The Soul Game

by McQueen, K. T.

  ‘I didn’t buy my way to where I am now. I didn’t earn it, at least not in a way anyone would choose to earn a position.’ He poured another measure in his glass. ‘They think I’m old and outdated, living in the dark ages. Hoping for some miracle to set us all free.’

  ‘Why would we want to be free?’ Dommiel was content with his life, when it was running smoothly anyway.

  ‘Exactly!’ the King slapped his black-clad leg.

  They sat in silence as the King looked out the large picture window, across his domain.

  ‘So about the souls?’ Dommiel asked hesitantly.

  ‘Ah yes, they are going to be useful but we can’t have them crowded as they are. Move the Demon souls into Carnivas, they will feel they have had their quarters upgraded. The human souls can go in the Demon soul holding pens, they won’t know any different if you turn the heat down.’ The King nodded to himself, agreeing with his own decision. ‘And I’d like you to start asking them questions.’

  ‘We ask them all questions when they enter Hell sire, there are forms to fill in.’ Dommiel frowned, did the King think he wasn’t doing his job?

  ‘Ha ha, not those questions,’ the King laughed. ‘No, I want you to start asking questions like, did they know what was in store for them when they agreed to bargain their soul, and what value they placed on their soul before they began to play.’

  ‘Oh, I see sire,’ Dommiel said.

  ‘Come, I have something to show you. A plan if you like. If I remember rightly you are one of the brighter Demons of our time, you will appreciate this.’ The King threw an arm around Dommiel’s shoulders and showed him into yet another room behind a hidden bookcase, leaning in close to speak low. The pair laughed together.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED & ONE: MAËL

  The first task wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it would be but it was quite clear it was designed to lead him into the game, start with something easy to get the Demon invested. He almost enjoyed it.

  The second task had been less appealing and less easy to accomplish; he was still wearing the scars around wrists and ankles to remind him how much he hated Demon brothels. Something about making himself vulnerable to those women itched at his skin.

  But today’s task was deplorable to someone who had lived as a human for most of his life. He walked into the church, down the central aisle, whilst the entire congregation was in there praying. Looking neither left nor right, it had taken him quite some time to build up the courage for this one. To break the faith of humans was almost a contradiction, but it wasn’t their faith that was being broken, it was their faith that they could be saved. That was what he had to break, for as many people as he could at once.

  Not one of these people would have considered playing the Soul Game, and it was quite clear that the Demon sins were designed to convince them the only way they could get what they wanted was by relying on themselves and not some unseen deity.

  The man at the front continued talking, the father or priest or whatever he was called in these places. Mike had lived as a human but he’d never been inside a church more than a couple of times, and it was never for the worship of a God. But whilst he talked he eyed Mike suspiciously. Until, as Mike stood in front of him, he ceased his sermon to address Mike.

  ‘Can I help you?’ his lips smiled but his eyebrows lowered.

  ‘It’s highly unlikely you can help me, Priest.’ Mike grinned the wickedest grin he could and turned to the congregation. ‘Do you all see me?’

  There was a rumbling amongst the faithful. They could see him but they’d rather he buggered off whilst they begged for forgiveness, looked for answers, or sat with friends and family whilst they listened to this self-appointed man of god.

  ‘When did you know you would spread the word of God?’ Mike turned back to the priest, the grin growing wider.

  ‘I’ve always known. Ever since I was a child,’ the man answered. ‘Perhaps I could answer your questions after the service?’

  ‘No, you should answer them now. Your congregation deserves to know the truth,’ Mike said. Then he turned to the congregation and asked loudly. ‘Do any of you know the story of how this man became your priest?’

  ‘He had a vision,’ a voice piped up from somewhere in the middle, an older woman if Mike was any judge.

  ‘Yes, when he fell out of a tree,’ someone else joined.

  ‘They say he died for a few minutes,’ the first woman continued.

  ‘Saw the light,’ a younger male chuckled from further back; confident he would not be known or reprimanded for the comment.

  ‘Billy!’ a woman close by hissed at him. ‘An angel spoke to him and told him it wasn’t his time.’

  ‘That, right is it?’ Mike asked in a wondrous voice, turning back to the priest. ‘You saw God?’

  ‘No, it was an Angel, I’m pretty sure,’ the priest said confidently. ‘I’m but one sheep, God can’t visit everyone of us.’

  ‘Why not?’ Mike asked.

  ‘Duh, because he’s busy.’ Mike was sure that was Billy again.

  ‘Why does it matter whether it was God or an Angel? The message was still the same.’ The priest frowned.

  ‘You don’t think he should have maybe come in person if he wanted you to dedicate your life to him?’

  ‘No, not at all.’ The priest smiled. Humouring Mike, it seemed.

  ‘So if you saw an Angel right now, right here, you’d assume it was from God and all these people would have to dedicate their lives to him?’ Mike asked, gesturing.

  ‘If that was their calling, yes,’ the priest said.

  ‘What if it was a Demon?’ Mike asked.

  ‘What?’ the priest frowned.

  ‘What if a Demon showed up right now, all smiles and friendly like, would you all denounce God and follow the word of the Devil?’ Mike asked. The people glanced at each other, one or two smiled little smiles. Others looked nervous. Mike was sure at least one was wondering if he was a crazy escaped from the hospital.

  ‘That would be crazy, this is the house of God, why would a Demon show up here?’ the mother of Billy called out.

  ‘Why wouldn’t it? Aren’t Demons, in fact, angels that didn’t agree with God?’ Mike asked grandly, throwing his arms wide as if he was now giving the sermon.

  The priest blinked at him. Mike could see he was losing them, this wasn’t a new question, it was one that had been asked over and over and answered just as many times. He needed to take a different tact.

  ‘What about the seven deadly sins?’ he asked.

  ‘What about them?’ the priest couldn’t understand his jump.

  ‘If you commit just one, your soul will go to hell. Like that time Mr. Arid over there cheated on his wife with Hilda Scarminsky. Or when you sneaked into the Women’s Institute Christmas dinner and ate all the chocolate cake,’ he said to the priest. It frightened him a little that he knew with absolute certainty that those things had happened. ‘Can you just confess, say sorry, and all is forgiven?’

  ‘Well, I…it was just one cake. Not really a deadly sin.’ The priest laughed nervously.

  Mike could hear a hissed argument happening amongst the faithful behind him. ‘So you get to decide what level of sin becomes deadly?’

  ‘No, I don’t think you’ve spent much time in church have you, son?’ the priest stalled.

  ‘I don’t think my father would like it very much.’ Mike smiled darkly.

  ‘And who is your father?’ the priest asked. Mike didn’t respond with words. He let the darkness he’d always been so afraid of rise within him, fill him. He let the priest see it through his eyes. The priest stepped back and crossed himself. The congregation went quiet.

  ‘Mildred,’ Mike sing-songed, ‘you’ve been playing The Soul Game, how naughty of you.’

  ‘What? No, I, it’s just a book to help you improve your life.’ A nervous looking woman two rows back looked at those around her.

  ‘It asks you to gamble your soul,’ Mike remin
ded her.

  ‘Yes but…’ she glanced at the priest and Mike knew she’d been about to say but what is a soul anyway. ‘I’ve been unwell,’ she said instead.

  ‘And you think the only way to get better is to bargain your soul? Don’t you think maybe you should have prayed to God? He’s all powerful, he could have made you better in a matter of seconds if he so wished it,’ Mike said.

  ‘I did pray. He didn’t answer,’ she snapped.

  ‘Sometimes no answer is an answer,’ the priest told her.

  ‘No answer would be that he wants me to die.’ She turned on the priest. ‘I have two young children who need me.’

  ‘Perhaps he feels you can do better work for him amongst the angels,’ the priest suggested.

  ‘You do know that when you go to Heaven you don’t become an angel don’t you?’ Mike asked the room.

  The silence of shuffling feet answered him. He was hating this, what right did he have to destroy people’s faith. He had to finish this so he could get out of here.

  ‘This man who stands in front of you does not talk to God. God is not listening. He will never give you what you ask for. Occasionally an Angel might relent and give you something that might keep your faith alive, the Angels think it’s important that you believe in God because they love and adore him. They cannot see his faults. You are pawns in whatever game they choose to play.’ His voice had changed, he was angry, why was he angry? ‘Get this into your thick skulls, the only way you can get what you want is by making a deal with the Devil.’

  He stormed out amidst the chaos he’d caused. Some would be calmed by the priest he was sure. Others might decide that praying to a God who would never answer was a waste of time. They were human. They wanted things.

  He found himself in front of Joy’s apartment, angry, confused, and ashamed. His mother would turn in her grave. And if Joy ever found out…well, she couldn’t say anything, she had chosen to play the game. He watched as she dashed out of the door with that man on her arm. They ran through the rain and jumped into a waiting cab before it sped off in the direction of the city. They looked like they were going somewhere expensive.

  He kicked at a discarded can. Without knowing where they were going he couldn’t follow. He wanted to watch her all night. She’d looked so happy. He needed the reassurance of being near her, of knowing when he finished playing he would get her back. He glanced up at the building, looking for the Demon that watched her and saw it staring at him.

  Day after day he was forced to leave the estate and go out into the human world to complete tasks. The staff had no idea where he was going or what he was doing but the concern was clear on their faces. He wanted to tell them, to let them know what was going on so they could be consoling or forgiving or comforting. But on the other hand, he wanted them to never find out he picked up the book and started playing. The book he’d been so against, the book Sparky had warned him against, the book his father had warned him against. Somehow he had picked it up and begun to play, and now he knew he couldn’t put it down.

  He cried himself to sleep night after night, fat heavy tears streaming down his face and soaking the pillow he used to muffle the sobs. His heart broke a little more every time he saw Joy but he forced himself to check in on her every day. After all, he was doing it to get her back. She was almost at the end of her game, soon she would have the very thing she most wanted, the thing she most needed, the thing she was willing to bargain her soul for. He is no longer even a flicker of a memory in her mind.

  So, he played the game harder. He allowed himself to be summoned, detecting the moment a small group of teen girls were messing with things they didn’t understand. He appeared, tall, dark and imposing, masking his features with the head of a stag. The beauty of being a Demon was the ability to appear in other forms. He’d hardly ever had a use for it before.

  He played his part, he offered them everything in exchange for their souls. He gazed into their teenage eyes and made them want. And took collection of five souls. Souls he had no idea what to do with.

  He flung himself into bed that night. Without eating, without drinking. Not bothering to undress. Not bothering to turn on a light. Not bothering to speak to anyone.

  How could the tasks for Demons be so dark, when the ones for the humans freed them? Why did the Demon tasks not do the same for Mike? He wished he’d never started to play. He knew that the thing he most wanted was never going to be his. Was it even worth continuing?

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED & TWO: PINK

  The cottage is beautiful, picturesque. Pink roses adorn the walls around door and windows. Lush green grass on the neat lawn and carefully planted borders. The waves of the ocean lap at the nearby beach and smoke curls from the chimney.

  Country cottage decor frames the loving couple drinking tea in the sitting room. Joy is smiling, shyly almost, but happy. As if she’s finally got everything she ever wanted. The perfect man, the perfect home, the perfect location. A ginger cat purrs happily to itself beside the fire.

  Her hair is piled on top of her head, wispy tendrils escaping. Her soft flowered pink dress a much better outfit than the waitress’ uniform she’d been used to all these years. Her ankles cross delicately, reaching out towards the man who gazes at her with longing. Wanting to enfold her in his arms and hold her tight, never, ever, letting her go. He is where he is meant to be. Their lives now are perfect, will be perfect forever.

  They take daily walks along the sand no matter what the weather. Home in time for tea every night. A woman who has no need to work at all and spends her days in the garden or the kitchen anticipating his return. It’s all he ever wanted. This idyllic human life. Perfect in every way.

  His back to the window. His soft grey cardigan belying the hardness of the body beneath. His trousers a warm and inviting brown cord. Crossed at the knee where he balances a small plate of homemade biscuits.

  ‘I said chocolate biscuits,’ Alex says as he adjusts the offending treats on the delicate pink and white plate.

  ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t get any cocoa powder,’ Joy says, head hung, the still plastered-in-place smile not reaching her eyes. Was this the thing she most needed? The thing she’d bargained her soul for?

  ‘Well they’re nice, you’re good at baking.’ He smiles at her but there is something in his eyes. ‘You can make it up to me later, and make chocolate biscuits next time.’

  She nods, glancing up through her lashes at this man she’s fallen so completely in love with – though she has no idea why.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED & THREE: MAËL

  If only Mike hadn’t come to sneak a peek at the woman he’d lost. If only he hadn’t tried to catch a glimpse of her through the window. As the rain started to hit the glass Mike stepped away so as not to be seen, she glanced up to look at the weather. He hung his head with sadness and loss and trudged wearily back home.

  Mike’s pain was all consuming. He couldn’t do the last task set for him, he couldn’t break up two people so in love. Not those two anyway. He’d have to find another couple, but how would that be any better? Walking through the rain, stepping in puddles, getting splashed by passing cars, oblivious of how soaked he was becoming. He passed couple after couple, huddled together in doorways, under umbrellas, dashing into stores. He couldn’t believe he’d walked so far already. Any sensible person would have hopped on a train or grabbed a cab.

  He was vaguely aware of the Demon tracking him but he didn’t care about that either. He had one more task to complete then he was done. But how could he tear out the heart of someone who loved so deep? How would he even know if they loved deeply enough for his purposes? He soon relented and jumped into a cab, it couldn’t take him all the way home but it could get him close enough. The driver was not impressed with how wet the seats were getting but one look at Mike told him not to say a word.

  The rain seemed to have increased in persistence when the cab dropped Mike off at the bus shelter. Mike trudged the rest of the way to th
e house. Feeling the Demon stalker’s frustration as Mike disappeared.

  With the fire in the main sitting room blazing and a chair pulled up close Mike sat in his towelling bathrobe, leather slippers on his feet, a towel around his neck to catch the drips, feeling foolish and useless. The housekeeper brought him a hot drink and stack of toast and he ate out of habit. Outside the rain continued, the sky so dark it could be night. The distant low rumble of angry thunder permeating the room. Not a night to be out.

  A knock at the door made Mike frown, there was no one who knew to come here. The muted conversation of the guest and the housekeeper was just beyond his hearing, and, if truth be told, he didn’t care anyway. It could be Joy and he wouldn’t bother getting up, not now, not after what he’d seen.

  But, despite having told the housekeeper he just wanted to be left alone, she showed in the visitor.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you,’ she said leading the way into the room.

  ‘I said I wanted to be left alone,’ Mike said, not turning his gaze from the fire.

  ‘This is Dommiel,’ she continued, ignoring him. He turned frowning and noticed the man behind her. A tremor ran through Mike. Not a man.

  Stocky and broad he would have given any wrestler a run for their money. Skin like night and the suggestion that he was the shadow in the dark. With such a presence it surprised Mike when Dommiel bowed to him.

  ‘My Maël.’ It was a great sweeping bow. Everything about it designed to impress Mike. But all Mike could do was wonder what a Maël was.

  He glanced at the housekeeper who smiled indulgently.