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She would get the job.
“Your brownies were incredible,” said Rafe. He laughed lustily. Now that she’d spent more time with him, Kiri thought he was a man who appreciated every moment of life. “They didn’t last at all. Some folk went straight for dessert.”
“Fine with me.” Kiri drank deeply of a bottle of raspberry sparkling water and glanced around the backyard, a large pretty lawn with lilac bushes edging both side fences. The space wasn’t quite as lush or groomed as the Davails’ own next door, but Jenni’s sunroom was awesome.
“We’re glad to have you join us here in the Circle,” Amber said. “The man who lived in number one before you kept to himself. Didn’t come to the block parties, traveled a lot and disapproved of the rest of us playing together as a team in Fairies and Dragons every Thursday night.” She wrinkled her nose, then cocked a golden-brown eyebrow at her husband. “Even Rafe plays now. We’ve assimilated him.”
Again Rafe laughed and lines crinkled at the corners of his blue eyes.
Amber poured some red wine into a glass and lifted it. A ray of sun slanted through it, and it appeared as if she held a glowing jewel. Smiling, she tilted the rim toward Jenni. “And we’re close here, and want to support each other however we might.”
Kiri leaned forward and low words tumbled from her. “I want that, too.” She wetted her lips. “Jenni’s my hero. I’ve applied for a job at Eight Corp. I’d love to work with her.”
Rafe’s and Amber’s gazes zeroed in on her, one shrewd, the other considering. Kiri flushed. Did she sound like a stalker? She hoped not.
Amber dabbed some bruschetta in flavored oil. “Well, you know what you’re doing in Fairies and Dragons for sure,” she said.
“Thanks.” Kiri grimaced. “Eight Corp said on its website that they’ll be making the decision soon.” She cleared her throat. “Did you see a guy walking around the Circle yesterday evening? He said he was from Eight Corp human resources. He was a little...” Fascinating. “...odd. Might have been practicing for Halloween.” Or her vision had been off.
Rafe’s smile was brilliant. “Kiri, we’re all a little odd here in the Circle.” He pointed his bread at her. “Including you, and thank God for it.” His lips quirked up, then he popped the bread in his mouth.
Kiri smiled. She didn’t mind being different, especially in a way that meshed well with Mystic Circle people.
“We didn’t see anyone,” Amber said. “But bad guys can’t get in the Circle. It stops them.”
“What!” Kiri’d never heard of anything like that in her life.
They nodded in unison. “True.”
“Oh.” Hmm. Nope, didn’t believe that.
“Great party,” Jenni said as she walked up, holding a glass mug of frothy beer and grinning. “Glad that you started this tradition, Amber.”
“I am, too,” Rafe said. “Ancient tradition.” He winked at Kiri. “Seven months, a party a month.”
Kiri tried to keep upbeat. “Sounds fine to me.”
“We’ll move the gatherings inside when the winter comes,” Amber said. She and Rafe rose and cleared their cheerfully colored paper plates and plastic utensils. “Later, Kiri.”
“Sure. See you later.” She wondered if there really would be a later. How humiliating that she’d spilled her guts to near strangers who might repeat her words to Jenni or Aric. What if she didn’t get the job? Would she still feel okay living in Mystic Circle? Hell!
Jenni slid onto the wooden bench opposite. She glanced around the backyard at the clusters of people talking and laughing. “Just great to have neighborhood get-togethers.”
Then she turned her head to meet Kiri’s gaze. “We’ve discussed you quite a lot at Eight Corp. Aric works there, too.”
Here it came.
Chapter 3
KIRI FROZE.
Something in Jenni’s eyes, a downward curve of the corner of her lips made Kiri’s stomach clench. She wasn’t going to get the job.
The sun went behind clouds—wasn’t it supposed to be sunny all day?—drying her sweat.
She was glad she was sitting down and braced herself, forced the overwhelming disappointment back down her throat. She hoped she’d kept a pleasant smile on her face.
Jenni continued, “I—we—were very impressed with your work on the prospective story arcs for Pegasus Valley....”
Kiri said it for her. “But?”
Jenni gestured with her mug of beer. “However, our preliminary planning took the characters and story lines in a totally different direction.”
“Oh.”
Jenni smiled and it hurt Kiri. “Now for the but. We have a very new, very exclusive game we are developing we’d like your help on.”
Kiri stared. “What?”
“You’ll have to interview with Eight Corp, and take a look at the preliminary sketches and plot arcs. They need to be fleshed out. Also, there is some preliminary game testing.”
What did that mean?
Jenni’s husband, Aric, came up and wrapped a hand over her shoulder. “Enough business talk.” He frowned. “Clouds have rolled in and I don’t like the feel of the wind. Let’s talk with Rafe and Amber.” He inclined his head to Kiri, blinked, then said, “Ah, I mean socialize.”
New game. Exclusive. Preliminary testing. Before Kiri could get even one of the questions swirling in her head to her mouth, Jenni had stood and she and Aric had moved away.
Then he stepped from the shadow of a tree near the front gate and Kiri’s heart began to pound. He moved with casual sophistication through the gathering. She’d been wary of him the night before—all right, she’d been a little scared of the man—doubted his claims that he was an Eight Corp rep. But here he was. He still evoked a buzz of fascination along her nerves.
The man nodded to Aric, inclined his head at Jenni, lifted his hand to the Davails, but Kiri got the idea that he wasn’t local.
Finally, he reached her and he made a half bow that Kiri had only seen in movies and at Ren Faires. Never had one aimed at her in real life. “Lathyr Tricurrent,” he said with an accent she couldn’t place. His hand dipped into his pocket and came out with another blue-green card. He held it to her. She just stared at the pasteboard.
After a few seconds, she took it and tried a tiny experiment. She let go and it fell to the table. The card landed faceup and she saw his name and Eight Corp engraved on it in dark blue.
“I believe Jenni spoke to you about our new project.” Again that fluid accent.
Somehow, as she’d watched him move to her, in that short amount of time, she’d forgotten the first dozen questions she’d wanted to ask. She took a sip of her drink. “Jenni said it was a new game.”
“We are doing preliminary work and hope to market it before the winter holidays.”
“Ah.”
“Stage one is a prelude to the game and mostly developed.” She met his eyes and couldn’t seem to look away. They were deep blue, and his pupils dilated when he looked at her. He liked what he saw? That was nice and she felt heat crawl along her neck and up into her face. So stupid to stare, but she couldn’t stop it.
His eyes were so pretty, blue and misty, and there seemed to be even more of a depth that sucked her down and she heard the rushing of air in her ears and the humidity of the day was pressing against her so she felt droplets on her skin and her breath was caught in her chest and reality seemed to fade and gray fog edged her vision....
* * *
Lathyr glanced aside and Kiri panted, sucking air. Her shirt was sticking to her. So not sophisticated. Could she be any more lame?
“Have some water,” he said. His voice seemed to fade, then amplify in her ears. Ebb, flow.
Get a grip!
“Thanks,” she managed weakly, but she couldn’t seem to reach for the bottle. She looked up to see his long fingers twist off the top and set another plastic bottle of carbonated raspberry water into her curved fingers. Her hand trembled, tightened on the bottle, squirted water.
Damn! Now her cheeks were hot from embarrassment.
“Lathyr,” said Jenni Weavers with a scold in her tone, walking up to them.
“My apologies,” he said.
Kiri managed to get the bottle to her lips and gulp down her drink. Thankfully, she didn’t choke. Her brain felt fuzzy, as if there was stuff going on around her that she didn’t see. Maybe like she was stuck in a sepia dimension and everyone else was colors.
Yoga breaths—three, then another sip of water, blink and smile and think! She wanted to know more about the job. She wanted the job, the career, and to accomplish that, she had to impress the man.
Jenni had moved away, but left the guy a beer. He was running his index finger down one of the drips of condensation. His eyes met hers briefly and his pale lips curved in a smile that seemed genuine. “Sorry I disconcerted you.”
Was that what he’d done? Kiri didn’t know. She wiped her hand across her eyes and shook her head. “No problem.” Another deep breath. “I lost track of the conversation. You were telling me about the, uh, new game?”
“The game is called Transformation and has a preliminary stage, almost a tutorial, like a few other games in the past.” He gestured with his beer. “The individual is ‘tested’ to determine what area they begin the game in.”
“I’ve heard of that.” Vaguely...she couldn’t snag the detail, though.
“Yes, we have lands of rivers and volcanoes and aeries and caverns.”
“Hmm.” She pummeled her memory. “And there was an old game that measured...um...qualities? Like loyalty and honor and compassion?”
“That’s right.” Again the smile. “Though the prelude of the game has tests which will actually determine your powers and attributes. A...player...does not choose them ahead of time as is usual in most games now.”
“Interesting twist.” Her water went down better this time. Her breath was steady now. Whatever stupid moment she’d had before had passed.
His eyes narrowed, the color intense, though he didn’t meet her gaze. “We believe you are an excellent candidate.”
Kiri blinked. “Yes?”
“To test through the prologue. Anyone who will be working on the new game will need to go through and clear that part, so you know the basis of the world building.”
“That makes sense.”
He leaned over the table. She looked into his eyes again, then he cut his gaze away, seemed to scan the party and flicked his glance back to meet hers. “I believe that you have great potential for this...employment. Can you start on stage one, the prologue of the game on Monday?”
Her heart thudded hard. She wanted this opportunity to break into game writing so much! She tried to look casual and swallowed another gulp of water. “I can after work is over. I’m downtown—it wouldn’t take me more than a few minutes to make it to Eight Corp’s offices.”
Lathyr frowned, his fingers slid back and forth on the table. “I would like to offer you employment, but I can’t until you finish going through the preliminary stage of the game. We would, of course, prefer you to be at your best when you work with us. Naturally the person with the highest score—who develops their character to the highest level and with a minimal amount of defeats—will be offered the position first.”
He was right. She’d be better fresh instead of struggling with a new game after a tiring day of being on a computer and handling complaints.
“I overheard. We do need to move on this fast.” Jenni sat down beside Kiri. “Do you have any vacation time coming?”
Kiri gritted her teeth. How much did she want the job? How much did she believe in herself? Enough to use her full two weeks of vacation?
Yes.
Gamble, roll the dice and hope. “I can take a full two weeks, but beginning on...Thursday?” A quick glance at their faces. Lathyr seemed attentive, but Jenni had twisted in her seat at the sound of metal sliding on metal. Rafe Davail and some of the unknowns were fighting...with swords. People from the Fencing Lyceum, then.
“You can ride with me to work on Thursday, if you don’t mind getting in early and waiting while we set up,” Jenni said.
Her husband was there, shaking his head, looking at Jenni, not Kiri. “No. I’ll be taking you to work, Jenni.”
Lathyr made an abrupt sound, maybe a curse in his own language.
“Eight Corp will send a car for you,” Jenni said. “We’ll pay you for your time, though I know it’s not the same as having vacation days. I’ll let Lathyr here close the deal, tell you more.”
Another dismissal, this one distracted. “That would be good,” Kiri said.
* * *
Lathyr met Princess Jindesfarne’s eyes and inclined his head. The clouds and wind had only been a precursor. As Jenni moved away, he believed she’d be reporting to more powerful Lightfolk that minions of a great Dark one were flying over Mystic Circle.
He could feel the evil, see the gigantic stingray-like creatures as they circled and flickered against the sun. They couldn’t land, but they cast shadows that humans could uneasily sense.
It pleased his ego that the interesting Kiri Palger remained focused on him. He stood and offered his hand. “Why don’t we walk around the Circle?” This place was safe, but she was human and the others might want to use more magic that would disturb her. The park in the center of the Circle, the koi pond she liked, would be safer for her.
“You can ask me what you need to know about the project,” he coaxed. Not that he’d tell her much of the truth, but he wanted to touch her and gauge her potential for transforming into one of the Lightfolk, especially here in the Circle where magic was balanced.
The more time he spent with her, the more he liked her, though he’d made a mistake in holding her gaze. She was human and susceptible to his glamour. He wasn’t pure Waterfolk, but he was pure magic.
She stayed seated, looked around, then squared her shoulders, something he sensed showed determination. Gestures were different for the Merfolk underwater. If she’d been mer and in the ocean she’d have flipped a hand to send a push of water current aside, indicating power and the willingness to follow through. Both those qualities he thought she had, along with the most important two that he’d discovered humans needed to become Lightfolk—a flexible imagination and a high level of curiosity.
But as she didn’t rise, he deduced something held her here. “What is it?”
She flushed, a pretty habit, also not seen much below water where mers kept their body temperature steady and cool. The rush of blood to her skin was unexpectedly enticing. “I still haven’t met all of my neighbors, or interacted with them. I want to stay here.” Her fingers went to the buttoned ends of her shirtsleeves and aligned them some way that seemed right to her. “The job is really important to me, but so is my place here.”
He stared at her, blinked a couple of times to keep his eyes wet. If she turned into a dwarf or a djinn, even an elf—earth, fire, air elementals—she could possibly remain here. But if she became mer, she would have to move. What waters there were in Colorado were already claimed by naiads and naiaders.
What were the odds she’d become mer? He didn’t quite know. There had been less than twenty humans changed into magical Lightfolk and though he had recognized their potential, his guesses as to what they might become had been poor. So he dropped his hand and stepped away, disappointment cooling the blood in his veins.
Princess Jindesfarne, her husband, the Davails and several brownies had disappeared into unruly green brush in the corner of the yard and Lathyr sensed they were working magic. They didn’t seem to care that they had humans, including Kiri, in their midst, who might witness such.
A wave of balanced power pulsed under his feet, flowed through him, pushed into the sky. Princess Jindesfarne and friends sending the great Dark one’s servants away.
Sunlight became bright and hard and burning in the thin air.
Lathyr said to Kiri, “We can talk later. May we send the car for you early Thursday morning, so you and I can discuss this before the workday at seven-thirty? I will be in earlier for a meeting and we can talk after that.”
“You aren’t staying?” Kiri asked.
