Playing God (Game of Gods Book 3)

by Lana Pecherczyk

  Cash moaned. His eyes were two puffy slits fluttering stubbornly, trying to stay open. “I’m okay.”

  “You saved me, Cash. When you kicked Petra’s feet, we fell into you. Just touching you strengthened me. Don’t you see what that means? I love you, okay? You’re my soulmate. Don’t leave me.” I swept the hair from his forehead, leaving a smear in red. My throat closed up when his eyes closed. “Cash.” I patted his face. “Don’t leave. You said you wouldn’t leave.”

  But his breath grew shallow. Short gasps between long lengths of time. Then he stilled. His eyes wouldn’t open. I pushed my fingers to his pulse. It beat sluggishly under my touch.

  “Wake up.” I squeezed his shoulders, but he didn’t move. “Cash, wake up!”

  My throat closed up. I couldn’t do this again. First Tommy, now Cash. I couldn’t lose him.

  “Egnatius,” I screamed. “Get your butt back here!”

  “No need to have a conniption, love. I’m already here.”

  Marc walked in, dressed in his dapper suit and tie, the epitome of charm. No trace of the horror he’d just endured.

  “He’s dying Marc, we need that blood. You said it would help him.”

  Marc’s eyes fell sadly on Cash as he contemplated something. “It will help him, but I’m not sure if we should use it.”

  “Why not?”

  He stepped toward me and crouched to meet my eyes. “Because, love, it’s the last of your blood.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I arrived back at the Empire, you were all but wasted away.”

  “Stop calling me her. I’m not her!”

  He sighed and looked at Cash. “She had left her body locked away in her chambers. Nobody had broken inside, no food, no water—a husk on her bed. Frozen in beautiful despair. On her nightstand, there was a letter addressed to me. It was as though she knew I would be the only one who could enter. The Sephie of my dreams forever asleep.” His eyes darted back. He swallowed. “The vial was there, ready to go. But when I picked it up, something triggered a spell of some sort. Her body crumbled into dust. The blood must have been tethered to keep her body alive. It’s all we have left of her. So, it’s for you, love, not for him. It will turn you back into Seraphim, to be born immortal again.”

  Damned woman, controlling my life from light-years away. I was sick and tired of being manipulated.

  “I don’t want it.” I wiped the wetness from my eyes. “Give it to him.”

  “You’re the queen, love. It must go to you.”

  “No!” I screamed. “You’re not listening. If I really am this queen, you have to do as I say. Give it to him. I order you.” My finger flung to point at Cash. “He deserves it more than me.”

  I slumped. Tired, so tired. Petra wasted my energy with needless displays of power. Then I used reserves to overcome her. Now… I was spent.

  Marc sighed and straightened, looking around the room. “Where is the vial, anyway?”

  “I thought you had it?”

  Marc blinked at me.

  “Ava’s got it.” Lincoln walked over, hesitant, wary eyes on me.

  Icy fingers trailed down my spine.

  Ava.

  Slowly and with purpose, I lifted my weary bones and stood. “We need that vial. Marc. Send for Corvus House.”

  “Already done, love. They’ll be here soon.”

  I took one last look at my poor lover and traced my finger over his cheekbone, the only part of his face unwounded. Then I stuffed my emotions down, drained it from my body until pure, cold hard determination was all that was left. I closed my eyes and swept my senses outwards, searching for Ava’s aura, her unique energy signature. She couldn’t have gone far.

  A spark of life to the north.

  “Found her. She’s still in Luna Park.” I rushed to a display stand at the counter of the café and pulled out a park map. I opened it and faced in the direction I sensed her, trailing the imprint she left. Soon, I had her location narrowed down to a small area.

  “There,” I said pointing to a spot. “Take me there.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  MARC ENVELOPED MY hand in his and tugged me to his chest. His scent surrounded me: forest, nature, the wild. I shut my eyes. When I opened them, we were in another part of the amusement park, outdoors and under the hot sun.

  And I was naked.

  Shit.

  Marc covered himself in an illusion-construct and then did the same to me. I gaped, watching the fabric form before my eyes. Within seconds, I wore the same clothes I did before—jeans and a singlet. Even my feet felt like they had shoes on them. Whoa. But then…

  “Are you telling me you could’ve done this after every journey?” I hissed, thinking about all the times he’d taken me through the in-between and let me scurry to find a cover up.

  His brow lifted coyly, and he shrugged.

  “We’ll talk about this later.”

  I surveyed our surroundings. In front of us was a giant warehouse with amusement attractions. Coney Island, the sign said. It housed the Wonky Walk, the Mirror Maze and Devil’s Drop. The door had been broken open.

  I took a step then stumbled. A feeling swelled inside me, almost like nausea.

  “Love, you okay?”

  “It’s Petra.” I grunted. “Not near Cash, now. She’s making a play.”

  With a worried look, he placed a palm on me. “You can do it. Fight her.”

  I held on to him and forced her back down until it was just me again, leaving forward, bracing myself on my knees, breathing hard. “I’m good.”

  We kept moving. Marc darted a glance to me every five seconds. I cringed as we stepped across the threshold to discover the perfect horror story backdrop inside.

  “Looks like fun,” Marc said. “Ooh, dibs on taking a dip on that giant wiggly slide.”

  “Marc, quiet,” I whispered and glared.

  He made a zipping gesture at his mouth and winked.

  If I had half the confidence he did, I’d be fine. As it was, I barely held it together.

  Our footsteps echoed in the warehouse, against the wooden floorboards and large walls. I couldn’t tell the difference between the echo and my heartbeat. It drummed a rhythm that pounded loudly.

  “That way,” Marc and I said in unison, both sensing Ava’s aura.

  I pointed further into the warehouse where an oversized barrel lay on the side and open and dark to us. Normally, if the park was open, it would be rotating for people to walk through.

  “In there,” I whispered.

  We walked passed the vintage arcade games and approached the barrel with caution, stopping under the sign. Barrels of Fun. I almost snorted at the irony. She was in there alright, but we couldn’t see. Invisible, or sheltered by the shadow of the interior. But I felt her.

  “Come out Ava. Give us the vial,” I called.

  No answer.

  I indicated with my head to the barrel, hoping Marc caught my drift. I wanted him to go around, catch her on the other side, but he blinked at me in surprise.

  “You want to go for a ride? Now who’s being irresponsible.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Go around. Block her in.”

  The second I said it, Ava’s energy propelled toward me.

  On instinct, I threw up my hands and forced the air in front of me to solidify. She crashed against it, like a bird flying into a window. The impact jarred my arms, sliding my feet backward.

  She became visible, slumped on the floor two feet in front of me. Spent, my legs weakened and collapsed under me. I couldn’t let Petra in. That was a lot of my energy in the shield. I fell to my knees.

  Marc was there in an instant, slipping his hands under my arms.

  “No, get the vial,” I said.

  He moved to Ava’s lifeless form. She wasn’t dead. Her energy was strong. Marc nudged her with his foot. Then rotated her body until she was face up.

  “Ah, there we go.” He plucked the cord from her neck and held it
to inspect. “Good. Still in there.”

  “Take it to Cash, now. Can you take it? Will it travel through the in-between?”

  “It’s encased in an organic polymer container, made at the Empire. Yes, it will travel, but, love, it’s yours.”

  I poured the full force of my fury into my voice. “Take it to him or I’ll never forgive you.”

  Slowly, he nodded. “What about her?”

  “Take it, Marc.” He reached for me, but I flinched away. “No. Leave me here. I have to get them out of me.” I pointed to the Mirror Maze. “I’m going to trap Petra in there.”

  “Love, no.” He shook his head. “I can’t leave you here by yourself. You’re exhausted.”

  Ava groaned on the floor, coming to.

  Marc stepped toward her.

  “She’s not going anywhere. Go! I got this.” To make my point, I held out my hands in her direction as if I were going to hold her with my power.

  “I’ll be back.” With a frown my way, Marc dematerialized.

  Instead of holding her at bay, I let what was left of my energy extend past my body until it made contact with hers, and then siphoned.

  The rush of her essence electrified me, and I stumbled, eyes wide. It was like pouring iced water down a parched throat. My body and mind sighed as I rejoiced with replenished energy.

  Ava grimaced. “What are you doing to me?”

  I didn’t reply, but kept pulling, slowly, surely. Not too much. Just enough. Not too much, Roo.

  Her grimace turned into a glare. A growl tore from her throat. Her hand reached behind her back and before I registered what happened, something pinched my middle.

  I let go of her energy and glanced down.

  A knife hilt protruded from my stomach. The one from the café. White hot pain seared through me. I twirled, hands hovering, hesitant over the hilt. What to do. Take it out? Would I heal fast enough? Thousands of thoughts battled in my mind. The surrounding scenery rotated. Barrels of fun.

  In my periphery, Ava got to her feet.

  The sight spurred me into action. My fingers closed around the hilt and I gave a sharp tug. Blood sprung from the wound like an oil slick, but not a geyser. Good. That’s good.

  A force knocked me backwards. My body launched into the air, legs lifting in front, head tilting back. The ceiling flashed into view as I crash landed through a curtain and slid into a darkened room.

  My lungs didn’t work, winded.

  The Mirror Maze.

  A flutter in my belly soared high. This was where I needed to be.

  I scrambled to my feet, but was knocked sideways by a bulky shadow. I fell further into the maze. Fractured reflections of myself distorted my sense of direction. Fear squeezed my heart. Ava was in here, with me, but I couldn’t hone in on her aura. Her energy signature bounced off the surrounding glass, just like my reflection, pinging from mirror to mirror. Seizing my panic as an opportunity, I felt Petra batter my defenses, trying to rise to the surface. It took everything I had to keep her down.

  My palms planted on the mirror in front of me and I glared into my eyes.

  “You’re in control. You have brown hair. Brown.”

  But strands of red spliced through.

  “No!” I screamed. The glass trembled. The room shook. “Brown!”

  A laugh echoed, bouncing off the mirrors. My heart galloped. My head spun to pinpoint Ava’s voice, but it reverberated everywhere.

  “You think you’re special because you’re the queen?”

  Another gasp, a hitch of my breath. I moved through a mirrored tunnel, shards of my reflection followed me, always following. A shadow of myself, watching, assessing. The eyes that looked back at me were large, liquid, terrified—and full of doubt.

  “She created worlds and mastered souls. Before the king died, she razed civilizations with him. You can’t even control your hair color.”

  The evil truth punched me in the stomach.

  She was right. I was a poor imitation of the all-powerful queen. Like the surrounding reflections, there was no substance. Whatever killer instinct she had, I lacked. Where she was driven to build worlds, I preferred to drive a motorbike. But that’s what made me, me. I had to hold on to that.

  “It won’t be long before people see you for what you really are.”

  Tired. My limbs were heavy. My mind was heavy. My breath fogged the glass as my cheek hit the cold surface.

  When I sensed her aura coming for me, I didn’t move. Let her come.

  Her fingers slithered around my throat and her face came into being inches from mine. I faced her with my back against the mirror.

  “You ruined your chance,” she said. “Even with your perfect lover, you fucked it up. He doesn’t want you anymore. He hated the queen.”

  Pressure tightened around my throat as she squeezed.

  But something she said got to me. It stuck in my mind.

  Cash hated the queen.

  But, he’d known my true identity since Houston, and he still wanted me. Me. That day in the cafe, he’d said: “For this person you are today, I’d do anything for you.” The new me. The one who had been molded by my time on this planet, by the friends I’d made and the hardships I’d faced. I didn’t have to be her. I still had a choice. I could do things my way.

  My hand slapped over her wrist, but it was locked around my neck.

  “Take your hand off me, Ava.”

  She sneered, bringing her second hand to join her first and strangled. Her eyes glistened, psychopathically fascinated with my struggle for air. “Make me.”

  Images swam across my mind of Cash training me on the mat. He’d drilled them into me, paranoid that he’d wake from another nightmare and attack. He wanted to protect me from his demons.

  His voice swam into my head: You have ten-seconds before you lose consciousness. Ten-seconds before your trachea is damaged beyond repair. What are you going to do?

  I let go of her wrist, then fashioned both my hands into pincers—my thumb and fingers making a hook, then explosively plucked her hands from my throat. I rotated, arched backwards, and pulled her into my knee.

  The wind knocked out of her.

  Good. I skipped back. She recovered and rushed me. I dodged and used her momentum to throw her against a mirror, breaking the glass.

  The sound of glass shattering burst around us, tinkling. Light glittered, sparkling all around.

  I hit her as she fell—my fists to her back. She slammed to the ground, face down. A gurgling sound came out of her as she tried to get up, but she was caught. Her aura skipped erratically. I stepped cautiously around for a better view. My throat closed up when I saw. Oh God. She’d landed on a shard of glass, right through her throat. I ripped my gaze away, squishing my eyes as a wave of nausea rolled over me.

  Something made me look back. Mirrors. Reflections.

  The Book.

  It spoke to me. Symbols and hieroglyphs flashed behind my eyelids, reminding me of my quest.

  Get the souls out.

  They came into my body through blood, they could go out the same way.

  I held my trembling hands in front of my face. It was the only way. Drain them out of me. I picked up two shards of glass and jammed them into each wrist, crying out in pain. Red ribbons of blood flowed freely, falling to my feet in a torrent, splashing the floor. My back hit another mirror.

  I closed my eyes and concentrated on letting the souls inside me out. Leila through my right arm, free and swinging by my side. Petra on my left, palm pushed to the cold glass. I used the last of my energy to force her out, to keep her life-force focused. Slowly as I waned, I slid further to the floor. A bloody handprint smeared down the glass. There wasn’t much I could comprehend as the lights dimmed and dark spots crowded my vision. Not much except, one soul was free, the other trapped.

  Where did that leave me?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  I WOKE IN a strange room, in a strange bed. It was a very nice bed, mind you. The pill
ows and linen were soft, downy and heavenly. I rolled to my side and nestled into the duvet.

  “Mm,” I murmured. “Feels like hugs.”

  But it wasn’t hugs. I was alone.

  A flash of Ava’s face as she lay dying hit me. Cash’s wounded face was next. I blinked and there it was, puffy eyes, swollen lips, cheekbone sliced. He’d looked so weak and fragile, all words I never thought I’d use to describe him. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath.

  I surveyed the room. Opulent was an understatement. The hard surfaces were marble, gold, sparkly. The furnishings were brocade and velvety. Everything you’d expect in a mansion. I shot out of bed and picked up a weird, wooden owl ornament from the bedside table. Next to it was a horse ornament, possibly from Lincoln. Then my gaze hit the ceiling to take in the chandelier and decorative molding, then to a vase on another bedside surface. The intricately carved bed-head depicted ancient Grecian deities partying on Mount Olympus.

  Where was I?

  Not in Cash’s room. My heart skipped. He wasn’t here. Was he even okay?

  “Morning sunshine.” Marc sauntered into the room, debonair and dashing as usual. “Good to see you awake in time for the ball. You lost a lot of blood and have been out of it for a few days. Had enough beauty sleep?”

  My gaze narrowed on him. “Is Cash okay?”

  “Yes. Your darling hunter is fit as a Seraphim fiddle, thanks to you.” I caught the flicker of something in his eyes and he averted his gaze. “Not that he deserves it.”

  Part of me was relieved at Marc’s words. Cash was okay. But the rest. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.” He lifted his brows and sat on the edge of the bed, patting the mattress to beckon me. “So, how are you feeling? I can see your hair’s not red anymore. Does that mean I can’t call you Little Red?”

  “Call me whatever you want.” Just not the queen. “Where is Cash? Can I see him?”

  “He’s busy doing hunterly things. Come, sit down. We need to talk.”

  Any sentence that ended with those four words didn’t bode well.

  “So, I guess you found me at the amusement park. Thank you.”