Mind Games

Oh, the joys of working at home!

Still barefoot, she walked into her studio, where Bunk did his circle three times before sprawling on his studio bed for his morning nap.

She’d spent months working with a team on Aftermath, a multilayered, postapocalyptic game with live actors. That had necessitated multiple trips to New York, deep, often freewheeling collaboration, and long hours.

It hadn’t been her concept, nor had she been involved on the ground floor. Bradley had pulled her in to help smooth out the narrative, punch up the dialogue and world-building.

Set to launch in September, Aftermath would offer gamers twenty to thirty hours of gameplay in a dark, desolate, often brutal world where the human race fought, struggled, and connived for survival.

She’d enjoyed it, and she’d learned a great deal. But she found herself more than ready to dive into something a little lighter, and where she held the wheel from the start.

Before she sat, she stood studying her board, the sketches. Potential characters, landscapes, buildings she envisioned for her parallel worlds.

One ruled by dark forces, the other by light. But of course, shadows loomed in both.

Then, through the actions of one—on either side—the portal between opened, the worlds collided, and the battle began.

She’d seen it all clearly, the young thief Cairn, light and dark, stealing the glowing green stone from its high, secret perch in the Tower of the Ancients, the flash and clash of lightning and howling wind as he raced away with that dangerous prize in his bag.

And the portal, deep in the High Forest, locked centuries before by the Council of Sorcery, releasing a long-held breath as it opened again, seeping light into the dark, dark into the light.

She sat, booted up her main computer at the sturdy desk with its long L she’d had Knobby make for this exact space, this exact purpose.

Using The Portal as her working title for the project, she started the first file with the concept.

She worked well into the afternoon, pausing to let Bunk out, to eat a carton of yogurt as she paced and considered details.

She worked in the quiet, switched to the laptop on the L of the desk for art, back to the desktop for mapping and level planning.

Choose your side, she thought. The lightness of Lewin, the darkness of Niwel.

Fun, she thought, rolling the stiffness out of her shoulders. Play solo or multiplayer, play competitively.

Leaning back, she closed her eyes.

Snag energy sources, healing herbs, power bonuses, weapons, or stumble into a bog, fall into a trap, lose your supplies or perhaps your life in the Lake of Dread.

She drifted a moment, tired in mind and body from the work and the interrupted sleep.

And he pushed at her, slyly, like cold, pinching fingers along her skin.

She heard Riggs laugh even as her eyes snapped open. Her stomach quaked as she shoved to her feet. She pushed back, as hard as she could, hard enough to have pain stabbing through her left temple.

She knew fear, had to accept it, had to accept he’d somehow gotten stronger. He’d pried through her blocks twice now in less than a day.

And what she’d felt from him was a kind of glee that he could.

He’d found a way, she admitted. Now, so would she.

Chapter Sixteen

After some internal debate, Thea decided she’d wait until Saturday to tell her family about Riggs. The three of them could talk about it, talk it out, over dinner. Until then, she’d keep to herself, and she’d keep working on her physical and mental strength.

She shelved her new game concept for later, and pulled out another she’d filed at concept stage. Now, with Riggs in mind, she began to flesh it out.

She’d felt him. She’d heard his fingers scratching at her locked window, but held him back. He hadn’t walked into her dreams again.

She sent Bunk down to visit Bray in the afternoons, then whistled him home again. And now and again she heard a drift of music or the boy’s laughter as it floated up to her on the air. Though she hadn’t seen Ty or his son since they’d returned her dish and basket, those sounds of life, easy and ordinary, brought her contentment.