My hand slapped over her wrist, but it was locked around my neck.
“Take your hand off me, Ava.”
She sneered, bringing her second hand to join her first and strangled. Her eyes glistened, psychopathically fascinated with my struggle for air. “Make me.”
Images swam across my mind of Cash training me on the mat. He’d drilled them into me, paranoid that he’d wake from another nightmare and attack. He wanted to protect me from his demons.
His voice swam into my head: You have ten-seconds before you lose consciousness. Ten-seconds before your trachea is damaged beyond repair. What are you going to do?
I let go of her wrist, then fashioned both my hands into pincers—my thumb and fingers making a hook, then explosively plucked her hands from my throat. I rotated, arched backwards, and pulled her into my knee.
The wind knocked out of her.
Good. I skipped back. She recovered and rushed me. I dodged and used her momentum to throw her against a mirror, breaking the glass.
The sound of glass shattering burst around us, tinkling. Light glittered, sparkling all around.
I hit her as she fell—my fists to her back. She slammed to the ground, face down. A gurgling sound came out of her as she tried to get up, but she was caught. Her aura skipped erratically. I stepped cautiously around for a better view. My throat closed up when I saw. Oh God. She’d landed on a shard of glass, right through her throat. I ripped my gaze away, squishing my eyes as a wave of nausea rolled over me.
Something made me look back. Mirrors. Reflections.
The Book.
It spoke to me. Symbols and hieroglyphs flashed behind my eyelids, reminding me of my quest.
Get the souls out.
They came into my body through blood, they could go out the same way.
I held my trembling hands in front of my face. It was the only way. Drain them out of me. I picked up two shards of glass and jammed them into each wrist, crying out in pain. Red ribbons of blood flowed freely, falling to my feet in a torrent, splashing the floor. My back hit another mirror.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on letting the souls inside me out. Leila through my right arm, free and swinging by my side. Petra on my left, palm pushed to the cold glass. I used the last of my energy to force her out, to keep her life-force focused. Slowly as I waned, I slid further to the floor. A bloody handprint smeared down the glass. There wasn’t much I could comprehend as the lights dimmed and dark spots crowded my vision. Not much except, one soul was free, the other trapped.
Where did that leave me?
Chapter 37
I woke in a strange room, in a strange bed. It was a very nice bed, mind you. The pillows and linen were soft, downy and heavenly. I rolled to my side and nestled into the duvet.
“Mm,” I murmured. “Feels like hugs.”
But it wasn’t hugs. I was alone.
A flash of Ava’s face as she lay dying hit me. Cash’s wounded face was next. I blinked and there it was, puffy eyes, swollen lips, cheekbone sliced. He’d looked so weak and fragile, all words I never thought I’d use to describe him. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath.
I surveyed the room. Opulent was an understatement. The hard surfaces were marble, gold, sparkly. The furnishings were brocade and velvety. Everything you’d expect in a mansion. I shot out of bed and picked up a weird, wooden owl ornament from the bedside table. Next to it was a horse ornament, possibly from Lincoln. Then my gaze hit the ceiling to take in the chandelier and decorative molding, then to a vase on another bedside surface. The intricately carved bed-head depicted ancient Grecian deities partying on Mount Olympus.
Where was I?
Not in Cash’s room. My heart skipped. He wasn’t here. Was he even okay?
“Morning sunshine.” Marc sauntered into the room, debonair and dashing as usual. “Good to see you awake in time for the ball. You lost a lot of blood and have been out of it for a few days. Had enough beauty sleep?”
My gaze narrowed on him. “Is Cash okay?”
“Yes. Your darling hunter is fit as a Seraphim fiddle, thanks to you.” I caught the flicker of something in his eyes and he averted his gaze. “Not that he deserves it.”
Part of me was relieved at Marc’s words. Cash was okay. But the rest. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” He lifted his brows and sat on the edge of the bed, patting the mattress to beckon me. “So, how are you feeling? I can see your hair’s not red anymore. Does that mean I can’t call you Little Red?”
“Call me whatever you want.” Just not the queen. “Where is Cash? Can I see him?”
“He’s busy doing hunterly things. Come, sit down. We need to talk.”
Any sentence that ended with those four words didn’t bode well.
“So, I guess you found me at the amusement park. Thank you.”
He waved me off. “No need, love. You know I’d do anything for you.”
“Stop right there.” I held up my hand. “You did anything for her. You’ve only known me a few months.”
His eyes softened on me and his lips pursed, making the dimple in his chin flex. It was the look you’d give an adored, recalcitrant child. “Love, we will not go through this again. I’ve known you for eons, yeah? You just don’t remember it.”
“I mean it, Marc. I don’t want that life. I like not remembering.”
He hugged himself and frowned at me, crestfallen. My words were a personal shot, and a little piece of my heart broke. I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. He was a close childhood friend of hers. My mouth opened to apologize, but he beat me to it.
“See this?” He lifted the little wooden owl. “I had this made to look like the one you gave me when we were little ratbags. It belonged to your father but, get this, you stole it because I said I liked it. When the housekeeper found it in my room, and forced me to face your parents, you stormed over and took the blame. You got beaten so hard you couldn’t sit for a week.” He sighed and rotated it in his hands. “I had the owl recreated on earth to remind me of our friendship. It helped me when you wouldn’t speak after the hunter died. You wouldn’t speak to anyone at all.”
He sighed and placed the owl back on the table then sat at the edge of the bed. “Will you not sit next to me?”
“Sorry.” I shuffled down the bed to him and had déjà vu. Not that long ago, we’d had a similar experience. Days after I’d met him, back in Margaret River, he came to me in a dream and we talked. It felt like a lifetime had passed, yet, none at all. I pinched myself. Ouch! Good. Not a dream.
“Listen, about the remembering part,” he said. “I’ve been talking it over with Lena and we think we’ve come up with a solution. We believe the alchemist can convert Cash’s new blood to something your body will accept and turn you back into Seraphim.”
“I’m not sure if I like that idea.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because an eternity is a long time.”
“Bollocks. Who said it was for eternity?”
“You all did. Seraphim are immortal, right?”
“Fallacy.”
“Huh?”
“We can die. We don’t disease or age, and we know how to party, but we can die. You saw what happened to me with the electric current running through me.”
“Is that the same for everyone?”
“No. But, that’s not the point. We digress. You have to convert because there’s nobody for you to go back to.”
I shrugged. “Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
He stood and paced the room, inspecting other trinkets. Silence expanded, and I felt as though I’d said something wrong. Terribly wrong. But the more I thought about being one of them, the more distant I felt from my human life.
“There’s something else,” Marc said.
“What is it?”
“I’m the only one who saw your—sorry, her—body crumble into dust. If I can’t bring you—again, apologies, her—back, I could face penalties.
”
“You mean, like, prison?”
“Treason. Murder. Death. Take your pick. They all factor into my future if I can’t prove I didn’t kill you. I was alone with you when your—sorry, her body—died. Cor blimey, love, this is getting tiresome. I’ll just say you for the sake of consistency, yeah?”
“Fine. If it’s too hard for your little brain to work out, then go ahead.”
He burst out laughing. An enormous guffaw that filled the room. His appearance flickered between his older and younger self.
“Why are you laughing?” I asked.
“Because that’s exactly something you would say.” He wiped his eyes and sat on the bed. “I miss you Sephie. You’ve been gone a long time.”
I shook my head at the name.
“Your aura can’t hide anymore. There are no other souls in your body. I think they distorted your aura from me, but now, you’re clean. I’d recognize you if I had to stake my life on it.” When I remained close-mouthed, he continued, “You want proof, is that it?”
I lifted a shoulder. “It would be nice to not base enormous life decisions on the word of others, but you know, who needs proof.”
“Seraphina,” he said, blue eyes startling.
An incredible tingling sensation rippled through me. From my head down to my curling toes, the rush of orgasmic proportions left me gasping, eyes wide. My fingers gripped the bed spread. My muscles tightened. I couldn’t think, or move, only feel. Holy mother of Prince. I had to ride it out.
“What the hell was that?” I said, eventually able to breathe.
“When a god’s true name is called on this planet, there is a rush of feel good vibrations. Back in the day, it was as a tool for prayer. But, of course, it got abused and when some Seraphim slaughtered their followers for peace and quiet, we outlawed true names. A true name is a gift handed out to the most trusted of friends. Try it when you have a shag sometime, love. It’s glorious.”
I flopped back on the bed, aftershocks rocketing my body. “I need a moment.”
“Some say it was the universe’s praise for us being here. Next time that happens, concentrate on the direction of the pull. You can follow that sensation to find the person who spoke your name.”
A dread settled over me. “There won’t be a next time. Who else knows my true name?”
Marc shrugged. “Well… you are the queen. Most Seraphim who find out who you are will remember.”
“A few months ago my biggest worry was not getting through my probation. Then the trials. Shit. I didn’t pass!” I looked at him with wide eyes. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to be a breeder.”
“Never mind about that, love. The Game is coming to an end, and as to passing… you’re the queen. You don’t need to pass. You created the Game.”
“God, what has my life become?”
“Jackpot.”
“Huh?”
“You are a god. That’s what your life has become.”
“So, definitely not a Soul-Eater then. Where do my powers come from?”
“Sephie was the greatest soul-scientist. A pioneer in the field. She trained herself in many of the arts, but life-force manipulation was the chief of them. There, there, love. It’s all fine. Now, it’s moments like these that I like to eliminate my burdens to feel better.”
I propped myself on my elbow. “How do you do that? And don’t say anything crude.”
“Me? Crude? Never. I was going to say, play a spot of Cricket.”
I snorted. “When have I ever played sport?”
“Badminton?”
I shook my head.
“Tennis? A game of Bridge?”
I laughed.
“Well, then,” he continued, unperturbed. “Let’s forget about the Libertine Ball and go to the pub and get off our trolley until we can’t remember our names. I can have us in London in a jiffy.”
“I’d love to. But I’d love to see Cash. Where is he?”
“He’s hunting your miscreant father and his wayward posse.”
I couldn’t help the disappointment seeping into me. Was it because I was the queen? “He’s gone?”
“Bruce Urser has left the building. Along with a handful of other delinquent Watchers and their House members.”
“Lincoln?”
“He’s been discarded and left behind.”
So much turmoil.
“Is he okay?” I asked.
“He’s fine. He came by with the little pixie girl and left that little horse statue for you.”
I smiled at the thought.
“What will happen to the Ludus?” I asked.
“For now, we need to continue on as normal until we decide.”
“About what?”
“You. There are many, on this planet—and off—who will seize this opportunity of uncertainty and use it for their own gain. Despite what some say about you, you kept the Empire at peace for a long time. Most will follow you whether you are here or there.”
“Bugger. I mean, yay peace.” But I couldn’t help feeling nauseous. An empire I did not want. I barely paid my way. Whatever. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Who’s room is this, anyway?”
“It used to be mine. Now it’s yours.”
“Marc. I can’t take your room.”
He rounded on me. “Are you refusing a gift?”
“No, it’s not that.” I slid off the bed and straightened my oversized shirt. Probably his, going by the newness of it. He didn’t need physical clothes when he could create them out of dust and air, but he must have a back up supply if the need struck him. I padded over and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “This is your home. A piece of your identity. I can’t take that from you.”
He gazed down at me. “Love, you are my identity.”
Chapter 38
Marc left me to get dressed for the Libertine Ball.
Before he went, he explained what happened while I recovered. After the incident at the amusement park came to light, and a heap of Houses disappeared, a meeting had been called among the remaining Tribunal members. They viewed the security footage from the park before erasing it. Lincoln had obviously been held hostage, but me? My situation was a little trickier.
They didn’t know what to do with me. If it weren’t for Petra’s existence trapped in a mirror, I’d have no proof someone else had controlled me. Even that was hard to sell until Marc confessed my true identity. Some believed him, others were wary and argued I could be in league with my father. In the end, they deferred to the Gamekeeper’s word.
I couldn’t shake the feeling the evidence stacked up against Urser and my face was the cherry on top. The Tribunal wouldn’t be appeased for long. I’d made more enemies than friends and there was no way I’d go unnoticed now.
That left me between a rock and a hard place starting with the Libertine Ball. Marc said I technically passed the trials because of who I was, but I wasn’t certain he’d conveyed that to the Tribunal.
I placed my finger on the garment bag zip and had the distinct memory of doing the same thing just days ago. My stomach churned. I should’ve fought harder. Who knew what Bruce was up to now. The serum, the list, the star-gate. His disappearance was all too convenient.
I pulled down the zip of the dress bag and gasped. A floor length, silver miracle made of stars whispered out of the bag. I was almost too afraid to put it on, but when I did, I found it fit perfectly. It hugged my curves and flared out at the knees. I was just about to dry my hair when a knock came at the door.
Cash.
When I opened the door, I found two women with beauty cases. They wore black aprons and their hair was meticulously groomed into a bun at their napes.
“Hiya, I’m Candy,” said the one with black hair, chewing gum. “We’re here to help you get ready.”
“Hi Candy. Um. It’s okay, I don’t need help.”
Both of them stared and appeared offended.
“But we’ve been paid.” Candy sent her companion
a nervous glance. “Please.”
“Oh. I guess, okay then.” Candy broke into a grin and I widened the door to let them through.
Twenty minutes later, my steamed and straightened hair had been curled and twirled into a decadent arrangement that trailed down my back. Jewels sparkled in the curls when I moved my head. My makeup had been applied with care and when I finally looked in the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself.
“Before we go, there’s one more thing.” Candy pulled a delicate mask from her bag of wonders. It had tiny white feathers lining the area around the eyes and came to a point over the black tipped nose in the shape of a beak. Gold and silver dappled the surface. It made me think of an owl. When I put it on, it covered the top half of my face, but left my ruby-red lips and flushed cheeks bare.
A masquerade.
Thank my lucky stars I could hide behind the mask all night. That I could do. At least until I spoke with Cash.
My heart clenched. He hadn’t come to see me, but had gone after my father and the other rogue Watchers and Players. Part of me respected that, but the other part—the bigger part—missed him and worried. What if it was like Petra said and he doubted our time together? Was I reading too much into his not being here?
“Thank you,” I said to the girls.
“We’re honored,” she replied.
“You look beautiful Your Majesty.” Her companion made an awkward curtsey.
I shot them both an incredulous look, stifling a groan. How many people knew? My life was officially over.
I followed the women out of Marc’s bedroom and into the living area. The decor was miles more decadent than the Urser living quarters. The sight solidified how important Marc was to the Game, this earth, and now, how important they thought me to be.
I paced around the room, tugging at my mask. I wasn’t their god, their queen, or their leader. I was just me—Laroux Urser from the quiet coastal town Margaret River. I rode a dirt-bike and worked in a bar. My favorite musician was Prince, for crying out loud. I was not the elegant lady I saw in the mirror as I walked past my reflection.
The Game of Gods: Series Box Set Page 70
