And to give Julianne MacIntyre credit where credit was due, she didn't hesitate to hire me back then, bruises and all. It probably didn’t hurt matters that I’d given up on my dream of being a children’s librarian and decided cataloging in solitude was more my jam. After the attack, being around so many people had become frightening to me, and I was well-suited to the cataloging world.
I saw some passengers coming through the arrivals entrance and rechecked the itinerary. First to arrive were Carebear, Deathdrop, and Wrath on a flight from Jacksonville. I inwardly seethed. I couldn’t believe Wrath had the gall to show up, knowing I was the organizer and host. Of course his name wasn’t really Wrath, but we didn’t do real names in Magecraft. Our guild placed a high value on privacy. I played as a male dwarf—it’s all about the beard—so everyone in-game basically assumed I had a dick. Speaking of dicks, that brings us back to Wrath. If everyone in the world is destined to have one mortal enemy, one great nemesis that follows them through time and space, Wrath would be mine.
The feud between Wrath and I had been going on for a decade, following us from one game to another. We had been leaders of opposing guilds in an earlier online game, Guilds of the Ages. Back then, Wrath had been the very definition of a competitive, petty little shit. If my guild had something, he wanted it. If we hosted an event in Ages, he had to have one bigger, rowdier, better. And as for me, personally? At this point, I’d like to introduce the word griefing. To grief another player is essentially to go beyond the code of fair play and be as big of a pain in their posterior as possible. And Wrath and his guildies griefed me in spades.
I could have sworn that Wrath's very existence hinged on giving me grief.
Ages went the way of the dodo when Magecraft was released, and I thought my days of alternately avoiding and being annoyed by Wrath had come and gone. Not so. Turns out we both applied for and joined the same Magecraft guild, and the game? It was still afoot. Only now, because we were technically on the same side, it was psychological warfare and pranks galore. Just last month, “someone” had taught the parrotling in our guild hall to say “Maximus is a jackoff” every time someone walked nearby. The same parrotling that was in the dead center of the hall and could be heard for miles. Very funny. It took three days for the guild leader to figure out how to get the damn thing to shut up without killing it (which I may have floated first as an idea).
Let the record show that I am not as well liked as our virtual parrot made up of code and rendered in pixels. Killing Pollywoggy? Not an option.
The crowd was starting to thin, and I still hadn’t spotted my guests. I knew Carebear used a cane, but I hadn’t seen any women with one yet. As for Wrath, who the heck knew. I was expecting every terrible gamer stereotype come to life, right down to bad odor. As I scanned the assemblage, my gaze stopped on what was possibly the finest male specimen I had ever laid eyes on. He was standing against a pillar fiddling with his cell phone, his long, sleek black hair pulled into a ponytail that reached mid-back. He was at least 6’2” and had shoulders that made my lady parts tingle and take notice. I was glad of this as they hadn’t taken notice of much of anything for a long, long time. I could see tattoo sleeves poking out of his T-shirt. And his face! Beautiful cheekbones and a neatly trimmed but not too short beard. I did love a man who knew how to maintain attractive facial hair. Suddenly, he plunked the cell into his pocket and gave a visual sweep of the room before advancing in my direction. He looked younger than me, maybe late twenties?
“What, he couldn’t be bothered to pick us up so he sends his mousy girlfriend?” came out of the perfectly shaped mouth, a duffel thudding to the floor at his feet. In that instant, when he looked at me and rolled his eyes, I knew. Wrath. The hottie was him.
Gritting my teeth, I lowered the sign and stuck out my right hand. “Maximus. Good to meet you, Wrath. I see you haven't picked up any manners lately.”
He reared back. “Max?! You’re a … chick?” he asked, his mouth agape, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides. I held my hand firm, giving him time to recover and adjust his worldview to one in which his worst nightmare had two X chromosomes. After it became apparent that Wrath lacked any social graces, I dropped my hand and shook my head.
"Have you seen Carebear?" I asked, ignoring the odd look Wrath was giving me. It was downright unnerving. At least when the rest of the group arrived, I would have some potential reinforcements to balance out Wrath’s assholery.
"Geez, madame hostess, haven't you been checking the guild chat? Before I boarded, Carebear bailed. Her kids’ babysitter flaked. And Deathdrop and Nedris are out too. Their mommies took away their permission slips or something equally lame. Looks like it’s just us, sweet cheeks," he said with a broad grin.
Just us? Just us?! I reminded myself to breathe, and not to get distracted by the gorgeous face staring down at me. Didn’t they say Lucifer was the most beautiful of the angels? And what in the holy hell was I supposed to do on my own for four days with Wrath?
First things
