Enchanted Ever After

Leaning against the wide doorjamb, he strained to see Kiri’s house at the end of the street, nearly opposite the Castle. Not much was visible through the trees of the center park since like the other bungalow, it was only one story. But, there was a light from what he believed to be a back bedroom.

He’d hoped she was coming to greet and welcome him to Mystic Circle, too. She hadn’t, and he’d been more disappointed than the small slight warranted.

One thing he had determined that day, he was definitely attracted to her. It had been a long time, since his adolescence, that he’d wanted to have sex with a human woman. Perhaps it was because he sensed the inherent potential in her to become Lightfolk...but he hadn’t been drawn to the other women and men he’d seen transformed.

Should he phone her? He had her application, with telephone numbers, on his personal computer tablet, but he wanted her to be aware of him, wanted her to come to him. However, he’d inadvertently used glamour on her earlier that day; the Emberdrakes wouldn’t forget that.

So he dragged in a breath that brought him the scent of leaves ready to turn in the autumn, losing their water flexibility and becoming dry and brittle, as well as the fragrance of the pond and the koi within, stupid and not good to eat. Considered beautiful by humans—and Kiri seemed to believe that—but compared to ocean creatures, the koi were ugly and clumsy. Most of all, the scent of balanced magic curled into his nostrils, layering on the folded frills.

He felt that balanced magic in the soles of his feet, and Jenni, as she’d trailed through the rooms, had balanced the magic in them. She’d ventured into each of the royal rooms and made the fire suite all of that element, then changed the energy of each of the others to match.

Wondrous.

But he was still landlocked, still had to live in his human form, even in this very special place. And the Castle wasn’t his. He stayed here at the whim of the Eight, or the Water King.

He closed the wooden door with a thunk, walked through the entryway, then up to the top of the four-story small tower. From here he could see all of the Circle, each house with bright squares of living.

He was alone. Occasionally, he was allowed to stay in a secondary home by himself—the last perched like a carbuncle on the shelf of a deep marine trench. It had been smaller than this, and cold. But usually he was a “houseguest” of some other person or family. His own family was gone—his father, who’d been the last of his line, was dead; his mother had listened to her relatives and abandoned him soon after he was born. He shook off the memory.

Luxurious to have a home of such quality to himself. It felt good, but he wouldn’t forget that he had no permanent place, no family. That was his goal, something he could win with the success of this project.

The quiet in the mansion hummed with magic to his ears, and pleased him. No intolerant naiader begrudged him here, a relief. Even as he enjoyed the peace of being by himself in a special place, he knew he’d eventually become lonely.

He wished Kiri was here to share the serenity...and make memories.

* * *

By the time Thursday morning rolled around, Kiri and her friend Shannon had spent a couple of cherished hours on the phone speculating about details of the new game, Transformation. They’d agreed that it would probably be another fantasy-world with the magic-based systems that Jenni Weavers Emberdrake was known for.

Both Kiri and Shannon had decided that having the game determine your character—strengths, weaknesses, types like magic user or long-distance shooter—sounded extremely dubious from a marketing standpoint. Good for novelty, but there’d better be an option for character creation. Kiri hoped she had the guts to give that opinion...but at the end of the trial, not now.

She hadn’t slept much and got up when predawn light filtered into her bedroom, still undecided about what she would wear. In the game she was a fashionista—and perfectly proportioned. In the real world, her breasts and hips were full, she was short-waisted and short-legged and if she didn’t watch it, she’d be plump.

Definitely not a business suit and stockings, even though she was meeting Lathyr in a downtown Denver high-rise, and there might be other people there to interview her, too. If she knew Jenni Weavers Emberdrake a little better, she’d have called the other woman and asked for advice, but Kiri still considered Jenni as one of the people who’d be watching her.

What mattered was the game—handling herself. Her shoulders had lifted with tension and her shoulder blades had squeezed together. Learning a new game was just like learning anything else—a new craft, a new job. There was a curve. Kiri wanted to be at the top of the curve. But she had no doubt that though she might spend most of her time in the game today, appearance mattered.

She’d already worn her beige outfit to the block party. Maybe it was time for businesslike black. She dragged out black slacks and a pale gray, thin cashmere sweater, then put the sweater back. The Eight Corp offices were probably warm and she’d probably sweat during the game—no doubt in her mind that adrenaline would spike through her a few times—and she didn’t want to mess up her cashmere, no matter how comforting it might feel.

Ditch the whole professional business bit and go for what she was: computer tech and gamer. She put on a Fairies and Dragon tee, covered it with a plum-colored hoodie and wore her best cargo pants. Done. She would not dress up for Lathyr.

Breakfast was half an English muffin with cream cheese and coffee.

She perched on the edge of her living room chair until the car taking her downtown beeped out in front, and her stomach gave a little squeeze.

Whatever happened, her life would never be the same....

Chapter 7

HALF AN HOUR later, she was the only one in the elevator rising to Eight Corp’s floor, although the huge lobby of the building had bustled with other people. She adjusted her hoodie and her workbag—this one a pristine bright red Fairies and Dragons carryall—over her shoulder, and did a few deep breaths as she watched the floor numbers light.

The door opened and she was met by Jenni and Lathyr. Jenni wore casual, too, but Lathyr had on a pale gray silk suit.

No one sat at the receptionist’s desk—odd, because Kiri had only worked places where the receptionist had the earliest hours. With her first step, Kiri’s feet literally sank into a deep green rug. She got the impression of elegant luxury before Jenni held out both her hands with a big smile. “Glad to see you again.”

Once more, the woman’s hands were warmer than her own. Damn nerves. “Yes. I’m excited.”

“We are, too.” Jenni beamed.

Lathyr offered his own hand, and Kiri shook it, ignoring how nice it felt. Firm grip, meet his eyes—gorgeous deep blue. Breathe, because the initial greeting went okay.

“A pleasure,” Lathyr said.

“For me, too,” Kiri said.

Jenni turned and moved around a huge freestanding wall of granite. “Let’s head to the room where the game server is set up.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Kiri said.

“Do you want something to drink?” asked Lathyr.

Coffee would tweak her nerves even more. “Water would be great.”

He peeled off and Kiri followed Jenni down the hall to an interior room. It was painted an uninspired beige and was longer than it was wide. To Kiri’s surprise, an actual wooden counter polished to a gloss ran along the wall as a desk setup. Atop the counter, four huge monitors sat. The most comfortable of ergonomic chairs—smelling of new plastic and metal—were placed before the monitors. Several different types of game controllers waited on a floating platform a little lower than the desk under each monitor. All top-of-the-line electronics.

“Wow, nice setup,” she said.

“Thanks.” Jenni went to the last chair on the left, sat and swiveled toward Kiri.

But Kiri’s stare had fixed on several sets of gloves that appeared to have filaments embedded in them, and four wraparound visors.

“As you can see,” Jenni said easily, “we’re experimenting a bit with virtual reality, also. Put on the visor and you’ll feel as if you’re really in the game. Wear the gloves and your gestures will be translated as powers. For instance, if you want to throw a fireball—”

“I’ll really act as if I’m throwing a ball.”

“That’s right.”

“Hmm.” Kiri stayed where she was.

“We’d like you to wear the gloves and visor.”

“This isn’t monitoring my vitals, is it?”

The line between Jenni’s eyes cleared. “No. Absolutely not. The gloves and the visor are simply to immerse you in a deeper gaming experience.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I have your water,” Lathyr said from behind her.

So Kiri sidled into the room, stood near the third chair. The man offered her a large bottle of fizzy water—the same brand of raspberry that she’d chosen at the block party, and somehow she didn’t think that was by chance. “Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome.” He did a torso incline thing, then closed the door and the room felt pretty small. Reaching out, he took a pair of large teal gloves and slipped them on, raising a brow at Kiri as he did so. He held a visor by the slim end and twirled it in his fingers.

“I, um, am pretty simple in my gaming,” Kiri said. “Monitor, keyboard, mouse.”

“Please,” Jenni said, gesturing to the gloves and visors. She donned some red ones with gold “embroidery” of fiber optic filaments or something. Kiri narrowed her eyes, then blinked. It looked like the pattern might be almost a mathematical algorithm—or, in a different game, a spell—and the design lit up.

“I thought we were going to have another interview?” Kiri said weakly, looking at Lathyr.

“That’s so stuffy,” Jenni said.

It was stuffy.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jenni.

Kiri grimaced. “The gloves and visor might interfere with my play.” She swallowed. “I really don’t want to screw this up.” It meant too much to her.

Lathyr set the visor down and stripped off the gloves. He held out both hands. “I am a good judge of energy. I am sure I can reassure you that you belong here. Please?”

Kiri stared, cut her eyes to Jenni, questioning this new age stuff. The woman looked bland, so Kiri shrugged and put her hands in his. Yes, tingles, for sure. And the texture of his palms and his fingers was so smooth, but there was strength in those hands. Nice.

“Pregame visualization exercise,” Jenni said. “Close your eyes and visualize—ah—the Fairy Dome in Fairies and Dragons.”

Kiri shot her a glance. “You take the game very seriously.”

“Well, of course. It’s my livelihood. An attitude I expect from you.”

Kiri closed her eyes, recalled the Fairy Dome, tried to bring it into focus. She’d always sucked at visualization except right before and right after she slept.

She became all too aware of Lathyr, his hands, the closeness of his body to hers, as if energy cycled between them. Scents came to her nose, a hot and spicy smell, a fresh odor reminding her of the ocean—Lathyr’s aftershave? Eyes shut, she felt the atmosphere in the room...fancifully enough, she thought that Jenni’s and Lathyr’s energy clashed, did not mix well. Kiri realized her breathing matched Lathyr’s, slow and deep. Her ears strained...trying to hear the hum of the computers...no, she was too used to her barely up-to-date equipment at work. Not the tiniest buzz of fans, but she was right, the room was warm and getting warmer. In fact, the tingles within her seemed to also press against her skin, as if she were immersed in fizzy water. Fun, energizing. She stifled a giggle.

Lathyr released her hands and stepped back. Her eyelids flew open and she smiled at him, only to see he’d moved and was leaning over Jenni, speaking quietly. He glanced up at her, nodded, then said, “You will do well.”

When he returned to talking to Jenni, all Kiri’s doubts swarmed back, despite his assurance. Jenni had indicated that it was Lathyr who had decided—or would decide—whether Kiri was a good fit, hadn’t she? She wished they’d done this earlier and in a conference room or something, not where she was supposed to work.

Stiffly, Kiri walked over to the long desk, noted that the edge wasn’t squared off, but rounded, lovely. Scanning the gloves—twelve pairs in various sizes and colors—she went with impulse and chose a pair of pretty pale green ones that looked to be her size. She pulled them on—they felt like the finest chamois, and again her hands tingled. The metallic silver embroidery glittered, nearly seemed to spark. Wow. She chose a visor she thought would fit, but didn’t put it on. And she sat in the chair, turned on the monitor.

A rainbow-colored word appeared in flowing pastel script. Transformation! Frowning, tugging on the wrists of her gloves, she looked over at Lathyr and Jenni, who watched her.

“Yes?” asked Jenni. Kiri thought the woman hid a smile. Maybe that should relieve her, but it didn’t much.

“I’ve heard there are some biofeedback games out there,” Kiri said. She flexed her fingers; the gloves clung, almost massaged her hands. Felt good, but she’d definitely miss a keyboard. Obviously, she wasn’t as flexible as she’d thought. Not a good thing to consider when she was on the job interview of her life. Not when she wanted to be on the cutting edge of the gaming world.

“Yes,” Jenni said. “I’ve heard of those games, too, even tried them. But, I promise you, the gloves are not recording any information. They are for virtual reality purposes only.”

“I don’t see the connectivity to the computer system.”

“Optical,” Jenni said promptly.

Lathyr walked toward her and put his gloves on again—they weren’t the same texture, more like thin silk. Jenni’s were velvet. He said, “I assure you, Ms. Palger, that you are a prime candidate for this job.”

All the repetition brought relief. “I do want the job.”

Jenni’s brows rose. “Let’s go then.” She waved and the other monitors blinked on, along with the cheerful cheep of keyboards, game pads and mice coming online.

Kiri stared. “Wow, your gloves really work.”

“Like magic.” Jenni laughed. “Ready?”

Kiri put her visor on, nothing odd happened. What had she expected, tentacles slipping into her brain? No, don’t think that.

“Is everything...okay?” asked Lathyr.

“Fine,” Kiri said, though she felt a little stupid with the gloves and visor on. She didn’t think most casual gamers would want to wear the accessories unless the immersive factor was really amazing. But she sure wouldn’t say that yet. Not when she was at the starting post, ready to surge forward and hit the game running.

No. That might not work with this game. Not all were fast; some that mimicked real life were deadly slow in her opinion. An alternative to real life, just trying to make it better with a choice of mate and children...no, that reminded her of Shannon, and Kiri’s thoughts were too scattered!

She had to focus, to be primed.

“Ready?” Lathyr asked.

“Ready.”

Light engulfed her vision. Transformation! Brought to you by Eight Corp! The words vanished in an explosion of yellow and Kiri dropped into the game.

She stood atop a low hill, breathing in summer air and looking down on a carpet of many-colored wildflowers. She could almost believe wind lifted her hair from her neck. She touched her hair, held it before her face. Looked exactly like her own hair. She wasn’t wearing gloves, and her hands appeared to be her own, too, with the glittery tint she’d put on her nails.

She was there. No visor narrowed her vision.

“Wow.” She reached out for the water bottle on the counter beside her in real life. Nothing happened but her arm slicing thin air. “Wow,” she repeated. “This really is full immersion.”

“This is the opening sequence,” Lathyr said. He stood beside her, dressed as he had been in real life—European-cut suit, pale blue shirt, no tie.

He swept an arm around in an expansive gesture, and turned in place. Kiri did, too.

“As you can see, there are four realms in Transformation.” His smile crinkled his eyes and Kiri thought it was the first carefree one she’d seen from him. Was he easier in a game setup, too? “Since many things in the game are complex, such as the virtual reality...hardware...” Now he waved a hand and Kiri thought she saw the outline of a sparkling glove. “We are keeping the magic portion of the game fairly simple. Each realm corresponds to an ancient element—water, air, earth, fire.”

“Ah.” From the hill, the realms were vivid quarters of a round pie and looked different and colorful. Excitement and just plain fun began to seep into her—why had she balked, this looked so kewl? She flexed her fingers and tiny sparkles rose from her hands in spirals. Oh, yes, cool! She did a little rock in place, a little butt shimmy, and tried another wave. Her mouth dropped open as small butterflies rose from her fingertips. Her laugh got stuck in her throat and came out a low chuckle. “I love these gloves!”

“Good to hear,” Jenni’s smug voice came, vibrating through the band of Kiri’s visor over her ears.

“Examine the realms,” Lathyr said. “This is the only time you will be on this hill and have this panoramic view. Your time here—our time here—is limited.”

That thunked Kiri’s heels back down to the ground. Had she actually been dancing? Yeah. And this wasn’t just a new game to love and hate and be exasperated with and prize and master. This was a realm she’d help create and refine. Write for the enjoyment and entertainment of others. This was the job, the career she wanted.

The realms showed bright colors of cartoonish intensity—one was mostly green. Green, green hills, an equally verdant ridge with a wooden door in it. Towering mountains looking a lot like the front range of the Colorado Rockies rose behind the lush hills. “Earth Realm,” Kiri gestured and more butterflies streamed from her fingers down the hill toward the Earth Realm.

“Each realm has a major race and a minor race—the Earth Realm has dwarves and brownies.” A note in Lathyr’s voice had her turning her head and she caught him eyeing her—her figure? her stature?—before a bland expression covered his face.

Green and brown earth was in front of her on the left when she’d arrived. To her right appeared a blue-and-green realm with a spring becoming stream, widening to a river, flowing to lake and beach and ocean. Easy to figure that out, “Water Realm?”

“Yes. Mers—mermen and merfems—are the major race who usually live in the ocean. Naiads and naiaders of ponds and lakes and streams are the minor folk. Most Waterfolk are the size of humans.”

Kiri had bent down to sniff at the grass—something smelled fabulous—and how could she smell in the game? She didn’t know, but the scent went to her head, spiraled through her body.

Think! She straightened slowly. “So dwarves and brownies aren’t our size?”

“Dwarves are shorter and stockier than humans, perhaps the tallest is four feet tall. Brownies are even smaller.”

“Uh-huh.” She peered at the distant waves of the really blue ocean, beyond the sparkling white beach. Yes, too-bright colors, but in those faraway waves did she see the hint of a castle? Maybe turrets occasionally revealed to be pearlescent shell-pink?

Lathyr’s hands came down on her shoulders. He’d moved behind her. Pure sensation rippled through her. She couldn’t help herself from sniffing the fingers on her right shoulder, again a little salt, some sort of fresh odor, and the fragrance all around her, though more intense. “What is that smell?”

“In the game?” He chuckled. “Magic.”

“Oh, of course. I still can’t figure out how we can smell stuff in the game.” Maybe there was scent on the visors, or they emitted fragrance in bursts like air fresheners.

Another amused laugh from Lathyr. “Magic. Now turn and look at the other two realms...our time is running out.”

“Huh.” But she did turn, scanned the white-blue-violet mist and the castle in the air, perched on a huge puffy white cloud with streaks of violet. “One guy explaining the realms to me? This is a lame opening, I could write better.” Too late she realized she’d been offensive. “Sorry.”

“I didn’t write the scenario,” Lathyr said coolly. “We will have a virtual guide. We were given permission for the new game no more than a fortnight ago. Ms. Emberdrake has been concentrating on the game itself.”

Kiri winced. Yeah, she’d offended him, maybe Jenni, too. She swallowed. “I’m sure it’s amazing.” She pushed a little. “And that’s why you need me. I can help.” She waved again, still enjoying the butterflies. “Okay, that’s the Air Realm. Castle in the clouds is a big clue.”

“That’s right. The denizens of the Air Realm are elves and airsprites.”

She twisted from his grip to stare at him. “Elves? Really elves?”

“Yes.”

She couldn’t prevent a girl-squeal from emerging. “Awesome. I could be an elf?”

“In the Air Realm, yes.” His voice remained cool. Ah, well.

“How big are they? Bitty like Santa’s elves or big and—” sexy, no, she wouldn’t say that “—hunky like Tolkien’s elves in the movies?”

“They are usually taller than regular humans, but more slender,” Lathyr said austerely. Kiri guessed her “hunky” irritated him as much as “sexy” might have.

“Oh. And airsprites?”

“They might be considered your elves—though I believe airsprites appear as described more often in huma—literature and art depicting fairies.”

“Oh, small then?”

“Yes, they are humanoid-looking when they care to be.”

“All right. You’ve already done a lot of work on this game.”

“Yes,” Jenni said in her ear again, in a slightly choked voice, like she was laughing? “Though not so much on the opening.”

Kiri winced again.

“And we will have eight races, and only eight,” Lathyr said.

“Oh, no humans?”

“Not at this time,” Jenni said. “Thirty-second warning, Lathyr and Kiri.”

“Oh.” Scanning the Air Realm, Kiri didn’t see any great detail. She could definitely make a contribution there, if it really was only sketched in.

She turned to the red-yellow Fire Realm. This appeared very detailed, as if it might be the best developed realm—red and sandy rock formations, desert, sand dunes of white and brown. Multicolored hot flames dancing in the air, even forming into sheets of heat waves distorting the rest of the picture. “Wow, Jenni, Fire Realm is great. You must have worked hard on it.”

“Thank you!” Pleasure radiated in Jenni’s voice.

“Fire Realm has djinns—” Lathyr began.

“Djinns like genies?” Kiri asked.

“Yes, djinnmen and djinnfems as the major race,” Lathyr finished.

Kiri imagined herself in a turban, maybe a metallic golden one. Gold lamé with a big ruby. Tacky but wonderful. “What kind of costumes do you have?” she asked. And did djinn manifest from smoke? Did they have lamp domiciles? Did they fly? Or have flying carpets?

“Not nearly as good a range of costumes as our game Fairies and Dragons,” Jenni said with regret.

“Oh.” Kiri cleared her throat. “Yet. Not as good a wardrobe yet. I can help with that.”

“I like your attitude,” Jenni said. “And what I’ve seen of your costumes in our times playing together in Fairies and Dragons, you’ll be a great help.”

Kiri was glad she’d already deleted all hideous fashion mistakes.

“The minor folk are firesprites,” Lathyr continued. “Like airsprites, they are significantly smaller than humans, perhaps as tall as eighteen inches as the maximum. Again, they tend to be less substantial than the major folk, the djinns.”

“Time,” Jenni said. “Logging Kiri Palger and Lathyr Tricurrent out of the opening to the prologue of Transformation.”

Chapter 8

KIRI BECAME AWARE of the mesh chair under her butt. Her nose missed the scent of magic, and tears nearly squeezed from her eyes at being back in the real world. Stupid! She swallowed hard, made sure her eyes were dry before she pulled off her visor. Her monitor had gone into sleep mode. She wanted to jiggle the mouse to see if she might recapture the view from the hill.