedside table. “This is the second time it’s appeared.”
Emmie took a deep breath. “It even smells like a forest.”
She was right. The air smelled like wet soil after a rain, with a faint underlay of crushed herbs.
A nearby clump of green-leaved bushes shook, and she grabbed his arm.
“Relax,” he told her.
He couldn’t reassure her that the forest wouldn’t hurt them, but he had a pretty good idea of what was hiding in the shrubbery. Luckily, he had a half-eaten protein bar around somewhere, probably under a pile of clothes. He peeled Emmie’s fingers off his arms and slid to the edge of the bed.
“Wait,” she said. “You can’t just get up and go in there.”
Nyx ignored her. He knelt on the floor and started rummaging through his clothes. The flash of a foil wrapper caught his eye. Tossing his armful of laundry aside, he grabbed the bar and stripped off the wrapper, then moved to the perimeter of the lush green moss.
“Come out,” he called, waving the bar. “Tasty treats.”
“Seriously?” Emmie didn’t sound scared anymore, or awed—which meant the usual sarcasm couldn’t be far behind. “You’re trying to coax some creature out of the forest that shouldn’t even exist in your bedroom with a stale bar?”
“Shut up,” he suggested.
She narrowed her eyes at him, but at least she stopped talking.
After a moment, a pointy-nosed golden head popped out of one of the bushes. Nyx smiled, but kept his hand steady. Cautiously, the mouselike creature crept out of hiding. It paused and tilted its head, and Emmie made a little cooing noise.
“Here.” Nyx broke a piece off the bar and reached out, setting it partway between him and the creature.
In a flash of gold fur, it darted forward, grabbed the hunk of protein bar, and disappeared back into the bushes.
“That was sooo cute,” Emmie said. “I hope it’s not like the attack bunny in that old movie Mom and Dad like so much.”
“I saw this creature before.” Nyx settled cross-legged on the floor, keeping one eye on the place the golden mouse had disappeared. “I don’t think it’s dangerous.”
“Um.” His sister picked at a loose thread on his coverlet. “So, I guess you were trying to tell me about this before. I should have listened better.”
It was as close to an apology as he would get.
“Hey, it’s pretty hard to wrap your brain around.” He glanced into the misty depths of the forest. “It’s like those books where kids walk into an enchanted closet and emerge into a magic land or something.”
“But why us?”
“Us? Excuse me, this is my room.”
Emmie rolled her eyes, but her usual snarky expression faded as she looked back at the woods. “Did you, like, pick up a magic coin or meet a sorcerer on your way home from school?”
“Not that I know of.”
He wasn’t about to try and explain, not when he himself had only a shaky grasp of what was going on.
The clank of the garage door opening vibrated through the house.
“Oh, crap.” He got to his feet. “Dad’s home early. What time is it?”
“Time for me to run interference.” Emmie hopped off his bed. “I’ll go talk at him while you do something about this. You know he’s going to want to check on you, you big faker.”
“I had reasons.” Nyx raised his brows and swept a hand out at the forest.
“Well, undo them or whatever.” She hurried to the door and opened it, then looked back over her shoulder. “Nyx?”
“You better get down there.”
“If that mouse thing comes back, can I have it as a pet?”
“No. Now move it.”
“Emerald? Onyx?” Their dad’s voice drifted up the stairs.
Emmie slipped out, closing the door behind her, and Nyx glanced around. The forest was way too big to conceal. No way he could even drape the closest trees with blankets—the idea was ludicrous.
“Here.” He chucked the rest of the bar into the mouse’s bush, and was rewarded with a squeak of gratitude.
Muffled by his door, he could hear Emmie talking to Dad. Their voices were getting closer. Dammit. He really better be right about this.
Heart racing, Nyx picked up the copper leaf. It was cool and polished under his fingers.
He grasped it in both hands, closed his eyes, and snapped it in half.
The sound of it breaking was a tiny click, but it seemed to shake all the way through him. He gasped, like he’d been punched in the stomach, and opened his eyes.
“There you are, buddy,” his dad said, pushing open his door. “Wow, you really don’t look good. Can I bring you an upchuck bowl?”
“No, thanks.” Nyx clenched his hands around the remains of the leaf and staggered over to his bed. “I’ll just rest.”
“Hang in there. I think your mom is bringing some fizzy soda home. That might help.”
Nyx nodded and lay down, giving his plain old walls a grateful glance.
At least he’d been right in his suspicions that the leaf was connecting Feyland to the real world. Somehow.
“Is he okay?” Emmie peeked her head in, but she didn’t even bother glancing at him. She scanned his room, managing to look both relieved and disappointed at the same time.
“We’ll let him rest,” their dad said. “Out you go, squeak.”
“Don’t call me that.” Emmie withdrew, Dad right behind her.
Nyx exhaled shakily, then uncurled his fingers. Instead of shattered bits of copper, his palms were coated with dust. Even as he watched, it seemed to float away, mingling with the dust motes in his room.
Head pounding, he sat on his bed and tried to make sense of the whole afternoon.
Somehow, he’d brought a leaf from inside a video game into the real world. Where it had conjured a magical forest to life in his bedroom. Then the leaf had disappeared into a handful of ashes when he’d broken it, causing the enchanted trees to fade.
Yep, that pretty much summed it up. He rubbed his forehead. Too bad he had no idea what this all meant, or what to do about it.
But over the weeks, as he figured out how to bring various items out of Feyland and conjure up different environments—the silvery forest, a swamp, rolling meadows filled with flowers—a plan had formed.
This was magic, and he wanted to share it with the world in a way that people could enjoy.
“You’ll be lying to them,” Emmie had said.
“Nobody will believe the truth. And if they did, they’d just want to monetize it.”
“The way you’re planning to do.” His sister’s voice was dry.
“Yeah, but I’m not exploiting it—just delivering it in a way that will cover my costs.”
Emmie had folded her arms and given him a sour look. “What if it turns out to be dangerous? How are you going to explain that?”
“I’ve had that forest in and out of my room for nearly two months now, and nothing has happened.” He’d even gotten comfortable sleeping in its presence.
“What about that pile of sticks you told me about?”
Nyx had woken up one morning to find a small heap of twigs and branches in the middle of his bedroom floor. When he’d gone to pick them up, they’d disappeared. Not into silvery dust, either, just a shimmer in the air, and—poof!—gone.
“They were harmless, and it never happened again. I shouldn’t even have told you about it.”
“But I’m your partner.” She had the stubborn look on her face that meant trouble.
“You’re my employee. Big difference.”
Actually, she was somewhere in between. She’d been a surprisingly good sounding board to bounce ideas off, and when the juice/espresso bar idea came up, she’d convinced him to let her manage it.
“You’ll be too busy running the place,” she’d said. “You don’t want to be trapped behind a counter, making lattes. Besides, I’ll have fun, and you’ll pay me well.”
“I hate it when you make sense.”
She’d stuck her tongue out at him, and they had a deal. When he got his plan up and running, she’d be a part of it.
And finally, nearly three months from when the enchanted forest had first appeared in his bedroom, he’d found the place that would become Club Mysteria. A huge warehouse with a set of rooms he could fix up to live in, plus a couple more for offices. An entire city block, waiting for the magic to begin.
“This is perfect. Let’s go sign the lease,” Nyx told the stunned-looking real-estate agent. “Did I mention I’m paying cash?”
***
CHAPTER FOUR
June 22
Marny’s alarm, a cheerful blend of birdsong and gurgling water, rang way too early. She hit the snooze button, her brain struggling up from smoky dreams filled with vague disquiet. Probably trying to adjust to the fact that she’d never been this far from home, and anxiety about the internship.
Normally, she was not a worried kind of girl. Whatever came up, she dealt with it, and stressing beforehand wasn’t useful. But as she sat up and pushed her hair out of her eyes, she had to admit she felt a touch afraid.
What if she couldn’t meet Intertech’s expectations?
Oh, stop it, the smarter part of her said. You wouldn’t be here if they didn’t think you were worth it. Now get up.
She sounded like her own mom. Half smiling, Marny pushed the soft covers aside and stood. The large bed was very comfortable. It was nice to have enough space to stretch out without bumping into the wall or stubbing her toe.
She’d outgrown her single years ago, but the bedroom she shared with Grandma Harmony didn’t have room for a double bed. It could barely handle the two singles squeezed in on either side of the little room. Sometimes, when it was clear there’d be a few months between her grandma’s stays, Marny pushed the beds together and stuffed a blanket in the crack between the mattresses. It was better, but nothing like a real double.
Everyone in her family was big. That was just part of her Samoan heritage. But so was helping out family. So whenever Grandma Harmony came back, Marny pulled the beds apart without a complaint.
She heard stirring in the room next door, and quickly pulled on her T-shirt and jeans and hurried into the hall. If Anjah got to the bathroom first, Marny had the feeling she’d monopolize it until they had to leave.
Marny brushed her teeth, swiped a comb through her hair, and was leaving the bathroom as Anjah came out of her room. She wore a set of silky pajamas that wouldn’t look out of place at a fancy dinner party.
“Are you planning to shower?” Anjah asked, her eyes still half closed.
“Not this morning.”
“Okay. Good.” Anjah yawned and bumped into the bathroom door. “I’ll be out in a half-hour. Maybe longer.”
“I’m done in there,” Marny said.
Anjah blinked. “Really? What about your makeup?”
“I rely on my natural beauty,” Marny said dryly. It wasn’t entirely true, but a swipe of lip gloss and a dab of eyeliner certainly wouldn’t count as makeup in Anjah’s world.
“You could be attractive, with a little enhancement. We’ll talk about that, later.” Anjah yawned again. “God, I hope Wil makes some coffee.”
“I don’t think he’s up yet.” Marny let the “could be attractive” comment pass. Whatever.
“Maybe you’ll make the coffee?” Anjah peered at her hopefully.
“I’m more of a tea drinker,” Marny said. “Enjoy your shower.”
She had no interest in becoming Anjah’s personal chef. Or in submitting to a makeover, no doubt complete with catty comments about all her physical shortcomings. Tallcomings, heh.
Back in her room, Marny donned the new clothes she’d bought yesterday from the store Brenna had taken her to. The dark pants and tailored burgundy top were adequate corporate work clothes, but she hoped her duffel would show up soon. The clothes Jennet had helped her pick out had a little more character, and besides, they’d remind her of home. Make her feel that she hadn’t been completely assimilated as an Intertech worker-drone.
She went to the mirrored closet door and tried to see herself as a stranger might. The clothes made her look adult. And was she almost attractive? She leaned forward, trying to determine what about her wide cheeks, dark eyes, and broad nose was particularly
appealing.
Years ago, she’d given up on being beautiful—at least the kind of beautiful found on the vids and netscreens. As far as she knew, there hadn’t yet been a Samoan supermodel. And that was actually fine. She was proud of her strength, and her family. Proud of the particular collection of features that made her Marny Fanalua.
Whatever Anjah was talking about, Marny didn’t see it. Then again, the girl was a bit obsessed about appearance, not to mention half-asleep. It was obvious Anjah wasn’t a morning person.
Neither was Wil, judging from the snores emanating from his room as Marny walked past. She paused, wondering if she should knock on his door, when a shockingly loud alarm jangled from inside. He mumbled and she heard him smack something. The noise abruptly cut off.
Right, then. If she ever overslept, his alarm would definitely rouse her. Good to know.
She shook her head and continued to the kitchen. Far better, in her opinion, to wake to the soothing waterfall-and-birdsong melody programmed into her tablet.
She flicked on the electric kettle, then rummaged in the cupboards until she found the mugs. They were all too small, and standard boring white. She mentally added a big, colorful tea mug to the list of things she needed.
On her way past the dining hall the night before, she’d grabbed a few tea bags and sealed containers of creamer. Soon, she’d get to the store—she really did prefer soy milk—but for now, Intertech could keep her in tea. The Celtic Breakfast in its bright green packaging looked promising.
The kettle dinged, and she poured boiling water over her tea bag. Stainless steel and black, the appliance matched the rest of the stylish kitchen. Dark granite countertops, a stove that looked brand new, and cupboards made of some reddish wood, stocked with dishes. And regrettably small mugs.
When her tea had brewed nice and strong, she took her cup over to the window and watched the morning traffic zip around the streets below. Almost half the cars were the bright yellow grav-taxis—something she didn’t see much of in Crestview. Either people drove themselves (or had chauffeurs, in the case of the rich kids), or took the bus.
