‘I don’t know how you keep up.’ T.G. Master laughed as Stan twirled and danced his way out of the room.
‘Me either,’ he called back.
CHAPTER SEVEN: YELLOW
It was a strange feeling to be eager to get to work. One he couldn’t remember feeling since he’d left school and got his first job. He was so eager he almost left the house an hour early. Needing the time pointed out as if he were a small child. He returned to the living room for a coffee and a very small slice of carrot cake. Apparently, that was okay on his diet. He didn’t like carrot cake as much as cream cakes.
Hugging his wife, he told her everything was going to get better; leaving her looking surprised but happy as he skipped out to the car.
The guys were surprised at his eagerness to do the first patrol. This way he would get the first break. He was already better at sticking to the rules of this game than his diet. When his break came around he grabbed his bag and went to lounge on the comfier chairs and heat up his tea.
He read previous players’ stories as if they were playing the game now. But he was almost too desperate for the next task to read them properly.
Task: Convince someone to give you something of theirs that you want, for keeps. You are not allowed to pay for it or bargain. It must be given willingly and it must be something you genuinely want. Size and worth are irrelevant.
He wanted Bernie’s watch. Oliver liked it, his own was cheap and plain. He was going to try to convince his co-worker to give him the watch before his shift ended. He finished his food before heading to the monitor room. No matter how many times he tried Bernie just wouldn’t budge. His daughter bought it for him before she went to university. Some family joke about him always missing things because he forgot to check the clock. Oliver determined he would get it the following night before midnight came around.
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ he was muttering as he got in after his next shift.
‘What is it?’ his wife asked as they passed on her way to work. They hardly spent any time together these days.
‘Oh nothing, just stubbed my toe.’ He kissed her cheek.
‘Bye,’ she called.
‘Shit, bollocks, shit!’ he dumped his stuff and dragged his feet to the kitchen. He wasn’t out of the game but he’d only got five points for trying and failing.
He would make hot chocolate and read the next task which looked more interesting anyway.
CHAPTER EIGHT: MAËL
Mike snorted himself awake. A thin stream of light from the street light on the corner casting shadows. He was sure he could hear crying and see a figure rocking back and forth in the corner. Long dark curly hair. But when he sat up it was gone. Joy was snoring softly beside him, wearing the oldest t-shirt in the apartment and looking perfect anyway.
He got up and took a clean glass from the cupboard above the sink. Filled it with the filtered water. They say in witchcraft it must be blessed, this had been filtered overnight on the window ledge by the full moon, it was the easiest way without calling on a goddess. He added a drop of Amber essential oil. Then took a large white egg from the basket and began to roll it over his head, down his neck, and in between his shoulder blades, across his chest, his palms, and the souls of his feet. With a swift tap, he cracked the egg and tipped the contents in the water. Glancing across to the bed to make sure he hadn’t woken Joy.
Blood pooled on the surface before dripping down through the clear water. As the blood made its way to the bottom tiny bubbles made their way up and burst on the surface, filling the air with a sulphurous smell. There had been a Demon here, and it did mean him harm, but his protections were working. Mostly. It shouldn’t have been able to get in at all. One must have been compromised. He would need to check in the morning – after Joy left for work.
In the meantime, he’d make coffee. He had no problem with them knowing where he was, or most of them at least. So long as they accepted he was out and that they needed to leave him and Joy alone.
With only a few hours till sunrise, he watched the dark corners, his outline hard against the muted orange light streaming in from outside. They should know he was awake and watching. He’d take no chances with Joy there. He turned to look at her, sleeping haphazardly. Muttering in her dream. He would keep her happy.
Even if that meant killing Demons.
CHAPTER NINE: MAËL
The night passed uneventfully. She woke and stretched lazily. She had one of those bodies, curvy in the right places, lean in the others. It was a pleasure to watch her just moving.
When she realised he wasn’t beside her she glanced around the room.
‘You’re up early, what time is it? Has my alarm gone off?’ as she spoke it began its irritating rhythm and she laughed, rolling over to turn it off. ‘Guess not.’
‘You want coffee? Some breakfast maybe?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, that would be great. I’m just going to jump in the shower. Must have been warm last night.’ She didn’t see his silent groan. The Demon Cola had been working its way through her system.
‘I’ll make pancakes,’ he called. She needed something to soak up the remnants of the drink.
The hours he’d spent awake, vigilant, were starting to tell. And he was clumsy as he worked. It would be a while before the faint noises from other apartments began. It was peaceful. He made a fresh pot of coffee and swore to himself, once she’d gone to work, he’d repair the symbols. Then he would get a few hours’ sleep.
‘So why did you get up early?’ her hands were in her hair as she tied it up.
‘I had a bad dream and couldn’t get back to sleep. I got up and made a drink, might have dozed off on the sofa.’ He’d just lied and he frowned, placing the plate of pancakes on the breakfast bar. ‘Or maybe I just sat awake,’ he amended.
‘I kinda like being this side of the counter.’ She grinned.
She worked at one of those 24-hour diners, but most often she got the morning or the late shift. She had no kids and swore she didn’t mind. Besides, she liked having the streets to herself when she left for work.
‘Maybe I’ll have to serve you breakfast more often.’ He grinned back.
‘Mmm good idea,’ she said around a mouthful.
CHAPTER TEN: MAËL
The symbols were simple, and most people had access to them. They worked well enough on their own for simple things. The real magic happened when they were combined in specific designs.
Out in the corridor, he could see how the boxes of books had scraped away part of one design when they were delivered, and voided it of all magic. Glad for the quiet he repainted the symbol. It had to be done in one complete stroke, or it had no power. And to make it potent he had to do it in his own blood. Luckily he kept a vial or two for that very reason. And a peculiar kind of brush, not unlike those used in Japan. He had no idea why his own blood worked but when he was a little Demon at his mother’s heels, she’d told him his blood was special. After he’d cut himself and she’d shown him blood magic to make him feel better.
He’d wished to meet his father, whom he’d never known. Later that day a man came to the door. He was fascinating to watch. The way he moved was smooth and unrestricted as if it was all a dance. Mother seemed to become the partner in the dance to his childlike eyes. And she had allowed the man to give Mike a gift. Mike hadn’t paid much attention to their conversation after that, the candy in the bag tasted unlike anything he’d ever tried before.
It was only later, after the man had gone, that he realised his mother kept giving him worried glances.
‘What’s the matter, mother?’ he asked, knowing there was a strong possibility he was about to get in trouble.
‘What did you wish for baby?’ she asked.
‘To meet my father.’
‘Oh.’
‘Was that man my father?’ Ii was an innocent question but she flew into such a rage, things were thrown, smashed. He curled into a ball on the very end of the old brown sofa and watched wide eyed
. Certain that it was his father. Terrified of his mother. He’d never seen her like that before. He didn’t understand the words she was saying, or if she was even speaking the same language anymore. She was so mad. And he thought it was at him. But later that night, when she’d taken a tonic and calmed herself down, she explained why he shouldn’t be so eager to meet his father.
It wasn’t until he comforted her on her death bed that she finally told him the truth. His father was the King of Hell. And it was in his best interests to keep his distance. Nothing good could come of telling anyone.
The night she died he’d expected, as he had with the few animals he’d seen die, that her white spirit, her beautiful soul, would seep out of her body and rise through the ceiling and beyond. But it didn’t happen like that.
A creature, dark as night and oily bright, crawled in the window. Larger than a human and smiling, with teeth sharp and white. Tiny wings adorned its back. The tail whipped and danced. Eyes wide and inquisitive it sniffed at Mike, long tongue darting out to taste the air.
Then, it glided and slithered to where his mother lay, placed its wide, smiling, mouth over hers and sucked. Eyes flickering shut as if in a blissful moment, she seemed to deflate. Her dead body arching up as the Demon began to pull away. A thick midnight blue mist swelled from his mother and flowed out of her gaping mouth. Her dead body dropped back to the mattress as its entirety came free.
Mike gazed in fascination. It was beautiful, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It emanated warmth and love towards him. Allowing Mike and his mother’s soul to gaze at one another for a few minutes. Then drawing out her hand, the creature began to guide her to the window. As it passed it placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. A brief contact he barely noticed as he watched his mother for the last time. As it passed the sill he darted from his chair to continue watching.
The shadows below swallowed them up. He looked back at the empty shell of his mother, straightened her hair, and went to fetch the nurse.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: YELLOW
Task: Money is your heart’s desire, your passion, your need. Perhaps you could attempt to get a pay rise?
As he was mowing the lawn he realised it didn’t say he had to get money. Only that it had to be his heart’s desire. As soon as he finished the lawn he went into the house and turned on the computer. He was going to check his bank account. He had been saving for so long he was certain he would have enough by now. Except for some reason he didn’t have any money in his bank. He blinked and refreshed the page.
Still nothing.
He checked his savings account.
Completely wiped out.
The history showed everything had been paid until a final entry made that morning at 6 am. All the money had been transferred to an account he didn’t recognise.
He rang the bank and spoke to a man named Stanley. They would do everything they could if sir would just calm down. They froze his accounts, which he thought was a laugh since there was nothing in them to freeze. The bank assured him it was an isolated incident and they’d get back to him. He didn’t give a shit about anyone else.
He kicked a few things. Hurled something at a wall. Punched the door, although not too hard. He had bills to pay! Food to buy! A job to get to. He checked his wallet. Okay, there was a few quid in there. He rang his wife’s mobile but it went straight to voicemail, dammit why was she always on the phone? Next, he tried her office. The secretary answered – shocked he didn’t already know she’d handed her notice in.
What the hell was going on? A sudden burst of speed sent him upstairs into the spare bedroom where he hid his super-secret stash of money. He’d been saving to get himself something special. But that wouldn’t be happening either. The jar was empty. A sob escaped his lips.
He tried her mobile again, not expecting an answer. He knew they’d been drifting apart. They rarely saw each other, but he hadn’t thought it had come to this. To her taking all his money and just walking out. In fact, he’d been planning a cruise early next year. When they could spend, some time reinvigorating their relationship. Fucking bitch. How could she do this? How could she take everything? He’d been good to her, he’d never cheated, always spent money on her, didn’t spend too many nights out with his mates, and never came home drunk. She was the centre of his universe. Until she’d taken all his money. All of it.
He sat against the single bed kept for visitors that never stayed over.
‘Fucking bitch,’ he muttered.
The phone rang.
‘Hello?’ he hoped it was her.
‘Sir we can get some of your money back but not all of it. The majority was withdrawn two hours ago by the account holder. They took it in cash,’ Stanley told him.
‘How much can you get back?’ He asked.
‘Two hundred and fifty-three pounds twenty sir.’
‘That’s what I spent on her on her birthday the other day,’ he muttered
‘Sir?’
‘Nothing,’ Oliver responded. ‘I thought there was a limit on how much could be removed from an account in one go?’
‘Only at the machines sir. If the account holder comes in with the correct ID, they can take out all the money in the account,’ Stanley said.
‘Oh.’
‘We’re going to investigate further sir but I suspect there’ll be little we can do. The person who did this seems to have been quite clever about it.’
‘She must have had help,’ Oliver told him. ‘She was never that clever.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Stanley didn’t care about his ‘ex-wife’. ‘You do of course have rights and will eventually get all your money back. Would you like me to transfer the two hundred and fifty-three pounds twenty back into your account sir?’
‘Yeah, thanks,’ Oliver said.
That was it, that was all he had, a house he was still paying the mortgage on and two hundred and fifty-three pounds. Fucking bitch. Fucking stupid bitch. Despite how hard he’d worked to get her everything she wanted, it just hadn’t been enough. He deserved better. He sat down and cried his heart out. For the loss of the money, not that bitch. Anxiety overtook anger. His wages didn’t go in for another three weeks and they wouldn’t cover everything.
He went to the computer and searched how to make money quick. He ended up on a gambling site where he soon lost a hundred. Took a huge gamble and put the other hundred on one game. Which, if he won, would double his money.
He lost.
With his last fifty, he invested on a horse running the next day. He had three pounds and twenty pence left. Not even enough for his bus fare for the rest of the week.
Then he had an idea. She hadn’t taken everything, maybe he could sell her stuff. The smile that spread over his face as evening drew in was huge. Everything would be sold by the end of the next day. Everything except that stupid musical dancing doll thing. The bids just kept rolling in, the jewellery was more popular than he’d imagined. Clothes she hadn’t taken, shoes, bags, and hair curling things. She’d left quite a lot. Almost everything in fact. He would make double his money back at least. He smiled a happy smile.
And then he heard the key in the lock.
His phone rang as his wife appeared around the door to say hello. She looked as surprised as he did as he reached for his phone.
‘Hello?’
‘Sir? There was a computer error.’
‘A computer error?’
‘Yes, sir. Your money is still in your account.’ The guy sounded happy. Oliver gave a weak little laugh. ‘Sorry for the inconvenience sir.’
‘Inconvenience.’ He half choked and hung up. ‘Honey, I can explain.’
She hadn’t moved, but her eyes had drifted towards the computer screen. Bids for her treasured possessions ever increasing.
‘It had better be good,’ she told him, dumping her bag on a spare chair. A wrapped present poking out the top. Already on her own phone to her friend Libby, ‘You will not believe what I got home to!’
; It wasn’t good. By the time he’d explained she’d packed a bag and gone to her sister’s. Apparently, the money he’d make would just about cover a divorce lawyer. He was so exhausted by that point he couldn’t be bothered to argue. And a little part of him realised he’d been disappointed she’d come back. She’d taken the money from the not so secret jar to get him what he’d been saving for. Whilst it was on sale. It remained wrapped on the table where she’d dumped it. He didn’t want to open it.
CHAPTER TWELVE: MAËL
The streets were wet, but the skies were a clear unfiltered blue. There was magic in the air, and someone nearby was a witch. He could sense it. He glanced around the almost entirely empty street before continuing to the next bookstore. If they wanted to make themselves known, they would.
The clerk almost snapped his hand off when he mentioned the book. He’d not only heard of the author but met him once, on a team building trip. He was so eager in fact that Mike didn’t have to do anything to get the sale. Other than be regaled by the recounting of the meeting. That took care of the rest of the books sitting in boxes in his apartment.
Despite knowing the next orders would have to be placed with a delay on delivery, he walked into a tiny bookstore. He’d wandered into the older part of town; it felt familiar. Demons lived a lot longer than humans, centuries longer in fact. So, it was possible he’d been here before and it had changed just enough to prevent him from placing the familiarity.
The Soul Game Page 3