It was all Petra’s fault. If she hadn’t showed up, the Inquisitor wouldn’t be on his holy rampage. What if she did something else, in another woman’s body? I had to stop her before every female in town paid for her obsession with me. I would have to go on the offensive. I just wasn’t sure how, or where to start. I sighed. I’d better start listening to Cash.
I had a fleeting sensation of dread as I walked to the sound system and scanned the room. Tommy, still surrounded by pretty young things on the dance floor, cast a glance in my direction every so often. Cash was missing, probably hauled up with the blonde bimbo somewhere. Even Jimbo had swapped his work clothes for something more casual and was sitting by a table bopping his greasy head to the music.
Everyone seemed happy. I flipped the light switch and cast the room into sudden darkness then picked up the microphone to speak but nothing came out. I cleared my throat and tried to keep my voice steady. “Ladies and gentlemen, for your entertainment, please welcome Miss. Kitty Muse.”
“Ahem,” Courtney said from behind me. I turned to see her in the shadows. Blue glittered falsies twinkled in the light from the kitchen, coral lipstick glimmered and something fluffy covered her body. She backed up and closed the door.
“Oh, and also Miss. Courtney Rhymes,” I said into the microphone, then turned the lights on and pressed play. Light exploded in the room and the tune to one of my all-time favorite non-Prince songs came on. Cyndi Lauper with Girls Just Want to Have Fun.
Kitty burst through the door in a pink, satin, skin-hugging vintage prom dress, tight—very tight—and low at the bust with a flared, tulle and lace skirt. Ah, I could see Courtney clearly. She’d also dressed in classic Wheels and Dollbaby style, with a matching pale blue prom dress, trimmed in black. Her platinum hair was huge—like a pineapple. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. They moved in unison dancing and bopping with untapped energy. Courtney sang back-up and, by the time they hopped up on the bar, they were vivacious and charismatic. Kitty kicked off her shoes, and the crowd cheered in a drunken frenzy.
Their energy was intoxicating and left me reeling with a mild case of vertigo. It could have been the energy, or it could have been the dizzying idea that some women in the crowd might be burned at the stake in a few short days. Should I warn the locals? The dizziness grew, and I steadied myself on the stereo, causing it to skip a beat, which brought a frown from the Queen of Pop. I didn’t think my woozy head would survive much longer. No one would want a drink for a while and I needed air.
I headed out the back.
Chapter 21
I opened the back door and took a deep breath. Cool, therapeutic air filled my lungs. My nose tingled from the sudden change in temperature. It was so muggy inside, but outside it was dark and quiet with nobody but—
“Ahem.”
I jumped. Petra?
A shadow stirred below me and I lowered my gaze. Cash sat a few feet away at the top of the steps. He leaned on his elbows so his hands cupped his chin and kicked the dirt making his head bob. He didn’t seem to mind though. I eyed off the almost empty bottle of bourbon beside him and smirked. The king of cool was drunk.
“Are you drunk Cash? Guess I’m driving home.” The words came out a little bit snarkier than I intended, and then I remembered my pledge to be nicer to him and bit my lip.
“Bah.” He waved his hand. “It’ll wear off in an hour or so. The perks of being what I am. You too.” He twisted to look at me with puffy eyes and droopy lids and winked. “Tommy isn’t so lucky. He’ll be sore tomorrow.”
I stopped a laugh and slapped a hand over my mouth. Had he just winked at me?
He patted the small space on the step next to him, almost fell sideways, then caught himself.
“No time like the present to have our chat. I think I’ve been pretty patient waiting for you,” he said, slurring his words.
“Okay.” I sat down with a thump. I suppose he had humored me by letting me finish my last shift in peace and Kitty had an extra-long show planned. He swayed as I landed. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I just needed some air, it was getting crowded in there.”
“You’re telling me. That music sent everyone’s energy flying. I could almost reach out and touch it.”
“So, you can really feel their auras, huh?”
I shrugged.
He stared at me with eyelids half-mast and lips slightly apart for a few silent seconds. Despite his drunken state, calculating thoughts seemed to flit across his expression and I was reminded of my impression of him when he went for a surf. Driven, relentless, focused on getting what he wanted. The only question was, how did I fit into that plan?
He shook his head and turned back to the ground. We listened to the crickets chirping and the waves crashing for a moment and I contemplated telling him about Jed’s confession. But in his inebriated state, I wasn’t certain he’d remember any of it. I didn’t even know if he would care. I shifted in my seat. I’d tell him later.
“So, about this mentor thing. What’s involved?” I asked.
I detected a faint note of contempt in his voice when he spoke. “Usually, your mentor raises you from birth until your human body has matured and capable of using a Player’s soul to its full capacity. That happens around the age of twenty-one. But we’ve been through that—have we been through that?” He swayed and blinked at me. “Wait. Did I just say matured?” He flared his eyes at my body. “I meant aware—you become aware of your abilities.” He laughed and waved at my chest, snorting at his mistake. “I think it’s obvious you’ve matured.”
I never noticed before but he had the same laughing eyes as his brother. There was even a dimple in his cheek.
“What?” He’d noticed my shocked expression.
“Uh, nothing. What you said makes sense,” I said. “What’s next?”
“Then there is a ritual that links the souls of a mentor and his progeny, so both parties are invested in the results of the Game.”
“Ritual doesn’t sound inviting.”
“It’s not that bad, just a bit of blood sharing,” he said, and punched me in the arm. “Remember I told you not to share your blood? That’s another reason why.”
“Okay, well then in that case, it sounds like fun.” My nerves jangled at the thought of what a ritual might entail. I conjured visions of fire-chanting, dancing pagans and exocannibalism.
“Eh.” He shrugged. “The point is that the mentor needs to train you as well as he can, get you through the trials, then release you into the world to play the Game, hopefully as an ally. He or she takes a percentage of your winning points at the end. If the progeny fails, then both suffer devolution.”
He swayed toward me, picked up the bottle and took a swig, leaving just a few droplets to clink to the bottom. He dropped it and it landed with a thunk on the sandy floor in front of us then he stood up. With wobbly arms, he pulled me up next to him and led me to the balustrade looking over the beach. It sounded like the show was still in full swing, so I let myself be guided.
When we got to the railing, he stood behind me and braced an arm either side of me on the wooden beam. It was probably to hold himself up, but it essentially trapped me in place. He raised one arm to point at the sky, pushed in close and spoke next to my ear.
“See those three bright stars lined in a perfect row, with the blue and white one below and the red one—”
“Orion—the Hunter,” I said, with a sinking feeling in my stomach. I pointed to the constellation below it. “And that one below it, the bright one, is Sirius, his dog.”
“That’s basically where we’re from. That’s the Queen’s Empire.” His breath smelled like bourbon and felt warm on my skin. “What you can’t see in the southern hemisphere is the Ursa Constellation. That’s where your father is from, only he hasn’t been back in centuries.”
So in his own way, my father had taught me about our history. He’d done his job. The thought caused a stirring of emotion—regret, loss and
a sting of bitterness at his absence. After all those summers stargazing as a family, he’d decided I was unworthy and left. And why did he settle us in the southern hemisphere if we couldn’t even see his home?
“How did we get here? Isn’t it something ridiculous, like, hundreds of light years away?”
“We are not really here in the traditional sense. Well, not you and I anyway. Marc is, your dad too. There are a few others who were left stranded after the deluge; they aren’t allowed to participate in the Game and are called Watchers. We Players—Nephilim—leave our physical body behind and Marc brings our souls here.”
I gasped. “You mean there are two of me? Of you?” My mind reeled, and I patted my chest, feeling for solidity. “But, how can that be? I’m pretty physical here, flesh and blood. I’ve touched Marc. He seems pretty physical too, and yet he dissolves into nothingness. I don’t get it. Shouldn’t it take him a long time to get here too?”
He rested his head on the back of my shoulder. “You ask a lot of questions, has anyone told you that before?”
“Uh…”
“Shhh.” He nuzzled into me, breathed in deep and sighed. I felt his body align against the back of me and my eyes fluttered at the heated contact. My heart kicked against my ribcage when his hands ran up the length of my arms to squeeze my shoulders in a lover’s caress. Then he stepped back, opening a coolness down my spine. I shivered and turned around to study his face, made sharp by the shadows of the night.
“Marc’s the only one who can bend the fabric of space-time to travel from one point to another,” he said, “He doesn’t dissolve, he just”—two hands rose and drew together, pointer fingers touching—“steps from one point in space to another. He can’t carry anyone physically through the portal, only himself and our spiritual souls. Our physical bodies are left behind, soulless, like an empty shell.”
“So, how do we know how well we are playing?”
“Nobody knows until they finish and either move up or down the ladder, so to speak. You gain abilities or lose them. I suppose it’s like a big game of Karma. Gods create the Nephilim bodies by procreating with humans. It means they’re bound by blood to all Players in their lineage.”
“Why are you risking your evolution on a girl you’ve just met?”
He shrugged and said nothing for a while. Waves crashed on the shore. An awkwardness settled over me. I wanted to find out more about the Game, but echoes of his touch lingered on my neck, arms and rear. I wanted more of that, too.
“What does it feel like?” he asked, eventually, in a gravelly voice.
“Pardon me?”
“Being in love—what does it feel like?” I thought I saw pain reflected in his eyes, a flicker of emotion, but was possibly confused under the moonlight. He studied the ocean. I followed his gaze.
“I don’t know Cash. I can’t say I’ve ever been in love.”
We watched the shadows play across the dunes and beach together, seeing the same things but thinking different thoughts. I shivered remembering what had happened here two nights before and had the urge to go back inside. I shifted, but was pulled up short by his voice.
“I’ve lived so many lives, but I don’t remember ever being in love. The memories get foggier the further back they are, but I still can’t remember feeling the way I think Tommy feels. I see the way he looks at you and how women look at him or me. I know how my mother used to looked at my father, I… I’m drawn to you, but it’s not the same.” He scrubbed his hand over his face.
He was drawn to me? I didn’t know what to say, so placed my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He looked at it with a longing I couldn’t understand.
“You see, you put your hand there and I know you must feel something: compassion, sympathy, something. I know the words and I should know the feelings to go with them, but I don’t. It’s how I know something is missing inside of me.” He looked up to the dark sky shadowed with blotches of clouds. “When my body became aware of its powers, I had a fit and drove our car into a tree. I killed my father.”
“I’m sorry, Cash.”
“I should care, but I’m empty.”
I bit my lip. Despite his proclamation, I knew he was hurting, in the only way he could. He poured his heart out to me and I didn’t know what to say.
I circled my thumb on his shoulder. “Is that why you’ve been so hell-bent on catching Petra? Does she know something?”
“I’ve heard she has a book that can explain my situation. She’s a reaper—a collector of souls. Nobody knows how I came to be, so she’s my best chance. The gods don’t even know how to split souls like that.” He examined me closely for a minute. “That’s why we keep asking about your aura-sensing. Soul-manipulating is rare. There are only a handful of Players who can do it. Some will want you on their side, others will want you dead. They want me dead, too—comes with the territory. If they catch wind of my situation before I fix myself, then I could be ejected before I’m made whole. I won’t go back in pieces.”
He blinked at me with sleepy eyes, then pulled the keys out of his pocket and handed them to me. “I think you’d better drive the Jeep home tonight.”
He said home.
I didn’t even know if he knew what that word meant to me, and he’d probably forget it in the morning, but a sense of belonging embedded in me at that moment. After everything he’d explained, I finally felt a part of something.
“Yep, okay,” I said. “It’s almost closing time. I need to go back inside. Stay out here until I say goodbye and collect Tommy. Guess I’m leaving my bike here, huh?”
He plonked back down on his butt. “I feel better already. Give me half an hour and I’ll ride your bike home. That way I’m only risking my own safety.”
And my beautiful bike.
He turned at the last moment and waggled his finger. “Don’t say anything to Tommy, he doesn’t know—well he does, but he doesn’t.”
“Yeah, don’t stress, I know. I haven’t told Kitty about the Player stuff either.”
“Good.”
I decided not to mention the other drivers out there he could crash into so left him, my mind boggling. Wowsers, he’d told me a lot. He’d trusted me with his secret. The magnitude of this step was not lost on me. But as I sought out Joe, I realized Cash hadn’t answered my question. I still didn’t know why he wanted to be my mentor.
I found Joe in the office, writing up rosters and explained about my extended leave. His face drooped, but he considered my family problems and the fact that I’d already booked the next week off for the festival, and seemed okay about it. I kept the feeling that my leave might be longer than a few weeks to myself. Cash had mentioned some trials before I was to be released to officially start my own journey in the Game. And, if we couldn’t defeat Petra, maybe I wouldn’t be here to worry about it, anyway.
Chapter 22
I was up before dawn, fresh and rejuvenated from a dreamless sleep. My window had been boarded up, but wildlife noises filtered through the cracks. Magpies warbled and birds tweeted. At least I couldn’t feel the thrum of energy buzz through the alarm’s static electricity barrier.
Unable to sleep, my thoughts kept returning to Cash and what he’d said to me last night. He was drawn to me. The imprint of his touch still burned and, slowly, I realized I was becoming drawn to him, too. I wanted more, but after his confession about his soul, it felt wrong to go to him. He’d probably deny everything anyway and blame the alcohol for his rare moment of truth. If it was the truth.
Still in my shorty pajamas, I slipped out of my room eager to take advantage of the quiet house and explore. I had the run of the place with Cash and the car conspicuously absent. Tommy had passed out in his room from the previous night’s alcoholic endeavors and when I poked my head in to check on him, he barely moved. It was the best time for some reconnaissance on my new guardian and potential mentor.
I started in the dining area, rummaging through the papers that always seemed to cover the table
. I didn’t know what I was looking for but read everything. In short, I was being a snoop. He’d poured his heart out to me in a drunken state, but somehow, I felt he had intentionally deferred my question. Hell, he’d had thousands of years to perfect his manipulation skills. The more information I had on Cash the better. Committing to a blood bond wasn’t something you did every day.
Some will want you on their side, others will want you dead.
That’s what he’d said last night. So if he didn’t want me dead, he wanted me on his side. That much was obvious, but I was still suspicious.
As well as paperwork, the table was littered with various witch enforcement paraphernalia. I recognized a collar clasp and a pair of glass cuffs and there was also a stun-gun-thing and another weapon-type-thing—a bit like a grenade but without a pin. I sifted through pages and pulled out one at random. It was a death certificate of a woman dated three years ago with a small photo clipped to the top. Something was scribbled at the bottom. “Last known host.” Could it be linked to Petra? I kept looking and found three more death certificates with photos and a similar note.
My fingers hovered over a tattered photograph—a young Cash and probably his father. They were smiling widely at the camera at a baseball game. If Cash had no feelings why would he carry around a photograph of his dead father?
The Jeep crunched into the driveway. I hastily tucked the photo under the papers and scampered into the kitchen. When Cash walked in with groceries, I pretended to rifle through the fridge. He wore a blue baseball cap and a Texas Rangers shirt, similar to the one in the photograph—gray with blue sleeves. Maybe he was feeling nostalgic if that was possible. He cooked eggs in silence and after we ate, we did the dishes.
I wanted to ask more about his soul; I wanted to help. Now and then I’d glance at him and find him either deep in thought, or quickly looking away.
“C’mon, out with it,” I said after the fifth time he threw a look in my direction.
The Game of Gods: Series Box Set Page 17
