Spark - ARC

by Anthea Sharp

  “Right.” Aran said. “I’d like to be safely returned to my world.”

  The queen’s mouth twitched with displeasure, and he wondered what fate Thomas had just helped him avoid. He tried to catch the bard’s eye in thanks, but Thomas refused to look at him. Fine. It wasn’t as if they’d become fast friends or anything.

  “Fare thee well, BlackWing,” the Dark Queen said.

  “I’m counting on it,” he said, hefting the sack and hearing the satisfying clink of coins.

  The queen lifted her hands and frigid blue light streamed from her palms. She gestured, and the light enveloped Aran. It swirled about him like a blizzard. He caught a few last glimpses of the Dark Court whirling past, and then doubled over in pain as an icy knife stabbed him in the gut.

  He fell to his knees, gasping, one hand going to his stomach, the other clasped tight about his reward. Had she tried to kill him?

  The cold light faded, leaving Aran in darkness. Where the hell was he? He rubbed his shirt, and didn’t feel any blood or injury. Pain had been the queen’s parting gift.

  Slowly, he took a ragged breath and tasted a familiar, musty scent on the back of his tongue. He fumbled in the cloak’s pocket and pulled out his tablet. Flicked it on.

  The screen light illuminated the lumpy couch in the Chowneys’ garage, the scabby walls and stained concrete. Relief flared through him, and he sat back on his heels. He was back in the real world.

  Right behind the relief came sheer, bone-numbing exhaustion. Aran nudged the gold-filled sack under the couch, then powered off his tablet, wrapped the cloak tightly around him, and barely made it horizontal before his eyes closed and he crashed into sleep.

  ***

  As soon as she got back to the hotel from the concert, Spark hurried through the quiet halls and rapped on Niteesh’s door. She figured he’d still be up, watching mindless vids. The late-night hush was punctuated by faint snores, and the hallway smelled like bleach and perfume, the same as a million other hotels. Even the carpeting was one of about five different variations—this one in gold and red.

  Niteesh cracked the door, then opened it all the way when he saw who it was.

  “Sparky! Come in.”

  She slipped inside and scanned his room, her stomach falling when she saw it was empty of a FullD system.

  “No luck getting some extra sim time?” she asked.

  “Vonda said we could sim tomorrow, since it’s an off-duty day. I guess everybody’s been asking to play more, so she’s planning to take over one of the hotel’s conference rooms and hook up a bunch of systems in the morning.”

  “Oh. Great.”

  That meant the only FullD systems around were locked in the VirtuMax trailer. Even if she could break in, she’d have to figure out a power source.

  “Everything okay?” Niteesh peered at her, his dark eyes full of concern.

  “Yeah. The concert was loud, and my wrist hurts.”

  Both true. And even if part of her wanted to take Niteesh into her confidence, she couldn’t pull him into that kind of trouble.

  “Then why are you here? Take some meds and get some sleep.”

  “Yes, Dr. Singh. Whatever you say.”

  Niteesh stuck his tongue out at her. “See you in the morning.”

  She ruffled his black curls—a move calculated to annoy and distract him. “Don’t stay up too late, yourself.”

  He batted her hand away and pointed to the door.

  “Okay, I’m going.” Despite her bleak mood, Niteesh always managed to make her smile. “Night, you.”

  She waited in the hallway until she heard the lock slide home. Then, instead of heading to her room, she went out the hotel’s back exit.

  It was cold in the parking lot, the night illuminated by orange street lights. Spark shivered and looked up, but there was nothing unearthly in the sky—just city-lit clouds with streaks of darkness behind.

  She circled the trailer housing the FullD systems, and yanked on the loading door’s handle a few times.

  “Everything all right?”

  Spark spun around, heartbeat banging in her throat. “Burt! You scared me.”

  Her head of security frowned. “What’s going on, Miss Jaxley? You meeting someone?”

  “No.” She gave him a weak smile. “I just... Well.”

  There really was no explanation.

  Burt waited a few moments, then nodded to the hotel. “Best we go inside. It’s late.”

  It was—far too late. And clearly she wasn’t going to be able to get onto a sim system tonight. One of the other Feyguard would have to.

  She hurried back to her room, said a terse good night to Burt, then powered on her messager. Her wrist zinged her with pain bolts every time she moved it. Gritting her teeth, she sat on her bed and sent messages to both Tam and Jennet.

  One minute passed. Then five. Why couldn’t she reach them?

  A strange shadow passed in front of her window. She went and peeked through the curtains, but nothing was there. Nothing she could see, anyway.

  Swallowing back the sting of fear, she tried Jennet and Tam again, then keyed in a third number. Roy Lassiter’s contact.

  :Hi Roy, you awake?:

  :Hey there, beautiful! Missing me?: He sent a wink icon.

  She let out a sigh of relief. At least one of the Feyguard was reachable. She really hadn’t wanted to call Jennet’s dad in the middle of the night, though she would have if nobody else had answered.

  :There’s a problem with Feyland,: she sent, :and I don’t have FullD access right now. The barrier between our world and the realm has been breached. Could you go in and check it out?:

  :Whoa.:

  Roy went silent for a long moment. She could almost hear him mentally switching gears.

  :Okay,: he sent, :I’ll head in-game now. Stand by.:

  :Be careful.:

  :Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.:

  Spark chewed her thumbnail and tried not to imagine everything that could go wrong. So much already had.

  Somehow, in that one demo session, Aran had been marked by the Dark Queen. Spark didn’t know how he’d gotten back into Feyland, or what kind of promises the queen made him, but it was clear he’d done the worst thing imaginable. He’d re-opened the gateway—the one she and the rest of the beta-team had worked so hard to keep closed.

  How had he done it? And why?

  Dammit, she needed to get into Feyland and track him down. This time she’d knock him over the head and drag him back to the mortal world if he didn’t come of his own free will.

  Despite the anxiety pulsing through her, Spark yawned. It was getting late, and the pain meds were making her sleepy. She made herself stand up and walk. Keep the blood moving.

  After what felt like years, her messager pinged.

  :Bad news,: Roy sent. :You’re right—the gate to the Dark Realm is wide open. It’s the first thing you see after logging on.:

  :You couldn’t close it?: Worry squeezed her lungs.

  :Believe me, I tried, but there’s no obvious way. Force and spells don’t work.:

  :Maybe it needs more than one person.: She wanted to scream with frustration.

  :Have you tried any of the others?:

  :Tam and Jennet aren’t answering.:

  :I could make a bad joke here, but I’m refraining.: Roy sent.

  :Good.:

  : Look, I’ll get Zeg in-game with me. We’ll see what we can do.:

  :Message me when you get out. I don’t care what time that is.:

  :Will do. Sweet dreams.: Roy signed out.

  She felt dizzy with exhaustion. Rubbing her eyes, she sat on the bed, just for a minute. She had to keep trying to reach the others. She had to figure out how to get Aran out. She refused to think about what fey mischief could even now be creeping out into the world.

  She shivered, wishing she could go back and change everything—starting with the day she’d met Aran.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Aran
woke with a crick in his neck from sleeping awkwardly on the lumpy couch. Early morning light smudged the windows, and a strange feeling of contentment hummed through him. It took a minute to remember why.

  Right—his treasure.

  Smiling, he reached under the couch and fished around for the velvet bag. His smile faded as he pulled it out. It wasn’t heavy, like it should be, and it rustled instead of clinking. Throat dry, he sat up and opened the bag. No gold coins winked up at him. There was nothing inside except handfuls of dry brown leaves.

  Leaves! What the hell? He pawed through, hoping that somehow the coins were still there, hidden at the bottom. But they weren’t.

  Somebody had robbed him—snuck into the garage while he slept and stolen his gold. He sprang to his feet and checked the door. The deadbolt was still in place. Turning, he inspected the windows. Locked and intact.

  Even though part of him insisted one of the Chowneys had done it, another part knew better. Who would painstakingly replace each coin with a dead leaf? Nobody. Nobody human, anyway.

  Those damn faeries had stolen back his reward.

  Aran paced the chilly cement floor. He couldn’t just storm into the Dark Court and demand his coins. The queen would laugh at him, and maybe trap him there for real this time. Unless he had a bargaining point.

  Fine. He’d close the wall back up, and if they wanted it open again they’d have to pay in real money. The non-disappearing kind.

  But to put that plan into action, he needed to get on a FullD system.

  Aran ran one hand through his hair. First thing was to talk to Bix. He glanced out the windows at the pearly sky. It would be good to see the sun again.

  Quietly, he slipped out of the garage and snuck over to Bix’s window. The pebble pile he’d made under the bushes was still there. Aran flicked one at his friend’s window. The stone hit the glass with a little tink. Two more pebbles, and then Bix appeared, shoving the curtains aside. He slid the window up.

  “Aran—you’re back. Short trip, huh?”

  “I’ll explain later. Listen, do you have your FullD yet?”

  Bix scrubbed a hand over his sleepy face. “It won’t be delivered for another two days. Two days! That is so tweaked.”

  Aran folded his arms against the cold. So much for that plan. He could try to break into a gaming store—but that was too risky.

  “I’m freezing my ass off here,” Bix said. “See you in the garage in a few.”

  He closed the window, and Aran snuck back to the garage, his brain spinning. How could he get access to a live FullD system?

  Spark.

  She would help him; she had to. And if he remembered right, her tour brought her back near the city. He grabbed his tablet and found the site showing her itinerary. The VirtuMax tour was due to hit Readle, which was only a hundred miles away. What day was it, anyway? He scrolled up to check the date, then let the air out from between his teeth in a frustrated hiss. The tour wouldn’t be in Readle until tomorrow.

  The itinerary glowed up at him and Aran read it again, not skimming it this time. Last night Spark had made an appearance at Bella Boingo’s concert in Landover.

  He tapped his fingers on the screen, thinking. The concert hadn’t started until nine. The VirtuMax tour had probably stayed the night there—and might even spend the day. He had to get to Landover. Ninety miles, in the opposite direction from Readle. If he was wrong, there wouldn’t be time to backtrack.

  Although… He brought up the lists of the top hotels in Landover. If he could reverse-hack a magic portal, cracking a hotel’s guest list would be no problem.

  The garage door opened, letting in a cold blast of air, and Aran set his tablet aside.

  “Dude.” Bix shut the door behind him and ambled over to the couch. “Where you been, anyway? And what’s this?”

  He picked up the velvet bag and pulled out a handful of leaves. A few drifted down to lie on the garage floor.

  “That’s stupidity,” Aran said. “I can’t explain now, but I have a huge favor to ask.”

  “Whatever you need.” Bix stuffed the leaves back into the bag and sat down.

  “Could I borrow your grav-cycle for a couple days? And some cash.”

  Bix blinked at him with sleepy eyes. Then he frowned. “If my parents found out—”

  “Okay, not the bike.” Aran knew that was asking too much. “But I need bus money to Landover.”

  “No,” Bix said.

  Aran’s gut clenched. “I thought you—”

  “You’re not riding the bus all that way. Whatever’s going on, I trust you. I’ll figure out what to tell my parents. Hold on while I get the keys.”

  Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat, Aran punched Bix lightly on the shoulder.

  “I don’t deserve friends like you,” he said.

  “Yeah, well, you’ll have to settle for me anyway.” Bix grinned. “Whatever adventure you’re on, though, you gotta tell me all about it when you’re done.”

  “I will.” Aran put every ounce of truth behind his words.

  Even if Bix wouldn’t believe him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Arguing voices in the hall outside her door woke Spark. She blinked at the dim light struggling through the curtains, her brain fuzzy. Then memory of what happened last night crashed over her.

  She lunged for her messager, heart sinking when she saw the blank screen.

  Whoever was in the hall, they were getting louder. And they kept saying her name. Scooping her hair out of her face, she went to the door and looked out the peephole.

  Disbelief flashed through her, cold, then hot. She undid the locks and flung her door open.

  “Aran!” It was him.

  “Miss Jaxley.” Her security guard, Joe, had Aran by the arm. “Sorry to disturb you. I was just escorting Mr. Cole out. Burt instructed us he wasn’t welcome.”

  “Wait,” she said. “I want to talk to him.”

  “You do?” Joe’s look of confusion was almost funny.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I told you so.” Aran pulled free of Joe’s grasp and tugged his leather jacket back into place. “Can I come in?”

  Spark stepped back and held the door wider. She knew she looked terrible, with her sleep-tangled hair and slept-in clothes, but that didn’t matter. When Joe started to follow Aran into her room, she held up her hand.

  “Just him,” she said.

  “But Miss Jaxley—”

  “He’s safe. And you can check back in a half hour, okay? Aran and I need to talk. Alone.”

  “Burt’s going to kill me,” Joe said.

  “Tell Burt I insisted. Since that’s exactly what I’m doing. Bye.” She shut the door in his face, then locked it.

  Slowly, she turned. Yes, Aran really stood there, hands in his pockets. She wanted to hug him. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled.

  Instead she folded her arms, wincing as she jarred her wrist.

  “Are you okay?” He was suddenly way too close, setting one gentle finger on her splint. “Is this… did you get injured in-game?”

  “Yep. No thanks to you.”

  His eyes widened with horror. “Oh, crap. I am so sorry. I didn’t know—”

  “It’s just sprained. Though, yes, if you get injured in the realm, it carries over to the real world.” She brushed past him, going to one of the two chairs set at the far end of the room. “Tell me how you escaped the Dark Realm. And what happened to the gateway between the worlds.”

  “Ah.” He looked down at the floor, then back to her. “I screwed up, and I need your help.”

  “Now you’re asking for my help?” Anger flared through her, and she was wide awake. “After our little encounter in-game, why would you even think I’d lift a finger for you? You managed to get out of the realm. I’d say you’re doing fine on your own.”

  He sat in the other chair and rested his forearms on his knees.

  “Ever hear of gold coins tu
rning to leaves?” he asked.

  “Faerie gold. Dammit, Aran. What happened?”

  He let out a long breath, his dark eyes haunted. “I thought I’d finally be set. Do what the queen asked, open the gateway, get my reward, and be done.”

  “And it never occurred to you that the gateway was closed for a reason?”

  “I…” He shook his head. “I didn’t think too hard about it. It was a puzzle to crack. That’s all.”

  She stood, fury whipping through her. “Let me tell you then. Last night, at Bella Boingo’s concert, the Wild Hunt materialized. In our world. Do you know what that means?”

  He sucked in a breath. “Oh, hell. We have to close that gate.”

  “How could you be so stupid?” She shook her fist in his face, then whirled away.

  She’d never wanted to actually attack someone, until now. Mastering her fury, she stalked the length of the room, then back. Aran watched her, his shoulders bent in what had better be remorse.

  “We need to get into Feyland now and fix this,” she said. “You can fix it, right?”

  “Yeah. I think.”

  “Stay there.” She pointed at him, then grabbed some fresh clothes and went into the bathroom. As soon as she was dressed and somewhat groomed, she messaged Vonda.

  :Come to my room, please? It’s urgent.:

  :Be right there.:

  Bless Vonda for not asking questions.

  Spark emerged from the bathroom to see Aran still in his chair. He was turning the pink stone around between his fingers, the one he’d given her. The one that, despite herself, she put on the bedside table each night in order to feel a little less lonely.

  She was still so mad at him she could spit.

  “Give that back.”

  She didn’t wait for him to hand the stone over, just snatched it from him and put it in her pocket.

  “We’re about to have a visitor,” she said. “Keep your mouth shut, all right?”

  “Got it.”

  At least he knew better than to push her with questions. Spark pulled the cover up over the rumpled sheets of her bed, then went to the door. Before Vonda could knock, Spark opened it and gestured her inside. Across the hall, Joe watched from the open door of his own room, but made no move to come in. Smart guy.