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Ivy sauntered in and flopped down beside him on the couch and handed him a Red Bull. “I promise I didn’t poison the drink. Much.”
He took a swig of the liquid, gulping it down without even tasting it.
Ivy snagged her laptop from the coffee table. The program tasked with finding the stalker troll’s proxy server identification continued to roll through the options. “How about some Magic Battledome? Imagine how effective we’d be when we’re in the same room for once.”
How could he say no to that? “Sure, but I need to use your laptop.”
“You trying to mess with my mojo?”
He chuckled. Gamers were as superstitious as baseball players. A change in equipment was not undertaken lightly. “Nah, I just have to monitor the proxy program.”
Ivy twisted her mouth and handed over her laptop before grabbing his and settling back. “I say we go for the Dyrnwyn.”
His pulse quickened. “The blazing sword?”
The legendary sword was the most-coveted treasure in Magic Battledome and had never been captured. Any player could storm White Hilt castle and claim the prize. The catch? Only one player—supposedly chosen by a complex, secret algorithm—could ever claim the Dyrnwyn and live to play another day. When anyone else touched the sword, white flames engulfed it, eating their way up the player’s arm and destroying him.
“It’s suicide.” Not to mention he’d never play with Scarlett again.
She clicked on her on-screen tool belt. “Not if you have Rhiannon’s gold silk brocade.”
A golden cape enlarged on her screen, glimmering in the CGI animated sunlight.
“It’s only a theory that the cape would protect you,” he said.
“It’ll work.”
“How do you know?”
“Going with my gut.” She winked at him. “Drink up, Zephyr. Adventure awaits.”
He downed the rest of the Red Bull. With no need for headsets to talk to each other, they dove into the world of Magic Battledome. The castle stood dark and gloomy against the bright CGI blue sky.
“The front door’s open.”
“Of course.” He snorted. “No one but us is crazy enough to try a stunt like this.”
He rushed into the castle. The sword lay on a thirty-foot-long oak table, illuminated by the skylight above.
Blood rushed in his ears and his suddenly sweaty fingers slipped on the controls.
His vision turned blurry.
Once he grasped the sword, the game wouldn’t allow him to let go. Holding his breath, he wrapped his fingers around its silver hilt and lifted it into the air. “Dyrnwyn, I make my claim.” White fire cascaded up the blade like a raging river. In a blink it covered his hand. “Scarlett, the cape.” His fingertips tingled as he fumbled with the controls.
His ever-loyal battle partner stood outside of his reach as the flames crawled up his arm. She made no move to toss the cape over him.
The cotton of his T-shirt clung to his sweat-covered back and his breaths came in shallow gasps as he tried to understand what was happening.
The proxy program binged and automatically opened a window on his screen. Though covered in data that wavered in his blurry vision, two words came through with clarity. Ivy Rhodes. No one else had set up the proxy server. She’d done it herself to confuse her trail. She was the stalker.
The laptop slid from his grasp, landing with a thunk on the floor. In the next heartbeat, he did the same.
The last thing he saw was Zephyr onscreen engulfed in white flames from head to toe before exploding into nothing. Then the world went black.
He blinked away the memory and Mika’s studio came back into focus.
“Carlos.” Mika brushed her palm down his cheek, bringing him back to the here and now. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s okay.”
