Game's End

by Natasha Deen

  “I texted Nancy and told her exactly where to find us.”

  “That must be her,” I said as the headlights of a car lit up the night. “Give me a second to check on Carl.” A peek into the SUV showed he was still knocked out, and a quicker inspection verified his breath was steady, as was his heartbeat.

  The car slowed, stopped, and Gregory got out. “Thank god! I was at the station and I heard the call go out. Are you okay? Where’s Savour?”

  “Dead.”

  “He can’t be—not that easily. Get in the car,” he said. “If he’s not here now, he’ll be back soon.”

  “Nancy’s coming,” I said. “And Savour’s not a threat.”

  “You don’t know—”

  “We took care of him,” I said.

  He blinked.

  “We’re safe,” I said.

  “I still don’t like this,” said Gregory. “Savour is clever. He may have faked the injury to throw you off.”

  “Trust me, he couldn’t fake it.”

  “Maggie.” He put his hand on my shoulder.

  From the corner of my eye, I caught the flashes of light, and the stench of the old mill swept my way. And then it all fell into place.

  I’m such an idiot.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Nancy’s taking a long time,” I said. “I should try her again.” I pulled out my phone, unlocked it, and pretended to scroll for her number. Serge, don’t speak out loud. Pretend I’m not talking to you and get out! Get out now!

  Why? What’s going on?

  Later. Get out. Get Craig. Tell him we were wrong about everything. Savour’s not the soul-eater, it’s Gregory.

  Gregory plucked the phone out of my hand. “The benefit of being me,” he said. “Is my hearing. Your tone changed, tightened.” He dropped the phone and brought his heel down on it. “Call Serge out from the SUV.”

  “He’s gone.”

  “You’re lying.”

  I shook my head. “Go, look.”

  He gripped my arm and shoved me toward the vehicle. “What gave me away?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know why you’re acting like this.”

  Gregory twisted me around and slapped me with his free hand. “Don’t lie, Maggie.” He grunted, doubling over.

  I pulled, but he tightened his grip. When he stood, he no longer looked like the man who’d called himself Gregory. He was Lucien.

  “There,” he said. “That’s better. Disguising myself takes a lot of energy.” He raised his gaze and swept his hand to the sky. A translucent dome arced overhead. The wind died, the snow disappeared, and I was left alone and in the quiet with a serial murderer.

  “Are you dying? Is that why you came for me and Serge now?”

  He laughed. “Never, my dear. Thanks to my ghostly helpers, I’m immortal. The nosebleeds and pain was the result of having to disguise myself. It doesn’t usually hurt, but you are no ordinary person. There was Serge and your pet ferrier, too. Too many supernaturals and the energy required to hide myself was extraordinary.”

  “Let go of my arm,” I said, pulling away from him. “We both know I can’t run anywhere. The real Gregory. Where is he?” I knew the answer, but I needed to keep him talking, needed to keep him distracted until I could figure out a way out of this.

  Lucien smiled. “Where do you think?”

  “You killed him and kept his soul.”

  “How else would I know the details about his friendship with your father? How else would I know how deeply your father cares about those he loves.”

  We walked to the SUV. “I told you,” I said as he scanned the interior. “Serge’s gone.”

  Lucien put out his hand. “I don’t sense him.” He stepped away. “You didn’t answer my question. What gave me away?”

  “Your smell,” I said. Not true. It was the lights. In the car the night I drove him home and again, just now. Sequential flashes that reminded me of the TV show Serge had been watching, the one where the characters had used Morse code.

  I wasn’t going to say anything about that, though. Maybe it was the ghosts asking for help and doing it in a way he couldn’t track. If so, I wasn’t going to out them. “You stink. At first, I thought it was the old mill. Then I realized I only smelled it when you were around.” I rubbed the spot where he’d slapped me. “I didn’t put it together, at first. When you took Homer and Zeke, that was the smell.”

  “That could have been anything,” he said.

  The pieces were falling into place, making me feel stupid for not seeing the solution sooner. “Buddha and Ebony left the kitchen as soon as you came into the house. They would never leave unless they felt threatened.” The more I thought about it, the dumber I felt. “You talked about Claxton being shut down, but you couldn’t have known about it unless you were already in town.”

  “That was smart,” he said. “Observant.”

  “Not that smart or observant.” I sat in the passenger side of the SUV. “If I was really on it, I’d have realized what you were the night I told you my mom had died. You said you already knew. But how could you? Dad didn’t even know.”

  “Smart girl. I’m going to enjoy us working together.”

  “I don’t suppose I can turn down the job offer? Not sure I’ll like the hours. For sure, I already hate my boss.”

  “Too late for any of that.”

  “So why haven’t you killed me yet and taken my soul?”

  “I make it look easy,” he said. “But corralling souls into a united project takes energy.”

  “You’re tired.”

  “I am not.”

  “Yeah, you are. You’re exhausted. Why don’t we call this off?” I said. “We can meet up again in a couple weeks, after we’ve both had a chance to recover.”

  He laughed. “I like your humour.” His smile slipped. “I look at you, and I see your mother. You’re like her in every way imaginable. Feisty. Funny.”

  “How do you know what my mother looks like?” None of it made sense. “Dad got married after he left the military. You wouldn’t have known about his wife unless you were already tracking him, but then, why didn’t you kill—” Wait. All my information on Dad’s history was based on what Gregory—Lucien—had told me. Maybe he’d been lying about all of it.

  “He stole my family. He stole my Sunny.”

  The world tilted. “My mother was your wife?” Oh, god. “You said my dad killed your wife and child—”

  “He signed her death warrant as soon as he stole her heart from me.” The skin on his face hardened. “No one takes what’s mine.”

  “And the child—” I whispered.

  Tears glittered in his eyes. “You were supposed to be mine. He took your mother, he took the possibility of me being your father. Can you imagine what your powers—your life—would be like if I had been the one to raise you?”

  I almost threw up from relief that he wasn’t my dad. “Not to trivialize your pain or the loss of your family, but in my entire life, my dad never hit me. I’ve known you for five seconds and not only have you hit me, you’re about to kill me.”

  “I don’t have a choice! If you’d been mine, if we’d been a family, it would have been different. I would have shown you all the world has to offer. We would have been a team.”

  The dynamic duo, eating souls, and using their power to get rich and stay forever young. I’d take Dad’s broken down coffeemaker and flannel shirts any day.

  “Instead, I’m forced to use these guerrilla tactics. It’s a pity. There will be a recovery period for both of us, and that’s nothing but wasted time.”

  I stepped out of the vehicle. “Take me. I won’t fight.”

  “Don’t lie.”

  “I promise, on one condition. You release my mom and dad, and you don’t touch Nell,
her family, Serge, Craig and his family.”

  “A negotiation?”

  “If you want to call it that.”

  He walked with me, stopped, and turned back to the SUV. Stretching out his hand, he flicked his wrist. The vehicle exploded with Carl in it. Smoke and fire plumed to the domed barrier and with it, the reporter’s soul.

  Lucien’s body shook. His human covering fell in dusty pieces as his soul-eater form took hold. Feathered wings, black and edged with the blood of the fallen, dark purple skin, tentacles reaching from his forehead, multiple rows of teeth, and fire for eyes. He reached out, caught Carl’s soul, and pulled it to him.

  Carl screamed and bucked, but it didn’t matter. He howled, begging Julie for forgiveness. The reporter kept shrieking as Lucien swallowed him.

  Then Lucien turned to me and said, “I don’t negotiate.”

  “You must,” I said. “The fake Lucien was working with you. He had to be, if he had those souls. Was he a soul-eater in training?”

  “Fake Lucien,” he said. “I like it.”

  “Who was he, really?”

  He smiled. “Think it through, think of all you know of me, and you’ll see the answer to your question.”

  Lucien was a loner, he didn’t trust anyone. He thought of people as possessions, souls as power sources, and believed he was better than the supernatural system in which he worked. “It was you,” I said, after a minute. “You used the soul power to create another entity and disguise yourself.”

  “The first rule to defeating your enemy is to know them. I had to find out how you’d kill me. It took some work and I had to give up a few souls, but now I know.” He scratched the underside of his chin. “Serge will have to be destroyed. The two of you can’t be together. Too dangerous. I have friends in low, low places. Do you know what they’d do for a chance to take his energy?”

  I ignored his taunt. “How do you know I won’t start a revolt?”

  “Because I have Homer and Zeke, and I’ll do terrible things to them if you don’t listen to me. That tactic wouldn’t have worked on Serge,” he said. “He survived the terrible things that happened to him. But you, Maggie, you’re still soft. You’ll be easy to control.”

  “You only think so.”

  “I feel your energy. I know you feel badly for that idiot, Carl. How much more will you hurt for Homer?”

  “The other side is coming for you. Even if I can’t stop you, the hunters will get you.”

  “I want them here. This barricade is a lighthouse calling them. Look up, Maggie, and see. The dome isn’t just for defence purposes. It’s a network. The harder they try to breach the field, the more it will suck their energy. And all that power will go to me.” He rolled his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get this over and done with.”

  I was going to die, and I was going to do it at the hands of a murderer. But Lucien had given me the secret to his undoing. Power. Maybe I couldn’t defeat him by myself, but I wasn’t alone in this fight.

  I sank to my knees and surrendered. Overhead, the shadows of the hunters covered the dome and threw their outlines on the ground before me.

  “Giving up so quickly?”

  Lightning flashed across the dome. The hunters trying to break in.

  “Idiots,” muttered Lucien, looking up.

  Then I closed my eyes and called Serena to me. Called her into me. Her energy combined with mine.

  The barrier took some of my power. I’m too weak to fight, she said, I need time to regain my strength.

  I don’t need you to fight. I only need us to survive long enough for the hunters to find a way in. Serena, you come when a child or an animal is going to die a violent death. Lucien’s powers can’t stop that. Hide in my energy and protect me, now.

  Her energy and mine comingled, giving me flashes of insight into her life and making her psychic signature known to me.

  Lucien’s first strike came swiftly, rocketing me off my feet and into the trees. I smashed into a branch, grabbed hold, and hung on. Lucien ripped me off, launched me into the air, then hurtled me into the ground. Serena’s energy was like bubble wrap, cushioning the blow, but she couldn’t last forever.

  “How are you still alive?” Fire sparked from Lucien’s hands.

  I closed my mind to him and opened it to the ghosts he imprisoned. They sped by me, flickering, flashing. I told them to revolt, told them to break free. But the damage, the endless years of abuse and torment from Lucien had taken their toll. They were too afraid, too weak to fight. I felt Zeke’s presence, wrapped around Homer’s, and promised I would save them. A bolt of energy sizzled through me, Zeke and Homer offering whatever strength they could.

  Another round of Lucien’s barrage left me with a bleeding mouth and cracked bones. I crashed into the ground, coughing and trying to get air back into my bruised lungs.

  “Why aren’t you dead, yet?”

  Because a serengti’s destiny was to protect the abused, to take the victim’s place, and endure the beatings and violence. Which meant she could take anything Lucien dished out, and when she tired, she could take my energy to strengthen herself. Because a serengti lived the final moments of the victim, which meant she hid in their energy, which meant Lucien—the king of all abusers—would never sense her presence.

  Are you okay, Serena?

  I want to kill him and I’m feeling stronger.

  Hold that thought.

  Lucien raised his leg and kicked me in the stomach.

  It’s enough! I can’t stand it! He must die.

  Serena, no!

  He’s taken too much, Maggie. He’s taken everything from me! She separated from me and stood before him, faceless, burning, and with murder on her mind.

  “A serengti?” Lucien stepped back. “I’ve never seen one before.” He stretched out as if to touch her, then pulled back. “Later, my beauty.” He turned to me. “Time to go, Maggie. Time to come home.”

  He brought his foot down on my head, and it all happened at once.

  —Me grabbing his foot, channelling all the energy and power I had into blasting him from me.

  —Serena’s howl of rage and the ball of energy she hurled at him.

  —The splinter of the barrier cracking.

  —Serge slipping beneath my skin to bolster me with his energy.

  —Craig, in ferrier form, grabbing Lucien from behind.

  “No! It’s not possible! My dome!”

  “Your dome is powerful,” said Craig, wrestling Lucien to his knees. “But it can’t keep out a ferrier who has come to claim a soul.”

  Lucien struggled, but his wings gushed with the blood of all those he’d captured. Some of the souls were revolting and he was losing power. “She’s not your charge. You can’t claim her.”

  “I didn’t come to claim Maggie,” he said. “I came for you.”

  Lucien screamed, pushed, and wrenched himself free.

  Craig raised his arm, stretched his claws to the sky, and raked holes in the dome. The hunters flew in, thick, dark shadows of muscle and purpose.

  “I will not be ended, not like this,” said Lucien. He swept his hands outward, clapping them together. Nancy appeared.

  “What the—?” She spotted me. “Maggie!”

  He grabbed and pulled her back into him. “Shh,” he told her, pressing his face into her hair. “This is between me and Maggie.”

  “Let her go!” I grabbed and held on to Serena as she moved to him. “Don’t,” I told her. “Don’t get close to him.”

  Two of the hunters flew at him. One of them separated Nancy from Lucien, and I ran to them. The other one grabbed and held him down as the hunters surrounded him. Lucien screamed as they tore into him, releasing the trapped ghosts. When they finished, they let him go.

  “We have what we need,” said one of the hunters to Craig. “He
’s yours to claim.”

  Lucien knelt on the snow as ferriers appeared to take the ghosts to the other side. They blipped in and out in sparks of colour, appearing and disappearing like fireworks.

  “They took my power,” he said. “They’ve made me mortal.”

  “I’ll arrest him for Hank’s murder,” said Nancy. “But he had supernatural power then, and there’s no evidence of his involvement in the crime.”

  “He blew up your SUV,” I said. “With Carl in it. I’ll be a witness.”

  “You will be a witness,” said Lucien, moving aside to reveal the gun he’d hidden.

  Nancy grabbed at her hip. “It’s mine!”

  Everything moved fast, but I was faster. Lucien raised the gun, and I knew who his target was. Not me. Nancy. Killing me would be swift and easy. Killing Nancy would be his final infliction of pain, forcing me to live a life without her.

  I moved, shoving her aside as the flash of the muzzle flared.

  A blast of light and energy swept over and through me—Serge…

  There was the shock of the bullet tearing its way into my skin, the searing agony as it ricocheted, and the final burst of white light that engulfed everything.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  I woke to find myself in a hospital bed. The room was dark and I tried to figure out what the weight on my chest was. I shifted and the weight moved.

  “Mags!”

  “Nell?” I felt a hand on my forehead. My voice sounded slurred and heavy.

  The overhead light came on. Nell was in the chair by the bed, holding my hand. Nancy was in the other one. Serge on the window sill. Craig lay on the bed beside me. He smiled and removed his hand from my forehead. “You’re back.”

  “I heard there was cake.”

  “They were worried,” Nell said. “But I wasn’t. I knew you’d be okay. Rori said it would all work out.”

  “I don’t know if I would call it that,” I said. “There was a ton of destruction and—”

  “Don’t be a diva. Rori said it would work out,” said Nell. “She didn’t say you were going to get a Hollywood happy ending.”

  I looked at Craig. “But you got a happy ending, sort of. They lifted your suspension.”