A Sinister Game

by Heather Killough-Walden

  He had no control over the memories now. They whipped at him, hard, fast and painful. Each left a mark that bled and stung and would most likely scar.

  Victor gazed up into the stormy gray orbs of his team captain. Suddenly, he knew that John Storm was no ordinary Player. He knew it like he knew everything else. It was a memory – it was a revelation.

  “Thor,” he said.

  “Aye, lad. Rest easy. I’ll make it right.” Thor took the hammer out of his belt and set it to the side.

  Simon Roon watched him with an expression of sheer and exultant wonder. “I knew it!” he whispered, ecstatic excitement lacing his tone.

  “Hush, boy. I need to concentrate.” Thor put his left hand over Victor’s forehead and his right hand over his heart. “You’re Ullr’s champion,” he told Victor, “And that one’s got issues, he does.” He closed his eyes. “But I can help with the pain of the memories, at least.”

  His hands began to glow.

  Victor closed his eyes and let the warmth pour over him. It felt similar to being touched by Victoria Red. Warm and healing.

  My captain is a god, his thoughts solidified, no longer flitting, no longer spinning. His heartbeat slowed, and his breathing deepened. He found his consciousness coming into focus.

  When Thor removed his hands, Victor opened his eyes and pinned him with a glowing but somewhat reproachful gaze. “When were you planning on telling me… again?” Victor asked. His voice was back, his accent deep, his memories and mind fully intact.

  “Hell, boy, I’ve told you twice already. These damn rehabilitation things get old, you know? I thought I’d sit this round out for a bit.” Thor shrugged. “Besides, I was starting to feel sorry for you, and telling you who I was again would only get you to the next rehab that much faster. But no matter.” He stood and offered his hand to Victor. Victor took it, coming to his booted feet. “You know now.”

  Victor looked at his old friend – an old god – and shook his head. “Enough is enough. No more rehabilitations, not for me, not for anyone.” Game Control had gone too far too many times. It was time to put a stop to it once and for all. “This ends tonight.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  It had always bewildered Loki that humans were so positive in their convictions. They had little platitudes for the unexplainable nuances in life, and they took these for granted. There was “Life isn’t fair,” and “It is what it is,” and “Death is a part of life.”

  Loki shook his head. Each one was exponentially more ridiculous than the last. Life was neither fair nor unfair; it was simply life. It could be grand if you tried hard enough to make it so, and it could be miserable if you didn’t try at all.

  It is what it is? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was it some kind of reassurance that you’d passed back through a wormhole and into a world where physics worked and up was up and down was down? Was the human mind so fickle as to get those confused on a regular basis?

  And death. Loki rolled his eyes. He knew death personally. It had nothing whatsoever to do with life, and was in fact the very opposite of it. Only the daftest human being could possibly not see that.

  Perhaps the most foolish and shortsighted act humans took part in was to attempt to foretell the future. “You’ll thank me one day,” “We’ll get together soon,” “Maybe next year,” and “See you tomorrow” were a never-ending verbal diarrhea of proof that humans were under the impression life was certain.

  Old mothers and fathers turned to their children over holiday meals and pints of mead and laughed, “You’ll look back on this years from now, son. This here is one of those things you’ll always remember.”

  Even the most precious moments can be wiped out with no more than a touch of evil. One trip inside the wall would kill a decade of Winter Solstice gatherings. It was powerful enough, even, to quell the love a mother had for her child.

  Or a sister for her twin.

  Humans didn’t know everything. It didn’t take a god to realize that. But apparently it took a god to admit it.

  To this day Odin, being the wise All Father he was, forbade the gods from creating the kinds of “snippets of wisdom” that humans gleefully quipped day in and day out. “What goes around comes around.” Decidedly untrue, Loki thought, though a nice enough sentiment. “The early bird gets the worm.” Ridiculous. Stay up late and eat in the dark and you’ll be fat by midyear. “Nobody’s perfect.”

  As he gazed at the gorgeous and powerful twin sisters before him, Loki would attest wholeheartedly to that statement’s blatant falsehood.

  He remained invisible, watching his champion and his lover embrace in the memory of love that had been taken from them. He wanted to allow them to embrace forever.

  But he could feel the others coming. Their gaining nearness was an unconscious sound made by the mental signature of dark leaders and their followers.

  Loki considered their options. Rose Tyrnan was dealing with her sister’s death and rebirth, the reattainment of her lost memories, and with seeing her nanny again, all in the course of a few short minutes.

  Maxwell Blood and his men would be upon them shortly.

  Loki was fairly certain that Victor Black and his crew were hot on Blood’s tail. If he was reading the signature correctly, the highly agitated and barely contained, storm-like energy traveling alongside the second dark leader was none other than Thor. That would mean the second dark leader was undeniably Victor Black, Thor’s best friend.

  Within minutes, nearly twenty very angry and inhumanly powerful people would be gathering outside this small cottage with one mutual goal and a deadly willingness to do anything in order to attain her.

  Offhand, Loki wondered whether he could do anything to stop it. He wondered whether he should even try. Surely Odin had seen the upcoming confrontation. He must know the outcome. Maybe Loki was supposed to let it happen. Or maybe it wouldn’t happen the way it was supposed to unless he intervened.

  Inwardly, he sighed. That was the thing he hated about the All Father. Becoming a literal know-it-all had turned a once genial god who loved nothing more than bashing other gods’ heads in and drinking boatloads of mead into one hell of a recluse. But Loki supposed he could understand Odin’s reluctance to share his knowledge; he’d had to pluck out his own eye and hang by the neck from a tree for a short eternity to win his knowledge.

  At that conjured image, the invisible Loki made a face. He can have the bloody knowledge, he thought, disgusted. I’ll just damn well do what I’ll do.

  He quietly left the cabin through the still open door. Once outside, he materialized into the form Victoria Red would recognize. Then he gently knocked on the door.

  He sensed the sisters separate, and he chanced a peek around the edge of the door. “Might I come in?”

  Andromeda smiled warmly, the expression lighting the gold in her eyes like flecks of solidified honey. Loki’s gut clenched, and his body heated. He concentrated on keeping his cover, hiding the flames that so badly wanted to burn in his own fire god eyes.

  “Come in my love,” Andromeda said.

  Victoria’s eyes widened. “You know him?” she asked.

  “Of course I do. You do too, and not as Anders. Just try to remember,” she said, taking Victoria’s hands. “You prayed to him every night when you were a child, Rose.” She paused, adding with more weight, “Before you were taken.”

  Anders could have sighed out loud with relief. Andromeda was going to let him off of the hook and allow him to be who he really was. He could drop his act and spare his power for something more important.

  Andromeda was everything in a goddess that he was not in a god.

  Victoria looked from her sister to Loki, her brow furrowing and her own golden eyes twinkling with confusion. “I prayed to Anders?”

  Andromeda laughed. “No! You prayed to Loki!”

  Loki slowly let his form shift. Anders’ long blonde hair turned red, and his tall, strong form became even taller and stronger. His cloth
es melded into white, yellow and red leather garb, decorated with the fire emblem of the god of flame.

  Victoria stood transfixed, watching the transformation. Her full pink lips parted in silent, muted wonder. Loki could read in her thoughts that she wasn’t certain whether to kneel, stay standing – or even turn tail and run.

  He had to admit a surge of pride when her next impulse was to throw a fireball at him and see whether he truly was who he pretended to be.

  He wanted to explain everything to Rose Tyrnan, who had become Victoria Red. But there was no time. He could sense them out there now.

  Maxwell the Bloody was stepping through the last of the underbrush lining the clearing around Elizabeth’s cottage. His men were right behind him.

  Victor Black was closer than Loki’s originally thought.

  This was about to play out now. Loki didn’t think it would hurt to give Black the slightest little advantage in this situation. Other than that, the fire god would step aside and let things unfold as they would… until it was time to do otherwise.

  * * * *

  Any sane individual would have relegated the events of the last ten or twenty minutes to a highly emotional dream. But for some reason, Victoria believed it all. She knew it was real, from her nanny to her sister to Anders becoming the god she’d worshipped as a child. She just wasn’t quite sure what to think of it. Or do about it.

  “Victoria!”

  If she’d had any emotion left to spare, Victoria would have been shocked to hear that voice. It was Ty Murrey’s, and easily recognizable. He was hollering at her from the clearing outside the cottage.

  “Boss, it’s us! We need to talk! Please don’t blast us into oblivion!” he called and then fell silent, clearly waiting for a reply.

  Victoria gave herself a little shake. She closed her eyes, trying desperately to get a grip on the situation. Everything was out of control. The world was out of control. She didn’t like that. It felt discombobulating, uncertain and a little nauseating.

  She needed to take control again.

  She opened her eyes again to find that Loki was watching her with keen interest. Small flames danced in the pupils of his gold and brown eyes. It was unsettling being watched so closely by someone whose gaze was literally on fire.

  She looked away, focusing. First things first. She would go outside and talk with her teammates. How had they gotten past Game Control? Why were they here? She needed to find out how they’d managed to make their way to the other side of the wall… and whether or not, in the end, they would be willing to help her tear it down.

  * * * *

  Max watched from the shade of an overhanging willow. He didn’t know if this was going to work and would have given it slim chances had someone actually asked him. But his heart thudded with rare hope when Victoria appeared in the doorway to the cabin.

  She was falling for it.

  And then Black was there, appearing out of thin air, directly behind her.

  Max couldn’t move fast enough to warn her. Black had his arms around her and was pinning her to his chest before she could blink. One hand slipped effortlessly over her mouth and the other arm trapped both of her own against her body. She was immobile and silenced.

  And Black stared over Victoria’s shoulder, his ice green eyes locked on Max the whole time.

  * * * *

  Victor had wanted to just kill him and be done with it. It would have been so easy to rip a huge chunk out of the man’s throat with his dark powers and let him bleed to death right there beneath that tree where he watched Victoria coming out of the cottage.

  But as they’d been in the on Max’s heels, Thor had asked Victor not to kill Blood. Despite everything Maxwell had done, Thor had some plan for the other dark leader, and it didn’t involve Black bleeding him to death or turning him into a human icicle.

  Fine.

  He wasn’t happy with it, but so long as Maxwell the Bloody came nowhere near Victoria ever again, he would let him live and leave him to the gods.

  Victoria struggled in his grasp, and he could hear her thoughts racing. She wanted to melt him into goo or slam the nearest wagon wheel into his head. She was as feisty as ever, and it filled Victor with a swell of pride at how she continued to fight him. But something about her felt different, as well. Her anger toward him was more irritated than truly angry. It was impatient rather than fearful.

  And her mind felt different. It felt restored.

  She remembered.

  Everything.

  A few yards away, Ty Murrey and April Rose stood side-by-side, unsure of what to do. They wanted their team leader, but she was literally in the hands of their sworn enemy. Instinct told them not to make any sudden moves.

  They watched him in silence, waiting to see what he would do next.

  Black, however, kept his own gaze locked on Blood, who was invisible to everyone but him and was now quietly stepping out of the shadows and into the clearing to face him.

  Victor quickly decided to take full advantage of the fact that Victoria was now aware of what Game Control truly was.

  “We need to talk, Victoria,” he whispered in her ear. She bucked in his grip, attempting to say something from behind the hand he held tightly over her mouth. From the sounds going off in her mind, it wasn’t at all ladylike.

  He held her fast and continued. “I know what you’re thinking. I know you’re afraid of all of this, but I’m not here to hurt you, and you must realize that or you would have simmered me in my uniform by now.”

  She stopped struggling, and he could feel her heart hammering under his arm where it secured her so tightly to him. He shamelessly read her thoughts.

  She knew he was right. Now that she remembered what they’d done to her and was once more aware of what they did to everyone, she wanted to go up against Game Control as badly as he did. She no longer had any real reason to fight Victor.

  But her instinct was to fight – and she hated the smug way he’d managed to sneak up on her.

  “Hear me out, that’s all I ask.” He considered letting her go, then. She was coming around and he was fairly certain she wouldn’t run. But the moment he let her go, her teammates would undoubtedly try something. He didn’t need to contend with them right now as well.

  Instead of releasing her completely, he loosened his grip a little and uncovered her mouth. “We need to stop Game Control. They will continue to kill innocent people as long as we let them.”

  Maxwell Blood slowly paced toward them. Victor wasn’t certain what had changed that allowed him to now see Blood through his shield of invisibility, but he was unduly grateful that something had. Pity it couldn’t also gain him access to Blood’s mind.

  Max’s blue eyes were burning like sapphire fire. Victor could feel the cold fury coming off of the other dark leader in stifling waves. He had no idea what the man was planning to do. Victor couldn’t get past the fake, planted surface thoughts in the man’s head to read his intentions.

  Now that his hand was removed from Victoria’s lips, Victor could hear the soft sound of her ragged, uneven breathing. He chanced a quick glance down, his gaze flicking to the side of her face. He noted the long, thick lashes that rested momentarily against her cheek, the soft peach-colored skin, the full red pout of her now freed lips.

  And then he was zeroing in on Blood again.

  Victoria cleared her throat and tried a few words. “What exactly do you think we can do, Black?” she asked.

  It was getting hard for him to think. Danger was all around them, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to pay attention to anything but the feel of her long, lithe body against his, the sound of her breathing, and the heat from her form as his grip tightened around her.

  “Come with me to Game Control headquarters,” he said. “Together, we can take out the Game Lord. Once he goes, they’ll all go.”

  “Don’t listen to him, boss,” Ty told her from where he stood several yards away. “He’s messing with your mind. He�
�s planting thoughts there that aren’t yours.”

  April nodded her agreement. “He’s right, Victoria. Max told us he would do this.”

  “Did he, now?” Victor asked, his tone practically dripping acid. He lowered his head and met Max’s gaze. “I just bet he did,” he whispered.

  Max smiled. It was the secret, knowing smile of someone who had an ace or two up his invisible sleeve. Victor’s grip unconsciously tightened again on his beautiful captive.

  Where was Thor? The son-of–a-bitch god had also vanished when Victor had turned invisible and slipped through the clearing to surprise Victoria.

  Victor could certainly use his help right now. And Simon? Where the hell was he?

  “You know the truth in your heart, Victoria,” Black continued privately. He didn’t want to hurt her. But if he had to knock her out to force the pill Jeannine Cure had given him down her throat, he would. He would do anything to keep Blood from taking her and wiping her mind again.

  “It was no trick of mine that they killed your sister, Victoria. Was it?” he asked, whispering the words into her ear. At the same time, he released her with one hand and allowed cold power to gather in his palm. If he coated Blood with the ice, the dark leader would become visible to everyone. Then Victoria would realize the man’s duplicity.

  It wouldn’t hurt to try.

  As if sensing what Victor was about to do, Max’s eyes widened – and then he was diving for the ground as Victor pulled his arm back and hurled the ball of cold at him.

  Victor Black was the champion of Ullr, who was not only the god of ice, but the god of the hunt. Determining what an opponent was going to do before they did it was one of the things a hunter needed to be able to do.

  As Bloody Max dove for the ground to avoid being hit by the swirling, whirling ball of frigid air, Black’s aim followed him.

  The ice hit Max head-on, coating his entire form with an electric chill so glacially bitter, it forced his skin to turn temporarily blue. Max’s invisibility instantly dropped in the assault.