Marny (13 page)

She looked at the CEO. His face was
impassive, but there was a pissed-off look in his eyes. Seeing it
made her glad and afraid at the same time.

“Goodbye, Mr. von Coburg,” she said.

“It’s been a pleasure.” His tone implied the
exact opposite.

Though Marny disliked turning her back on the
CEO, she did it anyway, suppressing a shiver as she strode away.
Just as she reached the door, he spoke again.

“One more thing, Miss Fanalua. You might want
to consider more appropriate footwear in the future.”

Right. He couldn’t resist that last jab,
could he? She turned and gave him a sharp nod, then pivoted and
followed Bruno out of the plush office. When the doors slid closed
behind her, she released her held breath. That had been crazy.

And disturbing.

On one hand, she understood that the leaders
of these huge tech companies were sharks. Look at Roy’s mother,
after all. CEO of VirtuMax and completely focused on that—to the
utter detriment of her family. In that world, Marny supposed it was
understandable to try and use every advantage. But to threaten a
new intern if they didn’t provide information about a rival
company? That wasn’t right.

Was there somebody she could report him
to—some watchdog entity that kept big corporations in line? She’d
have to find out.

Bruno silently escorted her into the
elevator, which took them down to the twenty-eighth floor where the
Social Interfaces Design team worked. The elevator door opened into
a private foyer, but just past that was a hallway bustling with
employees headed to their cubicles.

Time for work. Great.

Marny stepped out of the elevator without a
backward glance. The guard wasn’t her ally, and she doubted he’d
speak a word against his boss, even if he’d witnessed the whole
slimy interaction.

The second the elevator departed, taking
Bruno with it, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes to
regain her equilibrium. Her chest was tight with anger and
something that felt suspiciously like tears. Dammit. Facing off
against Dettwiler von Coburg had been one of the scariest things
she’d ever done. But Uncle Zeg would have been proud of her for not
buckling.

She wished more than anything that she could
walk in the door of his simcafé, have him hand her one of his
monster cookies, and tell him all about it. But she was on her
own.

At least she knew her family loved and
supported her, no matter how far away she might be. That knowledge
would have to be enough to carry her through.

She pulled in a couple steadying breaths and
let the tension flow out of her. Thankfully the little foyer
remained empty, though conversation and the smell of coffee
filtered into the quiet space.

Maybe she could talk to Brenna about what had
happened. And for sure she’d write down the entire interview.
Documentation was important, even if nobody ever saw it.

As was showing up to work on time.

With a last, rueful glance at her shoes,
Marny pushed away from the wall and headed into the busy hallway.
For now, she’d concentrate on her projects with the team—and hope
that Mr. von Coburg’s threats had been empty.

June 24

T
he
smell of crushed oranges and coffee filled the warehouse, along
with the high laughter of Emmie and her best friend, Sula. All
afternoon they’d been running the juicer and espresso machine,
coming up with concoctions and making Nyx taste them. Some of the
drinks they’d invented had been surprisingly tasty. And some had
been downright hideous.

Nyx counted his paces across the wide
concrete floor, marking off the space for his “installation.” He’d
measured it twice already, but it never hurt to be extra sure. The
orientation of the forest had to be just right, so people entering
the club could see the expanse of magical trees but wouldn’t be
immediately engulfed in them.

“Hey!” his sister called to him, brandishing
a glass of green liquid. “Come try the Goblin Blood.”

Emmie had gone a little crazy with the
theme—but maybe that kind of energy was exactly what he needed. And
who wouldn’t want to drink something called Pixie Dust (blackberry
soda with cranberry sparkles), or exhale Ogre Breath (garlic,
ginger, and carrot juice).

When he’d gone to get the permits, the guy at
the city office had shaken his head.

“An all-ages club, huh? Tough to turn a
profit on those. Last one folded after two months.”

“Why’s that?” Nyx had asked.

“Profit’s in the alcohol, which you can’t
serve. Or the live music, but the licensing fees for cover bands
will kill you.” The man had given him a hard stare. “Unless this is
a front for something illegal. Snow-vaping? Mutant dog fights?”

Nyx had let his distaste show in his eyes.
“No. Just a place for people to come hang out with their friends,
game some, dance. Feel like they’re someplace else for a little
while.”

He hoped.

The man had grunted and let him finish
filling out the paperwork on Club Mysteria without further
trouble.

And in one more day, Nyx would know whether
his venture would succeed, or be a complete failure.

The thought of the grand opening scared him
more than anything. He’d never put so much on the line before. Not
just the money, though that was substantial, but the dream, the
vision. If the club was a flop, it would be very hard for him not
to take it personally.

Luckily, Emmie was there, distracting him
with her chatter and wild concoctions.

He joined her and Sula in brainstorming more
names and drinks, then directed their coffee-fueled energy to
draping green gauze and hanging fairy lights. Though the enchanted
forest was the main attraction, he wanted a sense of magic to
extend to the entry, juice bar, and dance floor, which were all
outside the boundary of the game.

Not really a
game
, his mind said. He shook off the
shiver between his shoulder blades. Whatever it was, the various
places he’d been able to recreate outside of Feyland weren’t real.
They only lasted a day or two, and popped like soap bubbles if the
anchors were removed or destroyed. Besides, the forest wasn’t
endless, as he’d discovered.

The third time he created the enchanted woods
he’d decided to test its boundaries. He’d called Emmie into his
room and told her he was heading into the trees.

“What?” She’d given him a wide-eyed look.
“What if you get lost in there? What if something eats you?”

“Then you can have my room.” He’d punched her
lightly on the shoulder. “I’m pretty sure it’s going to be okay.
But if I’m not back in, say, four hours, call Durham.”

“Wake him up in the middle of the night so he
can go in and get eaten, too? I don’t think that’s a great
plan.”

“For someone who was laughing at my ‘fake’
installation last week, you’re sure concerned.”

Emmie wrinkled her nose at
him. “You might be an annoying big brother, but you’re
my
annoyance. Whatever’s
going on in your room with that magical forest is
creepy.”

“Which is exactly why I have to go check it
out. I told you, I’m in control of it.” More or less.

“Three hours.” She crossed her arms. “And
then I’m telling Mom and Dad, too.”

“Fine.” He picked up the big knife he’d
brought up from the kitchen, then turned and faced the shimmering
forest.

“Do you think that knife will be enough?”
Emmie asked, hovering at his shoulder.

“It’s not like we have any
guns in the house. Besides, it’s more for cutting my way out of a
trap or something. I
am
a third-degree black belt, don’t
forget.”

“Like that’s going to help when you meet a
gigantic ogre who wants a human snack.”

“Then I’ll cut him.” He waggled the knife at
her.

“Ohh, so scary.” Despite her tone, he could
hear that she was frightened at the thought of him going in.

“Don’t worry, Em.” He tousled her bleached
hair. “See you soon.”

She batted his hand away. “I better.”

He strode into the forest. The mossy ground
cushioned his steps, and the underbrush smelled like pungent herbs
as he brushed past. He turned and waved at Emmie, still visible
through the pale-barked tree trunks. It was weird, seeing his messy
bed and bright posters at the edge of the woods.

She waved back and he nodded
at her, then kept going. A few more steps in, and he couldn’t see
his bedroom anymore. Apprehension tightened his breath. What if he
really
did
get
lost?

He should have brought something to mark his
way: some bright string to tie on the bushes, or chalk to mark the
trees. A trail of breadcrumbs. Something. Nyx felt in his pockets,
but they were empty, and he didn’t think pocket lint was going to
do him much good.

With a mental shrug, he stripped off his
faded red T-shirt. Using the knife, he cut through the hem and tore
a few long strips from the bottom of the shirt, then ripped them
into smaller pieces. He put his shirt back on, now a midriff-baring
T. He doubted that any forest creatures were going to start
commenting on his abs.

As he moved further into the forest, he tied
strips of his T-shirt to the branches every few paces. It wasn’t a
perfect system—he’d seen the vids where evil creatures followed the
hero, undoing the markers or pointing them to lead back toward
danger—but he’d have to take his chances.

The woods didn’t seem that menacing, at any
rate.

Liquid birdsong trilled from overhead, and a
soft breeze stirred the silvery leaves. Shafts of sunlight
illuminated the forest. It was more peaceful than scary.

Movement at the corner of his eye made him
whirl, dropping into a defensive stance, but it was only a big
orange butterfly flickering through the sunbeams. Nyx drew in a
deep breath and kept going. There weren’t any identifying
landmarks, just trees and purple-flowered shrubs and a pale blue
sky overhead with no clouds.

A spot of color ahead caught his eye,
something red wrapped around a branch. It looked suspiciously
familiar. Shaking his head, Nyx headed for it, weaving between the
trees.

Sure enough, it was a strip of his shirt.
Somehow he’d gone in a circle, which seemed kind of impossible.
Admittedly, he’d grown up in the suburbs of Newpoint and wasn’t a
woodsman by any stretch. But he had a decent sense of direction and
could have sworn he’d been headed in a straight line since he’d
stepped into the forest.

“Fine,” he said. “Are we playing games?”

The only answer was the rustle of silver
leaves in the wind.

Nyx turned his back on the scrap of fabric
and headed away, at a right angle from the direction he’d
approached. A few steps later, he groaned. Ahead, a strip of his
T-shirt dangled from another branch.

“Very funny.” He had the feeling no one was
listening.

The whole thing reminded him of an old kids’
book his mom used to read out loud at bedtime. One of the stories
had the animal characters going around and around a bush, following
tracks in the snow and thinking they were tracking some kind of
ferocious beast. But all along, it was their own footsteps. He
suspected he was doing the same thing.

Intuition said his room lay behind him and
somewhat to his right. Since he clearly was making no headway in
the enchanted forest, maybe it was time to return to the normal
world.

If he could.

Leaving the strips of shirt tied to the
trees, he headed in the direction he hoped was out. In a
surprisingly short time, he glimpsed the blue walls and gaming
posters of his bedroom. Relief bubbled through him.

When he stepped onto his messy carpet, Emmie
jumped up from his bed and gave him a hug. “You made it out!”

He squeezed her shoulders, then turned to
look back into the forest.

“I ended up going around in circles. I
think.”

“What happened to your shirt?” She eyed the
ripped hem.

“I needed the cloth to mark my
direction.”

He bent and snagged another shirt from the
floor, a plain blue T with a hole in the side.

“Hold this,” he said, handing it to her.
“Stretch it out so I can cut off the bottom.”

“I really don’t think this is a good look for
you,” she said. “Are you planning to mutilate all your
clothing?”

“I want you to go in with me.” He set down
the knife, then took the now-ruined shirt from her and started
tearing it into strips.

“Are you sure?” She cast a wary glance into
the woods.

“I have a theory, and if I’m right we’ll be
perfectly safe. Go into the forest and head left, tying these
around the branches every few feet.” He handed her the pieces of
blue cloth. “I’ll go to the right.”