by Casey Moss
Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2014 Casey Moss
ISBN: 978-1-77130-852-6
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: JS Cook
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To my WOW buddies—Play on!
To my two best buds, Chris and Trina, thank you for your continued belief in me, along with your love and support. It means the world to me.
OPEN WORLD
C.O.V.E.N.
Casey Moss
Copyright © 2014
Briefing
I-D-8 Entertainment Corporation
For Immediate Release—all media outlets
ANNOUNCING A NEW GAME—C.O.V.E.N.
I-D-8 Entertainment is happy to announce our latest project—a massively multiplayer online role-playing game (MMORPG) named Clans of Vegas: Endless Night, a.k.a.: C.O.V.E.N.. An initial release of this game is projected for the fourth quarter of this year.
C.O.V.E.N.’s premise: The major countries of the world have broken out in wars. This time the United States hasn’t escaped the attacks. Las Vegas, a beautiful vacation destination, has been ravaged by hostile, chemical warfare and is now home to several clans and zombie-like creatures. “Everyone at I-D-8 is looking forward to the roll-out of C.O.V.E.N.,” states Frederick Gott, Lead Designer of C.O.V.E.N. “Gamers will enjoy this new world we’ve created for them. There’s something for everyone, zombies, vampires, shifters, magic, etcetera, across a variety of boards.” James Collins, a head programmer adds, “C.O.V.E.N. is more than just a game. It’s another world full of adventure.”
I-D-8 Entertainment Corporation, a world-wide developer, publisher and distributor of interactive entertainment software, has brought the world many educational programs in enjoyable and mind stimulating formats to assist in all levels of the learning process. I-D-8’s newest game is projected to exceed all expectations in company sales and users’ gaming enjoyment.
PART ONE
Local Area Network Party
Chapter One
A hot trail of sweat trickled down behind Alden’s ear and slipped beneath the collar of his shirt. The world around him all of a sudden seemed off. Not sure if it was the spring heat of southern Nevada, the fire in the grill’s shallow pit or a twinge of foreboding raising his temperature, he shifted his stance and studied his surroundings. The atmosphere rippled away from him in an agitated wave, giving him the impression it wanted to consume everything it touched. Fine hairs lining the nape of his neck rose to attention and tickled his skin.
Feeling as if something menacing stared at him, Den spun from the barbecue. He held a pair of foot-long tongs in his hand like a weapon and scanned the small groups of people nearby. Coworkers wandered about. They ate from paper plates and laughed and talked about office antics, appearing to enjoy the afternoon. Others hung out under the open-air, wooden pavilion next to the community’s club house.
They all act as if they have no cares in the world.
But then why should they? The C.O.V.E.N. project hadn’t hit too many glitches. Several more months, God willing, the latest and greatest massively multiplayer online role-playing game, Clans of Vegas: Endless Night would hit the shelves. They’d all get their bonuses. He and Hope could finally take their relationship to the next level. Life promised to become great real soon.
Yet, despite his positive thoughts, another shiver swept through him. Not wanting to dismiss his ‘gut feelings,’ he squeezed the utensil, gritted his teeth and focused in on close conversations. People discussed the previous morning’s meeting. One man remarked, and those around him agreed, how wonderful it was when everyone functioned ‘on the same page,’ especially in terms of the C.O.V.E.N. project. It made each person’s workload progress much smoother. A pair of women walking toward him compared notes on their daughters’ recent ballet recitals. Some teens behind the adults chatted about an upcoming dance and who planned to take who. Innocuous topics.
Dammit. So then why do I feel uneasy?
Relying on past military training, Den swept his gaze over the grassy areas next to where he stood on the concrete section of four barbecue pits, past a wood play set and back toward the pavilion that stood in stark contrast to the two-storied, white-stucco building. Nothing gained his notice that he should be concerned about, except for the dark clouds gathering over the mountain tops to the west.
Maybe it’s just the anticipation of the first of several crunch times, the LAN party and giving the game a thorough closed-playtest tonight and through the weekend.
Under the covered area and in front of the metal picnic tables, a small group dispersed, revealing his girlfriend, Hope Collins, and her family. Smiling, Den waited for her to look in his direction. His heart beat hard and fast in anticipation.
She turned her head, moved a thick length of brown hair behind her ear and caught his gaze. He loved the way her hazel eyes regarded him with warmth and sparkled when she grinned. A soft breeze brought an exotic, sweet scent to his nose. The floral aroma overrode the barbecue and reminded him of a perfume she’d recently worn. Man, the fragrance had turned him on. “Pheromones on steroids,” he’d said. He told her to be careful with the stuff. Her response? She’d regaled him about the price, the designer, and how a celebrity from some reality show wore it ‘all the time.’
For once he thought a purchase of hers had been worth the expenditure.
Sexy relationship. Great job. Bright future. Den tipped the tongs to his forehead then in his girl’s direction. His life and luck sure had changed for the better when he’d met her a year ago.
A tall, raven-haired man strolled up to Hope’s father and distracted his girl as well. Corbet Jenkins. Liaison between I-D-8 Entertainment and ‘The Money.’ And an asshole from what he’d heard. Clenching his teeth, Den cocked his head and trained his gaze on the broker.
Cor stepped closer to where Hope sat, standing too near her for Den’s liking. The man eclipsed her. A shadow seemed to encase her in a dark cloak where none should be cast.
Odd.
Regardless of the strange obscuration, Hope didn’t deserve to have her light-hearted, joyous nature snuffed out by anyone. Cor shook James’s hand and placed his other on Hope’s shoulder. A low, possessive snarl rolled up the back of Den’s throat.
Why the hell is that man buddying up to Hope’s dad and trying to charm her? Why is he even here? He’s a bean counter, not one of the game developers, not one of the I-D-8 family.
Kids on the red seat swings and yellow slide of the play set shouted at each other, jarring him out of his thoughts. He tossed a cursory glance their way, then looked back at the other family he one day wanted to be a part of. Faith, Hope’s fraternal twin, joined them at the table. There was a cousin, too—Cassandra, one of I-D-8’s story writers—who happened to be missing at the moment from the gathering.
Once more the air shimmered around him. This time a mirage-like heat disturbance gave everything in his line of sight a watery luster. Something weird was going on. He wished he could pinpoint what, since he reacted to it as if he were on a boat—slightly unbalanced and disorientated. He hated feeling that way.
Den returned to the meat on the grill. He couldn’t chance having anyone seeing his face and the concern that might have slipped throug
h on it. He loved puzzles and solved them all no matter their difficulty, so he really disliked not being able to figure out a solution to the day’s bizarreness.
I can’t let them see me sweat. If any of them catch wind that I’m not the laid back dude I’ve presented myself as, then everything I’ve worked for will be over. I can’t have that.
Replaying the events of the past few minutes in his head, he dissected them bit by bit in an attempt to find anything. Just one smidgen of information could give him a clue as to the abnormal sensations he’d been experiencing. A cool breeze brushed his skin, sending goose bumps to dance with the hairs on his arm. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts glide where they wanted. The task of sorting the details sent him into a calm, meditative state. Through the process he used to mull over difficult enigmas, he hoped the answer would reveal itself.
As if on automatic pilot, he breathed deep of the mesquite scent wafting from the wood chips amongst the coals and slowed his heart of its frantic pace. Concentrate, he told himself.
Emotions and reactions in check, he willed a protective aura shield around himself.
Pick up on the man’s thoughts. Sense his purpose.
In his opinion, information only needed to go one way…from the prince to him. He couldn’t afford to have the fellow figure out who he was.
Not yet at least. It’s way too soon.
He homed in on the guy, and repulsive vibes poured over him. Thoughts, full of ill intent, infiltrated his mind.
The man’s here to claim. Conquer. End game…power.
The prince had changed his name, but to what he didn’t know. He couldn’t fault the man on that kind of switch. He and his buddy, Tavis, had assigned themselves new names, too.
Alias or no, though, the royal’s presence was a cause for high concern.
Does he know of mine and Tav’s existence? Our ultimate mission?
He calmed his thoughts, fixated on the man again. Answer—negative. Good.
The prince didn’t know about the two of them, but the man did have the same plan…make nice with the family to apprehend one of the two daughters, or the cousin if need be.
He snorted. Same plan. Yeah, right. In the prince’s case, his eagerness to have one of the women stemmed from nefarious reasons.
Den’s eyes shot open. The black of the grill and the off-white concrete appeared less vibrant than they had moments before. The light of day dimmed more. He blinked, then looked up. The sky had darkened with the formation of thick gray clouds. The forecast had mentioned a thirty percent chance of showers, but everyone believed if it were to rain it wouldn’t happen until much later or the storm would fizzle after it spent itself in the upper elevations.
Frustrated over his uneasiness due to the perplexing vibes, his trying to rationalize the afternoon and the changing weather, he ran his fingers through his hair.
And what the fuck were all those thoughts about? Mirroring that of my C.O.V.E.N. character and the quests I’ve been on? Nothing like this ever’s happened before. Did the programmers do something to the game to affect us?
As one of the level designers on the development team, he’d been a part of the alpha-testing and minor playtests during the creation process. Mr. Gott, the head honcho of the whole design department, thought implementing a lot of tests along the way would cut down on major changes during the last phases. From what he understood, the closed-beta test he, Mr. Gott and several others had performed a handful of weeks ago to check a couple of clans, hadn’t turned out as well as expected. Hence the LAN party, a crunch time playtest to see what was going on before they implemented another beta run. All the designers and programmers, along with any friends and family members who were interested in giving C.O.V.E.N. a try, were present.
Except if there’s something in the game that’s going to mind fuck everyone, shouldn’t we call it a day? I didn’t sign on for crap like this. I’m sure no one else has either.
He’d been looking forward to utilizing his ‘good’ character—a Human-Lycan hybrid warrior—to test several levels and stories during the evening and over the weekend. But now? Since it’d been the HL character he’d channeled, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to run it. He could assess certain parts of C.O.V.E.N. with his Vampire, yet that wouldn’t fulfill the parameters he needed to meet.
He glanced over his shoulder. Cor still hung around the family, smiling that used car salesman grin, being all smarmy. Den’s flesh twitched and shimmied as if a thousand centipedes crawled and slithered upon him. He didn’t like the guy. More than just Mr. Jenkins being an arrogant asshole, something about Cor raised his bullshit meter, warned him not to trust the dude. He tapped the tongs against the side of the barbecue and narrowed his gaze upon the happy little scene.
I looked at the guy, then mulled over the storyline and quest I’m doing and put him as the prince? Yeah, like I’d really do that in the game. Definitely something peculiar going on here.
Perhaps he’d been under too much stress, had too much caffeine, didn’t have enough sleep or information about the guy. More likely a combination of it all. A hodgepodge of shit and no shovel. He didn’t know how much more of all this he could take.
Shaking off the negativity, Alden rotated his head, listening to his spine crackle and pop. Tension released. The quick adjustment perked him up. He plated the burgers, closed the lid to the grill and exhaled a deep breath. First food, then work, and amongst it all, see if I can figure out Mr. Jenkins’s deal. Making his way toward the small group, the tray of hot meat balanced on one hand, he focused in on Cor, noting his body language and how the people around him responded.
Why did I imagine him as the antagonist? The one in the game I need to destroy?
The storyline he had to double check during the playtest dealt with finding the main boss—the Prince of Clan Caesachapel—and defeating him before the cad could cause harm. He’d intended to assist Hope and her family in creating ‘good’ characters, placing them in the clan he belonged to, and have them run the quests, as well. But with the way he’d been feeling, he almost reconsidered that idea.
Thing was he had a job to do. One he aimed to make good on and see through to the end. He’d never been the kind of guy to shirk a duty, and he wasn’t about to start now.
Mr. James Collins, a middle-aged man with graying, strawberry blond hair and ice blue eyes, glanced Den’s way as he approached. James acknowledged him with slight nod, then returned his attention to Cor.
The fact James was only a programmer and not his direct boss—or above him in any authoritative capacity in the organization—pleased Den. The man sure ran hot one moment and cold the next when it came to him. Hope had explained that was one of her father’s personality quirks and not to take it personal.
Some future father-in-law he would turn out to be.
Plastering a smile on his face, he placed the dish of meat on the aluminum table. James and the ladies’ attentions stayed fixed on the gentleman in their midst. Good. No one paid him any mind. More time to assess the situation.
Cor’s intense brown-eyed gaze bored into Hope’s, infiltrating her defenses and working whatever magic the man seemed to possess. Their connection resembled flirting but in a stronger sense. His chest tightened and burned. Mine, his inner voice asserted in a low, rolling growl, reminding him of his in game character’s speech. Alden stepped back before he could choose to put his fist in Cor’s face. His foot crunched on a chip bag that had fallen to the ground.
Hope didn’t flinch, didn’t look away.
Mesmerized. Shit. And not just her. Enthralled by the bean counter, the whole family overlooked him like he didn’t exist.
What the hell is going on?
Chapter Two
“Hope!”
Startled out of the staring contest, her gaze flew to her father. A frown plastered his face. Hot blood rushed to and seared his cheeks. Embarrassed her blatant appraisal of her dad’s co-worker had been so obvious, she ducked her head and resume
d eating.
“Hope, darling,” her mother murmured, “I really wish you wouldn’t stuff yourself so. You’ll never drop that padding of yours and be the Vegas showgirl you want to be if you continue to eat as you do.”
Hope put her fork down and gave the beautiful older woman, who had salt and pepper hair and hazel eyes that mirrored her own, her attention. “I have dance rehearsals all week, mother, in preparation for the play next weekend. I’ll burn off what I’m eating today, and I’ll make sure to watch my diet the rest of the week.” Sure, she was on the heavy side of dancer thin. In fact, her extra padding made her quite curvy and landed her several sensuous and seductive parts, but her mom didn’t have to point out her size in front of everyone. God, sometimes she hated how nitpicky her mother could be. “I’m a senior in college. I’d think by now you’d trust me to know what I’m doing.”
Grace swung her attention to her other daughter, seeming to ignore Hope’s statements. “And, Faith, dear, I wish you’d eat a bit more than just salad. You’re too thin.”
Faith shoved a huge wad of the leaves piled on her plate into her mouth. Some edges stuck out between her lips, and she chewed on them as a cow would a mouthful of grass.
She rolled her eyes. Maybe her and her sister’s problem was that they kept sitting next to each other which highlighted their body differences.
“Girls!” James clapped his hands. Everyone at the table focused on him. “Show your mother some respect.”
“Well, well, well,” a melodic voice chimed in behind her and Faith. “Looks like the troops are being reprimanded. Perhaps I should come back another time.”
