The Game of Gods: Series Box Set

by Lana Pecherczyk

  It took everything in me not to push back. He thought I was someone else. My heartbeat thumped in my ears, and I licked my lips. “I need to pee. Wee-wee?” I cracked a joke at his language choice, hoping to alleviate the awkwardness.

  “Sorry,” he said, now fully awake. He lifted his head off me, sat upright and shifted his leg. “I thought you were someone else.”

  The second he disengaged, he tensed, holding his palms to his eyes. “Ah, fuck.” He rolled away. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His words were muffled in the shelter of his arms. His pain must have flashed back the second he let go of me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said and stood up. “But I really need to go to the bathroom. Are you okay?”

  “Mmm.” He rolled onto his stomach, mumbling and moaning into the carpet.

  I tiptoed out of the room, paid the bathroom a visit and gathered us both a glass of water on the way back.

  “How long will the blindness and pain last?” I asked when I returned.

  He had reclined back on the couch with his arm draped over his eyes, his breath shallow. His tattoos looked faded in the light of the day. I drank my water in a few big gulps and placed the empty glass on the coffee table. I nudged his into his hands.

  He took a sip. “I’m not sure. The last time it was about a week or two.” He scrubbed his face and ran his hand through his hair, leaving the ends sticking up. “I need to call Ma.”

  A stab of guilt surged through me and I sat down on the coffee table. “Tell her it’s all my fault,” I said through a tight throat. “Do you want me to call her?”

  “No. It’s not your fault, its mine,” he said. “They thought I was on vacation and insisted he come with me. Ma thought I was going off the rails, didn’t trust me on my own. Back then I calculated my actions according to risk and probability. I thought coming here was a harmless reconnaissance mission and…” His voice trailed off. Then he turned to me. “Are you coming home with me? I told your father he had no choice but to let you stay with me, but I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.” He sounded hopeful and very unlike Cash. “But your self-defense and combat skills are regrettable, your abilities need honing, and you have much to learn before arriving at The Ludus. With your current lack of discipline, we need all the time we can get.”

  And there he was—classic Cash.

  “You’re blind. I can’t exactly let you go alone. And it was my fault. Petra would never have attacked Tommy if it weren’t for me so, yes I’m coming. It’s my way of apologizing.” I paused. “But, I need you to be honest for a second—what made you pick this town? Did my father send you?”

  The hairs on my arms stood on end when his sightless eyes bore holes through me. I waved my hand in front of his face but he didn’t react.

  “Yes, it was my time with your father that prompted my visit, but he didn’t send me.” His voice was soft, and he flinched with every word. My fingers itched to relieve his pain, but he was either too stubborn, or too proud to ask for help. “There were a lot of rumors flying around about your father during my trials. One of them was that he’s building an army to cross the interstellar boundaries to the Empire and take it by force, but something’s holding him back. I knew he worked with an ancient witch who claimed to have possession of The Book of the Dead. This book had the key to decoding the soul. He’ll deny he had anything to do with her, but I heard it from too many sources for it to be a lie.”

  He slouched, his long legs wide, then continued, “When I finished my trials and declared independent, he lost his cool, and I was kicked out of The Ludus. I returned home for a brief time to work, but eventually came snooping around here. In the end, my hunch paid off. Petra was here. I thought Leila was you, but she hadn’t seen my markings, and it appeared like she was the failed Nephilim download. I didn’t know he had step-daughter. I was working on a way to exterminate Petra with little attention when she attacked you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you knew my father from the start?” I placed a hand on the skin of his knee where it showed underneath the ripped fabric.

  He sighed as the pain relief hit and tilted his head back on the couch, exposing his neck and square jawline. “I couldn’t trust you. But after spending more time with you and learning that you didn’t know who you were, that changed. I knew your father would come back for you and I couldn’t let him take you. It wasn’t right. But I guess it all worked out, and you used the witch’s knowledge to glue my broken pieces back together. Thank you, by the way. You have no idea how… whole I feel.”

  My cheeks heated. “I didn’t use The Book of the Dead, or witchcraft. It was just something I did because it felt right.”

  “I knew it. Marc was wrong about you. A Soul-Eater can’t do what you did. They absorb souls. They don’t manipulate others. Their skill is a one way street. You have something special, Roo.” He placed his hand over mine on his leg and squeezed. “But don’t tell anyone. Please. Not even Marc. Not until we know more about it. It could put you in danger.”

  “Doesn’t he already know what I did to you?”

  “He doesn’t know you facilitated it. He thinks it was proximity and timing. Just keep it to yourself until we figure out who you were. This war is bigger and deadlier than you realize. We only know what we’re told by the Watchers. We could be in some giant science experiment for all we know. So I’m going with my instincts which tell me that you and I are made of the same thing and for some reason, I feel like I know you. I can’t explain it, but I trust you.”

  “Yeah, about that…” I shifted uncomfortably on the coffee table. My instinct was to tell Cash what Petra had said. “I…” I felt movement in the corner of the room and clamped my jaw shut.

  Marc’s naked, teenaged version, solidified inside a shimmering mirage. He wore nothing but an incorrigible grin and bounced eagerly with excitement.

  Cash sat up, deadly straight, when he felt my hand tense. “What is it?” he asked, voice low.

  “Marc.”

  His fingers relaxed, and he let go.

  “Mate, I know who you are,” Marc stated as he punch-danced across the room. His cockney accent was thicker in his younger form.

  “Put some clothes on, Marc,” I said.

  He watched me brazenly as he manifested skinny, cropped jeans and a baggy Hawaiian shirt. He wore expensive looking loafers—sans socks, of course—and a tan fedora hat. All he needed was a pair of uncool reading glasses, or a waxed mustache to complete the hipster look.

  “How do you do that?” I asked.

  He tapped the side of his nose. “Love, it would be like trying to explain what air feels like to a fish.” He spun around, giving me a show. His godly eyes sparkled. “What about these threads, yeah? Pulled a fit chick last night at the cricket wearing this.”

  “You were at the cricket while we were fighting for our lives?” I balked.

  “Of course.”

  “You were saying?” Cash interrupted.

  “Right. Yes. I was saying.” He looked at Cash and paled. “Your markings are fading.” He jabbed a finger at me. “What have you done? It’s bad enough yours have disappeared completely, but you’re taking his too? You need to stay away from him, love. There’s no telling what else you’re draining.” He nudged me with his finger and his energy spiked. “Bloody parasite. This man’s too important for you to be interfering with, yeah?”

  “Wha—? Ouch.” Marc poked me again. “Hey!” I jumped away from the jabbing finger and eyed off Cash’s markings. They did seem lighter, like a faded picture book. “You think I did that?” My words trembled. “On purpose?”

  Marc stepped between us and lifted Cash’s tattered shirt.

  “Hey.” Cash swatted Marc’s hands away. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” The sarcasm was a new addition to the Cash repertoire, and so was the lazy English. He shuffled away from Marc’s prying hands and asked more firmly, “Who am I, Marc?”

  “You sure you want me to say it in front of her, mate?�
�� Marc jerked his head my way.

  “You can say anything you need to say in front of her.”

  “But her father’s told his House she’s agreed to ally with him and assume her royal responsibilities—if you know what I mean. The word’s all over the Ludus.” He gave Cash a redundant, meaningful look.

  Cash frowned. “Is this true?”

  “I said something like that, but it’s not like I’ll go through with it. I agreed because it would buy me time to come with you home, and to figure out a way out of it. What’s the big deal, anyway? We have six months together, right?”

  “Just tell me,” Cash said to Marc.

  Marc peeked over his shoulder at me, then turned back to Cash and lowered his voice. “Your markings led to the Queen’s inner circle. Someone with dominion over the whole Empire. That’s why the map covered so much of your body. It won’t take long to figure out who. We just find out who in the inner circle went missing around the time of your earliest past-life memory.”

  “You mean you still don’t know?” Cash sounded strained.

  “Uh… no. But I’ve got the Queen’s office on it, and I’m doing everything I can. Don’t fret, we’ll find out before they do, yeah?”

  There was something they weren’t telling me, and it affected Cash deeply. He let his head fall heavily into his hands.

  “I know who you are,” I said quietly. “Petra said the first witch, Eve, split your soul for revenge because you were the one who forced them all out of Paradise… or cut their ties, I can’t remember exactly.” I turned to Marc. “Does that mean anything to you?” Did I have to tell about him being the Queen’s lover, or did they already deduce?

  Cash shook his head, but Marc’s face turned white and flickered between his older and younger self.

  “It can’t be.” Marc licked his lips, his aura zig-zagged and, in a snap, he assumed his older version. His voice deepened. “We’d all hoped, but even the Queen had given up. She hasn’t spoken to us in years. She… she was devastated when you went missing. We all thought you were dead.”

  Marc paced through the room. He muttered to himself as he strode back and forth.

  “Marc,” Cash yelled and winced at the volume in his voice. “For the love of Christ. Just finish already.”

  Marc stopped. “You’re the Queen’s first commander, the enforcer. On Earth, some called you the Archangel Michael, or Orion the Hunter. You were actually Orion’s Hunter. The Empire is made up of a group of constellations—Orion among them. That was your home.” He turned to me to clarify then went back to Cash. “Your job was to hunt down traitors to the Queen and deny them entry back into her kingdom. The Queen was so distraught over what her son had done to her creation that she sent the deluge—you—and wiped half the population from the planet. You hunted down every last abomination and traitorous soul and cut their connection to our world. Then you removed the ingredient they needed to evolve past the confines of this planet.”

  Marc focused his attention on me. “He did that to everyone, including the Watchers—Watchers are Seraphim stranded on this planet, love. Your dad is one of them, pet, a military dignitary from Ursa Major Constellation. He never trusted the Queen, his sister-in-law. So he was among the delegates that had come here to assess the planet’s safety before allowing his people access. Then he got stuck. He thinks it was a trap so she could conquer more of his territory. He’s not a happy man. If anyone attacks the planet for the sake of a few delegates, there will be a war like never before.”

  He spoke to Cash again. “Nobody knows how to reverse the divide, except the Queen and perhaps you. There were rumors she’d left something in The Book of the Dead, but nothing definitive has surfaced yet. If they find out who you are, they’ll torture you until they find the truth.”

  Holy moly, I was in deep. My father was the Queen’s brother-in-law—making the Queen some sort of great aunt. So the Prince must be my cousin. And Cash was…

  Cash was in pain. He grabbed his middle, hunched over, trembling. His skin took on a glossy hue. His teeth rattled and his breath came out in sharp stutters.

  “Cash, are you okay?” I asked.

  “Mate, you don’t look good.” Marc whirled on me. “What do we do?”

  “I’m not sure. His body is adjusting to the thousands of past lives it’s been missing. It could also be the pain of another soul, squeezing in beside two others.”

  I slid onto the couch beside Cash, placing one hand at the base of his neck and the other on his bare arm. After a few minutes, his trembling subsided, and he leaned on me heavily, breathing hard.

  “We need to get you showered, fed and back to bed,” I said. “That’s enough talking for today.”

  “No. There’s too much to do. We need to book flights, arrange transport of Tommy’s body,” Cash mumbled. “Get me a phone, I can make a few calls.”

  “Leave it to me, mate.” Marc said. “You just rest up. I’ll have someone contact you within twenty-four hours. In the meantime, I’ll do a bit of poking around, see what I can find out about this Eve character. There’s a chance the Queen will speak to me if I see her in person. I’m over due to return some souls, anyway. It may be a few weeks before you see me again.” He pointed a look at me. “Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be off the grid.” He sauntered out of the room.

  I rolled my eyes at Cash then remembered he couldn’t see me. “We’ll take the Jeep back to your place and start packing,” I began.

  Marc reappeared with a kitchen knife and pointed it at my heart. “I want you to swear, on your blood and your immortal soul, that you won’t tell anyone about the origins of our mate here. That includes everything you’ve heard come out of my mouth today, yeah?”

  “Yes, of course,” I said.

  Marc twiddled the knife in front of me and then turned the hilt toward me. “Show me. Blood pact.”

  I took the knife. “Um, I don’t get it.”

  “Marc, there’s no need for that,” Cash said. “If it wasn’t for her, I’d still have separate souls—we can trust her.”

  Marc turned to Cash. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean, we can trust her.”

  “Well, if it’s all the same to you, mate, I’d rather be certain,” he said to Cash. Then to me, “Use it, and swear.”

  I was so over the palm-slicing. I did it anyway and watched the blood well. The wound closed leaving a red slim puddle along my flesh. “I swear, I’ll only speak to the people in this room about Cash’s origins until a time comes that permission is granted. If I break this oath, may my immortal soul be doomed to regress into a puddle of amoeba.” I turned to Marc with an eyebrow lifted. “Is that good enough for you?”

  “A little over the top, love, but I’ll guess it’ll do. Cheerio.” He saluted and dematerialized.

  Chapter 36

  Tie up loose ends, my father had said. I didn’t know how hard that would be until I arrived at the cottage with my stomach in knots. How would I deal with Tommy’s belongings? I wanted to grieve for him, but didn’t know how—technically, he was still alive. I’d already spoken to Joe about taking personal leave from The Cauldron, I just needed to check on my friends.

  I kept my turbulent emotions to myself and concentrated on fussing over Cash. He trusted me. He was fast becoming one of the few people I trusted too, and I didn’t want to disappoint him again.

  After his initial resistance to help, he finally conceded after tripping up the front steps. I walked him to the shower and then left him to his own devices while I cooked the only thing in the cupboard—canned spaghetti on toast. It felt good to have a purpose and, when Cash emerged all glistening and clean, wearing a baggy shirt and track pants, I fed him and sent him to bed with a cool compress on his head. Marc had arranged our flights for later that night, so I had packing to do.

  In my room, I donned a pair of comfortable jeans, a black blouse and slipped on some shoes. As I packed, I tried not to think about the fact that Cash and my father we
re on opposing sides of the celestial cold-war.

  Marc had confirmed Petra’s words, and they nagged at me. Cash had been the one who’d cut the ties between Earth and the Empire. My father was a Watcher—a god stuck on this planet, unable to participate in the Game. If the Watchers found out who Cash was, they’d torture him and my father would try to use me to do it.

  Over my dead body.

  I slammed the suitcase and bent to zip it when my foot kicked something with a clink. I looked under the bed.

  My magic key—Kitty’s apartment key. It kept turning up.

  I stared at its dusty shape on the wooden floorboard, then picked it up and jammed it into my pocket. Then, bundling my long red tresses into a ponytail, I tiptoed to Tommy’s room where Cash slept soundly. I quietly collected bits and pieces to stow in his bag. There wasn’t a lot. I turned to leave and spotted Tommy’s camera dangling from the wardrobe handle.

  I lifted the strap off with my finger, sat down in the hallway and turned it on. I snooped through his photos. He was talented. There were a few artistic night shots at the food festival, with twinkling lights in the background and happy people with glasses in their hands. I delved deeper and found the selfie of the two of us in the bed. He looked so happy. Me? I looked tired. Tears stung my eyes. I inhaled and exhaled shakily through my mouth then kept flicking.

  The further back I went, the more pictures of myself I found. The shots were always zoomed-in to capture my expressions, but he must have been at quite a distance because I’d never noticed him. One in particular caught my attention. It was a close up of me standing in the sun: eyes closed, small smile, wind whipping my brown and sun-bleached hair, the collar still around my neck. It had been the day of Petra’s first attack. He’d been secretive about his photos that day, and had tried to bribe me. He would have shown me if I went on a date with him.

  I wiped my eyes, turned off the camera and put it in the suitcase. Even though Tommy lived on, in a way, it would never be the same. I silently went about my work, packing the clean clothes and ditching the dirty ones. I was ruthless. The sound of Cash’s rhythmic breathing was comforting as I went about my duties. I dragged out the last piece of discarded clothing from under the bed and a small box dropped to the floor. It was wrapped in newspaper with “Probie” written the top. I sat at the edge of the bed and slowly peeled back the wrapper.