Mind Games: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Lillim Callina Chronicles Book 6)

by J. A. Cipriano

  “Who are you?” I asked and took a sip of soda, wondering whether or not the pills would make her vanish. I was half-inclined to think they would, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. The last time I’d been drugged up, she’d hidden me away in a cave, or at least, I remembered her hiding me away in a cave. If I took these ones in front of her would she drag me away to some other hidden alcove until they wore off or would she just vanish into the ether?

  “I am the queen of life.” She grinned at me. “It’s why I know Zef is a fool. That old coot has been in love with me forever and it has blinded him. I know this because I send him many gifts, and he never, ever returns them.” She stared pointedly at me like I was exhibit A. “Well, with a few trifling exceptions.”

  “The queen of life, eh? Like Isis?” I asked, setting my soda down and staring at her.

  “Your sword spirit?” She raised an eyebrow at me. “Not so much the same at all.”

  I smirked. “You’re good,” I replied, tapping my temple with my finger. “Apep did say Isis was one of my sword spirits. But how do I know you are real? How do I know I’m not just standing here talking to myself like a crazy person?”

  The ketchup-haired queen of life smiled at me like I’d finally guessed the right answer to her question and sauntered toward me. She reached out and tapped me once on the chest. “Boom,” she whispered.

  Light exploded behind my eyes as my breath whooshed out of me. I felt myself falling, felt my head strike the edge of the desk and bounce off as I slid to the floor.

  The sounds of the front door opening filled my ears. It was the last thing I heard as the world slid into darkness. It was quite a bit different than the last thing I saw. The ketchup queen stood over me, her lips compressed into a weird kissy face that reminded me of a duck as she waggled her fingers at me in farewell.

  My eyes snapped open with a start, leaving me staring across the vast expanse of a dark room. I was still wearing the skintight snake leather, but my wrists felt heavy. Attached to the bangles on my wrists were claws vaguely reminiscent of the ones Mattoc had summoned when he had called upon Apep’s power back when we’d journeyed through the fairy courts. One had two bone-white blades curving outward far beyond the edge of my hand while the other had three, foot-long razor sharp prongs made of smoky black metal.

  Was this how Apep looked when properly manifested, or was this just what they looked like when twisted by whoever was using my body as a puppet? I could feel whatever it was inside of me, but I didn’t think it realized I was watching. The fingers of my left hand drummed aimlessly along the armrest of the throne.

  A silver sphere hovered in the air a few feet away. Color flashed across its surface, reminding me of a television in a darkened room. The image of Ian stood in the center, clutching a black katana that looked strangely like Haijiku, the blade I’d gotten from Jiroushou Manaka when I’d escaped Hades. He fought for his life against another teenager who looked vaguely familiar. Ian bobbed and weaved, throwing ice and sleet at his opponent who fired back with bolts of garish green lightning.

  “Your plan just may work, brother,” a wolfish voice said from my left, and I craned my head toward it to see an albino man stepping forth from the darkness. His body resembled a skeleton that had been dipped in yellow wax only his nails were quite a bit longer than they should have been, ending in thick, tapered claws. His thin lips were twisted into a grin, making his pink eyes seem amber and lupine as he leaned against the stone wall and stared at the sphere in front of me. “But I fear you have moved too soon. We should be playing chess, not running at them like a bull.”

  “My plan will work, Fenris,” I said, annoyance filling my voice. “While you and our sister Bel, leave father Loki to rot, I will bring him back and his vengeance will be terrible.” I stood and gestured toward the sphere in the center of the room. “My plan also has the added benefit of causing the horsemen to rip each other limb from limb first.”

  “And what of the God Thor?” Fenris asked, raising one pale eyebrow. “Do you not fear your death at his hands? Even you cannot ignore the twists of prophecy. If Ragnarok comes, you will die along with him, dear brother.”

  “Not while I have this body,” I said, running my fingers down my chest, drawing Fenris’s eyes to my barely concealed cleavage. “It is much too strong to be defeated with me at the helm.”

  “If you say so, brother.” Fenris stared straight into my eyes, and I got the feeling he was looking not at his brother, but at me in particular. “But I don’t think you’ve thought this all the way through.” He gestured at me, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Then again, you never do.”

  “Does that mean you will not do your part?” I stepped off the dais and began to approach him as he slinked backward into the darkness, his body already becoming strangely insubstantial.

  “Oh, no,” Fenris replied, his lips fading like the last fading grin of a Cheshire cat. “I will most definitely do my part. It is yours that causes me to worry. I fear you have bitten off more than you could ever hope to chew. That’s the problem with swallowing things whole after all, dear brother.” He was gone in an instant. As I stood there looking at the spot Fenris had occupied, the surroundings faded away, leaving me staring up into the smiling face of ketchup girl as she stood over me.

  “Don’t you see?” she asked, reaching out and tapping me on the forehead with her index finger. “Your body is being controlled. You must break free.”

  “How do I know that wasn’t another delusion?” I asked, but even as I said the words, I knew it had been real, at least as real as anything I’d ever felt before. Still, it felt unreal. Had Jormungand seriously just had a conversation with the Norse deity Fenris about releasing Loki while in possession of my body? It seemed fantastical and very, very scary.

  I wasn’t sure what Jormungand’s game was exactly, but if the Dioscuri archives were at all correct, Loki had been trapped deep within the Earth while acid dripped on his face for the last couple of millennia. If he broke free, and that sounded exactly like what Jormungand was trying to accomplish, his wrath would be terrible and absolute. At least, I was pretty sure it would be given what I could remember.

  “Really? That’s what you’re going with?” The ketchup queen clucked disapprovingly. “Look, I can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped.” She held her hands out as if saying, “work with me here.”

  “How come you can talk to me like this?” I asked, getting slowly to my feet. It was difficult because my head throbbed, and I felt warmth running down the side of the face. I touched the spot. It stung.

  “The others could, but I drew the short straw.” She shrugged.

  “And I’m important enough for you to care about, why?” I pulled my fingers away from my temple and stared at the blood covering the tips.

  “Because if you don’t force Jormungand out, he’ll kill the horsemen. Not just one, but all of them. If that happens, no one will be able to stop Loki from rising.” The queen smiled at me like that made sense and maybe it did, but not to me, that was for damned sure.

  “I don’t follow,” I replied, leaning heavily against my desk.

  She waved her tiny hands dismissively. “You don’t need to understand the situation, Lillim. Just know the people destined to stop this particular event won’t be able to do so if you can’t wake up. You need to do it now.”

  “Then why would Zef tell me to wait?” I asked, gesturing at her with my bloody fingers. “Let’s say I believe you because I’m insane and for some reason, believe a girl who looks like she should be on a fast food poster. Why would Zef give me the exact opposite advice? He’s not dumb.”

  “No, he’s not,” the queen said, staring at her shoes like they were terribly interesting. “He thinks Death will win.”

  “Death will win?” I asked, confusion filling my voice. “How will death win? What does that even mean?”

  “Not death, but capital-D, Death.” The girl shrugged. “He thinks there will be
a moment when Death strikes down Jormungand, and in that moment, you’ll be able to shove him out. That’s why he asked you to wait because if you do, Jormungand won’t be able to find a new host in time. He thinks it will work because Death has Mjolnir.”

  “That seems like a pretty important set of facts to just ignore. The whole host thing, someone armed with the mythical weapon destined to kill Jormungand, you know, the minor details.” I stared at her, and as I did, I realized she was hiding something from me. “Why are you trying to get me to do it now?”

  “I don’t want to risk you, Lillim. If you throw Jormungand out now, well, he’ll just find another host. That’s fine, but if you go along with Zef and fail, you’ll die along with him. We can’t risk it.” The queen looked up at me, her eyes dark and filled with unreadable thoughts. “Assuming of course Death can do his damned job, and I won’t lie, I don’t think he’s up to the task. He’s broken, and not in a good way, but in a very, very bad way.”

  “You can’t risk me dying?” I asked, fighting the urge to laugh because almost everything she said sounded like the insane ramblings of psychopath. “What makes me so special?”

  “Thes Mercer needs you to bring him back.” She sighed. “You’re the only one who can do that.”

  “Thes Mercer is dead,” I said before I could stop myself even though I didn’t remember who he was at all and was just going by what I’d been told.

  “Thes Mercer is trapped in Ancient Egypt,” the girl stated so seriously, I actually believed her. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t, but either way, this girl believed it to be true. “But he can come back from that. That’s not what he needs you for. He needs you for the step after. It’s not the last one, but it’s still a doozy.”

  “What?” I asked as my door opened behind me, and the girl vanished without a trace, leaving me staring at an empty spot on the wall.

  “Lillim, are you okay? I heard voices,” my father said from the doorway.

  “Yeah,” I said, turning in time to see him swing the door wide and step inside my room.

  “What happened to your face?” he asked, alarm filling his eyes as he reached out to touch my temple.

  “I tripped,” I replied, shrinking back so he wouldn’t touch me although I didn’t know why. Except that was a lie. As I stared into his face, I knew one thing to be true. Getting close to anyone in this world would make it even harder to leave. And I had to leave. Somehow. “I was just going to go clean it up.”

  Chapter 20

  If someone was to ask me why I was sneaking out of my room in the middle of the night following everything that had just happened, I’d have no good answer. Honestly, I wasn’t sure. Everything in me screamed for me to do something to escape the clutches of the monster in my head, but at the same time, that was exactly what the deluded mind of a lunatic would say too. Still, I didn’t feel crazy, and while I knew that was also a trademark of insanity, I had to risk it. If I didn’t, well, could I really risk that too?

  Someone once told me being a hero was doing the right thing at the right time. Everything else was moot. If I didn’t get it right, I’d be just another stepping stone on Jormungand’s path to destruction, but if I got it right, I’d be a hero. And I was a hero, dammit! Or, at least, I tried to be when it mattered. Besides, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

  I pushed open my bedroom window as slowly as I could, each creak making my breath catch in my throat as I listened for my parents. They’d gone to sleep hours before, leaving me alone in my room. I’d stared at my ceiling for so long the thoughts in my fevered brain had reached a frantic crescendo, urging me to do something, anything. Surely my parents thought I was still tucked firmly in my bed, but if they looked, all they’d find was a bunch of wadded up clothing beneath my Inigo Montoya blanket.

  With the window finally open, I adjusted the straps of my backpack and stared out into the night. There wasn’t much inside of it besides a change of clothes, a couple bottles of water, and a few random snacks, but I felt better having it, even though I only planned on going for a short walk to clear my head. With my luck, I’d wind up being gone for days. If that happened, I wanted food available, even if it was made up dream food.

  The moon shined down on me as I climbed outside, and I barely resisted the urge to look up at it as it beckoned to me, whispering sweet nothings in my ears. While I wasn’t a werewolf, I’d fought so many supernatural creatures by moonlight, it felt like a constant, steady companion watching over me.

  I padded quickly across our backyard toward the gate, hoping it wouldn’t squeak loud enough to awaken my parents as I slowly undid the latch and slipped outside. Once in the clear, I pushed my earbuds into my ears, turned up my music to a frenzied pitch and jogged down the street, a strange mix of songs I couldn’t quite understand spilling into my ears.

  It stood to reason that if I was trapped in my own brain, Jormungand would be able to suss me out no matter where I was, assuming of course, I wasn’t being hidden by my ketchup-haired fairy godmother, but I sort of suspected he wasn’t actually keeping a close eye on me. It made more sense for him to let me wander around for the most part, only interfering when something erroneous occurred. At least, that was my theory. It explained why time and place seemed to jump around, and people miraculously showed up following a strange event brought on by my delusions.

  The streets were ominously dark as I turned the corner, jogging out onto the poorly lit sidewalk even though I was a teenage girl. I guess it should have scared me more, but I remembered killing the monster under my bed. I wasn’t afraid of the dark. It was supposed to be afraid of me, and it was time the dark remembered that tiny inconvenient fact.

  Still, I had no way of knowing where I was going, but somehow, I was pretty sure I’d wind up where I was supposed to be. I couldn’t say why I felt this way exactly, but I did. If I just trusted in my feet, they wouldn’t fail me. Hopefully.

  I kept thinking that all the way until the black Subaru blinded me with its headlights before driving up onto the curb and slamming into me. Pain exploded through my body, filling my vision with a red haze as I flew through the air and smacked into the water-damaged wooden fence belonging to the house on my left. I lay there, trying to remember how to breathe as the car’s door opened and a man stepped out.

  He was dressed in all black with a trench coat, reminding me of Neo from the Matrix, but his features were too blurry through my haze of agony to actually recognize him. As he approached my fallen body, one thing was clear. He wasn’t all puppies and sunshine. How did I know? People with good intentions don’t usually step out of their car after hitting someone while carrying a knife.

  Fear welled up inside me as I tried to move, tried to get my hands and feet under me, but it felt so hard, so impossible to do anything but lay there. My mind swam in a cloud of confusion, so even though I was at wits end, I couldn’t make my body move fast enough for it to matter.

  “Hello, little girl, are you out for a jog?” he asked and made a tsking noise. “It’s so late at night. You should be home in bed.” He squatted down next to me, but his face was still hidden in shadow. He reached out, stroking my cheek with one hand and his fingers were colder than ice. “Fortunately, you’re just my type.” His lips stretched into a grin that revealed a mouthful of sharp teeth. It was the only thing visible through the haze. “I think that’s why my brother picked you after all. He wants to tempt me. He knows I can’t resist someone like you.” He dragged his tongue slowly across his lips millimeter by millimeter, and my blood froze in my veins. What was he planning on doing to me?

  “Don’t touch me!” I cried, trying to push myself away from him, but only managed to press myself against the boards of the fence. My vision swam as even that tiny effort caused my brain to throb and the blood to pound in my ears.

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s an option.” His lips twisted back into his wolfish grin. He reached out with one boney hand and grabbed me by the collar of my Bruins sweatshirt befo
re jerking me forward. Stars flashed across my vision as I flopped forward onto the grass. I tried vainly to get my hands underneath me, but before I could even stop the world from spinning, the cold kiss of his knife pressed against the nape of my neck.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, fear lacing my words as I tried to struggle away from the blade.

  “I’m trying to decide if I should kill you and save everyone a whole mess of trouble.” His weight settled on my lower back, pinning me there in the grass. “Killing you would solve a lot of problems, but it’s not really the most fun option. Still…”

  As he spoke instead of fear filling me, a revelation entered my tiny, distraught brain. If he killed me, I’d be dead. That much was obvious. But if the ketchup girl was correct, all that would happen would be that I woke up. I was basically invincible. Besides, Jormungand wouldn’t craft a scenario to have me killed. He’d want me alive, and if he wanted me alive, something would happen to resolve the situation, or so I hoped. It wasn’t the best plan, but it felt right even though it made my belly clench in fear.

  “Is this where you threaten me? Because let me tell you, getting threatened by knife-wielding maniacs gets old. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.” I tried to smirk at him, but since I couldn’t see his face, it was sort of difficult.

  “Has anyone ever told you, you’re horribly cliché?” he asked, leaning close to me so his breath chilled my cheek. “It’s not a super endearing quality.” He pressed the blade of the knife into my throat, and I fought the urge to squeak with pain and failed.

  “Hey, what can I say, I grew up on cheesy one liners,” I replied through clenched teeth, and even though it might not matter if I died, my heart hammered in my chest from the possibility that I might be gone forever. Despite everything, I still had my doubts. Maybe the ketchup girl was made up and I was just totally crazy.