In Death 30 - Fantasy in Death

clear, and maybe, just maybe, the killer relaxes and makes a mistake. If I push when I can’t see it, a mistake’s more likely.
    “You play the first one, Bart’s character menu.”
    “All right.”
    “They could do it again.”
    He paused, looked back at her. “Why? If it was specific toward Bart, why again?”
    “Because it worked. Gaming can be a kind of addiction. It’s what they do—what the killer does—all day, one way or the other. It’s what feeds them, what excites them, what gives them purpose and pleasure. Higher stakes once you’ve killed. A new level. Some gamers start skipping the lower levels—like Bart did—once they nail them. It’s a little boring, right?”
    “Yes. Yes, you’re right.”
    “It’s hard to go back to the simple stuff once you’ve proven yourself. Not just the kill, like we were talking about before. But the challenge. More, if it is one of them—say just one of them—they’re close, they’re tight. Day in and day out. One little slip, something said or done that makes the others wonder. Good excuse to do it again. You’re just protecting yourself.”
    “The murder of another partner would increase your focus on the two remaining,” Roarke pointed out.
    “True gamers juice on the risk, the challenge. Right? They want the buzz. Maybe need that buzz.”
    “You believe the killer’s playing against you now.”
    “Yeah, at least on one level. And the ego’s saying hey, I’m better than she is.”
    “The ego would be wrong,” Roarke commented.
    She tucked her thumbs in her front pockets as he inserted the copy of the game into the holo-unit. “Since I feel like I’m spinning my wheels, I’ll take the confidence booster.”
    “You’re not spinning anything. A day ago, I wouldn’t have believed one or more of his friends would plot his death. But you’ve picked it all apart and laid it back out so that there’s simply no other answer. To my mind, that puts you well ahead in this game.”
    “I wish I was wrong.”
    “For my sake, or Bart’s?”
    “Both.”
    “Don’t wish it,” he told her. “Just win.”
    He programmed Quest-1, level four, and requested the last run by Bart on the copy.
    “I’ll take the sword,” Eve said, and kept it by her side as the room shimmered into a forest glade where silver beams of sunlight streamed through tall trees in full leaf.
    Roarke wore a brown tunic, rough trousers, knee boots. His sword was sheathed at his side, and on his back was a quiver of silver-tipped arrows and a golden bow.
    She couldn’t have said why the costume suited him, but understood he looked both heroic and dangerous.
    Out of the shadows and into the gilded stream of light came a white buck. “What’s the play?” she asked him. “This world is under the enchantment of a wicked sorceress who’s imprisoned the king and his beautiful and tempestuous daughter.” As he spoke, he sidestepped into the cover of trees, but didn’t approach the buck.
    “I’m the apprentice of the wizard she killed to cast her evil spell. Before he died, he told me I must complete seven tasks of valor, collect seven treasures. Only then would I be ready to face the sorceress and free the king and his daughter.”
    He glanced back where she stood in the observation circle. “The white hind is classic quest symbolism, and in this case how my master, the wizard is able to guide me.”
    “Okay then.” The hind leaped, began to race through the trees. Roarke followed. She watched, and the sunlight died into dark and storm. The rain that pelted down was red as fire, and sizzled like flames on the ground.
    And watched as the yellow eyes that peered out of the torrent became skulking black forms, and as the forms became a pack of huge wolves that circled him.
    The sword hissed as he pulled it from its sheath, and whistled as he swung and struck. He battled fang and claw, spilled blood and shed it. And to her surprise, shot flames from his hand. “Fairly frosty,” she murmured, when the wolves lay smoking on the ground. “Every level you win awards you with a bit more magic,” he explained. An arrow whistled by his head. He said, “Bugger it,” and dove for cover. At the end of forty minutes, he’d completed the level and was well into the next where he was currently tasked with crossing a chasm to a cave guarded by a dragon.
    “Okay, that’s time.”
    “I’m just getting started.”
    “You can slay the dragon next time. You’re past Bart’s