Game Master

by D H Sidebottom

  Drinking the last of my coffee, I placed my cup in the sink. “I’m going to shower and dress, just in case it’s an early one today.”

  Caelan glanced at the iPad again and nodded. “Nothing yet. I’ll come and grab you if anything comes through.”

  I took each step upstairs slowly, extending the time between then and dialling the eleven numbers I knew off by heart but had never called. I didn’t want to ever hear his voice again. Except, I knew I had no option. Had the GM anticipated this? Did he realise the end of the game would be the beginning of my downfall?

  Blood.

  I froze on the sixth step. My heart pumped so hard I was cautious of having a stroke.

  “No.”

  Blood.

  An icy shiver raced over me, and I clung on to the stair rail to support myself.

  Although the numbers still stumped me and made no sense, the one word we had been given scared the living daylights out of me.

  Blood.

  “Surely not. It can’t be.”

  I raced up the remaining stairs and slammed the bedroom door behind me. Opening the middle drawer, I ferreted through some clothes and pulled out the cheap mobile phone I’d picked up from the store. I was surprised the GM hadn’t removed it, he would know it was there. Did that mean, yet again, he was one step ahead of me?

  My hands trembled as much as my bones as I tried several times to insert the SIM. My skin felt clammy, and I wiped my brow with the back of my hand.

  Locking myself in the bathroom, I turned the shower to full. Stripping off, I stepped into the cubicle, careful to keep the phone away from the jet of water battering the tiles. I needed the noise of the shower to cloak the conversation.

  I dialled those eleven numbers. It felt like I was calling the devil himself, a direct line through to the pits of hell.

  Satan’s mule answered after the third ring.

  “It’s me. Put him on.”

  “Vanessa?”

  “Put him on. Now.”

  Nausea bubbled in my gut as I waited for what seemed like forever, and I blew out a breath to calm myself.

  The sound of his gruff voice sent a shiver through my bones. “Vanessa? My Vanessa?” If I didn’t know better, the small catch in his breath after he’d spoken my name for the first time in several years, I’d have thought it laced with emotion. Except this man didn’t possess feelings.

  “You seriously think that I wouldn’t find out! You bastard! You killed Stuart! You have put Carolyn and Sam, even my mother, through the worst nightmare of their lives…”

  “I am unsure as…”

  I laughed with a cold bitterness. “You really know how to get my attention, don’t you? You think this is funny? You knew I would have to go to Frank!” I couldn’t stop the hatred pouring from me. I’d kept it contained for far too long, and now it had liberation it was spewing from me like I had a sickness. Ridding all the hurt and anger in an exorcism I had needed for a very long time. “In fact, you manipulated it, played me. You knew what he would want. Didn’t you? Then you’d get what you always wanted! I knew there was something seriously wrong with you, but shit, you’re sicker than I thought! But, okay, you win. You – fucking – win!”

  “Vanessa!”

  Tears flooded from me, adrenaline and hurt, and distress and anger making me feel light-headed as years of what had been left unsaid cascaded from me in a waterfall of emotion.

  “Is this your way of telling me I will never be rid of you? Is it? Maybe a letter would have sufficed!”

  “Will you stop!” he shouted down the phone, making me jerk in surprise. “I know not what you speak of, Vanessa. There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t thought of you, matryoshka. But not with bitterness, not with hate. You know this, deep down, you know how much I love you.” His voice was quiet, once again gruff with emotion. However, after a pause, he finally became the man I recognised. Memories assaulted me and goosebumps raced along my arm, sending a shiver up my spine when he bared his true self. The chill in his voice exposed the ruthless man that would have the devil himself shaking in fear, and I once again became the timid little girl. “But I think you need to tell me what the hell is going on!”

  Okay, that stumped me. He was many things, but he wasn’t a liar. He’d always been proud of the evil that ran through his veins, and I knew if this bullshit was down to him, he’d have relished in the fact that I had found out. Maybe even be a little proud that I had figured it out. Yet there was something in the way he spoke that told me my father had nothing to do with The Game.

  Day 7

  15:30

  Caelan

  Nessa had been quiet for most of the day. She’d returned from her morning shower, withdrawn and a little downcast. I’d made her jump several times when she’d been lost in thought and I’d disturbed her.

  “It’ll be over soon,” I said softly when I found her mindlessly picking at a strand of cotton hanging from the hem of her top.

  “Hmm?”

  “Today. The Game. This.”

  “It’ll never be over, Caelan. This nightmare will go on and on and on…”

  “Is everything okay?”

  She inhaled sharply and forced a smile, one I noticed didn’t reach her eyes. “It would be if this fucker put us out of our misery and gave us the next riddle!”

  “Not the most patient of people, are you?”

  “It’s the waiting, you know. Wondering. Always anticipating. And the deep-seated need to save my mum.”

  Going to sit beside her, I took her hand in mine. She was cool, and I gave her a squeeze when I felt her shiver slightly. “We’ll do this. She is your final game, just focus on that.”

  She frowned and shook her head. “No, we have your sister-in-law to save after my mother.”

  “Just concentrate on your mother first. Tomorrow is for worrying about Debbie.”

  Sadness had seeped into her eyes and it was impossible to miss. This week had taken its toll on both of us, and I knew Nessa was as eager as I was to put this game to rest. Then we could concentrate on finding this motherfucker without the stress of our families’ lives.

  “And after the final game?” she asked, wiping at a stray tear that trickled from the corner of her eye. The desolation pouring from her was making it difficult to breathe. Slipping an arm around her shoulder, I pulled her into my side.

  “It’ll be okay, babe. I promise we’ll find this bastard, and we’ll make him pay.”

  Her breath caught, and her body shook as every emotion caught up with her and she allowed them to be free. I listened to her cry. I felt the dampness of her tears soak my chest. I watched as her body shook in my arms and the scent of her fruity shampoo filled my nostrils.

  Shifting her head, so her chin rested on my shoulder and her warm breath tickled my ear, she slipped both arms around me to hold me closer. “I’m not sure if I’ve done something stupidly foolish or stupidly clever, Caelan,” she whispered.

  Now it made sense why she had clung to me, she was using my body and her distress as a cover to tell me something that the GM wouldn’t be able to hear or see from the cameras.

  Squeezing her tightly, I nestled my ear against her mouth. “It’s okay, let it out, babe.”

  I felt her hesitation, the slight shift in her posture, but she licked her wet lips and sighed. “I told someone.”

  It was my turn to stiffen with caution, but before I could argue with her stupidity, she quickly added, “It’s okay. I was careful. We need his help, Caelan.”

  Burying my face into her hair, hiding my own mouth from view so the GM couldn’t lipread, I tried to settle the rampant beat of my heart. “Is he trustworthy?”

  For some reason, she snorted but quickly hid it with a loud snivel. “Yes. I have something he wants, and he’ll do anything to get it back.”

  Attempting to hide my confused expression, I dropped a soft kiss to her temple so I could catch her gaze. Her eyes were fierce with conviction when she turned her face
towards me. My lips rested on her cheekbone, and I softly kissed her again, consequently hiding my question from view. “What?”

  Moving her mouth softly across my face, she stopped when her lips hovered over mine. “Me,” she breathed into my mouth. I didn’t get a chance to reply or show my shock. Her kiss caught me off-guard. It was passionate but full of tenderness, demanding yet unbelievably giving. The heat of hell from the lips of an angel. Her hand slid into my hair, and she pulled me deeper, her tongue keeping me in a trap I never wanted release from. I became entirely consumed by her, with her. I was thirsty for more but quenched at the same time. I knew I would never get so much of Vanessa Griffiths in a single moment ever again.

  Abruptly she pulled back, leaving me reeling. She appeared to be in shock, her eyes searching mine for the very same thing I hunted for in hers.

  “Uhh, sorry. Just needed the diversion.”

  It felt like I’d been slapped, and I blinked, the words I wanted to say swept up in the whirlwind she’d left me spinning in.

  “Well, that was some kiss.” The sound of the Game Master’s laugh through the shitty iPad speakers brought both Nessa and me back down to earth with a thump. “Are we ready for game seven, gamers?”

  Day 7

  15:47

  ‘Dr Griffiths, it’s time to show us you can dance,

  as I’ve procured you a pair of hot pants.

  For at 10pm you are booked for a slot

  at London’s notorious club, The Black Apricot.

  Popping Candy is your name,

  But, oh my, you’re anything but tame.

  Move that body and strip to the skin,

  show all the men just how much you sin.’

  Nessa blanched. Shit, I paled with her. My blood ran cold with the thought of what she had to face. “You bastard!” I growled. Out of all his stupid games, this one was wrong in so many ways. “Although I have to say, it doesn’t really surprise me that you’re a fucking pervert along with sick in the head!”

  “I’m sure that kiss has her hot and hungry,” the GM chuckled, completely ignoring my jibe. “Also, Mr Fen, you’ll be pleased to know that I have reserved you a front row seat. And, your presence is essential to Game Seven. You will forfeit the life of Dr Griffiths’ mother if you do not attend.”

  Nessa glanced at me. The previous pastiness to her face was now stained red with a deep blush. Averting her eyes when she tried to conceal her embarrassment, she looked down to the iPad. “Mum, I’ll see you soon.”

  Fixing her a Jack without the dilution of ice, I wasn’t surprised when she took the glass from me and knocked back the entire triple measure in one swallow. If I could guarantee anything to come from these eight days of hell it would be Nessa and me attending an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

  “It’ll be okay. Just close your eyes and…”

  “Will you close your fucking eyes? Will everyone else?” she snapped.

  “Mr Fen will watch, he isn’t to take his eyes off you,” the GM cut in. “Oh, and there is one more condition to this game, Dr Griffiths,” he continued. Nessa’s jaw clenched, and I frowned when he ordered, “You are not to wear make-up.”

  “Oh, you fucking bastard!” Nessa snarled. Her entire body appeared to tremble as the colour drained from her face. The fury radiating from her baffled me. She had to take off all her clothes, yet she appeared to be more horrified by taking off her face paint.

  “Oh, come now, Dr Griffiths.” The Game Master laughed. “Reveal that beautiful body and all that it includes to everyone.”

  Her breathing had escalated, her chest rising and falling in quick succession as she lowered herself onto a chair. I couldn’t understand her reaction to the demand for no cosmetics. It didn’t make sense.

  “But, you know the Apricot is owned by the Obschina!” she muttered strangely.

  The Obschina? Why would Nessa be worried by the Chechen mafia?

  “Surely by now, you understand my excitement for danger, Dr Griffiths? What kind of Game Master would I be if I allowed you a menial task? After all, I wouldn’t want to bore you now, would I?”

  “I’ll see you in hell, you twisted fucker,” Nessa murmured when the iPad screen went blank.

  “Talk to me,” I urged, dropping to a crouch, and taking her shaking hand in mine. “Why are you worried about the Obschina?”

  Her gaze held mine and the shimmer of desolation that leaked from her with each tear that fell had my gut clenching. Something wasn’t right. Game Seven was evidently more than a mere striptease act. Nessa’s response was a testament to that.

  When she stood up, dropping my hand, and walked away without a single word, the worry that had started to fester inside me turned to dread.

  However, I couldn’t deny the fact that I was also more than a little intrigued. Nessa had secrets, lots of them, I was sure of that. One thing was indisputable, Dr Vanessa Griffiths was so much more than just a surgeon. And I for one was eager to find out her true identity.

  Day 7

  21:23

  Nessa

  The receptionist, Tantalising Tabitha as her name badge stated, slid her gaze down my body with a sneer. I knew I wasn’t shit hot, but I wasn’t hideous either. “Name?” The way her jaw moved slowly while she noisily chewed her gum and waited for my reply made me want to climb over her desk and launch the stupid bitch through the frosted glass partition behind her.

  “Popping Candy.” Dread was strangling me, making my reply a high-pitched squeak.

  She tried to stifle her snigger but failed epically and dragged one of her long talons down the list of names she had on a clipboard.

  What the hell was I going to do? This was going to end badly, in so many ways. Once I removed my top, shit was going to hit the fan, of that there was no doubt. What I was unsure of was whether it would be the Obschina that ripped me to pieces or Detective inspector Caelan Fen?

  Tabitha appeared confused for a moment, blinking in rapid succession, and double checked the paperwork before she became flustered. The previous scornful snicker that had sat on her Botox engorged lips suddenly transformed into a crazy grin that reminded me of the cat in Alice in Wonderland. “Forgive me. Welcome to The Black Apricot. We’ve been very much looking forward to your performance.”

  I didn’t have words. Her swift turnaround left me as bewildered as Caelan, who was standing beside me with a frown watching Tantalising Tabitha attempt to stick her tongue up my asshole.

  “If you would follow me, Miss Candy, I’ll show you to your dressing room.” She pointed to a huge guy that had appeared out of nowhere, making both Caelan and me jerk in surprise. “And Adam will escort you to your seat, Mr Fen.”

  Caelan lifted his hands and shrugged at me, surrendering to the peculiar ways of the Game Master. “God knows, babe. Perhaps she thinks you’re some sort of celebrity.”

  “Lucky me. I get the leading role of a famous porn star for the night.”

  Punching a code into a keypad beside a door, Tabitha gestured for me to follow her. The corridor was dimly lit, but it did nothing to hide the cheap and distasteful décor of the place. The walls were padded with red velvet, threadbare and torn in places, and the carpet was just as shabby, thick with stains and fraying on the edges. The discoloured sconces on the walls gave it a 1950’s look, but not in a stylish way. It was evident this was an area for staff only, but it still stank of stale sex, hairspray, and pot.

  “This is you,” Tabitha indicated when she stopped outside a door marked with a number one. “Francis will be along to collect you in time for your act. Your outfit is in your room, along with complimentary champagne, and we have been notified of the choice of music you will be dancing to tonight. We hope you enjoy your experience at The Black Apricot.”

  I watched her swish away, the sound of her nylon covered thighs rubbing together loud in the otherwise quiet corridor. I wasn’t sure I wanted to step into the room, and I remained frozen to the spot for quite a while after Tantalising Tabitha had flas
hed another of her freaky smiles and walked away.

  Except this had to be done. I knew I wouldn’t make it out of this stinking place alive, but at least I could be positive that my mother would wake up tomorrow. It wasn’t a hard task. It wasn’t like I would fail. Some of the games had been a race against time, some physically hard, and some mentally challenging, but this one wasn’t any of those. It was a sanction for my death instead.

  Blowing out a breath, I opened the door and stepped into the room that could possibly become my tomb.

  It wasn’t as drab as I expected it to be. It was compact and basic but had its own bathroom, and the vanity unit appeared clean with a mirror which, although cracked in one corner, was smear free. I hadn’t failed to notice the lack of cosmetics – if the GM demanded something, I was in no doubt that he would make sure it was upheld. I could only guess that he had paid the owner a large wedge of money to get me this much attention.

  My gaze fell to the costume hanging from a hanger on the back of the door, and I groaned. The black hot pants looked like they would barely contain my ass, and I was dubious I would fit my ample chest inside the sheer red blouse. The skimpy bra was made of black silk with red lace trim, and the matching thongs made my butt cheeks clench involuntarily with the thought of the wedgie they would give me. The outfit was teamed with knee-high black lace-up boots. Yet, it wasn’t the items of clothing that made my heart sink. It was the hat that sat proudly on the hook.

  “Why are you doing this?” I whispered to the empty room as I wiped away a forbidden tear and started to undress.

  21:54

  The knock at the door made me jump. “All ready?” A woman I presumed to be Francis had a grin wider than Tantalising Tabitha the Cunting Cheshire Cat, and I had to wonder if the Obschina only hired weird freaks.