The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

  He couldn’t help himself and under the circumstances, it was probably the wrong thing to do. Right there in that moment Scott Taylor burst out laughing and even with the look on her face, he couldn’t stop.

  “Mia… Have you been taking drugs?”

  “Yeah, they gave me some strong painkillers, why?” she started to ask before catching his meaning. “I mean, no, but…”

  He placed a hand on her shoulder, looked her in the eyes. “Mia Arnholt. You have just said without a doubt the absolute dumbest thing I’ve heard in my entire life. Truly. You can barely see that thing. And it sort of… trust me on this, it sort of suits you. Who was it who said that beauty flourishes more in the face of its flaws?” He might have just made it up on the spot but it sounded good.

  “It’s not that bad. It gives you character. It says you’ve taken knocks and you know what, you don’t care, you’ve got back up and carried on. I don’t think any less of you because you had your face smashed in by a messed-up whacked-out crazy freak of nature. And if you think it messes up your face, then you’re wrong. And besides, you’ve got more than just being fit as…” he nearly said fuck and then choked it back. “… something different from what I was just about to say. You’ve got a vibrant personality. You’re single minded, you’re not afraid to go after what you want. I mean look at the way you were chasing me.”

  She raised an eyebrow. She seemed a little more at ease now, relief poured out of her. “I wasn’t chasing you.”

  “Yeah… You really were,” he said with a grin. “You might not have been doing it intentionally but believe me, you’ve been doing something. J… my ex really had a thing about you being around me.”

  “Ah dear Jesseka. The angry one. Least I was never that insecure,” she said with a smug grin. The angry one summed her up nicely. Pretty much in the same way as describing the sun as the hot one. “I’d have expected you to throw me out if I ever got that self-absorbed. She’s an idiot, you know.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Because I wouldn’t have let you go.” She sounded like she meant it as well. He could tell it in her voice. Not a hint of deceit lingered there. “But I’m not going to lie. I have wanted you ever since I first met you. Longer. Ever since that time you fought my little bro. I saw you and I was like wow.”

  That took him by surprise. “How come?”

  “Maybe I’ve just got a thing for half black dudes,” she replied flippantly and it didn’t take much for him to realise she was being evasive with him. If she had a better reason than that, she wasn’t about to spill it.

  “Well we’ve got it out in the open,” he said. “Mostly. Anyway, with that in mind, what are we going to do about it?”

  Apparently, she already had something in mind as she leaned over and brushed her lips against his playfully before pushing him back down onto the bed, his towel falling away from his waist. She glanced down and smiled. “Yeah, I can work with that.”

  “You better be able to,” he said as she wriggled down to kneel on the floor at the bottom of the bed, her hair tickling his stomach. “It’s the only one I got.”

  She grinned up at him, winked and blew him a kiss. “So glad to hear it. I’d be running out screaming if you had two.”

  He made to reply, it was lost in his throat as she took him in her mouth, working away with a sudden tender vigorousness, the surprise shutting him up. Jess had never been a fan of it. She’d said it made her feel unclean. Mia didn’t have any such hang-ups about it, she worked away and the pleasure waves threatened to overcome his sensibilities, a dopey grin must have been on his face and there she was, bobbing away, her lips tickling back and forth across his shaft, she knew what she was doing and he was getting closer and closer…

  A bang on the door and he was snapped out of it, sitting bolt upright just at the same moment that her efforts came to fruition and her eyes widened as the salty fluids filled her mouth and he let out an involuntary yell of delight.

  “Scott! You in there!”

  Pete…

  Mia, still with part of him inside her looked up at him with a surprised expression in her eyes and slowly she let him slide out of her before running into the bathroom. He heard her spitting violently and that killed some of the illusion about the whole thing, especially as she came back in rubbing her mouth.

  Already he had the towel back around him and was heading towards the door, not quite sure what he was going to say to Pete. It was for damn sure he wasn’t going to let him in, he knew that much.

  Right now, he just didn’t want to share what had just happened. He would need to talk to Pete eventually but right now he wanted to savour the moment.

  The tenth day of Summerpeak.

  He couldn’t see right out of his eyes. Everything cast unusual shadows, the lights bright and the people blurry. All efforts aside, Wade had panicked the moment he’d first realised that, only calmed down when one of the doctors had told him it was only temporary. It would heal up and he’d be back to normal in a week or so given frequent treatment. Suddenly he was relieved that he would have been able to afford it, even if Unisco weren’t footing the bill for his treatment. As they should, considering he’d been injured in the line of duty. And considering everything that had happened, it could have been a whole lot worse as well. He’d nearly hit the ground, he’d fallen off his mount and when he’d heard the full story, he couldn’t help but feel a little bad that Nick had chosen to grab him rather than catch that woman.

  That woman… She’d been a wild one. There’d been something about her that had worried him, he wasn’t quite sure what she’d wanted with Maddley. Because as he’d laid here, he’d had the chance to think and he was sure it was about more than just an illegal fight in the skies. People didn’t react that badly to what was a pretty minor crime. They didn’t blow up buildings just to cover their getaway. That was like trying to get away from a parking violation by robbing a credit depository. It just wasn’t done. Not even in the slightest.

  And that fucker hadn’t helped. He really hadn’t.

  It had been earlier, he’d been laid there with his eyes closed, trying to ignore the sharp pains in the side of his face when he’d slowly became aware of another presence in the room, breathing not his own and the smell of an all too pungent cologne. Just as slowly he’d roused himself to take in the presence of his unwelcome visitor.

  Something about him looked familiar, the light shone off his bald head and he had a beard surrounding a face that was distinctly piggy. Not fat but the composition of the mouth and nose had that feeling about him. He wore a suit that must have been warm even under the conditioned air of the hospital.

  “Can I help you?” Wade inquired. His throat felt dry, he scrambled out for the bottle of water on his bedside table. Even as he slopped some of it over his chin, it felt good. Cold and wet. Just the way he needed it.

  “Oh, I think you can, Mr Wallerington,” the man said with an air of sarcastic cheeriness. “I think you can. My name is Mallinson and I work with the Unisco Investigative Department. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about the attack on the ICCC building.”

  “Think I should debrief first,” Wade said quickly. “You’re literally the first person I’ve spoken to since I woke up who doesn’t work here. I want to talk to either Brendan King or Vas Derenko. They’re the ranking agents here.” He purposely didn’t mention the director. Even in times like these, you had to keep some sort of protocol going on.

  “And I want you to talk to me.” Mallinson didn’t sound impressed with his response. “Never mind those two. You’re mine for the time being and I intend to treat you that way.”

  Already Wade was wondering how best to end the conversation quickly given he couldn’t get up and walk out of the room physically. “Well I’m not sure exactly what I’ll be able to tell you, Agent Mallinson…”

  “That’s Inquisitor Mallinson!” the bald man snapped. “Not agent.”

  That resonated a little and he su
ddenly remembered where he’d seen the man and heard the name before. Mallinson. Nobody sure if it was a first name or a last. Granted himself the title of Inquisitor. Probably the most thoroughly competent investigator in the UID. He was like a pit bull when it came to the answers.

  “And you’re going to tell me everything that you know. I don’t want speculation, I don’t want evasion, I want answers to my questions. You comprehend?”

  “I’m happy to help,” Wade said slowly. That piggy face contorted into a sarcastic leer at him and he would dearly have loved to have given him a smack.

  “I don’t care if you’re happy or not. Tell me about the incident in your own words. What were you and Agent Roper doing up there in the first place.”

  “Do you have a statement from Agent Roper?” Wade asked curiously.

  Mallinson glared at him. “I’ll ask the questions here, Agent Wallerington. You might be some big shot out there but here, you’re mine so don’t forget that.”

  It had continued in that vein, Wade had answered them to the best of his ability, some of the events were a little blurred and he said as much to the clear displeasure of the inquisitor. He didn’t know how long they’d gone on but he’d been permitted some rest eventually. And Mallinson had gotten up and departed, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He’d wanted to get up, test his body out but the nurses had flat out ordered him not to even try it yet.

  He hadn’t remained alone long when he’d been granted yet another surprise visitor, President of the ICCC Ronald Ritellia himself striding into the room like he owned the place, a couple of aides in tow as well as Tommy Jerome and a strange woman Wade didn’t know.

  “President,” he said respectfully. Ritellia might be slowly becoming more unpopular as time went by but for the time being, he did still hold that title and he’d show him the according respect.

  “Wade Wallerington,” Ritellia said. “How are you?”

  He wanted to laugh and laugh and laugh despite the circumstances. There was just no easy way to answer that after all.

  The fourteenth day of Summerpeak.

  The same stadium the whole thing had started, Scott noted as he found himself in the crowd once more. The second round had finished earlier with the final bout, Simon Shaw edging out Edyta Bryckov with some considerable difficulty but he’d triumphed at the end. Scott had seen him on the way in, sat very smugly on his own. He had a face like a rat he’d noticed, pointed and twitchy. Yet even one potential douchebag didn’t kill his mood as he drank in the atmosphere of the stadium around him.

  It felt like every time he came here, it got emptier and emptier as people went through and went home in equal numbers, spectators coming and going, the old replaced by the new and he couldn’t help feeling relieved he’d at least gotten this far. The third round. The last twenty-four. He wasn’t sure who was going out as worst winner but he had a good feeling that it wasn’t him. The rumour went around that the ICCC did at least inform the unlucky guy beforehand so it wasn’t too much of a shock. If that was the case, then he could sit pretty knowing he’d be at least in for another match. Only four from the final. Third. Quarter. Two semi matches… He was starting to believe. Somehow, he felt more confident now than he had before.

  Still he could feel the presence of that ghost clamouring for his attention. Pete hadn’t known. Nothing he’d looked up had been able to explain it. Depending on when his bout was, he’d make his best efforts to go chase it down. Because he found himself desperate. He’d never felt obsession like this over a single spirit before. Maybe it was the fact that he could feel its presence. He wanted that to stop. And if claiming it was the only way to do it, then claim it he would, no matter what. He wanted it out of his head. He didn’t know what it was going to be doing in there.

  Mia came in with Pete, the two of them sitting down next to him. He fought an urge to put an arm around Mia. All the time they were there he couldn’t help but keep his attention on Pete. Somehow, he had a feeling that this might be the round they were drawn together. And should that happen, he honestly didn’t know if he’d be able to beat him in a straight-up, no-backing-down fight. He couldn’t say for certain that he’d be able to do it. It would be tight.

  He wondered if Pete would be thinking the same thing. It felt so long since they’d last clashed in battle, way back with that fight by the pool in that Burykian. And he’d been with Jess then… Weird thought. He hadn’t thought about her for a while. Why should she pop into his head when he looked at Pete? He shook himself, got a strange look from Pete and rolled his eyes. Things had been strange for a while. Mia leaned over and whispered in his ear, her lips bare millimetres from his skin. He could feel her breath. “Dinner after this?”

  “Sounds good,” he said. He couldn’t help but grin. “Let’s hope it goes better than last time.” He saw the slight crook in her nose and knew she got what he’d meant.

  If it had been Thomas Jerome to announce the second-round draw, it was back with Ronald Ritellia this time, the fat man waddling up with great glee as he announced his presence on the stage with a harsh clearing of the throat.

  “Good ladies, likeable gentlemen,” he said, a furrow creasing his brow as he said the words. Scott wasn’t surprised. It sounded wrong. Maybe some speech writers would be getting fired right now. “Once more I find myself here before you all and I think to myself, has it really been just a few weeks since I first stood before you with Premier Nwakili and announced the tournament underway? And I always come up with the same answer. Yes, it has. But it’s not over yet, there is more and more to come. We find ourselves at the third-round stage, twenty-five contestants victorious and through…”

  He tailed off. “Except that isn’t the case. Because we find ourselves at the point where twenty-five becomes twenty-four. It has been an emotional journey but all journeys must come to an end unfortunately. Sometimes it must happen, sometimes it is beyond our control and today we must say goodbye to a great champion. As everyone knows, the International Calling Competitive Committee building came under attack several days ago from parties unknown. Although our home may have been tarnished, our will grows stronger and we refuse to be beaten down by faceless cowards who would attack innocents.”

  His face grew black like thunder but his voice stayed strong, Scott noticed. “However, one of our number must leave due to the said attack. Wade Wallerington, you all know his name. Due to injuries suffered in this senseless attack, I spoke to Mister Wallerington yesterday myself and he has withdrawn from the tournament to focus on recovery from his injuries.”

  He cleared his throat. “I would like to read aloud a statement from Mister Wallerington in relation to this.” Ritellia tapped down on a pad on the podium in front of him and cleared his throat again. “In the light of circumstances beyond my control, I have respectfully chosen to withdraw from the competition due to the nature of my injuries, feeling I will not be able to give a good account of myself from my hospital bed. I thank the staff of the hospital for their help and apologise to everyone who may feel I have let them down. However, I feel it would not be fair for someone else to go out under these conditions when I would likely falter in the next round from injuries. Therefore, I give my place to whoever might originally have been due to go out. It is the least I can do. Thank you.”

  Scott looked at Pete. Pete shrugged.

  Any touch of solemnity Ritellia might have held for the moment was quickly lost as he raised his head and grinned at the crowds around him. “A noble sacrifice. With that out of the way, shall we see our draw for the next round?”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight. Nothing Good.

  “Well, we had to come up with a good way of containing ghosts, of course. It might get nasty sooner or later with thousands of them running amok. A good craftsman always has a plan. With this particle barrier, they can at least be contained over a small area, giving the caller chance to claim them. It finds the frequency the critters operate on, blocks them, stops them from running, even ren
ders them somewhat corporeal for the time being. All completely illegal in professional bouts of course, for obvious reasons.”

  Thomas Rogan, inventor of the Ghost-Containment Particle Barrier, on his greatest invention.

  The eleventh day of Summerpeak.

  Alana studied the holoprojector in front of her and steadied herself for several long moments. This was it. If her theory was right, then she’d be lauded beyond her wildest dreams. If she was wrong, it wouldn’t be a hammer blow to her career but it certainly wouldn’t help matters. But she had the hunch and it needed to pay off. It had to. The pieces were there, she was amazed she was the only one who’d fit them all together.

  Wade Wallerington. Injured. Dragon. Mistress. Uniblast. Close range. When you had them all together like that, it sounded all so simple. Alana didn’t agree with what the Mistress had done on her jaunt to Carcaradis Island. It had been a bad reckless move. Put aside privately and given the option to do it gracefully, even the Mistress might admit it wasn’t the smartest thing she’d done.

  It had fallen to her to be the one to take care of the witness. Darren Maddley had had to die, there was no way around that and she’d been the one nominated to do it. And do it she had. The Mistress had ordered everyone be outfitted with the ideal weapon for assassination, the pegaserpent, a winged snake with a solitary prominent fang capable of delivering a deadly dose of lethal poison. Through his window it had gone, it had gotten him and out it had come again. She wondered if he’d been found yet. Not that it mattered. There was nothing to tie the murder to her or to a spirit she owned or even to who she worked for. The perfect crime.