Spark(52)

“I’m getting you some ice and aspirin, and pulling the FullD out of here. No way are you playing more tonight on an injury. The med techs should be here soon.”
“Okay.” Though things were so far from okay she wanted to scream.
When Vonda returned, Spark pressed the ice-filled towel against her wrist and tried to breathe normally. She watched, heart sinking even further, as the VirtuMax crew took the sim-system out. There went her last chance to get into Feyland.
She had to come up with another plan, and fast. The longer Aran spent in the realm, the more danger he’d be in of being trapped there forever. Even if he didn’t know it, she did.
Outside, she heard sirens approaching. They cut off, and a few minutes later she was surrounded by med techs taking her vitals and examining her wrist. They stuck her arm in a portable scanner, then clustered around the readout.
“It’s a grade two sprain,” one of them announced. “Not broken.”#p#分页标题#e#
Spark let out her breath. The painkillers were starting to kick in, too, and she leaned back against the mounded pillows.
“What does that mean?” she asked. “I don’t have to get a cast or anything, right? How soon until I can play again?”
“Gamers.” Vonda shook her head.
“Young lady.” The head tech, a guy with reddish hair, gave her a stern look. “You have to give yourself time to heal. Ice regularly, take anti-inflammatories, and wear a splint, especially when you sleep. With the right care, you’ll be functioning normally again in a few weeks.”
“A few weeks?” She turned to Vonda. “I can’t sit around that long! I’m working, and we have a system to debut.”
Vonda firmed her lips. “We’ll deal with it, Spark. Now shut up and get some rest.”
Despite the harsh words, Spark was reassured. Vonda would let her try playing—that was what “we’ll deal with it” meant. Maybe she could fit her splinted hand into an oversized glove. Or even play one-handed.
“Good advice,” the med tech said. “We’ll let your manager take care of the details of paperwork and prescriptions. If you’ll step outside, ma’am?”
Vonda looked a little sour at being called ma’am. Before she followed the man out, she set her hand on Spark’s forehead.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll work this out.”
Spark could only hope.



Aran stormed into the tent. He wished it had a real door, one he could slam. Or a hard floor to stomp over instead of the lush carpets. Anger was a bright flame, covering the guilt gnawing at him.
“And he yet remains in the realm? This is disastrous.” Thomas broke off as Aran entered.
“You!” Aran pointed at Puck, who hovered cross-legged several feet in the air, drinking a cup of tea. “You tricked me, with your faerie-ring switcheroo. Taking me to Spark, when you were supposed to bring me back here.”
“I only spoke true words,” the sprite replied. “You parsed the meaning incorrectly. ’Twas no trickery, but a sidestep.”
Aran scowled and turned to Thomas. Arguing with Puck was a useless activity.
“Do you know a girl named Spark?” he asked.
Thomas tilted his head and studied Aran for a long moment. Then he sighed and went to the table.
“Tea?” he asked.
“As long as you’re serving up some answers, too.”
“I will reveal what little I may. Understand, I walk a difficult path between my loyalty to the queen and the remnants of my mortal heart.”
 “Just tell me about Spark.” Aran took an impatient swig of tea. There were lies upon lies here, and he was sick of being tangled in the middle.
“She is one of the Feyguard,” Thomas said.
“No idea what that means.” Though Aran could guess.
“The Feyguard are those few mortals set to watch the boundary between your world and the Realm of Faerie.”
“So she knew about Feyland all along?”
“Aye,” Puck said. “And you should have heeded her warnings.”
Aran wrapped his fingers around his cup. Thinking back to SimCon, she had warned him—in a totally oblique way. Not that it would have made any difference, even if he’d understood what she was saying.
“Why are you still here?” Thomas asked. “Spark battled her way deep into the realm to free you, sustaining injuries along the way. Puck stood ready to open the gate. Every shred of mortal sense would have you gone from the realm, and yet you remain.”
Damn right he’d stayed—mostly out of pride, and stubbornness, and the burning desire to fit somewhere. And the pure thrill of unlocking the puzzle of code. He was close on that one. Not to mention the reward.