Spark(72)

“Jen.” Her dad moved to stand beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders. “We’ve been through this before. We have to let him go.”
Thomas sighed, like an autumn wind bearing the last fallen leaf. “My love for you both remains, in all worlds. But I must depart. Farewell, Feyguard.”
He lifted his hand, his form already fading until there was nothing but pale-barked trees where he’d been standing.
For a moment, they all looked at one another. They’d won, though it didn’t quite feel like a victory.
“You were supposed to get some rest,” Spark said to Roy. Still, she was glad he hadn’t listened. It had taken all of them to beat back the Dark Queen.
“Did you see Puck as you all came in?” Aran asked.
“No,” Tam said, glancing at him. “I take it you’re the one Spark came to rescue.”
“Yeah.” Aran grimaced. “I owe you guys my thanks—and an apology. This was my fault.”
Roy crossed his arms. “So, what’s stopping you from opening the gateway again? Or telling somebody else how to do it?”
“A lot of things.” Aran looked at Spark, then away. “I don’t need to be convinced that the Dark Court entering our world means serious trouble. Also, I triple-encrypted the code. Nobody else could hack that.”
“Are you certain?” Mr. Carter stepped forward, studying Aran.
“Yeah.” Aran winced, fingers going to his stomach.
“Zeg, I thought you healed him,” Spark said.
“His injury was pretty bad. I poured all my healing power into him, and he barely pulled through.”
Jennet set her hand on Spark’s arm. “You should get him back into the real world. I assume you’re simming together?”
“Yes.”
“Can we trust him?” Tam asked, glancing at Aran.
Though he wanted to defend himself, Aran needed to hear Spark’s opinion. He tried not to twitch with impatience as she chewed her lower lip.
“Yes,” she finally said. “He tried to save me by sacrificing himself.”
Jennet and Tam shared a look, and then Jennet smiled.
“That’s good enough for me,” she said.
“Fine,” Tam said.
Roy frowned, but it looked like he was done arguing.
“All right, team,” Mr. Carter said. “Good job. I hope we don’t have to do it again soon.”
“The gateway’s back to normal,” Tam said. “Which means we’re back to regular guard duty.”
“Whatever that is.” Spark crossed her arms. “The Elder Fey are too cryptic.”
“They have their own rules,” Jennet said. “Our job is to keep people from stumbling into the realm, or get them out again if they do.”
“Like that always works.” Spark shot Aran a glance.
“I’m a special case,” he said.
“I’d say.” Roy’s voice was dry.
“I’m late to work,” Mr. Carter said, tilting his wrist, then shaking his head as he realized his avatar didn’t have a watch.
“Me too,” Zeg said.  “Take care, everybody.”
His character winked out, and Mr. Carter’s followed. Roy gave Spark a last, regret-filled look, and was gone. Tam hugged her, then shook Aran’s hand. Jennet did him one better, and gave hugs all around.
Then it was just Spark and Aran in the faerie ring. He bent forward, one arm held tightly across his middle.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you taken care of.”
And then they had some serious talking to do.
She lifted her finger in the command to log out, then held her breath. Please, don’t let us be trapped in the Dark Realm. Thankfully, the air about her swirled, motes of golden light whirling until she was dizzy.
The clearing wavered and disappeared. The bright light faded, but still strobed oddly, and a high, screeching noise penetrated her gaming helmet.
Spark ripped off her helmet, then doubled over, coughing. The hotel conference room was filled with smoke. The fire alarm blared, lights flashing. She glanced around, heartbeat racing. It was too smoky to see where the fire was coming from.
“Aran!” she called.
She could barely make out his form through the haze, still sprawled in his sim chair. Fear pounded inside her skull—had Zeg’s heals failed? She darted over and squeezed his shoulder.
“Wake up!”
She yanked up his blood-covered shirt, then sagged with relief. No gaping wounds, only a scar running across his ribs, a faint silver line against his dusky skin. He was still breathing.
Quickly, she stripped off his helmet and gloves and pulled him out of the chair. He was heavy, and she didn’t get him down to the floor as gently as she would have liked. The air was better there, though smoke still scraped her lungs.