Playing God (Game of Gods Book 3)

by Lana Pecherczyk

  “You have no right to speak to me like that. You are not even worth the spit to shine my shoes.”

  Cash jerked back as though shoved. His arms tightened around me.

  “You are an imperfect soul in a human body. She has first generation blood running through her veins. The blood pumping through that body has responsibilities. And as far as you are concerned? I will never get the time I wasted on you back, and that is a regret I will hold for a long time. The Tribunal can’t veto me. You need to leave before I have you canceled.”

  Just for a moment I wanted to ignore what was going on around me in favor of hiding in Cash’s arms, feeling safe.

  Safe.

  Lately, I didn’t know the meaning of the word. I’d felt safe a few weeks ago, and then he choked me. My injury should have concerned me, but I worried more for his safety. It was the tipping point for him. That was the moment he decided I was safer without him. What if he lost control again and made the same decision? My heart would break when he inevitably left me.

  I groaned, torn. This would not work. I couldn’t hide my head in his chest and ignore everything forever. I needed a better solution. Part of me, an enormous part, wanted to go with him, but the other part knew the business with my father wouldn’t end. His manipulation went so far back. Those papers I’d seen in his room. All those names and medical results. That boy in Houston, James. Petra. Steve, my ex-boyfriend. Alvin when he was hexed. Leila. My birth mother. Innocents caught in his crossfire. It all stemmed from his machinations around controlling me. No one would control me. Ever.

  But if I didn’t stay to uncover his plans, then who knew what bodies would be left in his wake?

  Okay, Roo, what’s the worst case scenario? I asked myself.

  I replied, thinking to myself in a talk-show host’s buttery voice. Well, Roo, take a look behind door number one: You get canceled and die. Then, there’s door number creepy: You fail the trials and live your days as a breeding machine. And don’t forget door number three: You lose Cash; You lose your friends; You lose everything.

  So what’s left?

  The hope against hope that I actually pass the trials and Bruce lets me leave?

  No. What was left was my time here on earth and how I chose to spend it. Do I spend it running and hiding in the arms of someone who might break my heart, or fighting to protect the innocents mixed up in this mess that all started with me stealing the chance to be in this body?

  Who needed The Others when I could hold a perfectly sane conversation with myself?

  I took a deep breath and pushed away from Cash. Cool air washed away the warmth he had provided.

  “I’m going with my family,” I said.

  Cash jolted like he’d been shot. Color drained from his face. “You’re choosing to go with him?”

  My father’s smirk flickered in my periphery. I turned to him, my face frozen in case I my true emotions shone through.

  “Bruce, I need a few minutes alone with my mentor. Then I’ll be right out.”

  “Clear the room,” my father said, then leaned into me. “I’ll be outside if you need me sweet-pea.”

  If he called me that name one more time I would puke. That he thought I was doing this because of family duty, love or whatever, made my skin crawl. That wasn’t what this was about. It was about that list of names I’d found in his room, and not leaving a trail of bodies behind. I had to take responsibility for my identity. I may not be a warrior princess, but I could find a way to stop Bruce from turning more innocents into monsters… including Cash.

  Cash paced the room. We were alone.

  “What’s going on, Roo? I know we haven’t had the best two weeks, but I thought we were behind that. I thought you at least trusted me more than that guy.” He gestured the way Bruce left. “I know I wasn’t honest with you, but I told you, I’m not leaving. You need me to help you pass the trials.”

  He stopped and squinted at me, irises going dark.

  “Cash.” My tone was soft, resolute. The tightness in my chest constricted. I screwed up my face. “I found papers in my father’s room. Names. Lab results. It could be the proof you’ve been looking for. I just need my phone from my luggage and then I can take photos for you.”

  “Really?” He took a step back, eyes darting around the room at invisible things beyond his focus, trying to comprehend what he thought was happening. “Names. Lab results… No. Not acceptable. You’re not safe with him.”

  “I’m not safe with you, either.” The hurt in his eyes told me I may have gone too far, but his name had been on that list too. Then I laughed, a short, sharp and cruel laugh. “I hate his guts, Cash. That hasn’t changed. I’m sure you can still help me train while I’m there. You’re my mentor. That has to count for something. There was a Tribunal member called Felix. He didn’t like Bruce very much. Maybe he’ll help you.”

  “No. You saw how Lincoln behaved. He didn’t give a rat’s ass if he passed or failed. He knows Urser will keep him here to—” he cut himself off.

  “To breed? Oh, yeah. I know about that bit.”

  “It will not happen if you come with me.” His frown deepened. “I can’t protect you there.”

  I took a deep breath. Here goes. “Cash, I stole the chance to be in this body, and ever since then, bad stuff has happened. Innocent people are getting hurt and I need to take responsibility. I don’t even know who I am. I should follow the rules considering I shouldn’t be here.”

  “Don’t say that,” he said. “You have as much right to be here as I do.”

  “You are the queen’s lover Cash.” There, I said it—I was putting his needs before mine. Very big of me. “You are important in this world, and I’m not. I’m here on the side of evil and you belong there on the side of good. I’m a Soul-Eater. You and Marc told me that Soul-Eaters devolve when they get back to the Empire. I don’t want that. I want to do the opposite of eating souls while I’m here so I don’t want to end up a puddle of nothing when I get back there. You’re important. I’m not.” And if I could save him from Bruce’s list, then I would be happy.

  “You and I both know that’s not true. You’re not a Soul-Eater.”

  “But I eat souls.”

  “And what the hell does it matter who I was with lifetimes ago? Why are you fighting this?”

  He closed the gap between us in an instant, taking hold of my shoulders.

  “Look,” he said. “You’re just as important… more important and—” He scratched his head and grimaced, pausing, struggling with a thought. “I know what you’re doing. It’s because of what happened in Houston. I can be unpredictable and dangerous to live with, but I’m working on it. Seeing your neck crushed at my hands is a sight I’ll never be able to erase from my memory. Every day I wonder what if? What if I locked my door? What if I stopped fighting my new emotions enough to warn you about the dreams instead of holding it all inside? But the point is, I’m dealing with it instead of running away. You should too. Don’t push me away because you think this isn’t working. I told you I’m not leaving you and I meant it. I will get the Tribunal to overrule Urser’s self-proclaimed decree to keep you under lock and key. I’ll get your phone. You get the evidence, then you’re out.”

  Cash fished something out of his pocket and dropped it into my hand. “Here. I meant to give this to you earlier. I bought it for you. Something to keep you motivated to pass the trials, and if not… well it can still help you.”

  Then he stormed past me and left the room, leaving a wake so cold I needed to hug myself.

  I opened my palm and found the keys to the Ducati.

  That beautiful bike. Mine. If I passed, I could have it. If I failed… he intended for me to use it anyway—to escape.

  My eyes stung and I sniffled.

  Monster.

  Shut up, I told The Others.

  I pocketed the keys and dragged my feet back into the hallway, drained and exhausted. Despite a grumbling stomach from an overspent use of my energy, I
needed to sleep and heading back to the rooms seemed the best thing to do.

  “I’m proud of you, Roo. You did the right thing.” My father seemed pleased with Cash’s stormy eruption. He placed a steady hand on my shoulder and gave it a courtesy squeeze. I knew he felt nothing. His aura betrayed him. Flatlining as usual. I used to suspect the lack of movement in his aura was perhaps something native to the full blooded gods—aliens, angels, Seraphim—whatever you wanted to call them. But Marc’s aura affected me deeply sometimes, so that wasn’t the truth. The lack of reaction in my father’s aura was most likely because behind his mask of fatherly love, he cared nothing for me. He only wanted to control me.

  Not if I destroyed him first.

  CHAPTER SIX

  WHEN WE RETURNED to our apartment, there was a table set with six places for dinner. I let my gaze trail over the formal dining setting with disdain and a sense of foreboding. Shiny crystal glassware and porcelain crockery fit together with a candelabra center piece like something out of a Martha Stewart magazine. I approached with caution and noticed each setting had a name tag. About to lean in close for a glimpse, I felt movement to my rear and tensed.

  “Go freshen up, Roo. There are people coming tonight and I’d like you to make a good impression.” Bruce spoke with his arms crossed and jaw set, waiting for a rebuttal.

  “Has my luggage arrived?”

  “It’s in your room. I have already asked the concierge for new clothes. An Urser needs to look and dress a certain way. Follow me.” My father spoke over his shoulder as he strode down the west wing. “After the trials, you’ll be inducted into the family business. This is your room; across the hall is your brother’s. That door down there is the guest room and my quarters are down the east wing of the apartment. They’re out of bounds. We only intend to stay here until the trials are over, so don’t get too comfortable.”

  “Okay.”

  “If there’s nothing else, I will see you at the table in thirty.”

  I mock saluted his back as he walked away and then opened the door to my personal hotel room.

  The little pink suitcase was the only colorful thing in the room. The carpet was cream; the walls were a champagne cream, the curtains on the fake window were “mother-of-pearl” and the bed spread was… I tapped my lip trying to think of another shade of cream.

  Almond. Antique White. Bisque, take your pick, The Others said.

  Bisque will do, it’s all cream, anyway. What I needed was purple. A pang shot through my heart at the thought of my old purple bedspread back in Margaret River. Those good old days were gone. I went to open the suitcase. Maybe someone had moved my belongings into it. Stranger things had happened. Cash had once surprised me by unpacking all my belongings after moving in with him. He color coded too. If this was my suitcase, hopefully my phone was in there with my Prince albums. I was dying for a bit of musical comfort.

  All at once, I remembered the hurt in Cash’s eyes when I told him I was staying with my father. That hurt lodged in my stomach and grew. Distracted by my thoughts, I paid little attention to the abnormal whirring sound the zipper made when I pulled it down its tracks. And I certainly wasn’t taking note of the solid click when I opened the suitcase for a look.

  But The Others were.

  BOMB!

  A vacuum sucked all the sound from the room. Time stopped. The next thing I knew, I was on my back staring at the scorched ceiling, ears ringing so loud it hurt. I must have blacked out because the furniture debris had already landed, burnt and scattered on the floor. Blackened, charred pieces everywhere.

  I blinked.

  I stared.

  Smoke singed my nose. It burned the back of my throat.

  I blinked again.

  My body jostled from side to side, I looked down the length of my body and saw two hands on my arms, shaking me. A fuzz of fine blond hairs covered those two hands. My eyes trailed up, and I found the hands belonged to Bruce. His mouth moved but I couldn’t quite figure out what he said. The words came out distorted and muffled as though we were under water, and then somebody pulled the plug and the sound came rushing in.

  “Roo?” He shook me again. He needn’t have bothered, I already trembled. My breath came in short, sharp gasps and my heart beat a percussion in my ears. I was alive, and unhurt. Somehow.

  “I’m okay,” I said, the words vibrating inside my skull.

  “What the hell happened? The room is scorched. I had to use my power to stifle the flames in case the entire Ludus burned.”

  “I think…” My voice trailed off, trying to recount my steps. I came in the room, I opened the suitcase, then—

  Boom.

  A bomb? But how did I survive?

  We were four, now we are three, they said.

  I gasped.

  That meant I had died. Just like when Petra dropped me into the cave. One of my passengers was gone.

  Leila.

  The room closed in. If she was the one who sacrificed herself so I could live… my chest squeezed.

  “Somebody tried to kill me.” I glared at Bruce. They did kill me!

  My father’s body blocked the doorway, no wait—that was the hallway. I was in the bloody hallway. I looked to my right and to my left. Charred splinters of wood littered the long expanse of corridor. The floor was black. The blast had thrown me through the door and I’d landed in the corridor.

  “I guess it’s started already,” he said, and then turned to someone at his side. “Squid, alert the Tribunal that there has been a breach of peace protocols within the Ludus confines. Assassination attempts aren’t supposed to start until after the trials. We will contain the incident for tonight; they are welcome to investigate tomorrow. But spread the word that Roo is unharmed. It will take a lot more than that to kill an Urser.”

  He turned back and pulled me off the ground.

  “On second thought,” he said over his shoulder. “Lincoln, get another outfit for her sent up. Send it to the guest room this time.”

  He said the what now? Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought.

  I squinted to see Lincoln standing behind Bruce, with his own scowl plastered on his angelic face.

  Bruce checked his gold watch. “You now have twenty minutes to get ready. Use the guest room, it has an adjoining bathroom. Your clothes will be waiting on the bed when you get out of the shower.”

  I stuttered, trying to work out my surprise in some shape or form but I failed utterly.

  Bruce’s eyebrow lifted on one side. “What are you waiting for?”

  “But… I was just…”

  “You’re unhurt, are you not?”

  I looked down at myself. Pale fresh skin showed through various holes in my shredded clothing. “I almost died. My mistake to think my life was more important than your dinner.”

  My words blew red rage into his features. He jabbed his finger in the air at me. “Let’s get this straight. I own that body. I made it, so it belongs to me. So, yes, I’m damn pissed off that someone tried to kill you, especially when I’ve been using that vessel to secure strategic alliances. I have more deals to make to ensure the future of my line, and while you are here, under my roof, you’ll live by my laws. If this happened on my home planet, you wouldn’t have survived. You’re lucky we live in this weak, pathetic world where assassination attempts are half-assed. Get up, get dressed, and get to dinner.”

  Half-assed assassination attempt? I shuddered to think what his home planet was like. The look of surprise on my face must have satisfied him because he ended his lecture there. He did a one-eighty and left me speechless.

  I was beginning to think Cash’s opinion of him was underrated.

  With nothing else to do, I opened door number creamy, realizing I’d died twice in a matter of months. At this rate, my life would end in another two.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A FOG OF confusion shrouded my mind for the duration of my hot shower. Afterwards, I dried my hair with a towel and scrubbed my scalp, ho
ping to return some semblance of brain activity before I had to face the scrutiny of mysterious dinner guests. I was so tired. Exhaustion lapped at the edges of my consciousness. That bombing had used up energy reserves.

  When I left the bathroom, true to my father’s word, a dress bag lay on the bed and a pair of shiny heels were on the floor. I held up the dress bag and unzipped it.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  A formal, floor-length, navy blue dress spilled out. Made of something thick, shiny and stretchy, the bust gathered upwards to strap over one shoulder. I pulled the tag out from its hiding place.

  Designer made.

  Kitty would love it. A sudden ache overcame me. I missed my friends, Alvin and Kitty. The urge to call them was overwhelming. When I’d left Margaret River, Alvin had asked Kitty to marry him, and she’d said yes. One of the last memories I had of the two was them canoodling behind a hospital curtain. In two months, I was due back there for the wedding of the century. A smile lifted my mood, only for a moment, because with that recognition of their happiness came the inevitability I would never have it. The Game would see to that.

  I scowled the entire time I donned the dress, slipped on the shoes and placed the dangly diamond earrings in my ears. I appraised myself in the bathroom mirror. The longer I stared, the more I got caught in the gaze of my reflection, like a deer in the headlights. There was something behind my honey brown irises I didn’t like. A flicker of life not mine. It made me shiver.

  Shaking the feeling off, I broke my reflection’s hold over myself and gave my body the once over. The dress wasn’t so bad. From the way it gathered and folded, I almost looked like a red-headed, roman goddess.

  Water dripped from my hair onto my skin. Well, if there’s any benefit to having the same abilities as a witch, it’s saving money on trips to the salon. Kitty would be so proud of me. I filled my fingers to the brim with searing energy and ran them through my hair. Wisps of steam lifted as I brushed every hair on my head until it dried, dead straight.