Enchanted Ever After (Mystic Circle) (17 page)

A knock came on the door. “Kiri? Are you there? Are you
safe?
” Sounded like Jenni Emberdrake.

Kiri grunted, but apparently not loud enough. Turning completely paranoid, she scuttled on hands and knees away from the direct path from the door. “What happened?”

“Terrorist attack,” Jenni said crisply.

That froze Kiri’s brain. “In
Denver?
”

“Yes,” Jenni said, and her British accent was back.

There was a soft swiping sound of a key card and a click of a lock. Kiri had been locked in? Crap. The handle depressed and Kiri held her breath, looked wildly around for a weapon. Nothing.

But Jenni Emberdrake stood on the threshold, scanning the room and the computer equipment as if for damage. That felt right to Kiri, what the real woman would do. Then Jenni’s gaze lit on Kiri, crouched in the corner and a breath whooshed from her. The room seemed to get warmer.

Kiri stood, put a palm on the desk and leaned on it. Jenni looked the worse for wear. Kiri had never seen the woman’s hair so wild; usually it was smooth, or at the most, tied back and a little fuzzy.

Jenni put her hands on her hips, nodded once. “I guess it’s time to tell you what’s going on.”

Fear flowed through Kiri, up from her gut and down from her brain and meeting in her throat to close it. She didn’t want Jenni to tell her anything, didn’t want to confront all the little anomalies in the life of Kiri Palger.

Didn’t want to think the bus accident hadn’t really been an accident.

“Don’t look so shocked or horrified,” Jenni said. There was a hint of dancing blue color in her brown eyes, but her smile was warm and sympathetic and comforting and loosened the breath trapped in Kiri’s lungs. “I think you’ll be intrigued, and...pleased.”

“Huhnn,” was all Kiri could manage.

Jenni turned. “Come along, we’re meeting in the inner conference room, the outer offices are a bit of a mess. The broken windows are being repaired first.”

Broken windows. On the thirty-second floor. Not good at all. The computer room looked downright friendly. Not one smashed thing.

Kiri sniffed. Still smelled fried electronics, just not here. Lucky.

“Come on,” Jenni insisted and Kiri heard glass cracking under the woman’s feet.

Stay or go? Jenni knew the situation. Kiri didn’t. Yet she walked lightly to the door, saw the doors of the outer offices shut for the first time. There was glass underfoot, but the doors seemed unmarred as did the inner glass insets. The occasional sight she had of the offices showed much less devastation than what would have happened if the bow windows around her computer desk and home office had blown. Odd.

They entered the conference room and the first thing Kiri noticed was that the man sitting at the large table looked familiar. The guy at the bus accident with Lathyr. His skin was pale, his hair silver-white. His ears were pointed.

The door was closed behind them by Aric Emberdrake, who appeared even bigger in what looked like green leather armor and who had a sword at his hip. A sword. His long hair seemed a dark green.

Lathyr stood as they entered. He wore a sword on his right hip, a long dagger in a hilt strapped to his left thigh. He appeared very pale, with lines on his face and his mouth turned down as if in remembered pain. He held his left arm stiffly.

A sniff came from the bottom of the table where Mrs. Daurfin sat, thick arms crossed over her sturdy body, glowering at Kiri.

“Please, sit,” Aric said. He drew out a chair for Jenni, then Kiri.

She sat.

“I’ve ordered tea and cheeses. We need the protein and tea is civilized,” Jenni said in firm tones. She glanced at her husband and away.

Now that Kiri thought of it, Aric wasn’t exactly sending off civilized vibes. Neither was Lathyr. Or the head honcho at the head of the table. She’d bet her entire career that he carried weapons, too.

There’d been a fight, even outside here in the real world.

“Thank you, Jindesfarne,” said the...man...in the power position in a melodious voice that had Kiri straining her ears to catch each nuance.

Lathyr sent Kiri a soft glance, as if he’d like to come over and sit with her. She wouldn’t mind holding his hand under the table, and she was aware that he’d scanned her for any injury. Nothing major on the outside, but her insides quivered and her mind prepared for an incipient earthquake.

With a last nod, Lathyr sat. So did Aric, in a chair next to Jenni. He clasped his wife’s hand, right there on the conference room table. Jenni twined fingers with him.

“I believe we are the only ones here,” the one at the head of the table said.

“Except for the repair force,” Aric said.

The man inclined his head.

“The Meld Project people left immediately,” Aric said. “I checked on them, and none of their work was compromised.”

“Of course not,” said Mrs. Daurfin. “I guarded it.”

“Casualties?” asked the man in charge, but as if he already knew.

“None among us.” Aric’s eyes gleamed. “We did a good job.”

Lathyr gave a tiny cough. “So did Kiri. She was attacked in game.”

“S’truth!” the silver-headed guy’s exclamation wasn’t loud, but intense enough to carry.

“Somehow a great Dark one reached the pocket dimension,” Jenni murmured.

Power emanated from the end of the table. Everyone looked down, including Kiri; she couldn’t help it. In fact, she couldn’t move. Otherwise she’d have slid under the table.

“I will contact the guardians to understand how that might occur.”

“Kiri defeated the Dark one,” Jenni said with satisfaction.

And now the...person’s full consideration weighed on Kiri. She met his gaze, glanced aside, stared at her hands on the table, wondered why they weren’t trembling.

“A unique individual, indeed,” the fabulous voice said.

There was a pop and a small man and woman each levitating a huge tray loaded with food stood by the door.

Kiri couldn’t deny what was going on anymore.

They were brownies.

Chapter 18

THE BROWNIES
SET
places and food around the table, poured tea and disappeared
before Kiri got her slack-jawed, surprised hanging-open mouth shut.

And the whole room rippled and changed before her eyes and she
smelled
magic
and everyone looked a little
different. Jenni had a slightly reddish tint to her skin. Fire magic. Aric’s
hair was definitely green.

So was Lathyr’s, around his pointed ears and pale white-blue
skin. Merman. Kiri’s heart beat hard, pulse throbbing inside her ears.

Mrs. Daurfin was a dwarf.

Slowly, slowly, Kiri slid her gaze to the end of the table. The
tall thin guy was not a man. Or rather, not a human male. Most of the magical
power in the room emanated from him. He definitely had pointed ears, was
gorgeous. Her nose twitched in recognition at his fragrance that confirmed the
notion spinning in her mind. Elf.

He caught her glance. Caught her, and the world stilled in the
moment and so did her breath, then he looked aside. More memories,
recollections, snapped together. Lathyr had bespelled her at the neighborhood
party. She looked at him and his face remained impassive but he almost looked
worse than when she’d come in. Was she seeing through illusion, now? Were they
letting her, or had she changed beyond measure?

“First, we’re sorry, Kiri. The people in the other project here
at Eight Corp—the Meld Project—are all magical and have good transportation
skills.” Jenni shook her head. “But you, Kiri, are human, and more targeted by
the Darkfolk than we’d anticipated.” She hesitated. “Probably from the very
beginning, the flyover of Dark evil minions at the neighborhood party. And since
then, they were watching you.”

Kiri recalled the nightmare she’d had, the bus accident, and
shuddered.

“And, Kiri,” Jenni said, leaning toward her.

“Yeah?” Kiri swallowed. “Yes?”

“Transformation isn’t just a game.”

Kiri teetered on the edge of logic.

“It’s a tool to discover whether regular humans can be
transformed into Lightfolk.” Jenni’s sweeping gesture indicated the whole table.
“And Lathyr isn’t from Eight Corp human resources. He is Lightfolk and can
measure the potential of people who can become magical beings.”

“All right,” Kiri said, though it wasn’t. She grappled with the
sharp-edged idea. “The...gentleman at the end of the table—” her gaze slipped
across his gorgeous face again “—is an elf.”

“King Cloudsylph,” Aric said.

Kiri caught herself bowing as low as she could over the table,
muttered, “Honored.” See, the game wasn’t useless, had taught her manners for a
royal.

It wasn’t a game.

“Lathyr is mer, and you,” Kiri stared at Jenni, “are djinn.”
Jindesfarne was Jenni’s true name. Big clue Kiri had missed.

“Half-human, half-Lightfolk. That’s what we call ourselves,
Lightfolk. I’m a quarter-djinn and a quarter-elf.”

Kiri felt her eyes rounding. “Wow.”

“Princess Jindesfarne Weavers Emberdrake, adopted sister of the
King and Queen of Fire, the Emberdrakes.” Lathyr stood and bowed, too. Looked
like it hurt.

“Are you okay?” Kiri asked him.

A corner of his mouth lifted in an unamused smile. “I will
be.”

“Uh-huh.” She eyed him. “How hurt are you?” Worry pushed her to
rudeness, and besides, she’d rather concentrate on Lathyr.

“I’ve been healed, and my body will continue to mend at a
faster rate than humans.”

She wet her lips. He’d been offended. “Okay.” She inclined her
head to the receptionist, Mrs. Daurfin, the dwarf, figured she should say
something but had no clue. “Thank you for helping me.” Kiri had no idea whether
the woman had ever helped her or not, but the courtesy sounded good.

The dwarf eyed her suspiciously, then jerked a nod.

Kiri glanced at Jenni’s husband, Aric, and away.

“I am a Treeman,” Aric said, smiling. “The dryads and Treemen
are native to earth’s dimension. The Lightfolk are not.”

Multiple dimensions. Uh-huh.

“I am also half-elf,” Aric said. He took one of Jenni’s
restless hands in his own.

“Kiri, we would like to make you an offer,” Jenni said.

Frissons of excitement and anxiety jittered up and down Kiri’s
spine.

Lathyr sat down again.

Jenni said, “Both Lathyr and the game’s stats show that you
have a great potential to become Lightfolk, transform into a purely magical
being.”

Wow. Just wow. Again she peeked at the elf. She could be an
elf!

There was quiet and everyone looked at her as if she should say
something. “My mind boggles.”

“However,” Jenni said, “if you wish to remain human, I want to
tell you that you will always have a job on my team at Eight Corp.”

She’d gotten the job! The career! Made the cut, the grade, her
personal goal. Exactly what she’d wanted just that morning. Jenni Emberdrake had
faith in her. Wow.

But all of that lost its shine in comparison to becoming
magical. “This is for real? I could be a...merwoman?” She looked at Lathyr, who
let his longer-than-human lashes shade his eyes.

“I will explain all the ins and outs later,” Jenni said. “We
need to know if you are interested.”

“Right now?” Kiri’s voice was high.

Lathyr said, “What you do need to know right now is that the
transition is dangerous—you may lose your life and not become Lightfolk.”

Kiri swung her gaze to Jenni, who nodded. “That’s true.”

Continuing, Lathyr said, “You could become a brownie or a
naiad, not one of the major Lightfolk races. We do not determine your, ah, race,
your inherent magic does that, as it did several times in the game. And if you
do not accept our offer, you will have your memories removed of the magic you’ve
learned to see.”

Yup, mind dipping, spinning, boggling. “Gotta think about
this,” she squeaked.

Jenni looked at the king, who said, “If you wish to accept the
human position as a game developer, I believe the proper sequence of events is
for you to contact your current employer from whom you are on vacation and give
your notice, effective immediately.”

Kiri bobbed her head.

“If you wish to risk the transformation into a Lightfolk being,
we can give you through the weekend to decide.” He stood, then Cloudsylph,
King
Cloudsylph of Air, waved a languid hand. “You
won’t be able to communicate anything regarding our offer, or the Lightfolk,
with anyone other than those in this room, and no humans at all.”

Well, she hadn’t really considered laying everything out to
Shannon and Averill, but...her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She
scowled.

“Your Majesty.” Lathyr stood again and made an elaborate bow,
though his right arm moved a little stiffly. “This cannot be an easy decision.
Perhaps you would loosen the bonds of the silence spell to include the humans
Rafe and Amber Davail.”

The King’s brows rose infinitesimally. A flick of a finger.
“Very well.”

Kiri’s tongue loosened but she didn’t make the mistake of
saying anything. Royal guy must be extremely powerful if he was at the top of
the heap. She didn’t want to alienate him. Would rather have not come to his
notice at all.

But four days! She had to decide whether to become Lightfolk or
have her memory wiped in
four
days. Crap.

“I think we can call this project meeting to an end, as well as
the business day,” the king said. He tilted his head. “The damage has been
repaired, though I would like you to check out the electronics and the software,
Jenni. Call whomever you need to help you. Good afternoon.”

He disappeared into the faintest wisp of smoke.

Magic.

Guy gone instantly—like he and Lathyr had done at the bus
accident site. Her gaze had been riveted toward the head of the table and her
neck seemed to almost creak as she looked at Lathyr. Again she wet her lips. His
glance went to her mouth, then rose to meet her eyes. He remained serious. No
wonder. All this was...really...life-changing serious. Serious risks. Serious
rewards.

“Did you get hurt much today?” she asked.

He nodded, touched his right shoulder with his opposite hand.
“Nearly lost my arm.”

“Uh.” If there was Lightfolk, there would probably be
Darkfolk—and real great Dark ones, just like she’d faced in the game. “A real
great Dark one?”

“Couple,” Aric said, shoving away from the table and standing.
“We defeated but did not kill them. They fled.” He tugged on Jenni’s hand, but
she remained sitting and pulled her fingers from his.

Nodding to Kiri, Aric said, “I should double-check on the
damage and repairs.” He left the room, this time regularly, by the door. She had
no clue what a half-dryad, half-elf could do.

Kiri bobbed her head back at him, too late, but still stared at
Lathyr. “Were you hurt during the bus accident?” She winced. “It wasn’t an
accident, was it?”

“No,” he replied softly. “And I nearly lost my life. I absorbed
the petrol spill into my body so neither the great Dark one nor its minions
could set fire to it by lightning.”

“So becoming a Lightfolk also comes with perils,” Kiri
said.

“Some, though usually only the royals are targeted.” Lathyr
looked at Jenni. “Although we believe that some of our top projects may also be
attracting attention. The game, Transformation, and the Meld Program—human
technology has progressed to the point where we can combine it with magic.”

Nope, not making sense. And she wasn’t as interested in that
as... “Archvillains?”

“There aren’t many great Dark ones left, but they’re nasty,”
Jenni said. Now she got up and came over to Kiri, put her djinn-fire-warm arms
around Kiri and hugged. “You have a lot to think about. Call it a day and we can
talk tonight.”

“Uh-huh,” Kiri said.

“Were
you
hurt in the game, the
pocket dimension?” Lathyr pressed.

Kiri nodded. “Yeah.” Her brows came down. “But not like you. I
wonder why.”

“We had safeguards on you,” Jenni said matter-of-factly.
“Apparently they continued to work.” She actually kissed Kiri’s cheek. “Good job
defeating the great Dark one.” Jenni grinned.

“Not sure I did. He just pulled out.” At least she hadn’t
frozen. But she’d still been in the game landscape, used to fighting there.
Sounded like she might be fighting here, too. With what, magic? More
thrills.

“He looked like a pincushion,” Mrs. Daurfin said as she stood,
then smiled, showing red and pointy teeth.

Wow again. “Glad I amused you.”

A chuckle rolled like pebbles hitting the sidewalk from the
dwarfem. She squinted, eyes surrounded by hard brown flesh. “You might do, Kiri
Palger.” She walked away, heavily as always, surrounded by a golden aura of
magic, and through the wall next to the door.

One last hug from Jenni. “See you later. Take one of the
magically armored cars home.” She looked at Lathyr. “You’ll see her home.”

Another bow. “Of course, Princess Emberdrake.”

Jenni’s mouth quirked though her brows lowered in a mock scowl.
“Call me Jenni, Lathyr, Jenni.” She paused, hissed in a breath. “My friend,
Lathyr.” With a nod she left the room, too, opening and closing the door.

“Jenni is half-Lightfolk and half-human. Was she discriminated
against?” asked Kiri. She moved and aches made themselves known all through her
body. Her muscles had stiffened and she levered herself up with the table.

Lathyr was there, with his hand under her elbow. “You are
perspicacious,” he said. “Yes, full-blooded Lightfolk often ignore or discount
those with human blood.” He ran his finger over his pointed ear. “And those who
are completely Water or Air or Earth or Fire didn’t often look with kind eyes or
treat kindly those of us who are mixed blood.” He opened the door for her,
though she got the idea that he could have somehow disappeared, too, had he
wanted.

“You’re part elf?” she asked.

“Yes, very minor, and a very minor Lightfolk.”

“But a merman and an elf, major elementals.”

He inclined his head. “Indeed.”

“Just like Jenni set up in Transformation.”

“Correct.”

“Hmm. But Jenni is a princess and earlier you said the
Lightfolk ‘
didn’t
treat her kindly,’ past
tense.”

“Yes, earlier this year a great bubble of magic rose from the
earth’s core...” Lathyr began. As they walked to the computer room, he told a
story featuring Jenni and Aric.

Kiri noted that the King of Air was right. There was no damage
to be seen, and once again Kiri understood something that she’d unconsciously
noted had been “off.” No one officed on the floor except Jenni and Aric and the
staff of the other project. The offices she’d passed for nearly two weeks were
dummies.

Lathyr continued to speak in a low tone and with circuitous
words about the Lightfolk as he picked up her tote and they descended in the
empty elevator. When they got out to mix with humans, she
saw
an illusion, the illusion she’d believed since they’d met at the
neighborhood party, flick over him until his interesting skin became pale
northern-European flesh tone, the tops of his ears rounded and his fingers
turned from four jointed to three.

And it was Lathyr who explained everything about the real
Transformation in the car behind a privacy screen, and a magical privacy shield,
as they were stuck in mundane weekday traffic on the way back to Mystic
Circle.

When they pulled up to her house, he dismissed the car with a
wave, and walked her to her door, took her hands in his. “We had attraction
between us,” he said.

Past tense again, her heart sank. She turned her hands over to
link fingers with his—he hadn’t dropped his illusion here, but she could feel
the difference. Then he disengaged and stepped back, his face in that damned
polite mask. “I do not want to influence your decision.”