The Games of Supervillainy (The Supervillainy Saga Book 2)

by Phipps, C. T.

  Mandy closed her eyes. She then spoke, her voice absent of all emotion, “Such a strange thing, a name. Only two people in her life ever spoken it with that much unreserved affection. Selena Darkchylde and you. I remember feeling so terribly proud of you, willing to do whatever you could to save this city. My sister, her sister, and the city she grew up in. Then I remembered dying at the dragon's hands. The pain, the crunching sensation, a sense I was being picked up by loving hands. Then an emptiness of neurons dying without a spark to guide them.”

  “You're back now, though.” I reached over to touch her, only for her to take a step back.

  Mandy shook her head. “I was born in the fires of your spell. A moment of agonizing pain followed by immense hunger and strange, alien emotions. She could have prevented my return to existence, forbidden my body from rising from the grave, so strong was her heroic willpower and purity of spirit. Yet, she did not. So great was her desire to protect this city.”

  I stared at her in abject horror. “You're not Mandy?”

  A sense of cold, terrible dread, went up and down my spine.

  Mandy lowered her gaze then looked up to me and I saw the emptiness in her eyes. “No. I am something new.”

  “Soulless,” Cloak whispered, his voice filled with terrible sadness. “A husk animated by the Ka and Sheut but absent the Ba. She's missing the part of her soul which makes her, her. Oh God, Gary, I'm sorry.”

  “Shut up! Shut the hell up! Get the hell out! You're lying!” I shouted, screaming at my Cloak from every direction my neck could manage.

  Mandy looked to one side. “I cannot feel sympathy for you. I do not feel that emotion. Only pain, pleasure, appetite, and need. Yet, the memories which distinguish this body from the past carry a shade of great feeling. She would not want you to blame yourself, Gary. You did not lead her down this path. If not for you, this world would be destroyed.”

  “I should have fucking let them destroy it!” I shouted, falling to my knees and clutching my head.

  This couldn't be happening.

  I'd fix it.

  Somehow.

  I'd make another deal with Death.

  I'd sell my soul.

  I'd sell anybody's soul!

  Silence greeted my call into the spirit world.

  Not-Mandy as I came to view her, removed our wedding ring, looking at it. “I am enough of her to know what I must do with my life. This city needs a protector and the bloody revenge you have wrecked upon the Brotherhood of Infamy will not be enough to keep the citizenry safe in this land, especially when the people start to return. She was a great heroine as Nighthuntress and I will try and follow in her footsteps.”

  “You are not worthy,” I said, looking through the fingers pressed against my face. “What made Mandy a hero was her compassion and love.”

  “Yes.” Not-Mandy placed the wedding ring on the ground. “But you act as if she did not know what the risks were. That this is about you. Better than you, she became a superheroine knowing it would perhaps lead to her death. You treated it like a game but to her it was a calling. A chance to rise up above the mundanity of this world and become a protector. It is not an uncommon choice. The firemen, policemen, ambulance drivers, doctors, priests, and soldiers of the world often follow a similar challenge. To be willing to give of yourself. Which she did, both to save this city and save your friend Cindy.”

  I held back saying saving Cindy was not worth my wife's death. I wanted to say it but I wasn't going to profane my wife's dying act. “She didn't have to sacrifice herself.”

  The Not-Mandy's voice softened, to the point of becoming near-identical to my wife's. “But she was willing.”

  Tears streamed down my eyes as I heard our dogs growl loudly at Not-Mandy, treating her as a stranger in their home. “You say you can feel the emotions of the past and her memories? We can awaken these emotions in your current ones. You've gone through a traumatic experience. An even more traumatic transformation. Maybe you just need an adjustment period. Further treatments of magic to—”

  Not-Mandy shook her head. She then stepped to one side.

  I saw a shimmering silver-white figure staring at me from behind her.

  It was Mandy's ghost.

  “No,” I whispered. “Please no.”

  In that moment, I broke.

  Mandy's ghost walked over to me and placed her hand on my shoulder, leaned down, and gave my lips one last kiss. “I'm going onto a new life, Gary. The Goddess watches over me and will watch over you to in my absence.”

  I placed my hand on her face. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Mandy smiled and whispered in my ear. “Live.”

  And then she was gone.

  Later, I would come to wonder if Death had sent that an illusion to bring her servant comfort in a time of great sorrow or whether or not I'd hallucinated the entire thing. A memory I'd conjured in order to deal with the immense amount of grief. I could not bring myself to completely belief it was real, the doubt gnawing at me like rats on a piece of cheese.

  But I willed myself to believe.

  It was the only way to go on.

  The Not-Mandy, Nighthuntress, walked to the window of our house rather than the door. Something about thresh-holds not agreeing with them even when being invited in. Opening it up, she spoke. “I will watch over you, too, Gary Karkofsky. Merciless—”

  “Don't call me that,” I snapped.

  I wasn't in the mood to play dress-up.

  Nighthuntress' voice softened again. “As you wish. I am grateful for the life you have given me and the memories which provide me a greater context for this existence than most vampires ever get to know. I will try and make it count for something. Mandy believed that life and death were part of an eternal wheel which gave rise to on another. Do not be ashamed of who you are or what you have done. Know only that, this is not the end.”

  She then disappeared through the window at a speed so fast I couldn't see her vanish.

  And I was alone.

  The dogs yowled, sensing their mistresses passing.

  I went to the window and shut it tightly before locking it.

  “No words can express my sympathy, Gary,” Cloak said, trying to comfort me. “Know I, too, have suffered loss and will be there if you need me. My...friend.”

  I wiped away the tears on my face, pushing down the emotions afflicting me. Blinking rapidly, I took several deep breaths and went to go let the dogs out. They'd probably piddled in the floor but there wasn't much you could do about that during the zombie apocalypse.

  “Thank you, Cloak. I mean that. Don't worry, though, I'll be fine.”

  “What?” Cloak asked, surprised.

  I spoke with more resolve than I'd ever had in my entire life. “I am going to fix this.”

  ***

  Fear not! Merciless will return in The Secrets of Supervillainy. Coming in 2016!

  About the Author

  C.T. Phipps is a lifelong student of horror, science fiction, and fantasy. An avid tabletop gamer, he discovered this passion led him to write and turned him into a lifelong geek. He is the author of The Rules of Supervillainy and the Red Room series. C.T. lives in Ashland, Ky with his wife and their four dogs. You can find out more about him and his work by reading his blog, The United Federation of Charles, (http://unitedfederationofcharles.blogspot.com//)