Game's End

by Natasha Deen

  “If you’re going to pretend to be passed out,” he said. “Do a better job. I know you’re awake.”

  I didn’t respond.

  He grabbed my shoulder and shook me hard. “Stop pretending!”

  “I was doing you a favour,” I said, opening my eyes. “Figured if I stayed still, it would give you time to rethink what you’re doing and take me back.”

  “And what?”

  I shrugged. “Leave me in the truck, engine running, maybe crack a window so the animal rights folks don’t get mad.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets.

  “You’re pretty funny for a girl in your position. I know what you’re doing, but stop searching. I took your cell phone. Dumped it.”

  “I can afford to be funny, I’m not the one who kidnapped a minor,” I said as I buckled into the seat. I sensed Serge’s presence manifest in the seat behind me.

  “Maggie! We came out and you were gone—oh, holy crap!” He took in the scene and leaning forward, squinted at the windshield. “Where are you?” He scanned. “Claxton, heading west.”

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked Carl.

  “Your psychic talents can’t tell?”

  “They’re stunned by this display of your stupidity. How do you think you’re going to get away with this?”

  “Don’t worry,” said Serge. “I have a general location. I’ll get Nancy and come back to you.”

  “I’m not trying to get away with anything,” Carl said. “I need your help, that’s all.”

  “And then you’ll quietly allow yourself to get arrested?”

  He touched his pocket. “I have a plan.”

  It was too dark to make out the shape of whatever he’d touched, but I got the sudden sense that his plan involved a final, deadly solution. “All this for an interview?”

  “Interview? You think this is about some article?”

  “Isn’t that what you’ve been harassing me about? ‘Tell us your secret. Admit to the truth.’”

  “Not for some stupid story. I need your help.” He reached into his jacket, felt around for something, and I tensed. But the object he pulled out was a photo, laminated against dirt and time. “This is my ex-girlfriend. Julie. She died in a car accident.” He turned left on Miller’s Ave.

  I pulled on my harness, reached across, and took the photo. “And?”

  “You have to contact her. We had a big fight the night she died. That’s why she was in the car. She was driving around, trying to clear her head. I need to know if she forgives me. I need to know if she blames me for the accident.”

  Serge reappeared.

  Tell Nancy, change of plans. He’s on Miller’s—smart money’s that he’s taking me to the old mill. No witnesses, lots of deserted area.

  “Okay, I’ll be right back—” Serge stopped. “I’m an idiot. I’ll text her.” A second later, he said, “What next?”

  Don’t do anything yet. I have a plan.

  “That’s not how this works,” I told Carl. “I’m not some spooky version of the cell company.”

  “You have to do it!”

  “I can’t—”

  Carl smashed his fist into the steering wheel. “I didn’t risk all of this to have you say no.” The speedometer climbed higher. “You’re going to help me. One way or another, you’re going to help me.”

  “I’m sorry for your crappy planning,” I said. “But I don’t have the power to call the dead back from the other side.”

  “You’re psychic—”

  “I’m not that kind of psychic.” I tossed the photo at him. As he fumbled to catch it, I took my chance.

  I leaned over, hit the button of his seatbelt, and unlocked it. At the same time, I grabbed the wheel and wrenched it toward the shoulder.

  Serge pushed through the driver’s seat, put his hand on the wheel, and aimed it for the lamppost. “Get in your seat, hold on!”

  I shoved myself back into the seat, grabbed hold of the handle, and braced for impact. The SUV skidded on the ice and careened for the light post, and this time, there was no ferrier to save me.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The airbag exploded, metal smashed into metal, and I swore I heard my dad’s voice saying, “Just hold on, my girl.”

  “Are you okay?” Serge touched my head.

  “I think Dad warned me.”

  “Your dad’s here?”

  “Maybe. Maybe I’m just hallucinating. My compliments to whoever designed the safety system of this car,” I said. “Might be nursing a cracked rib, ringing in my ears, and definitely got cuts, but mostly good.” I pushed the airbag away. “How’s our psychotic friend?”

  “Out of commission,” said Serge. “Maybe permanently. Smart move, undoing his seatbelt. But you should’ve let me just kill the engine, though. It would have been safer.”

  “You weren’t here for all of it. The best plan was to knock him out.” I unbuckled myself and reached over to Carl. His pulse was steady, but he was a bloody mess. I reached to his jacket and felt the lump he’d been touching. After I pulled on my gloves, I reached into his pocket and took out a gun. “A stalled engine would have agitated him, and he came with a friend.”

  “Point taken.”

  I hunted around, found Nancy’s spare set of handcuffs, and locked him to the wheel. Then I got out of the car, my gait wobbly, my vision blurred. A vehicle approached from the other direction. The driver stopped, got out. “Are you okay?”

  I didn’t need perfect vision to know who I was dealing with, and now I knew why—if I wasn’t having auditory hallucinations—I’d heard my dad’s voice: “Savour. Stay away.”

  “What’s going on?” He moved toward me.

  I shook my head, trying to erase the ringing. “I know who you are. The police are on their way.”

  “What are you talking about?” He kept moving.

  “I can put him down,” said Serge. “At least until the cops get here.” He moved forward but I pulled him back.

  “Don’t,” I said. “If he’s also the entity, then he can eat you. Literally.”

  “We have to do something, and that gun won’t do anything.”

  “Neither will you. Just give me a second to think.”

  “We don’t have a second,” said Serge.

  “Maggie, I don’t understand why you’re acting like this,” Savour said.

  “I’m not the one who’s acting. You are, Lucien.”

  He stopped, tilting his head. “You know.”

  “I know.”

  “Gregory blabbed. If he wasn’t already dying, I’d kill him.” He smiled. “I still might.”

  The wind blew stinging snow across my face. “What happens, now?”

  “I end the threat.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of leather gloves. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve been watching you, monitoring your movements. There’s not much super in your supernatural, is there?”

  “There’s enough to take you down,” said Serge.

  “I like your style, ghost,” said Lucien. “I look forward to adding your energy to mine.”

  One theory confirmed. Lucien was the soul-eater.

  “No one’s adding anything,” I said. “We’re here to subtract one bad guy from the world.”

  Serge winced. “Seriously? That’s your best line?”

  “Leave me alone. Once he unleashes his ghosts, we’re done,” I told him. “We have to keep him talking for as long as we can.”

  “Where’s a car sliding out of control when you need it?” Serge muttered.

  “Are you done formulating your game plan?” asked Lucien.

  “We were laying odds,” Serge said. “About how scared you are of us.”

  The soul-eater grinned. “Hardly.”

  “Sure,” said Serg
e. “Maggie figures you’re scared enough to use half your ghosts on us. I figure it’ll be all of them.”

  Lucien laughed and held up his hands. “Waste ghost power on the two of you? Why do you think I wore gloves?” He flexed his shoulders. “Your daddy was very naughty with me, Maggie, and he’s here now, watching.”

  “Prove it,” I said. “Let me talk to him.”

  But Lucien smiled. “I could harness his energy and use him to kill you, but that’s too quick a death. I want him to watch, to be helpless just like me, as someone takes his family from him. But first—” He stretched out his hand. Energy flashed from his palm and struck Serge.

  Serge flew backwards, high into the treetops. He hit the branches and ricocheted down the trunk.

  Lucien raised his hands, again, as Serge stumbled to his feet. Orange light emanated from the soul-eater’s fingers, forming a bubble around Serge that held him immobile. Forks of white electricity flashed inside the dome and took hold of the ghost.

  Serge’s body began to vibrate; his hair stood on end. The vibrations picked up speed until he was nothing but a blur in the centre of the circle. A final flick of Lucien’s hand, and Serge exploded into supernatural confetti.

  I wanted to scream but I kept my mouth shut.

  “He’s fine,” said Lucien. “I want to savour the moment I consume him, but I need him out of the way so I can enjoy our time together.” He waved his hand again. “A little boundary spell to keep our time together private. Wouldn’t want any cops, ferriers, or ghosts ruining the fun, would we?” He winked. “We both know Craig is mortal now. He’ll make a delightful treat when I’m done with you.”

  For a second, I considered running, but marathons were never my thing. Besides, Lucien wasn’t a guy I’d ever want to turn my back on. I waited for him to come to me and wondered why my life seemed to be endless moments of waiting for the bad things to come to me.

  I thought of the gun in my pocket, but I didn’t know how to use it. Besides, with my marksmanship, I was more likely to shoot myself in the foot. I took it out and tossed it aside.

  Lucien’s gaze followed its trajectory. He closed the distance between us. “I like a girl who comes prepared, but you should have kept it. You’ll need all the help you can get.” He balled his hand into a fist and punched me.

  In the movies, the hero gets hit in the face, but they keep going. I’d give anything to live in a movie, right now. His fist connected with my cheekbone, and I heard the crunch of bone on bone, felt the world rock and tilt on an axis of pain I hadn’t known existed. I dropped to the ground, gasping for breath. In my head, my mother’s voice sounded. He’s coming, Maggie, he’s coming for you.

  I wished she was more of a doer than a talker, because I could have used one of her poltergeist moments right now.

  “How could they have ever thought you were destined to be a guardian?” Lucien asked. “How could they have ever believed you could do anything but annoy me?” He lifted his foot and swung.

  I caught his boot, twisted.

  His reflexes didn’t allow me to bring him to the ground, though it made him stumble and gave me time to scramble away. From the corner of my eye, Serena’s form flickered, trying to get into the space and failing.

  I swept the landscape for the gun—not to shoot, but if I held it, then it gave my punch more weight. And I wasn’t worried about Lucien using it on me. He’d been clear: I was to die at his hands.

  I spotted the weapon, tucked by the wheel of the SUV. I ran for it and heard Dad yell “Duck!” and I dived for the ground. The swish of air over my head, followed by the sound of Lucien’s boot hitting the door panel.

  I tucked and rolled. Dad.

  Dad was here.

  Warning me.

  Protecting me.

  Nothing mattered anymore. Not the cold, not the ache in my jaw, certainly not the fear of what Lucien could do to me. My only focus was what I could—would—do to him. He had my dad, maybe my mom too, and I was getting them back.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I circled back to Lucien.

  He smiled. “I see the spark, I see the light.” He raised his hand, waving me over. “Come, give it to me.”

  “Hardly.” I lifted my fists. Waited. I didn’t have to wait long. He rushed me. Punches. Jabs. Kicks.

  I did my best, but I was no match for him. He pummelled me, his knuckles breaking skin, his feet cracking bones. I couldn’t hear Dad anymore, but judging from the sweat on Lucien, he was having a hard time fighting and controlling the ghosts, too.

  Then I had it. A split-second. Lights, flashing in a sequence. It distracted Lucien and gave me the moment I needed. I drove my shoulder into his chest, and when he stumbled back and hunched over, I brought my knee to his face. He howled, doubled over, and I took my chance.

  I jumped on his back and wrapped my arm around his neck. Then I locked my hold into a vice grip and squeezed as hard as I could. “Not as easy to take me out, is it?”

  He wheezed, clawing at my arms and face, but I held on.

  “I like a challenge.” He dropped to his knees, bending over as if to pray. Light and heat blasted from him, shooting me up and away.

  I bounced into something solid but yielding.

  Serena stood on the other side of the barrier, using me as a shield to block Lucien from seeing her. “Keep going,” she said. “I can find a way in.”

  “The barrier won’t let anything in.”

  “I come at the violent deaths of children and animals, but I don’t want your death to be the reason I break through the boundary.” She pressed against the unyielding dome. “The longer you fight, the weaker the barricade becomes. Keep going until I can find a tear. Maggie—” Her voice cracked. “—Don’t die.”

  I turned back to Lucien. “That was quite the hit. Felt like it took a lot more power than you thought.”

  He was wreathed in flame, and the fire burned the ground as he came closer. “I’m not worried. It’ll take me ten minutes to kill you instead of five. That’s okay. I have all the time in the world.” His face twitched, pulled.

  “Not as much time as you think,” I said, pointing. “Looks like the slaves are revolting.”

  “Only one.” He smiled. “And he’s easily consumed.” The fire exploded. There was screaming, the crackling and sparking of bone and flame. After a moment, the fire diminished. “See?”

  “That better not have been my dad.” I rushed him, and he ran to meet me.

  More fists and feet. More punches and cracked bones. More blood. I hit and kept hitting. I bled until the snow under me was red. Lucien grabbed my arm, twisted, and threw me to the ground, then knelt on top of me. The stink of the mill surrounded us.

  Putting his hands on either side of my neck, he squeezed. “Don’t cry. You’ll see your dad, soon enough.”

  Then, suddenly, he was off me. I coughed, gagging as air swept into my bruised windpipe.

  Serge. He’d re-formed, and he was pummelling Lucien. I raced to help. Before I could reach them, the flames exploded. Green-purple. They reached out like hands and grabbed Serge.

  Lucien stood. Smiling. “Nice timing. I was getting hungry.”

  “Serge!”

  “Don’t worry.” Serge smiled at me. “I have a plan.”

  Lucien’s lips parted and he unlocked his jaw. His mouth widened until his lower jaw touched the ground. He exhaled. His breath was wreathed in orange-red flame. He inhaled, the sound was like a category-five hurricane, and sucked Serge in.

  “Now.” He pivoted my way. “Where were we?”

  I didn’t have the strength to taunt him, didn’t have the heart for bravado. He had my family. I didn’t know what Serge had planned, but if my parents couldn’t find an escape, I wasn’t sure my soul-brother would.

  Lucien stepped toward me. Stopped. Grabbed his stomach. Looked at
me with a combination of shock and worry.

  “Something you ate not agreeing with you?”

  He took another step, but the ghosts inside him pulled back. Lucien strained for control of his body, but the rebel forces were rising within. A loud gurgle from his torso, then his body began to swell. Larger, wider, like someone had attached an air tank to him and turned it on high.

  I pivoted and ran away from him. The explosion sounded, the detonation lit up the sky, and chunks of Lucien rained down, spattering the ground with flesh and blood.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Told you I had a plan,” said Serge, wiping a chunk of bad guy off his head.

  “Good plan. Much better than cutting an engine.”

  “You gave me the idea when you said you might’ve heard your dad. I realized the ghosts inside him must have a way to see out. They had to know what was going on.”

  “You decided to get eaten and lead a revolt.”

  “It’s not my fault he didn’t watch his diet.” He lifted my chin, gently turning my head. “You look awful. Do you have any teeth left?”

  “I’ll count them later.” Around us, the spirits released from Lucien’s prison struggled to their feet. Orbs of light enveloped some and transported them to the other side. Ferriers came for some, and the rest were collected by an assortment of relatives and beloved pets. They moved along the bridge so fast, it was hard to keep track, though I didn’t see Zeke or Homer among their numbers. “The souls are crossing over.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” He froze. Looked at me. “Oh, crap. Your mom and dad. Maybe it’s like Rori. They had to go and check in, but they’ll be back.”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it.” I tried not to cry. Dad and Mom had pushed through Lucien’s walls to send me messages and warnings, but once they were free, they’d left without a word.