The Soul Game

by McQueen, K. T.

  ‘What the fuck?’ he muttered, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel.

  Eyeing the door, he waited for it to come hurtling inwards. When it didn’t he pulled on his discarded swim trunks and went to see what was going on in his bedroom.

  Something hit him on the back of the head. Hard. He went down but he wasn’t out. It might have been better if he had been. A boot to the ribs was followed by one to the head. Then both his wrists were grabbed and he was dragged across the floor, his head still ringing from the blow. Better to wait for it to clear to try to extricate himself. He gave it an experimental shake and was rewarded with another boot to the ribs.

  Music jangled as the elevator took them down to the main floor; the staff barely acknowledging them. He found himself unceremoniously dumped in front of the tall man, whom he just about recognised as the author.

  ‘You’re a piece of scum. The lowest of the low.’ T. G. Master growled. ‘How dare you treat my daughter that way.’

  ‘So, she is your daughter,’ Mike muttered.

  ‘We’ve done everything to include you, to allow you to work for us, to be part of what we’re building. Give you wings of your own. But you’ve got no idea what you’re doing. You’re so…’ he took a moment to think, then spat it at Mike. ‘Human!’

  Mike pushed his way to a kneeling position and wiped the blood from his mouth.

  ‘You’re a fucking disappointment,’ T.G. Master snapped. ‘I thought you and my daughter might form a life bond, that’s why I allowed this ‘connection’ she said you had, despite being underage!’

  ‘What?’ she’s thirty if she’s a day,’ Mike said. Ginger swung an angry foot in his direction, just missing his forearm.

  ‘Which is fine for a human that doesn’t live half as long as we do.’ He shook his head. ‘Your mother did an awful job raising you. No respect. At all. Stupid bitch could have had everything, and she chose to hide.’

  It was perhaps the wrong choice. The darkness, the carefully controlled darkness, so recently brought back under control, exploded in full force. It raised Mike to his feet as if he had actual wings. Those around him took swift steps backward. T.G. Master could go no further than his wicker chair. Mike’s eyes glowed an unhealthy red.

  ‘Your whore of a daughter drugged me to get me into bed. If she hadn’t she would never have had a chance. You probably provided her with the drugs.’ He leaned in closer, the darkness leading; his voice hard and cold. ‘If you ever speak of my mother like that again, I’ll rip you into a thousand pieces and nail each piece, with consecrated nails, throughout every circle of hell.’

  ‘Perhaps I was a little hasty.’ T.G. Master said hands raised in supplication. Scared of the force of darkness in front of him. Aware of the man in pale shirt and trousers at the edge of the crowd. How long had he been there?

  ‘Perhaps you both were,’ Mike told T.G. Master.

  Then Mike grinned. The most wicked grin they’d ever seen, and directed it at Ginger.

  ‘I suspect I have ruined her for all other men.’ Then he turned and walked back to the hotel, his injuries healing as he went, passing the man on the edge of the crowd without any recognition.

  Ginger shivered and smiled, almost imperceptibly.

  ‘Wipe that look off your face or I’ll assume he’s correct,’ snapped T.G. Master to his daughter.

  ‘Sorry father.’ She hung her head but, through hooded lashes, watched Mike leave. Maybe when he’d calmed down she’d give it another shot. He was…well, he was everything a girl could ever desire. Lush was going to be so jealous when she heard the details. Poor girl had to sleep with Greg to get him on side. Father could be such a bore sometimes.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: BLACK

  Around three in the morning she gave up. The book lay abandoned, slipping down between the mattress and wall. She would have to light the log burner, put on some tea, and get warm. It didn’t occur to her this wasn’t the behaviour of someone who wanted to die.

  She pulled a cheap book from the shelf and tore out a handful of pages, the log basket had two small branches in, and they all went into the burner as she nurtured the tiny flame. In the end, she shoved the entire book in, it’s solid mass would burn slower than individual pages and she needed warmth. She just didn’t have the money for fuel. She didn’t have the money for much anymore, she even went to the church for food assistance so she could eat.

  The small camp kettle, filled with fresh water – one of the only luxuries she had in the caravan – went on top of the burner. Tea bags and dried milk at the ready. The log burner had been a later addition to the static caravan when it had been resituated. It had once lived in a caravan park near the beach where the farmer and his young family had spent a few weeks each summer. Now, they were grown, he’d decided to make some money out of it instead. Kelly had a nice arrangement whereby she paid a very small amount of rent and helped with yard work. He did say when harvest came around she could get a few weeks paid work but that was quite a way off.

  The kettle began its faltering whistle and she pulled it off to make a warming mug of tea. The darkness outside crept in with the draft that seeped off the windows. She sat until she warmed up and reboiled the kettle to fill two hot water bottles before going back to bed. The fire would burn itself out before she got up but she had nothing else to fuel it.

  Early the next morning she woke shivering and pulled on her warmest clothes to go collect logs from the copse. It would last a few days before she’d have to hunt for more.

  Surprised when a volunteer from the church turned up with a box of food just as she was putting the last logs in the basket, she smiled when she answered the door.

  ‘Hey Morris, how’re you doing?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m good thanks, just wanted to come check on you. This guy stopped by suggesting it would be a good idea.’ He sounded shy. And despite the entire town being against her, the Church staff and volunteers never mentioned it.

  ‘Oh, yeah he gave me a lift last night.’ She smiled. ‘Do you want to come in?’

  ‘Sure.’ He stepped in and began putting things away in her cupboards. She put the kettle on.

  ‘I brought whatever was left this morning so it’s a bit of a weird collection.’ he held up a packet of dinosaur pasta shells and a tin of lentils. Grinning she let him get on with it as she dropped tea bags into mugs. He came over with a carton of UHT milk.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You really didn’t have to go out of your way, though.’

  ‘It’s no problem. We do a few house calls to help those who can’t get to the church. Obviously, I can’t tell you their names but some of them would shock you,’ he chuckled.

  ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘Maybe you could volunteer some time?’ He suggested, accepting his mug. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’m not sure anyone would want to see me but when I’m sorted I’ll definitely come and do what I can.’ She smiled again.

  She had begun hoping it would all blow over and she could create a normal life for herself again. Something about just reading the book lifted her spirits, maybe it was the way it was written or the overwhelming confidence the author had in the reader.

  ‘If you need to talk to anyone, about anything, just ring the church and we’ll help you find the right person for free.’ He smiled.

  ‘I appreciate that,’ she said.

  The minuscule amount of money the government gave her went into her account today so she would have to go into town to buy toiletries. The Church didn’t provide anything beyond food and basic household supplies.

  Once Malcolm had finished his tea and gone on to his next call she picked up the book. Wondering whether it was lucky somehow, not only had she managed to find all the fuel she needed for the next few days but her cupboards held a week’s worth of food if she was frugal. Curled up in the corner seats surrounding the table, the open curtains letting in bright sunlight and the log burner working to keep her caravan warm, she was al
most comfortable. She sat with a bowl of beans and sausage, spoon feeding herself as she read.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE: MAËL

  Back in his room Mike packed his bag. The suit wasn’t back but he didn’t care, the hotel could post it to him. He would get the first available train home.

  He laughed when he put his hand on the book in his bag. Hell, his darkness had saved his ass for once. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was.

  He didn’t even say goodbye to Greg before he left the hotel; not sure whether his new friend had been in on it or not.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR: ABADDON

  ‘So where do we go from here?’ Stan asked. He’d been notably absent from the trip. Mike had no idea he worked for the company too. But he’d heard about what happened, Dom had nipped into his office as soon as he got back to fill him in.

  ‘I don’t think we should change a thing. The book sales are increasing phenomenally every day. The number of people willing to give up their souls is more than I ever dreamed. Even when it’s written right there in the pages, a clear, concise warning that the reader is gambling with their own soul, they’re still giving it everything. Throwing themselves into it. Failing,’ T.G. Master said. ‘Our only real problem is Mike.’

  ‘It’s not like we can get him to play the game,’ Stan said. ‘And Ginger didn’t have the desired effect on him. By all accounts, he should be enthralled by now.’

  ‘I’m inclined to let nature take its course,’ T.G. Master chuckled into his drink.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Stan frowned, he didn’t always get where the author was going.

  ‘Ginger seems quite determined to have him for herself. I think she’ll try something. She made the darkness surface.’ He rattled the ice in his glass. ‘Man that was scary. I mean I knew it was going to be bad, but… I don’t know, something inside me, something ancient quaked with fear, obedience even. It was all I could do not to drop to my knees and swear my loyalty.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Stan grinned, thinking about the guy he’d brought into the Demon world. Helped stagger home in the early hours and crashed in strangers’ houses because they couldn’t remember where they were staying.

  ‘Yeah, some of the lesser Demons around the edges actually did. Luckily Mike didn’t notice them. They felt really foolish afterwards.’

  ‘I’ll bet they did.’ Stan gestured to the bartender for a refill. ‘You think he’s going to just go back to his normal life?’

  ‘I think he’ll try. He’s hard to keep track of though. We can’t follow him or his father will find out.’

  ‘And we don’t want that.’

  ‘No, we don’t.’ T.G. Master looked at his colleague. ‘Ginger said he left a dark sulphur imprint in the sand where he’d sat. Said he didn’t understand why it had happened. I thought you’d overseen introducing him to the Demon world?’

  ‘I was, but I wasn’t meant to tell him much about what he was. And I wasn’t to explain anything unless it happened whilst I was there, or he told me about it,’ Stan said. ‘There was so much more I could have taught him, but the old men, they didn’t want it that way. Reckoned he was too dangerous, especially at such a young age.’

  ‘The old men are so often right.’

  ‘And equally often wrong.’ Stan chuckled. ‘If he hadn’t been brought up so hidden from everything…’

  ‘You should be more careful. They could have ears even amongst our followers,’ T.G Master warned.

  ‘Oh, they do, it’s me.’ Stan laughed. T.G. Master joined in. It was funny. It never occurred to them that the old men might consider having more than one Demon working for them.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE: GREEN

  Task: Stop suddenly whilst in the street and peer longingly into a shop window at something you want, put your hands on the glass and gaze longingly at the item. Refuse to be moved. See if you can convince someone to buy it for you or go halves because you simply don’t have the money but you need the item.

  His mum was taking him shopping. She’d decided to buy him a new suit for his interviews after seeing what he’d been going in. Apparently, it was inappropriate to be still wearing school trousers and shirts. And there was nothing he could say to stop her and so that morning he got up early and showered. Then he sat with a cuppa and the book until she arrived.

  It was possibly the most painful day of his life. He hated trying on clothes and they all felt so wrong and uncomfortable. In the end, she didn’t ask him, she just chose, just like school uniform shopping, and then told him she’d take him for dinner.

  Bundled down with bags he led the way out of the shop and turned left towards the nearest cafe. He spent the small amount of cash he had with him on a slice of triple chocolate cake as a thank you for his suit. Of course, she didn’t think he should have bought the cake not when she was paying for lunch but she did that thing mums do when their kids do something nice and ate the whole slice.

  On their way, back to the car he saw the boots in the window. They would almost work with his suit but he knew he couldn’t afford them. He stood looking at them with longing, face pressed against the glass. At first, she didn’t notice his peculiar behaviour, engrossed in the possibility of getting something for herself.

  She tapped him on the shoulder as she walked past him ‘come on.’ But he didn’t move. He wasn’t being rude or stubborn, just trying to work out how long it would take him to save up to buy them.

  ‘Jason come on, you’re starting to make a scene,’ she muttered coming back. ‘What are you looking at?’

  ‘Those boots.’ He pointed. ‘Just trying to work out how long it will take to save up enough for them.’ He frowned, noticing the window reflecting a small group of people also gathered around the window trying to see in.

  ‘Well maybe for Christmas,’ his mum said with a tight smile. ‘Let’s go.’

  She moved off again but he just stayed there. It was like something was preventing him from leaving.

  ‘Now Jason!’ his mum was getting angry; he could hear it in her voice.

  ‘Just another minute,’ he muttered.

  ‘Jason Malcolm Archibald Void,’ she said.

  His eyes widened as the girl eyeing up the heels in the corner sniggered.

  ‘Sorry Mum,’ he said dashing after her. He thought he’d never hear his full name again after he’d left home but it could still be used to the same effect.

  He made his mum a cuppa when they got back and ignored the funny looks she gave everything. It was hard having four grown men living in one tiny flat. She didn’t stay long but he was quick to give her a huge hug before she left. She softened a bit and suggested he come around for Sunday dinner. He hung the suit up in the wardrobe.

  Task: Power is what you want most today. Try for a promotion or team leader position, use your body to convince people to do things, or find another way to have power over the people around you. You will only pass day three if you gain something from it.

  How was he meant to do this? He didn’t have a job so he couldn’t get a promotion. He didn’t have the kind of body that made people want to do things for him and he had no money to go anywhere. It wasn’t like his flatmates would fall for it and what would he gain from getting them to consider him the boss? Probably a black eye and no one talking to him for months.

  He tried to make himself very small as he sat with his book at the kitchen table. Disagreement was coming his way and he didn’t want to get involved. His flatmates were arguing about chores. In the end, one of them decided he was going for a drink, and Jason tagged along. Neither of them was dressed to go out and neither had much money. So, it was peculiar when Jason found himself talking to a bouncer at the club playing his favourite rock band.

  ‘Seriously dude, who goes to a club dressed like this? We’re the damn roadies like I said, call Gary he’ll tell you to let us in!’ Gary being the lead singer who everyone knew you should never call. ‘If we don’t get in the band won’t set up, they don’t do their own pr
ep work you know.’

  ‘Yeah mate, the last roadies got fired for spending too much time hanging out at the bar, that one with the rabbit – you know?’ Jason’s flatmate added, talking out of his arse.

  ‘Yeah, I remember that one,’ the bouncer agreed, ‘It was in all the papers.’

  He still had no intention of letting them in. Jason turned away and kicked a nearby discarded box

  ‘Shit man, this is the first job we got in ages. The missus is gonna kill me when she finds out I didn’t even get paid tonight,’ he muttered to his flatmate, just loud enough for the bouncer to overhear.

  ‘It’s the hormones Jason, pregnant chicks always get like that.’ His flatmate didn’t bother keeping his voice down.

  ‘Yeah, I guess, shit we’ll have to hitch home.’

  They went to walk away when the bouncer frowned, ‘Who did you say sent you?’

  They hadn’t said anyone sent them but Jason knew it would be the manager’s assistant and not the record company. He spent more than enough time engrossed in interviews with the band to know some of the lesser known details.

  ‘Cherry, tall, blonde, tats all the way up her arms but always wearing something with cherries on. She’ll have come in with the band earlier, rang me just before she arrived. Said she’d make sure you’d know to let us in.’ Jason was still moving away as if he knew the guy wasn’t going to go for it.