The Soul Game

by McQueen, K. T.

  Once the apartment was empty Joy twirled in her skirts. The princess tiara almost slipping from her hair. Giggling she went to pour herself a glass of wine, the others would be there soon and she had a secret to share.

  CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT: MAËL

  He couldn’t help but loiter outside Joy’s new place. Once he’d found it he would pass by or visit the shop opposite so he could look at the door as he pretended to study the magazines on the rack. She’d never spotted him. He was just making sure she was okay, safe. Especially after he’d seen that Demon. He was worried about what she would get out of it, whether she’d think it was worth it.

  It was early in the day. With his collar pulled up around his ears, a flat cap on, he sat with a hot coffee and a newspaper. Sure, that was her in the topmost apartment wandering near the windows with very little on. She was obviously waiting for someone, but who could she be expecting this early in the morning?

  It wasn’t long before he found out. The guy he’d seen her with in the street was jogging to the front door with a wicked grin on his face. He had a reason to be there that was for sure. It wasn’t long before Mike caught a glimpse of him in one of the windows, his arms wrapped around Joy’s naked body. He almost lost his cool and raced up there. But then he saw the Demon, the winged creature he’d seen stalking Joy, curling over the top of the roof, and leaning its long neck down so its beady eye could peer in the windows. It had a better view than Mike did. He sat a little longer, undecided, seething inside. He would get her back; she would be his again. But running up there in crazed desperation wasn’t the thing to do it.

  The creature changed position and pulled away, peering down at the entrance to the apartments. Mike followed its gaze and watched as the bloke, exhausted but happy looking, dashed out of the door and up the street. He couldn’t be certain but for one moment he thought the man looked up at the Demon. Then realised he was trying to see if Joy was in the window waving him off. Mike looked up at the window too. She wasn’t there.

  Frustrated he made his way back to the estate, flinging himself through the front door. His coat and hat went into the coat closet, his boots following. Then he grabbed a beer from the kitchen fridge and slumped into the sitting room, selecting the large blue, winged, chair near the window. Unscrewing the lid from the bottle he propped his feet up on the window ledge and gazed without seeing, into the grounds. How had it fallen to this, how had he done something so stupid? He couldn’t even blame his Demon, because he was a Demon. There was no part of him that had ever been human, he’d just been playing a part, pretending. She should have loved him forever. No matter what he did.

  Stupid humans thought they could be monogamous. But she had been, there had only been him, ever. He’d always thought that was cute but she’d been ashamed of it. He tipped beer down his throat in sorrow. He’d never have that again with her. He slammed the bottle down on the floor, almost empty. He stormed room to room with no purpose, he just needed to pace, ignoring the housekeeper in the kitchen and slamming out the back door. He did an entire lap of the gardens before deflating enough to sit by the pond.

  The lapping water calmed him, occasionally the tail of a fish would flash into sight disturbing the surface tension. Joy would have loved the fish. Tears began to form in the corners of his eyes and he brushed them away angrily. All he’d wanted was to spend the rest of her life with her, giving her children and a life she would have adored. Showed her the world. A house they could call their own, a cottage like she’d always said she wanted. With roses in the garden and a sweet meadow filled with wildflowers out the back. She wanted to sit on the porch and watch the sun rise and set. A pair of little clones playing in the garden, a puppy trying to join in and a fat cat lounging in a sunbeam. They’d eat outside and enjoy the warm sunshine. The tears escaped his eyes and trailed down his cheeks. He didn’t bother wiping them away as he got up and walked back to the house.

  The book lay on his night stand as if someone had retrieved it from where he’d left it on the bathroom floor. But it looked brand new, not the dog-eared copy he’d been lugging around with him. He flung himself onto the bed and wiped his face with a tissue from the nightstand. Glaring at the book he punched the pillows into submission then grabbed it as if he was a cat catching a mouse.

  The cover was cold and smooth. Its surface shiny and promising, the way a new book always feels. He stroked the cover and turned it over to see the back. Filled with promises that held no real weight. He wanted Joy, it said it could give him what he wanted. What he most needed, and he was sure that what he most needed was Joy. He opened the cover and settled back, he’d read a few pages and see what all the fuss was about. It didn’t seem to be doing Joy any harm and if she thought it was okay then he could do it too.

  Tired and feeling unfulfilled, he put the book back on the nightstand. The book made promises he wasn’t sure it could keep. The mortal sins didn’t apply to Demons; it would make no difference to his soul. He shook his head and got up, his stomach rumbling.

  The kitchen was empty and silent. Only the under counter lights on. Outside was pitch black, and there was an iciness to the air that suggested winter wasn’t far away. As he went to the fridge he noticed the note on the microwave. ‘Heat me,’ it read. When he pinged it open, he saw that the housekeeper had prepared his tea. He assumed she had called him and he’d failed to respond. He hit the reheat button and pulled another beer from the fridge.

  As he sat he noticed the book was on the table beside him. He couldn’t remember bringing it down but he must have. He looked at his beer, perhaps he’d drunk too much already. As he reached for it he realised there was a dark grey-blue smoke coming from it. The cover swirled and changed grotesquely, the image swelling, swaying, and forming faces. The red smoky pattern seeming to become part of the blue smoke until he was sure the table was going to catch fire. Mesmerised he couldn’t force himself to do anything about it.

  It wasn’t long before it was covered by smoke. Sparks began to fly and he flung back his chair and backed up; certain the damn thing was about to explode. And as fast as it had begun it was gone. The smoke vanished as if by movie magic. The sparks seemed like light traces in his eyes, a memory of something. The cover a pearly white as before. But the smoke that now adorned the surface was no longer the red of human blood but the dark blue of a Demon’s. The book had changed to suit the reader. He glared at his book whilst he finished his meal; never taking his eyes off it as he sipped his beer. But it did nothing else, just sat there on the table like a book.

  He washed and dried his plate, putting them away and disposing of his empty beer bottle, the whole time eyeing the book. Certain it was going to do something else, uncertain as to what it meant. Would it be able to bring Joy back to him now? He picked it up and wandered into the library. The cover felt the same as when he’d previously handled it. The chair was still by the window and he slumped into it, feet propped on the window seat, book on his lap; the moon making its nightly march across the sky.

  He opened the cover and heard its gentle creak. It had abandoned all pretence. He could get what he wanted if he won, if he completed all seven tasks. The book would show him the colour he would play, all he had to do was place his finger on the box indicated.

  He did as it instructed. The curling vines painted on the page making it seem less threatening, although he couldn’t have said how. The vines twisted and lengthened, grew flowers that withered and died and grew again, blooming in different colours. Throwing out shoots and dropping leaves. Then they seemed to be absorbed by the page and from out of it came a box. A solid black box that grew to surround his finger. He lifted it away as a single white word appeared: Black.

  The book had decided what he most needed and assigned him his colour. Mike was certain it had decided he most needed Joy. He turned to the next page to find the first task.

  CHAPTER NINETY-NINE: ABADDON

  ‘He’s playing!’ Stan yelled crashing into T.G. Master’s office
and ignoring the secretaries’ implored calls for him to wait.

  ‘Since when?’ T.G. Master stood up ignoring the Demon under the desk banging her head as he did so.

  ‘I just got the call. The Demon sent to watch him can’t find him though so there’s going to be no visual,’ Stan said helping himself to a drink.

  ‘That’s amazing news.’ T.G. Master fastened his flies as he came around the desk. The female Demon emerged licking her wide lips with her long tongue.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ Stan chuckled.

  T.G. Master waved a dismissive hand in the direction of the female Demon. ‘I needed to think.’

  She hid her irritation well.

  ‘Why don’t you go get some friends and bring them back here, we should celebrate,’ T.G. Master told her. She liked that idea. ‘I’ll call Dom and Ginger, maybe some of the others. If we’re lucky we’ll get some footage, we can watch.’

  ‘Sure, but early days. We don’t know if he’ll keep playing.’ Stan was becoming the voice of reason more and more recently, it even grated on his own nerves. ‘He really wants Joy back.’

  They laughed, thinking him foolish. Why would a Demon, who could have any female in the world – human or otherwise – want this one girl forever? It was unfathomable.

  ‘I wonder what colour he got,’ Stan said.

  ‘That’s the only drawback to the Demon book. Would be great in the human version but the Demon one needs to be more flexible. I hate that even as the author I have no control over the colour the Demon picks.’

  Stan refilled his drink and flicked through the camera channels, hoping to find an image of Mike.

  ‘Joy is more than happy with how things are working out for her,’ Stan said as he flicked. ‘Lush said she was embracing the final tasks and didn’t even notice when she fulfilled tasks during normal conversation.’

  ‘Yeah? That’s great news, the happier she is the better. We need her to believe she has won everything she ever wanted, even outside of the reward for the colour she chose,’ T.G. Master said.

  Dom opened the door and peeped his head in.

  ‘Good news I hear?’

  ‘Mike’s reading the book.’ Stan grinned.

  ‘Any idea what colour?’ Dom asked.

  ‘Unfortunately, the Demon can’t find him. We won’t find any details until he leaves,’ Stan said. ‘Luckily he’s gotten into a routine of watching Joy’s apartment each day so we’re bound to get something.’

  ‘I’m really hoping for a soppy colour.’ Dom laughed and made himself a drink. ‘Did you order food?’

  ‘Oh shit, never even thought of it,’ T.G. Master said, placing a call to the secretary. She would arrange it.

  ‘Is Ginger coming?’ Stan asked.

  ‘Don’t know, don’t care.’ Dom laughed as Ginger walked in the door. ‘Guess that’s a yes then.’

  ‘What is?’ she asked.

  ‘He asked if you were going to show up to this shindig,’ Dom told her, his tone amiable.

  ‘Of course, I want to see how Mike does. Maybe I can help him out with some tasks.’

  ‘I doubt he will want to see you,’ Dom said.

  ‘He might,’ she muttered, making her own drink.

  ‘Only if he gets the task where he must kill one of his own,’ Dom muttered into his own glass. Stan sputtered and tried to ignore the exchange. He didn’t realise they despised each other quite so much.

  More and more of their group arrived, the food was brought in and the drinks refreshed. Music played in the background and the huge TV split between several contestants. One showed Joy, but one was blank – it wouldn’t show anything until the Demon located Mike.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED: ABADDON

  ‘Unbelievable.’ The king of hell watched the scene play out.

  ‘What is my liege?’ a narrow-eyed Demon said from where he was going through thick papers and scrolls, comparing them to a huge leather-bound ledger.

  ‘They’ve managed to convince my son to play the Demon soul game. Manipulated him into taking part in their seedy scheme. Forcing him to play to get his love back.’ The King paced around the room before coming back to his viewing disc. ‘Without even the certainty that that is what he will receive.’

  ‘But he is your son my liege, surely he will see through their scheme?’ the narrow-eyed Demon postulated.

  ‘He is blinded by his love for the human woman. And he doesn’t have the training to know how to use his abilities, how to conduct himself. He was brought up amongst humans, his values are different,’ the King said.

  ‘You stipulated the other week that was a good thing,’ the narrow-eyed Demon said.

  ‘It was a good thing; it is a good thing. It just isn’t doing him any favours right now.’ The King growled as he watched the party below.

  ‘Perhaps you could help him my liege?’ the narrow-eyed Demon said.

  ‘No matter what happens he will not get the human woman back. She is playing her own game, manipulated as it is, and will receive the gift meant for her.’ The King sighed. ‘I may be able to help him a little.’

  ‘How will you do it sir?’ the narrow-eyed Demon narrowed his eyes further.

  ‘We will see if he needs my help first, there is a chance he will not,’ the King said. ‘But I know something they don’t, and it’s not an unpleasant knowing. It would be foolish of me not to help him achieve it.’

  ‘What’s that my liege?’

  ‘He was given the colour black,’ the King grinned.

  ‘Oh excellent news my liege!’ the narrow-eyed Demon grinned too and clapped.

  ‘No! This is completely unacceptable!’ Dommiel was yelling at the transport Demon.

  ‘I just deliver them.’ The Demon shrugged.

  ‘Well you can’t bring anymore here; the pits are completely full!’

  ‘Not my problem. And besides where else are they meant to go? This is where all souls go.’ The Demon shrugged again and held out the clipboard. ‘Nothing I can do mate; you need to talk to the higher ups.’

  Dommiel barely looked at the clipboard as he signed, turning to his apprentice.

  ‘I need an audience with the King. Now,’ he said in a lowered tone.

  ‘I’ll call now sir.’ The apprentice ran off in the direction of the viewing office and Dommiel scratched his head. This was getting out of hand, if they force anymore in, all Hell would break loose.

  Then he started laughing, a titter, then a guffaw, then great shaking hiccupping, sobbing, peals of laughter. The workers closest to him began to edge away, worried their boss had lost it.

  ‘Erm boss? You okay?’ the apprentice returned.

  All Dommiel could do was peer at him over rosy cheeks trying to hold his gut in with both hands. Perhaps he needed to see a shrink.

  ‘I got you a meeting.’

  ‘Oh good, when?’ he said, just managing to grasp the heavy card held out to him. His thumb tracing across the embossed gold on black design. The laughing stopped as he frowned at the card.

  ‘Now sir,’ the apprentice said. And Dommiel disappeared.

  ‘Welcome, Dommiel,’ said a deep warm voice.

  Dommiel was a little disorientated as he stood in front of the King. He was having difficulty retaining his balance. Maybe he was having a breakdown.

  ‘You wanted to see me?’ the King moved around the viewing disk and climbed down the marble steps. ‘Perhaps a drink to steady you?’

  He took Dommiel’s arm and led him into an adjoining room. This one could be said to be cosy. Thick black carpets, dark lime green sofas either side of an ornate black coffee table, floor to ceiling black wood bookshelves covering the entire rear wall. A fire burning in a grate that looked as though it never stood cold. It almost asked you to go over and test its heat for yourself, or perhaps the sharpness of its points, check your reflection in its dark stone surround. Dommiel began walking towards it in fascination.

  ‘Take a seat.’ The King’s voice denied any possibility of
disobeying. Dommiel’s legs obeyed even as he considered the curve of the mantel.

  The King handed Dommiel a sipping glass with a finger of dark amber liquid in it. Dommiel sipped and smiled, yes that was better.

  ‘You wanted to see me?’ the King repeated.

  ‘Yes, yes I did. The souls coming into the pits, there are too many, we don’t have the facilities,’ Dommiel said. ‘I had to open the old chambers and now even they are full. I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Yes, there have been a lot. It’s that infernal book.’ The King sipped his own drink. ‘The thing is Dommiel they think they are going to overthrow me. Take my throne for themselves and run this place as a kind of democracy.’

  ‘I had heard whispers sire but nothing solid.’ Dommiel was nervous. This was his King after all and yet he was talking to Dommiel as if they were confidantes.

  ‘We tried running Hell as a democracy once, my ex-wife thought it would be a good idea.’ He shook his head. ‘It didn’t work then and it won’t work now.’

  ‘Yes, sire.’ Dommiel had heard stories about that too. Scary stories. Stories his mother had told him when he was a little Demon.

  ‘But stopping them outright is always foolish, they have to concluded that they made a mistake. And all this soul taking…’ he got up and took his now empty glass to the bar. ‘Why do they think it’s the Demon with the most wealth that rules hell? Why do they imagine that even matters?’

  ‘Because they want what you have and think it can be bought?’ Dommiel hazarded.

  The King tipped his glass in the lesser Demon’s direction, conceding his point.