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Spark(14)

By:Anthea Sharp

“Ready to come out?” Vonda asked, her voice still broken by static.
Not at all, but what else could he do?
Fingers heavy, he gave the command to log out of Feyland. That same golden light flared, making his stomach twist. Then his ordinary senses returned. He was sitting in the FullD sim chair, the hubbub of the Expo Hall rising as the convention-goers flooded in.
He pulled off the helmet and stood. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he grabbed the back of the sim chair to steady himself. The fluorescent lights were too bright, and he squinted against the glare.
A long line of people waited to try the gaming systems. Spark stood by the main VirtuMax table, holding a stack of glossy images: promo pics of herself, simming. Seeing that he was off the system, she set them down and came over.
“What did you think of Feyland?” she asked.
“It was… really different.” He shook his head, trying to clear it.
Her dark blue eyes fixed intently on him. “How so?”
“The immersion was amazing. I felt like I was actually there, you know?”
“I know. What else?”
He dropped his gaze to the dull beige carpet, avoiding her scrutiny. No way was he going to confess he’d spent his time in-game attempting to hack behind the interface.
“Um. Unexpected creatures.” Total understatement.
“Did you get to any questlines?”
“Hey.” He glanced back up. “I need to check in at the volunteer center. And you have about a million autographs to sign.”
She looked at the waiting autograph seekers, then back to him. “I’d like to talk with you more, though. Lunch?”
He blinked. Spark Jaxley was inviting him to lunch?
“Sure.”
“Great.” Her mouth quirked up into a smile. “Come up to the VirtuMax VIP suite. Number 504. I’ll tell my guys to let you in.”
“Yo, Spark! Time to get to work,” Vonda called, waving toward the table.
Fans were stacked up ten deep already, the ones in front giving Aran bitterly envious looks. He could practically hear them wondering who this guy was, taking up their idol’s attention and keeping her from the essential task of signing her name and making small talk with them.
“I have to go,” Spark said. “See you later.”
Wonderful. He’d be stepping into the heart of VirtuMax security, carrying secrets that could get him in serious trouble. Watching Spark swing her magenta hair back and sit down at the table, Aran found that he couldn’t wait.






 
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CHAPTER FIVE


Sweet music played through the shadowed meadows and shivered through the silver-leaved oaks of the Dark Realm. Perched upon her tangled throne, the Dark Queen smiled.
 The nixie combing her hair beside a moonlit stream paused, then bared her rows of sharp, serrated teeth. The wisps in the brackish swamps danced and swirled, leaving blue streaks of luminescence in the air. Moths with sightless eyes on pale wings fluttered helplessly, trapped in sticky, black-stranded webs.
“Well done, Codcadden,” the queen said to the redcap goblin hunched in a bow before her. “When the moon shutters her face to the mortal world, you will fetch this human who has freely agreed to enter the realm.”
“My lady,” the goblin said. “How shall we bring him hither?”
“Send me.” The Huntsman lifted his horned head. “My hunt has brought many a mortal across that boundary, and my hounds grow restless.”
“No,” the queen said. “I do not want him to arrive fickle-minded and wits-wandering from riding with the Wild Hunt. Three goblins and the Enchanted Sack shall do. After all, the mortal is willing.”
“As my lady wishes.”
The Huntsman returned to his vigil, his red-eyed hounds curling about him. The goblin before the throne bowed even lower, until his nose brushed the silken mosses.
“Go,” the queen said. “Be assured of my favor. Your clan is welcome at the feasting tonight.”
The goblin departed, not daring to glance at his ruler’s face. The queen’s moods were fickle of late, and the wrong tilt of the head or set of the mouth could send her into a rage. Perhaps, he thought, this new mortal could set things aright.#p#分页标题#e#
In the shadows behind the throne, the court musicians played softly. The music quieted as a weary-faced man stilled his guitar and stepped up beside the queen.
“My lady,” he said. “Are you indeed set upon this course?”
“Bard Thomas.” The look she turned on him was full of frost and midnight. “Do you think to barter for yet another mortal’s life? Your human ways grow tiresome, and I begin to regret our bargain.”