by Anthea Sharp
“Yo.” Wil shuffled into the kitchen, wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt with holes in it. His hair stuck up on one side like a fan.
“Morning,” she said, turning to greet him.
Lucky Anjah; it looked like he was, indeed, making coffee.
Most of Marny’s family loved the beverage. Her uncle even owned a simcafé, but Marny had never developed a taste for coffee. Too bitter.
Though she did enjoy the smell as Wil ground the coffee. It reminded her of home.
He rubbed his eyes and leaned back against the counter beside the gurgling coffee machine.
“I hear they set out a tray of bagels and pastries in the dining hall,” he said. “For people who just want to grab something and go during their breaks. In case you were wondering about breakfast.”
“Sounds good.”
She usually wasn’t too hungry in the mornings, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a little bite. Although this morning, her stomach was so tight with nerves she was particularly uninterested in eating.
Calm down. Sheesh. You’ll be fine.
Whatever the day held, she’d handle it. If she could battle crazed smoke-drifters and wicked goblins, babysit a changeling, and fight off faerie glamour, she could face her first morning at Intertech.
Before the coffee was done, Wil grabbed a mug and poured himself a cup, letting the still-brewing coffee splash down and scorch on the burner. Marny wrinkled her nose at the acrid smell, but she didn’t say anything as Wil dashed back to his room. She could hear Anjah singing in the bathroom.
For a second she missed her sisters and parents with a deep stab of homesickness.
But at home there was no view of a waking city outside her windows. No way to prove herself against a larger world. Crestview was where she’d grown up, but it was constricting, like an old sweater that had shrunk in the dryer until she could barely get her head and arms through, let alone wear it comfortably.
She wasn’t sure what kind of future would fit her, but that was part of why she’d applied for the internship. Why she was here in Newpoint.
“Coffee?” Anjah called plaintively, cracking the bathroom door open an inch.
Wil didn’t respond, so after a moment Marny did. “I’ll bring you a cup. Black?”
“Oh, thank you! Black, two sugars.”
Marny supposed it didn’t hurt to preserve harmony with her roommates. She’d need a favor in return at some point, and it didn’t take long to fix Anjah’s cup.
“Here you go.” Marny rapped on the bathroom door.
Anjah cracked it again, and stuck out her hand. Her nails were now peacock blue.
“A million thanks,” she said from behind the door as she grabbed the mug.
“Welcome,” Marny said to the rapidly closing door.
Oh, well. Some people really weren’t human until after their morning coffee. Though she had the suspicion Anjah had a selfish streak as wide as the Pacific.
Marny went back to the window, and her tea. The last couple sips were cold, but she finished it anyway as sunlight illuminated the side of a nearby skyscraper. Gray windows turned to silver, flat metal sparkling as it caught the light, and colors burst from wan to brilliant.
She liked being high enough to see the sky. Mentally calculating that the window faced southwest, she figured the apartment would get some nice afternoon sun.
Though whether she’d ever have free time in the afternoon remained to be seen.
She glanced at the screen mounted on the wall, currently displaying the time and weather. Brenna would be there in five minutes to take them downstairs for their first day of work.
Marny rinsed her cup in the kitchen, then went back to her room. She grabbed her tablet and slipped on the new pair of shoes, dressy but still relatively comfortable. Wil was moving around in his bedroom, and Anjah was still in the bathroom.
“You guys coming?” she called as she strode down the hall toward the front door.
“Right here,” Wil said, stepping out of his room.
Marny pursed her lips and nodded. “You clean up nice.”
His wild hair was tamed back with gel, showing off his strong features. Wearing slacks and a button-down shirt, he didn’t look quite so gawky and uncoordinated. Not that she was any more attracted to him, but it was an interesting transformation.
“Glad you approve.” He winked at her. “You look pretty sharp yourself.”
Anjah threw open the bathroom door and sailed out on a cloud of steam and flowery perfume. Of course she was dressed perfectly, in a blue-green ensemble that was like a sunlit sea.
“Let me get my shoes,” she said. “And my bag.”
She led the way to the entry, where she deftly donned a pair of aquamarine high heels and plucked a matching purse from the closet.
Somebody knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Wil said through the speaker interface, and buzzed the door open.
It slid back to reveal Brenna standing in the hallway.
“Good,” the liaison said, giving them each a once-over. “After today, you guys need to get yourselves down to the offices, but this morning there’s an introductory meeting to attend.”
“Aye-aye,” Wil said, snapping a salute.
Brenna gave him a look. “This isn’t boot camp. You all ready?”
“Yep,” Marny said. “Let’s go.”
“Wait a second.” Anjah set her hand on Marny’s arm, pulled her to the hall mirror, and handed her a tube of lip gloss. “Put this on.”
“I’m fine—”
“Humor me. Besides, you have beautiful lips.”
“Hurry up,” Brenna said, folding her arms.
It was quicker for Marny to slick some gloss over her mouth than keep arguing with Anjah. Besides, she could always wipe it off when Anjah wasn’t looking.
“Nice.” Anjah nodded. “Keep it—it’s not really my color.”
Marny had to admit the subtle sheen did look good on her, and not too obviously like she was wearing makeup. Maybe she wouldn’t wipe it off, after all.
“Guys,” Wil called from the hall.
Moving alarmingly fast in her high heels, Anjah hurried out the door. Marny was right behind her.
“Finally.” Brenna gave Marny a stern look. “Do your primping a little earlier next time, okay?”
Marny just nodded. No use arguing.
They were silent as they rode the elevator down ten floors. When the doors dinged open, Brenna led them down yet another hallway and past several offices and official-looking meeting rooms.
“This morning you’ll meet your supervisors and get your assignments,” Brenna said. “If you have any questions or concerns, make sure to speak up. And here we are.”
Marny looked through the glass window into the conference room Brenna had indicated. It seemed full of people, and her stomach tightened again.
“Sure looks busy in there,” Wil said, voicing her own worry. “Do they really need nine people to run herd on us?”
“Ten,” Anjah said. “You missed the guy in the dark blue suit at the far end of the table.”
“Don’t argue, just come in.” Brenna swiped her ID card at the door. It slid open and she strode inside, heading for the four empty chairs at the close end of the table.
“Fine, ten people,” Wil said to Anjah. “After you, your majesty.”
Anjah sniffed as she swept past him, walking gracefully into the room as if she really were royalty.
Which, for all Marny knew, she was.
“Ladies first.” Wil lifted his brows at her.
Marny couldn’t quite manage the princess walk, but she did her best to appear calm and unruffled as she followed Anjah into the room. Brenna beckoned them to the chairs beside her. Anjah promptly took the middle one. Marny pulled out the chair on her right, glad to find it was nice and roomy, and Wil settled on Anjah’s left.
The man in the blue suit stood, and Marny saw with some surprise that it was the CEO, Dettwiler von Coburg. As
soon as he rose, everyone else stopped conversing and set their tablets down. For a long moment, Mr. von Coburg studied the people seated around the table. His eyes were steel gray in his stern face. Marny wondered if his silver hair was fake, it looked so thick and shiny.
At last he sat down again, his gaze fixed on the interns.
“Welcome,” he said, a faint trace of an accent in his voice. “I am sure I needn’t tell you what an honor it is for the three of you to be sitting here, in the heart of one of the greatest corporations in the world.”
The other people in the room applauded, and Marny couldn’t tell if it was in greeting or because they were supposed to respond like that to everything Mr. von Coburg said.
“It’s an honor, sir,” Anjah said, hitting just the right note of respect.
“Miss Anjah Lee.” The CEO didn’t bother glancing at the tablet in front of him. “Your mathematics scores are impressive. We’re placing you with the data and statistics team. I’m sure you’ll be able to assist with their various projects.”
He waved to three people seated across from Anjah, who each nodded at her in turn.
“I’d be delighted,” Anjah said, with a demure smile.
“Mr. Wil Cutter.” Mr. von Coburg leaned forward. “Mechanical genius at a young age—very nice. You will be working with the structural engineering team.”
“Prime,” Wil said, grinning.
Three guys who had the rumpled look of engineers nodded to him, and he lifted his hand in return.
“Miss Marny Fanalua.” Mr. von Coburg’s gaze pinned her to her chair. “You created an app that has swept the globe, providing a modification scheme no one had envisioned the need for—until you invented it. We’re assigning you to the social interfaces design team.”
He nodded at the two women and one man seated to his left.
“Thank you,” Marny said, though she had very little idea what she’d just gotten herself into.
Social interfaces design team? It sounded like calling the cleaning guy an “environmental alignment specialist.” Except at Intertech, the job was probably way more involved than mopping floors, and required top-level clearance.
“Now.” Mr. von Coburg held up his hands. “I trust you three to give Intertech your best work, cooperate with your team members, and, of course, abide by the nondisclosure agreement you all signed before arriving.”
Yeah—that contract had serious teeth. If Marny breathed a word about Intertech to anyone outside the company, she’d be booted out so fast she probably wouldn’t even have time to gather her belongings.
Provided her duffel bag ever showed up.
“It’s been a pleasure welcoming you to the company.” The CEO gave the interns the barest hint of a smile. “I look forward to weekly updates on your progress. Now, teams, gather up your hatchlings and get to work.”
He rose, and the rest of the people around the table quickly stood, as if it wouldn’t do to idle there when the boss was on his feet. Marny, Wil, and Anjah got up, too. Nobody said anything as Dettwiler von Coburg paced out of the conference room without a backward glance.
“We do okay?” Wil asked Brenna in a low voice, once the CEO was gone.
“You guys are fine,” the liaison said, waving her hand. “The boss practically smiled at you—a real coup.”
Marny raised her brows, while Anjah preened a little.
“You heard the man,” Brenna continued. “Get over to your assigned people. I’ll see you at lunch.”
“Good luck, everyone,” Anjah said, tossing her hair back.
She sauntered over to her team, and after a quick conversation, they left the room. Wil did the same, trading backslaps with the engineers in some kind of dude-recognition ritual.
Marny’s turn. The three people who represented the social interface design team surrounded her, but not in a scary way.
“Hey,” Marny said.
“Welcome,” the blonde woman said, with a decidedly French accent. “I am Madame Fontaine. These are my colleagues, Ms. Hanley and Ser Jellicoe.”
Marny nodded and shook hands all around. She guessed Ms. Hanley was American, but Ser Jellicoe stumped her. He looked Native Australian, maybe, with tribal tattoos snaking down his arms, and a smile that gleamed whitely in his dark face.
“Come on down to the twenty-ninth,” he said. “Meet all the gang. We’ll get you settled.”
“Okay.” She followed Ser Jellicoe into the hallway.
“Nice work on that app,” Ms. Hanley said. “Really creative stuff.”
“Thanks, Ms. Han—”
“Please, don’t take Madame’s formality to heart.” The brown-haired woman smiled at her. “Call me Angie. And he’s Jelly.” She nodded at Ser Jellicoe.
Marny could handle using the name Angie, but she didn’t think she’d be comfortable calling anyone Jelly, let alone a supervisor. Madame clearly would always be Madame—and nobody suggested otherwise.
“How did you come up with the idea of No Compromise?” Madame Fontaine asked as they stepped into the elevator. She keyed in the floor number with one flawlessly manicured finger.
“I was tired of the same old types of avatar choices,” Marny said. “Especially the skinny ones with idealized proportions. I mean, it was either play them, or go for the really gross monster avas. I’d been trying to mod my gaming characters for a couple years, and finally found a way to make it stick.”
“I’d say.” Angie laughed. “Got anything else you’re working on?”
“I’m pretty open right now. Maybe an idea or two, nothing solid. I’d love to see what you guys are working on.”
“Our team specializes in primary customer interfaces,” Ser Jellicoe said. “That includes things like avatar creation as well as social media outreach.”
“One of our projects involves designing new voice modules,” Madame Fontaine said.
“Really?” Marny couldn’t curb her enthusiasm. “I’ve been starting to think about different dialogue options. What people say and how they say it is nearly as important as how they look. I’m not sure the regular settings give enough nuance, you know?”
“Excellent.” Madame gave her an approving nod. “Miss Fanalua, sit down with Ms. Hanley and familiarize yourself with our current projects. I’ll be interested in your feedback. That will be your first assignment.”
“Great.” Marny grinned at Angie, who winked back at her.
Maybe this internship wasn’t going to be so fearsome after all.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mid-June
A light breeze swirled through the Bright Court, setting the gemmed flowers on the jade-leafed trees clinking. The floating motes of pixies spun and glowed, their chiming laughter drifting over the court. A jig lilted through the air and the feasting tables were crowded with cheerful denizens of the Bright Realm. Yet despite this levity, the Bright King’s expression was pensive as he sat upon his throne.
His spriggan guard had not returned, and the king had come to the reluctant conclusion that the creatures of the Realm of Faerie would not be able to use these so-called bubble worlds to enter the human realm.
There were other ways, however, of crossing the boundary between the worlds.
The king gestured to one of his courtiers, a slender youth garbed in pale green with wings of the same color tightly furled against his back.
“Verdan,” the king said as the faerie made him a low bow, “I desire to speak with Puck. Go search him out and ask him to present himself as soon as he might.”
“Yes, my liege.” The courtier leapt lightly into the air, his wings opening to bear him away.
The Bright King watched until Verdan disappeared beyond the shining trees. While he wished he could summon the sprite to appear immediately, Puck was a tricksy faerie and not the king’s to command. If Puck felt too put-upon, he would remove himself in rebuke to the Dark Court for a time, well beyond the king’s reach. It behooved the king to tread carefully—though being forced to issue such a
polite summons grated upon him.
Still, Puck was a useful fellow, and a good ally when he chose to be. And for the errand the king had in mind, there was no better emissary than the mischievous sprite.
Nyx stood in the center of the warehouse, hands on his hips. The buzz of drills and the steady thwack of an air-compressor nail-gun filled the air, along with lots of dust particles and the smell of new paint.
It was all his, and it was prime.
The process of leasing the building and starting the remodel had been mostly seamless, although jumping through permit hoops at the city hall had been a pain. But now it was just about finished and he was ready to move in.
First priority had been fixing up the living space. The construction crew had done a good job with it, and now the bedroom, spare room, bathroom, and little kitchen/living area were complete, plus extra bathrooms for the club side.
The next step was putting in some furniture and making the place his own.
“We’ll miss you, hon,” his mom had said at dinner the night before. “Are you absolutely sure you want to move out?”
“I’m eighteen now,” he’d replied. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”
She’d given him a sad-eyed look that was only partially in jest. “You know we love having you around.”
“Speak for yourself.” Emmie made a face at him over the salad bowl. “He’s loud and annoying and leaves messes all over.”
“It’s not my fault you have an issue with my socks,” Nyx said, mostly to rile her up.
“They’re disgusting! You leave them right there on the couch, and—”
“Stop.” Their dad held up a hand. “Carolyn, maybe it’s not a bad thing for Onyx to get his own place.”
“No kidding.” Emmie narrowed her eyes at him.
“You’ll have to do my portion of the chores now, don’t forget.” He gave her an evil smile.
“So worth it.”
“At least plan to have dinner with us a couple nights a week,” his mom said, ignoring Emmie’s drama.
