VirtualHeaven (28 page)

Maggie shivered in her gown, the same gown she’d worn the
last time she’d stood on Nilrem’s mountain. She rubbed her hands up and down
her arms. Hail pelted the windows of Bits and Bytes, the equivalent of Virtual
Heaven in Colorado Springs. Cars whooshed by outside on Academy Boulevard. The
rattle of the hail seemed freakish to Maggie.

It was long after business hours at Bits and Bytes, but
apparently the creator of
Tolemac Wars
had little trouble getting a game
store opened for just his pleasure.

Behind her, Derek was involved in a spirited negotiation
with the shop owner. In exchange for exclusive rights to
Tolemac Wars II
in the Colorado Springs area, the shopkeeper would give Derek the key to his
store for the night. No questions asked. Of course the lewd glances the man
shot in Maggie’s direction told her his imagination had painted a hot time in
the game booth for Derek and his groupie girlfriend.

She hugged her arms across her chest. She was acutely
conscious of the press of her breasts against the filmy gown.

Finally, Derek obtained the key. He locked the shop door and
placed the key on the counter. “It isn’t too late to back out.”

She couldn’t back out. Her mind said this man was Kered, but
her heart wasn’t sure. “What if he comes back tomorrow and finds his game on?”
she asked to distract him.

“He’ll assume I didn’t turn it off.” He walked the length of
the shop to the familiar freestanding booth that Maggie recognized from Gwen’s
shop. She tagged along, reiterating every point of their night-long
discussion—and argument—on how the game booth might have worked to send her
into the game.

Derek rounded on her before entering the booth. He held his
hands palm up and stemmed the flow of her words. “Look. We’ve checked on
conjunctions. There are dozens. Pick any date and you can find a conjunction—at
least in
this
place. We have all the bad weather we could wish for; it
might even snow by morning. Who knows how long we’d have to wait for another
storm like this one? If there’s anything else we’ve missed, well then, it won’t
work.” An edge entered his voice. “But I have to know, Maggie. You can stay
here, if you want. But I’m going.” His tone softened, and he avoided her eyes
as emotion tinged his words. “I feel a gnawing desperation. I have to know. I
have to make some sense of my life.”

Maggie whirled away from him and looked out the shop window.
The world was a dismal gray. The man of her dreams was waiting for her.
Somewhere.
Perhaps right here.
Why prolong the agony? Why hold back?
Because Kered had pushed her away. Could she bear to know the reason why? Not
knowing had led her to a small deception, one she hoped would not have deadly
repercussions.

Derek’s dreams of Tolemac were not always specific. His last
dreams were of carnage and blood, but not of the actual events of Samoht’s last
days. Maggie had not provided those missing details. Instead, she had told him
over and over only of the dangers that Tolemac held for
him
. After all,
if Kered had sent her away to protect her, might not Derek refuse to take her
into the game if he knew she, too, was in danger?

She had to go with Derek—to protect
him
. Whatever
perils existed in Tolemac when she’d left, still existed. Derek was determined
to face them—with or without her. He was as stubborn as his counterpart.

Another fact made it imperative she go. Without Kered, the
most important part of
her
life was missing. Once in the game, she’d
find the real Kered and come back—with him this time. And if Derek was Kered
and he seemed to be in any danger, she’d be there to help.

With resolute steps, Maggie followed Derek Townsend into the
game booth as he put on the lights. He stood with his hands on his hips. He
wore his Tolemac warrior garb; the engraved knife was in his boot and the sword
was strapped at his hip. He looked magnificent and worried.

“I’ve been dreaming of this place all my life. I draw it. I
think about it. I feel as if half of me is missing. I have to know where I
belong. I need to know how hard I must fight to preserve the game.”

His thoughts so echoed her own feelings that she relaxed.
“I’ve read a little science fiction,” she said. “What if you
do
get into
the game and meet yourself?”

He gripped her arms and drew her near. “This isn’t fiction.
You’ve been there. What will be will be.”

She gasped. His fatalistic words struck like a dagger to her
breast. “No. Don’t say that.” She pressed her fingers to his lips. They stood
very still, their breath the only sound in the booth. Slowly, Maggie skimmed
her fingers down his throat to his chest. She parted the leather of his jerkin.
How many times had she touched this distinctive mark on his chest with her
fingertips, anointed it with her kisses during lovemaking?

Derek gripped her elbows in his palms and drew her against
him, but she pulled away.

“You can’t accept who I am,” he said softly. “Look at me,
Maggie. Really look.”

She was afraid to look, afraid to have him see the doubt in
her eyes. It was like having a lover who’d gone away on a long journey—on an
Arctic expedition or something—and while he was away, inadvertently discovering
the lover had a twin brother. Her attraction to Derek was as powerful as to her
attraction to Kered. Yet she was filled with ugly sensations of betrayal, as if
she had lustful thoughts for a boyfriend’s brother. She, too, needed to know
who this man was. A mark on the chest, a taste, a magnetism that drew her was
not enough to quiet the fearful treachery she felt in her heart.

Derek felt more than the stir of his blood. He felt an
urgency that was ill-defined. She marched to the raised platform like a soldier
going off to war. He admired her courage. She touched the weapon at her waist,
a game gun she’d brought with her from her friend’s shop.

He had another reason for trying to access Tolemac that he’d
not shared with this mysterious woman. He was uncomfortable with his deceit,
but he needed to know if she was the woman he’d put in the game; he needed to
know if she was worthy of the position he’d created for her.

He joined her on the raised platform. Together, they lifted
the head pieces. Derek glanced about, then rolled his shoulders, a sheepish
look on his face. “I hate to say this, but I don’t know how to start it up.”

Maggie smiled and shook her head at him. The smile sent a
flood of relief through him. “You created this game and you don’t know how to
start it? Lucky for us, I watched my friend Gwen start hers. She said it takes
hours to warm up.”

Derek hooted with laughter. “This is the latest version.
It’s incredibly quick, or so I’m told. I plot it, I draw the scenes; I never
play.”

So, Gwen had been humoring her
. Maggie knew she might
lose her nerve if she didn’t act quickly. She touched the sequence of keys
she’d watched Gwen press and a hum and whir filled the air. Her heart throbbed
in her throat. She lifted the headpiece.

Derek stayed her hand. He placed the headpieces on the
railing and faced her. He lifted his hands and held them close to her cheeks.
“May I?” he asked, his voice soft and low.

Maggie nodded, unsure what he intended.

He cupped her face and stared into her eyes. “Whatever
happens, Maggie, you must know the truth as I see it. I believe all you told
me. I dream it. I live it each night. If this fails, I still believe you.”

Just as she had when Derek kissed her, Maggie desperately
wanted to fall into his arms and embrace him as her Kered, her Ker, embrace him
as her lover, not just because he trusted her, but because he had asked
permission to touch her. Something held her back. Trust? One part of her wanted
to trust in this man as she had learned to trust in her Ker. Part of her just
didn’t know. No words seemed worthy as a response to his declaration. She
nodded her head.

His fingers lingered along her cheek. Then he dropped his
hands. At the same time, they lifted the headpieces and faced the screen. They
linked hands, and Derek placed their joined hands atop the hilt of his sword.

Maggie gasped as the sword heated beneath her palm.

The storm outside howled its approval and, fingers laced
with Derek’s, Maggie opened herself to pain and other worlds.

Derek shook himself awake. The scent of wet stone filled the
air. His head hurt like a dozen hammers beating on one anvil—just as Maggie had
described.

Maggie
. He squeezed her fingers, still curled in his.

He stared up at the night sky. A stunning array of
constellations dazzled his eyes. Not one was earthly. He rolled to his knees
and stared about, a groan issuing from his lips as nausea joined the pain.

Maggie lay curled on her side, eyes tightly closed. Gently,
he stroked her cheek. It was ice cold. His head pounded with images that made
him want to close his eyes and lie down for a week. He forced himself to focus
on Maggie. He lifted her head into his lap and said a silent prayer that she
would wake.

Pain and confusion possessed him. Images that had been
nothing but dreams in his head until today stretched before him in vivid
reality—the blue-green orbs nestled in the star-studded indigo canopy that hung
overhead, the scent of flowers whose names he could recite as if he’d known
them all his life, the warmth of the woman he held in his arms.

Perhaps an hour later, perhaps five minutes, he couldn’t
tell as his mind grappled with his new world, Maggie stirred in his arms.

“Kered?” She whispered his name and reached up to touch his
face.

He nodded. He could not explain what was roiling through his
mind, so he helped her to her feet in silence. They stood facing each other,
both panting as if they’d sprinted a mile.

Then she leapt into his arms. He hugged her tightly, tears
running down his face. He kissed her mouth, hungry, but couldn’t lie to her. “Maggie.
Stop.” He pushed her to arm’s length.

She shook her head and fought against his staying hands.
“Please, I need you.” She burrowed into his chest.

He gripped her arms as tightly as he could without hurting
her and placed her at arm’s length. “
Stop
.”

He had a desperate need to make her understand. Immediately.
She had to know who he was.

She fell still. The expression on her face made him feel as
if he’d kicked a kitten. He gentled his hold. “Look about you.”

She did as he bid.

“Do you know where we are?” Kered asked.

Maggie nodded. They stood on the gentle slope of a meadow,
one she knew well. Where Kered had flown paper airplanes. She had walked it
numerous times on her way from Kered’s to Mada’s shop. To her left, Tolemac lay
spread out. Flickering candlelight gleamed in a few windows, but most were
dark.

She pointed away from a grove of trees whose black shadows
told her it was hours before dawn. “Mada’s shop is that way.”

He nodded. He remembered everything—everything—with a
sharp-edged clarity that made his head sing. For the first time in two decades,
he felt healed, whole. His gaze followed the direction of Maggie’s outstretched
hand.

“That way is the bathhouse,” she said.

“Aye.” Exaltation choked his voice. She abruptly turned from
the contemplation of their surroundings to face him. Her hand lifted, stretched
out to him, then very slowly, almost haltingly, she came close. Inside him,
every nerve of his body was strung taut.

She stood on tiptoe and stared up into his eyes. He bent to
her, skimmed his mouth across hers to silence her words. Flames of want and
desire—the want and desire of two worlds—raced through his system.

He pulled her swiftly to the concealment of the trees. Into
the dark shadows he hurried, his heart pounding, his need great.

She was sweet and eager, pliant in his arms. He stroked and
savored the feel of her hair as it tumbled down her back. He touched her lips,
then kissed her.

The sweetness of her taste exploded in his mouth. He was
hungry, starved for what he knew was his alone. With little thought for the
consequences, he pulled her to the cold earth, to the cushion of leaves and
ferns that would make an ample bed. He drew up her gown, sliding his hand along
her warm thigh, taking in the gasp of her breath, the soft moan in her throat.

He tasted her and knew if he did not have her he would
expire with the wanting.

She stiffened in his arms, planted her hands, and shoved.
“No,” she gasped against his mouth. Her fingers kneaded his chest but held him
off.

“Maggie?” He fell still, his hands wanting to seek further
beneath her gown, yet he felt the resistance, heard the pain in her voice.

Maggie struggled from his arms. She pressed her hand to his
where it lay on her thigh to hold him still. “We can’t do this, Derek, we
can’t.”

He fell back and flung his forearm across his eyes. His
breath burned in his chest. His body throbbed for release, but he knew what was
wrong. She had given her heart and loyalty to only Kered.

Maggie rose onto her knees. The dark shadows did not allow
him to read the expression on her face, but her quick breath, her occasional
sniff communicated quite effectively.

He groped for her hand in the dark. It lay small and still
in his. “Listen to me, Maggie. You must believe in me.” A lump in his throat
made it nearly impossible to speak. “I remember every moment in Mada’s shop
that first time with you. I can taste you in my mouth, even now. Your scent
fills my head.”

She gripped his hand in the dark, her fingernails digging
into his palm.

“I wake in the middle of the night with those images burned
into my mind and my body ready for you. I can feel the heat of Mada’s forge,
the sweat that slicked our skin. And now, I even remember the fear I felt when
Samoht attacked you.”