Self preservation kicked in, and many of them went into hiding, many ran for the star-gate.
And the strange part of it was, through the chaos, I could see the emissaries from other quadrants of the Empire watching with a smirk on their faces from a safe distance, almost as if they were unafraid, as if they knew. They wanted the peace experiment to fail because if it failed, the Queen was not fit to rule and she could be challenged. There were those that wanted the prime piece of real estate called Earth for themselves.
This was a coup.
A few Seraphim gathered their belongings and scurried toward the dock where the enormous star-gate would take them home. Cowards.
A creature caught up to me, gnashing its black teeth, latching onto my leg through my uniform. I kicked it off. Pain seared up my body. I swept out my right arm, sword igniting a trail to cut through its demented body. The stench of flesh and hair rose into the air, tainting it thick with disease. The twisted human dropped soullessly to the ground, a steaming pile of forgotten atoms. My sword hummed and crackled in victory. Another animal thudded towards me, with heaving breaths, loud and wet. I manifested a twin sword in my other hand and spun my body, using the momentum to swing both swords in unison, slicing through the body and the head, splitting it into gruesome pieces. I knew the onslaught would keep coming until either I was dead, the Prince was dead, or there were no beings left to turn. And I was tiring. Sometimes, as I laid waste to the mindless animals around me, I would see a flicker of life in their black eyes. A sparkle of sentience. And I would hesitate, a flash of doubt crashing through my mind. My power would flicker like a disturbed current lighting a globe.
Why was I doing this? For Her?
For the Empire?
For the goodness of all Seraphim and human kind?
A feeling of sickness rose from the pit of my stomach.
I was tired.
My arms drooped to the floor, muscles aching, swords dimming.
In the distance, through the mud caused by the black bloody rain that had sprayed from the cut down creatures, the Prince stalked towards me, a feral smile on his face.
Cold realization stole over me. I could end it all in one fell swoop if I ended the Prince. Ended him completely and entirely so he could never return to taint the world anew. There weren’t many creatures left, only a few recent creations, and the Prince tired, too. The last reserves of my heated power built inside me, swelling at the idea in approval. It was ready. I was ready.
But if I died, there was no one left to protect the star-gate. The way home was compromised. With the last of the creatures scuttling behind their master, I knew I could take them if I attacked now. Or I could deal with the gate and then take my chances.
My inner power surged and the fiery sword in both hands flared. I whirled and cut down the last remaining bodies in my way, then ran for the gate.
It was a large stone like square that had a frame extending to a distant point, like the bottom of a hollowed out fallen pyramid. The entry was from the bottom, the square.
Two technicians dialed while a small group of Seraphim stood by, frantically checking their luggage, ready to evacuate.
When I arrived, I said nothing. I shut down the dial-up sequence. When the technicians protested, I cut their innocent heads off and let them drop and roll. When other Seraphim opened their mouths to call for help, I navigated the computer’s mainframe to remove all approved biological users, all except one: The Queen.
By her blood only could she open the door to their world. And I safely had her removed from this plane.
I placed my palms on the dashboard and released my fire. The smell of smoking wires and chemicals scorched my nose. Nobody would open that gate any time soon.
“What have you done?” Alkeimon growled from behind me.
I whirled and faced him, swords at the ready on either side of me. “You’re hereby quarantined to this planet by decree of the Queen. You will remain so until further notice.”
“Open it.”
“I can’t.”
Behind me, shadows moved. Other Seraphim, finally prompted into action, surrounded me. These weren’t alchemists, these were the emissaries, the soldiers from our neighboring star-systems who had come to investigate the worthiness of the planet before allowing their delegates access to the living library.
“Open it,” a deep voice said from behind him. I shot a glance over my shoulder and recognized a man from the brutal Ursa Constellation.
“It has been destroyed,” I said.
A roar of defiance broke from the Prince’s lungs as he lunged towards me. Together with his evil minions, the Prince swarmed on me and took me down. They held my arms flayed wide.
Alkeimon leaned in until his dark and twisted face was all I could see. “Then fix it.”
I spat at him.
The response was a crack to my right arm as it was broken at the shoulder by the Prince. I grit my teeth at the pain. It didn’t matter. I’d done my job. The Queen was safe. The Empire was safe.
“You can all rot here as far as I’m concerned,” I said thorough a clenched jaw. Heated flame licked up my broken arm and swelled in my body, igniting my insides, increasing in pressure, a volcano about to erupt.
Alkeimon broke my other arm. “Fix it.”
I laughed through the searing white heat. “Even if I could, the gate will only work for one person. And that is not me.”
“You filthy man-whore,” spat the brat Prince.
“Come closer and say that.” Although I lay broken, I was not beaten. My power swelled and bubbled beneath my skin, ready for one last swing, one to end anything in its way. “Come closer, murderer,” I whispered. “And I will tell you who can open it.”
That’s right. I know your secret.
Alkeimon’s eyes widened momentarily in recognition, then he narrowed his gaze and took me around the throat. My skin seared where our touch met, but the Prince ignored the pain if he felt any.
“That’s enough,” a gruff voice said from somewhere beyond. All I could see was the diseased eyes of a sick man staring down at me. “I said, that’s enough.”
Alkeimon’s grip loosened slightly. Who was this man that he could order a prince around?
I realized in that moment that the Prince had not been working alone. He was being controlled. This deception and treason ran far deeper than I had anticipated. Panic twisted my building power into something else, something that took a life of its own, something that ran on instinct.
I exploded. Every molecule inside me separated, taking anything nearby with me into the ether. But while I somehow knew I wasn’t living anymore, I felt a sense of peace, a sense I didn’t have to be that soldier anymore. I could go a separate way.
I awoke in my bed at the Bed and Breakfast, the sheets smoking under my touch. The smell of smoldering cotton mixed with sweat in my olfactory. My latent power had activated and was reaching for the surface. Thankfully I hadn’t set the house on fire.
I sat up in the darkness, heart pounding loud, and swung my legs off the side. Images were still raw in my mind. I hated myself for all that murder, and I hated the Queen for making me do it, but most of all, I hated that part of me enjoyed it—the violence.
At least this time I hadn’t hurt anyone.
Alone.
No Roo to harm, to hug, or to keep me calm.
She was the Queen.
I didn’t run from that idea as much as I should have. Perhaps because she was the part of her I loved, not the part that unleashed me on the world. No, this was the woman who, after I’d almost killed her, pressed against my spine and tightened her embrace. She told me it would be okay.
I forced myself to relax and took a deep breath.
I would make it okay.
The Game of Gods series continues with a novel told from the point of view of Roo in Playing God.
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Playing God
For my middle sis, Nat. She introduced me to Urban Fantasy. Enough said.
Chapter 1
A Customs Officer stared at me.
I stared back, taking a moment to sense his aura and fish for understanding. It was steady, sharp, and I got the vibe he wasn’t to be trifled with.
“Business or pleasure, Miss”—he glanced at my passport in his hands—“La Roux Urser?”
“Roo.” I corrected him, and… good question. I had no clue. Jed, Cash and I were in Sydney to register for the Game. Seeing as humans had no idea gods existed, let alone played a game using them as pawns, I couldn’t exactly say that.
“Okay, then, Miss Roo, business or pleasure?”
“Ah…”
“Business.” Cash nudged me aside and showed his passport. “Here for a convention.”
“Are you her sponsor?” The Customs Officer asked Cash.
“Yes.”
“Please fill out her customs declaration.”
“I can do that,” I said and went to intercept the card the officer handed to Cash. The officer freaked out. He snatched it back and looked askance at me before handing it to Cash.
“While you’re filling that out,” he said to Cash, “please give me your license and registration.”
Was he serious? I could fill out my own card. Sheesh.
Cash handed over his special license that proved he was, in fact, male and hence immune to witch possession. It also listed me as his female charge.
The man scanned it, waited for something to flash across his computer screen and then indicated to the black rubber band around my ankle. “The GPS.”
“Active,” Cash said.
“Please scan the receiver.”
The man passed a device to Cash who used it to scan my ankle. Something else flashed on the screen before Cash returned the device.
“Good,” the officer said. “Do you accept full responsibility for this female and will ensure that she sticks to the Australian protocols against witches?”
“Yes.”
“You understand the repercussions of failure to uphold these protocols? Could you please recite the maximum punishment under Australian law to prove your understanding?”
Cash’s eyebrow lifted. “You did read the occupation on my license, didn’t you?”
The officer glanced down at the card in his hand. His eyes widened. “Sorry. Please sign here, and here.”
Cash grunted and then signed the declaration presented to him. I guessed being a government sanctioned witch hunter with diplomatic immunity was good for some things.
The officer blushed. “Thank you. Have a nice day, sir. Next.”
Bristling over the complete disregard for my opinion, I followed my two companions through the bustling airport to where our luggage was being unloaded to a conveyor belt. The new laws against women were still hard to swallow.
“That’s yours, Roo,” Jed said and retrieved my bag.
“Thanks.” I smiled at my old probation officer, now friend, as he returned it to me. “I owe you one.”
“You owe me more than one.”
I dug into my jeans and fished out pocket change. “How about two dollars and fifty cents… and”—I slipped off my baseball cap—“my super comfy hat.”
“How about I put it on your tab?” He laughed but took the cap and put it on backwards, making his ears stick out more.
Cash ignored our easy banter and retrieved his luggage from the conveyor. He slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and marched to the exit. Mr. Broody, at it again. He was the only person in the world who could hide his aura from me, which meant I had to guess where this particular flavor of brood originated. Perhaps the twenty-four-hour plane ride, his repetitive lecturing on the Game rules, or maybe, just maybe, it was because he felt bad about lying to me in Houston.
Jed and I jogged after him, catching him before the exit. When the glass doors whooshed open, the summer air slammed into us, thick and stifling. I squinted into the afternoon sun and checked for the taxi rank. It wasn’t far. A few meters away.
Cash handed his bag to Jed. “I’ll go hire a vehicle.”
“I can pay for a cab,” I said and gestured at the taxi rank.
Arrogance shadowed the fleeting surprise and hurt on Cash’s face. Not used to being turned down. I didn’t feel bad. An airport full of bustling people was also rife with erratic auras, and they irritated me. I didn’t have time for brood. Also, relying on the man who’d almost quit on me a few days ago was a mistake, and by quit, I meant the kind of quit where you ended your life. He said it was because of his unpredictable, volatile and unsafe nature. Looking at him now, with the tendons in his jaw flexing, shoulder muscles tensed, eyes unreadable, I believed him.
He was a man people couldn’t help watching. Not because of his incredible manly physique or his handsome face. It was the predatory spark in his dual colored eyes as his gaze swept the room. I used to think the coloring was due to his fractured soul. Perhaps his body didn’t know which past life to believe. He remembered thousands of them. Some gave him the instincts of a warrior, honed from infinite battles in lifetimes of war, others gave him nightmares. He was always vigilant. Always ready.
The unspeakable things he dreamed of haunted his eyes every morning.
My hand fluttered to my throat when a phantom echo of pain coaxed a memory out. A few weeks ago, I had woken him from a nightmare. His response was to crush the first thing in his path—my neck. Lucky for me I had the supernatural healing of a demi-god otherwise it would have been my life that ended. He wouldn’t speak about his nightmares. I didn’t blame him for that and he didn’t scare me. It was the lies that undid me.
My heart squeezed. The frozen stalemate we were in felt like a prison. I much rather liked it when we had our arms passionately wrapped around each other. I sighed—fat chance of that happening again—and dragged my luggage in front of Jed whose eyes darted between me and Cash.
I caught Jed’s gaze. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
The heat of Cash’s stare burned as I returned to the terminal to find a bank teller machine. I found one a few feet from the entrance and joined the line behind a family of four. The two kids, a young boy and a girl, licked their ice-creams and laughed over the chocolate dropping on the boy’s pants. It appeared to be a bathroom mishap. The boy tugged his mother’s shirt and relayed the joke. She tried to wipe the stains away, but smeared them. The little boy said something else, and the entire family laughed. The sound was infectious. I smiled along with them and thought it must be nice to be so innocent and carefree with your loved ones. Something a demi-god like me would never have.
I was put on this planet for one reason only: to play the Game. I was here, I had the soul of a god, therefore I must play the Game or leave. It was a fact I still tried to grasp.
Cash had explained for the millionth time while we traveled from America; A god’s soul downloaded from the intergalactic Seraphim Empire into an earthly body produced by mixed breeding between a god and a human. The original Seraphim’s life memories were wiped clean for the start of each Player’s time here on Earth. Most had no clue they were supernatural until their abilities manifested around adulthood. Then they were registered for the Game at a Ludus Institution, trained and tested. Thanks to my witch-like abilities, they all thought I was a witch, not a Player, so they’d ignored me. Now the truth had been discovered, I was one of them, I had to pass the trials within the next six months. Then I could join the rest of the demi-gods as they played amongst the humans, manipulating, plotting, advancing themselves in society all without revealing their powers to the world. There were so many rules my brain ached. I was already forgetting everything. All I knew for sure was that having a family of my own was forbidden. The only time we were allo
wed to breed was to make new bodies for new Seraphim souls to inhabit. I was still a little hazy on the exact details of the breeding program, but I knew my father wanted me involved. Not if I could help it.
The gaping hole inside me grew as I watched the perfect family walk away, still laughing. I inserted my card into the machine and emptied my account. I latched onto the money with surprising desperation. It was all I had left.
My last few dollars.
The words churned in my mind. My last few dollars. During our two weeks in America, I’d refused to rely on Cash’s millions and had used all my savings from working at The Cauldron for food, clothes, transport and my ticket home to Australia. I did not want to be beholden to anyone. Cash hadn’t been happy. To him, the amount was a drop in his bank account ocean, but to me, it meant everything. It meant I had control of my life.
A snicker in my mind.
The Others, the souls I’d absorbed, were slowly making me insane. They had something to say about everything. A snide laugh here, a derogatory comment there.
Control is an illusion, they said.
I refused to believe that.
I shoved the fifty dollars into my pocket and returned to my companions. Jed nodded from where he stood leaning against a bench outside. I smiled briefly and hoped he didn’t catch the worry in my eyes, so averted my gaze and surveyed the busy street.
“Where’s Cash?” I asked.
“Hiring a vehicle. Said to stay put.”
“But I wanted to pay for the taxi.” I sat on the edge of my suitcase and considered ignoring his instructions but decided my rebellion was a little over the top. Despite being completely ridiculous, human law said females had to stay with their male sponsors to avoid possession by a witch. Stupid. Yes, witches only possessed females, and if they wanted to do it, they would find a way. Still, an arrest by the human police was a complication I did not need. I shoved my money back in my pocket and set to waiting.
The Game of Gods: Series Box Set Page 46