Game's End

by Natasha Deen

  “Virus, contagious, viral. Whatever,” he said. “Look at the title of the video. They’re convinced our town is cursed by spirits and haunted by ghosts, and that you’re at the centre of it all.”

  “They’re not that wrong,” I said. “We’ve had more murders in the past few months than in the last twenty years, and I’ve been in the middle of all of them.”

  “Whoever this TruthOuts45 is, he’s posted it as proof that ghosts exist. The comment section is…well, it’s disturbing,” said Dad. “There a lot of moles out there.”

  “Do you mean trolls?”

  “Who are the disgusting pieces of flesh that post cruel comments?”

  “Trolls.”

  “Then trolls. There are a lot of troll comments. Some people are really angry. They think you and whoever took the video did it as a prank, but there’s a fair number of people buying what this TruthOuts45 is saying.” Dad paused the video. “I’ve already been fielding calls from news outlets in the big cities. They want to know more. They want you.”

  “Famine, war, and melting snow caps, and the news outlets want to turn our town into a sideshow.”

  “Not the town, my girl. You.”

  “What are you talking about? The entire town’s in the video.” But even as I said it, I was thinking about the rental cars at the market, about the unfamiliar faces in the bread aisle, the people with their phones out and their attention on me.

  “But you’re at the centre, you’re the focus of the shot.”

  “Maybe I’m the only one that TruthOuts45 could track .”

  Dad pushed the phone at me and started the video, again. “Look closely. The reporters are coming for you.”

  I squinted and hovered over the screen. Partway through the video and I still didn’t see what he did. “I’m lost.” I paused it. “What is it that sets me apart?”

  Dad hit the play button. “Look at your face. Then look at everyone else’s.”

  “I don’t see it? Am I glowing? Is there an aura?”

  “No, honey,” he said. “It’s your expression. People are panicking. They’re screaming and running. Not you. You look—”

  “Like I know what’s going on,” I said. “I’m too calm.”

  He shut off the video. “I’ve done my best to protect you. You’re almost a legal adult, but I’ve never treated you like a child. If you want to face the coming media storm, then I’ll support you. But as your dad, I’m telling you, this is dangerous. The more the world knows about you, the more the crazies can find you. People are either going to learn about your gift, then hound you for the secret knowledge you possess or they’ll persecute you for having an ability they fear. Those who don’t believe your gift will use this video to vilify you for perpetrating a prank that could have caused serious injuries and traumatized spectators.” He fiddled with his phone. “I think the three of us—four, where’s Serge?”

  “Home.”

  “You, me, Nancy, and Serge should get out of town for a while, go on vacation. Maybe Craig should come, too. Take the supernatural population of Dead Falls down a notch for a while.”

  “Nell will want to come too,” I said. “It’ll be a caravan.”

  Dad took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “This is your decision. We have to protect you and your gift. Once the media puts your face and name together and starts backtracking your life…”

  He didn’t need to finish because I knew what would happen. My secret would be outed. For sure, there would be questions about the weird things that followed me. Questions about the sudden, midnight moves. Oh, cripes, and the sausage incident.

  “There are crazy people out there,” he said. “I don’t want them to find you.”

  The crazy had already found me, though Dad didn’t know all of it, yet. The soul-eater was out there. So was the blond guy following me from the market to the funeral home. This town was small and the mix of supernatural and mortal was dangerous. If there was a confrontation, the damage would be catastrophic. “We should go, at least for a few days.”

  “You’ll talk to Craig and I can talk to Nell’s folks—”

  “No,” I said. “Let me.”

  “They’re more likely to let her come if they get the invite from an adult—”

  “I don’t want her to come.”

  He didn’t need to ask for an explanation, the surprise on his face asked for him.

  “There’s a spirit hunting ghosts,” I said. “The less people I have to keep track of, the better.”

  “But if this thing is going after the dead, what’s the issue with Nell? She’s alive.”

  “She’ll want to help. I can’t risk her life, no matter how plucky she thinks she is.”

  “You don’t want Nell with you?” Dad leaned back, then forward. “The girl is a five-star general in a cashmere sweater. What are you not telling me?”

  Everything, including news about your ex-wife. “Nothing. This thing is dangerous, and it might have the ability to mess with the living. You’re my dad, you’ve lived this with me. Nancy’s a cop. She’s got training. Nell’s as mortal as mortal can be. Besides, there’s heat coming down on me already. It might be good for her to not associate with me for a bit.”

  Dad nodded. “I understand.” He refilled his coffee. “I talked to an old friend in Florida. He’s going to help.” Dad flashed a quick smile. “I went ahead and planned, in case you were onboard with a sudden vacation. Nancy and I have some last-minute loose ends to tie up. I think you should go ahead. Gregory will meet you at the airport, it’s all arranged—”

  “Who’s Gregory?”

  “A friend. He’s going to help.”

  “Why have I never heard of him until now?”

  Dad smiled. “Because we spend most of our time dodging poltergeists and jumping out of the way of flying flatware.”

  “Really, how did I not know about this guy until now? Am I a terrible daughter?”

  He came around the desk and hugged me. “He’s not someone I talk about, and you’re the best. I’d rather focus on your life than mine, anyway.”

  He spoke with love, but his words hit hard. Dad’s life revolved around me. No surprise he didn’t have time to talk about his old friends, let alone visit them. Once this thing was over, I was going to make sure he had a life, one that didn’t involve worrying over his daughter.

  “He has a condo in Miami. It’s the perfect place to lay low. You go with Craig and Serge,” said Dad. “We’ll follow.” He stood. “I’d like you to get going as soon as you can. Pack tonight, then head out tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s sudden—”

  “The reporters are coming, and god knows what else. I need you to get away from here, fast.”

  I nodded, thinking of the guy in the sedan.

  He handed me the keys to his van and I headed home. Paranoia had me checking the rearview mirror, then switching streets and routes when I spotted the blond guy in the sedan behind me. He turned off on Parsons Avenue.

  I looped the streets then headed home. As I shut the car door and headed up the driveway, I heard a voice behind me.

  Chapter Twelve

  “That was a lot of maneuvering for a simple ride home.” The man stood on the pavement, watching me.

  “Who are you?”

  “Carl Reid.” He started up the driveway.

  “Mister, I asked for your name. I didn’t invite you to come closer.”

  He stopped, smiling as though my warning was adorable.

  “Why are you following me?” I scanned for his car. Nice trick. He’d parked on a neighbour’s driveway and used their truck to partially hide his vehicle.

  “Who says I am?”

  “I do.”

  “My car? You must be mistaken. There are a lot of cars like mine on the road.”

  “I saw you a c
ouple of days ago. You were also at the Tin Shack,” I said. “You were there the night me and my dad went in for a sundae. Earlier today, you were at the market, then the funeral home.”

  “You must be mistaken. I was never there.” He started up the drive.

  “I’m a lot of things, but I’m no liar. Get back or I call the cops, Carl.”

  My anxiety seemed to amuse him. He smiled and said, “I have a few questions. Once you answer them, I’ll be on my way.”

  “And I have great lung capacity. Want to see what happens when I start screaming, and my neighbours come out to find you with me? This town is friendly, but they don’t like strangers and they don’t like strange adults with their children.” Big talk. It was a roll of the dice if the neighbours would hear, let alone help.

  He held up his hands in a surrender gesture and walked backward. “I’ve been tracking this story, Maggie, I’ve been tracking you, and you can’t run and hide forever. This isn’t like the time in Calgary. Or Vancouver. Or Victoria.”

  I grew colder with every city he mentioned and more fearful of this stranger who’d tracked my life.

  “Your past is catching up with you. So are your actions. Yours and your dad’s.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you do. I see it on your face. You have abilities. You have a power the world could use.”

  My brain froze, my mind went blank, unable to think of a comeback.

  “You owe it to the living to show them the world of the dead.”

  That thawed my brain. “I don’t owe anyone anything, least of all you. Go away before I call the cops.”

  “Maggie—”

  An SUV drove by and slowed, then came to a stop in front of my house.

  “Next time.” Carl turned and went back to his car.

  A red-headed woman got out of the SUV. “Maggie Johnson? My name is Rachel Ambury. I’m with the Toronto Gazette and I wondered if I could ask you a few questions.”

  I walked in the house and closed the door, but watched them through the side window. Rachel went over and tapped on Carl’s car window. He drove off. After a minute, so did she.

  Once I’d made sure neither of them was coming back, I locked myself inside. Then I forced myself away from fear. Being scared wasn’t going to solve anything. I had to divide up my priorities. There was packing, figuring out how to tell Nell that she wasn’t invited, and coming up with a plan to defeat the soul-eater, then my mother. First thing, pack. It would give me time to calm down.

  No, wait. First thing, text Craig and tell him what was going on. I plugged in my phone and shot him a message. Rather than texting back, he appeared in my room. By the time I finished explaining everything, my hands had stopped shaking.

  “Your dad’s right,” he said. “You have to get out of here. I don’t know what’s worse, the reporter or the serengti stalking you—”

  “I’m more frightened of the reporter.”

  “Me too,” he said. “The serengti is probably bonding with you because it perceives a common thread, that you’re both protectors over the living. But the reporter—” He moved away from me. “I don’t like this.”

  I waited for him to continue, but he stared out the window. “Craig?”

  “I have to make a decision,” he said, turning to me. “But there’s no good choice.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If I stay here, to help with the reporter and the serengti, I can protect you,” he said. “But I won’t have any answers about why any of this is happening.”

  “Option two?”

  “Go to the other side, break the rules, and get answers.” He watched me. “But it leaves you and Serge alone, and it leaves me vulnerable if I’m caught.”

  “How vulnerable? What will the higher-ups do if they catch you?”

  He shrugged. “Something little, something big. I’m not worried about myself. Being a ferrier is a multi-lifetime job.”

  “We’re safer if you stay, but the danger for everyone is greater if you do,” I said. “We need answers.” I took his hand. “You should go to the other side, but I don’t like the idea of putting you in a bad spot with your handlers.”

  He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a kiss.

  “What is the right answer?” I asked when he pulled away.

  “Sometimes there are none,” he said. “Sometimes we make a decision, then we make it right.”

  “I’m okay risking big,” I said. “But not with your supernatural life.”

  “My life and destiny are mine to risk.” He stepped back. “Getting some answers is more important than anything the future might hold. If you need me, send Serge, okay?”

  I nodded. Craig kissed me once more, then he disappeared.

  I stepped from my room and found I was no longer in my room.

  Of all the crappy timing. I was in a locker room—the boys’ one, judging by the smell of dirty socks and ripe cheese.

  “Look, it’s the freak.”

  The deep voice sounded at the same time its owner rounded the corner. A large guy with red hair, wearing a hoodie and a mean-ugly expression.

  I glanced behind me and he laughed. “The freak doesn’t know he’s a freak.”

  Two guys came up and flanked him. I stepped back, slipped, and put out my hand to catch my balance. My white hand. I tried to snatch it back and give myself a quick once over, but the body wouldn’t respond.

  I was possessed by someone else, or maybe I was possessing him. Either way, I had no control over what was happening to me. The kid I was in looked down.

  I was a guy. Skinny, barely any hair on my chest, but thankfully, a towel wrapped around my hips. “Look.” My voice was high, squeaky. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  “We’re not going to give you any trouble.” The redhead smiled. “The bell’s going to go soon, and you seem like you’re running behind. Thought we’d help you get clean.”

  “I’m fine,” said the body’s owner. “I just got out of the shower.”

  “Maybe, but you still smell of freak.”

  “Leave me alone, okay? I didn’t do anything to you!”

  Their hands were on me before I even registered they’d moved. One of them ripped off my towel, the others grabbed my arms and hauled me backward. I bore down and lurched forward. When that didn’t work, I kicked the guy in front of me. Hard. In the crotch. He howled, clutched himself, and pitched forward. The redhead’s fist came up, hurtling my way.

  Then it froze.

  Just like last time. They were locked in the moment. I wrenched free, stumbling toward the light that beamed in.

  “Zach, my name is Serena. I’m here to take you away from this pain and torment.”

  The same serengti, but this time, the creature sounded tired.

  “What am I doing here?” I asked, but trapped in the body and consciousness of Zach, heard him ask, “What are you doing here?”

  “This life has been torture for you,” said Serena. “I’m here to take you away from it.” She took my—his—hand, and tugged. His soul broke from the body, the sound and sensation like strips of Velcro being released. They moved toward the light, but I sensed an anger simmering in Serena, especially when she looked back at the bullies frozen in their rage. She pulled Zach’s hand once more, and we stepped into the light.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You’re doing it again,” said Serge, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

  He came into sharp clarity—blue eyes, freckles—along with the comfortable mess of my room. I swallowed a sob and threw my arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

  “Whoa, Mags.” He held tight. “What’s going on?”

  “It happened again—I was pulled into Serena’s world.”

  “Are you okay?”


  “I’m freaked out that this thing can pull me into its world so easily. This time it was a kid named Zach.”

  “Are you okay?” He pulled away and made eye contact. “Are you?”

  I shook my head. “There’s too much happening. My mom, the soul-eater, Serena, all the crap going down with the townspeople. And why is Serena beaming me into scenes with those kids, with Matty and Zach? Is it related to the soul-eater? Is it just random, or is it some other thing I have to deal with?”

  “We have to deal with. Take a breath. Tell me what happened just now.”

  “Zach was at school. It must have been right after gym class, because he’d had a shower and was in the locker room. I don’t know where it was, but their mascot’s a knight.” I had to pack. I had to catch Serge up on everything he’d missed. I had to talk to Dad about Mom. I had to figure out Matty and Zach. There were too many things I had to do and not enough time to do any of them.

  “You look pale, which is saying a lot.”

  “I was in his body and mind. God, Serge, he was so scared of those guys.”

  “Sit down. Take a minute.”

  I grabbed my tablet and started searching. “The main bully’s hair was from the ‘90s. Plus, I know the mascot. I bet I can find him.”

  “You can look for him later.”

  “If it’s connected, then we need to get the information before I forget the details.” Several search terms later, I had what I wanted. “Zach Bryant, seventeen, drowned by a pack of bullies. It happened in 1998.”

  “Didn’t you say they were in a locker room? How do you drown in one of those?”

  I scanned the article. “They held him under the shower head, with the water on full power. According to this, he struggled and in the fight, they either dropped him on the ground, or they smashed his head into the wall. He lost consciousness, they left him under the water, and he drowned.” I shoved the tablet aside.

  Serge lay on the bed and covered his face with his hands.

  “What?”

  “I feel sick.”