Game's End

by Natasha Deen

  “Grab a baggie,” said Frank. “Let’s make sure we cover their hands.”

  “You think it’s the same calibre that killed Hank?”

  “Forensics will tell us.” Frank grunted. “Just what this town needs, a serial killer.”

  “Bound to happen. All this fixation with social media and celebrity worship. People are losing common values.”

  Yeah, guns and psychos don’t kill people. The Internet kills people.

  “Tragedy,” said Frank. “Amber’s baby never stood a chance.”

  “Maybe that’s a good thing.” Her voice dropped. “The way people were talking about her and May. Some folks were a match away from lighting their torches and pitchforks and burning down May’s trailer.”

  “No one’s going to burn anything now. Poor woman. She used to be such a good-time girl, now look at her life. How much crap can a body take? Your boss seduced your teenage daughter and gets her pregnant—”

  “Not just a boss,” she said. “May trusted Popov, thought of him like a co-parent with Amber.”

  “Tragedy, all around,” said Frank. “Hey, look at this.” There was rustling, scraping. “Well, look at what we got here.” Silence. “Just fired. Same calibre as the bullet wounds. Looks like we got the murder weapon.”

  “Hey, Nancy, come here and see this!”

  I bolted from the doorway, a guilty flush on my face. It took me a second to realize it wasn’t Frank or the female deputy. The voice was coming from the hallway. I sped toward the commotion.

  Serge stood by the phone, the deputy next to him. “I need another second.”

  “What’s going on, Andrews?” Nancy ran up.

  “Something’s wrong with Amber’s phone,” he said. “The thing’s opening and closing apps, scrolling through texts. It’s like it’s possessed.”

  Nancy gave me a long look. “I’m sure it’ll settle. Like right now.”

  “Even dead, I know not to mess with that tone.” Serge stepped back. “I got some stuff that might help.”

  “Maggie,” said Nancy. “Go home.”

  And I knew not to mess with that tone. Nancy had warned me about reporters, so Deputy Andrews came with us as we snuck out the rear exit. “She thought the reporters were out,” I said. “But I only saw a couple of people at the front door.”

  “Maybe they’ll be out later.”

  Famous last words. As we got closer to the car, the reporters emerged from the shadows, manifesting like lingering spirits.

  “Just a few questions—”

  “Is it true there’s been another body—?”

  “Did you discover the bodies—?”

  “Do the dead talk to you—?”

  “Do you have powers—?”

  “If I had powers,” I shot back. “Don’t you think I’d use them on you and get myself some space?”

  I dived into the car, locked the door, and ignored the questions they hurled at me.

  “That wasn’t the smartest thing you ever did,” said Serge.

  I let the engine warm up and rested my head against the steering wheel so none of them could see me talking to him. “I know. Ten bucks says tomorrow the headlines will be about how I’m a threat to society because of what I said.”

  “It was a good line.”

  I heard the smile in his voice. “Thanks.”

  The deputy chased off the reporters, then waved at me as I pulled out of the lot. I headed home. Craig and Nell were in the house. The smell of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches scented the air.

  “Not that I’m ungrateful for dinner,” I said, as I took off my coat and boots. “But how did you get in my house?”

  “My skills are more than supernatural,” said Craig. “I have street abilities you can’t begin to fathom.”

  “Yeah,” said Nell. “He said, ‘hey, Nell, where do they keep the spare key?’”

  “Skills are skills. I fed Ebony and Buddha,” said Craig. “And walked the big man.”

  “Thanks.” I sank into one of the kitchen seats. Buddha came over for a tummy rub. “Did you learn anything with the Ouija board?”

  “Other than that Tammy has a stash of them and Bruce isn’t nearly as macho as he’d like to think when it comes to spirits?” Nell shot Craig a frustrated look. “I wouldn’t know. Someone didn’t want to share his information.”

  “Only because we weren’t all together,” said Craig.

  “He wouldn’t tell me,” said Nell. “The whole Ouija board was them communicating telepathically. I asked but he said I had to wait.”

  “See what I’m saying?” Craig said. “I have street skills.”

  “We’re together, now,” said Nell. “Anytime you’re ready to help—”

  “There’s a disruption on the other side. Whatever and whoever this guy is, he’s done a great job of hiding.”

  “He’s number one on the supernatural fugitive list,” said Nell. “I bet that’s why they couldn’t protect your dad, Mags. They didn’t see this guy coming.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” said Craig. “Let’s dish the food, then dish the news.” Nell grinned. “You see what I did there—”

  I held up my hand. “Please, don’t. I haven’t had enough food or sleep for this.”

  “Bruce and Tammy said reporters are hounding the kids at school for info,” said Nell. “Loser Larry was loving it, though. He was always out there, talking about what a menace you are. He let the reporters talk to any kid who was willing to back him up on his lies.”

  “Great, like I wasn’t already a social outcast.”

  “No worries. Bruce and Tammy got it handled. I guess Bruce put some kid in a headlock for talking—lying about his connection to you—word spread. No one’s talking now.”

  Craig shuddered. “That would do it. Bruce is a great guy, but who wants to be trapped in his armpit?”

  Once the food was laid out, Craig took over the conversation. “Nell’s right about the soul-eater being on the supernatural fugitive list—”

  “Nell’s right. Two words I can’t hear often enough,” she said.

  “This guy’s been around for a long time, and he’s got the power of all the souls he’s trapped. The other side’s been looking for him for years. But he’s made a mistake. He came here because of his link to you. The hunters know he’s connected with you, so they’re surrounding the town, watching and waiting.”

  I gave myself a second to consider what bounty hunters from the other side could look like. “His connection to me, via our past life or via my mom?”

  He nodded. “No one’s sure, but I asked a couple of friends to look into it. In the meantime, this guy has it out for you—”

  “And we’re sure it’s a guy,” said Serge. “He’s not using the ghost energies to hide or change his gender.”

  “It’s a male, but with his powers, he can hide under the guise of a woman,” said Craig. “But I doubt that’s the case. It takes an immense amount of work to hide your gender, and it’s exhausting. My bet is he’s stayed true to his birth gender. My contacts think it’s not just you he’s after, Mags, it’s Serge too.”

  The ghost’s eyes went wide. “Did Maggie and I do something with him in a previous life?”

  Nell read his text. “If we knew that, Casper, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. We’d be out there with holy water and silver bullets.”

  “That’s for vampires and werewolves,” I said.

  She took a bite of her sandwich, and her response was lost to the bread and cheese.

  “We’re not sure why he’s coming after you and Serge,” said Craig, raising the soup to his mouth. “But, Mags, we think your dad was targeted by him to take you down.”

  Serge and I looked at each other. “Take us down?”

  Craig swallowed and set down his bowl.
“From what my contacts could tell me, you and Maggie will be the ones who capture him, bring him to justice on the other side, and free the souls. You’re his retribution. They figure that’s why he’s here. He’s trying to stop you.”

  “So why didn’t he just come at me directly?” I had the answer as soon as I asked the question. “Because Serge and I are a team. If he came at us, that might be the moment we stop him. Permanently.”

  “But if your dad’s dead and you’re locked in mourning, you can’t track him,” said Nell.

  “And if she goes rogue or starts doing her own thing because she’s angry that the powers-that-be didn’t protect her dad, then he also goes free,” said Serge. “You have to watch your anger, Maggie, before any of those lunatics goad you into doing something you can’t come back from.”

  “I think that’s my cue to tell you what’s going on on our side,” I said. I gave them the lowdown on Amber, Principal Larry, and the appearance of Serena.

  “My head’s spinning,” said Nell. “Amber’s dead?”

  “Shot.”

  “Shot to death?”

  “Shot to death.”

  “Like with a gun and bullets?” she asked.

  “No, Nell,” I said. “With vodka and scotch. Of course with bullets and guns! What else shoots?”

  “Well, you’re shooting your mouth off right now, and you’d better check yourself and understand the seemingly simple questions are because I’m trying to sort it through in my mind. And you know better than to question the girl with straight As.”

  I blinked. “You’re right. That was out of line, and I’m sorry.”

  She grinned. “Did you see what I did there, with the word ‘shot,’ how I turned it into shooting and—”

  “I’m feeling less sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” She stood. “Your clothes make all the apology you need.”

  I tossed a napkin at her.

  Craig pointed at my sandwich. “Eat while we think this through.”

  I took a bite.

  “The soul-eater swooped in and stole Zeke and Homer. We think it’s because he was trying to throw Maggie and Serge off their game,” said Craig. “Strike one for the soul-eater. Rather than disrupting your destiny, the two of you start looking hard for him.”

  “Then he kills Maggie’s dad,” said Nell. “And takes his soul.”

  I set down the sandwich.

  Craig noticed. “At least eat the soup.”

  I reached for a spoon.

  “That’s strike two against the soul-eater,” continued Craig. “Because now the two of you are buckled in for the ride.”

  I gave him a weak smile. At least one of us thought I was fierce. “In the meantime, Serena’s showing up—”

  “Which is good and bad,” he said. “Your power is growing but your anger is also calling her to you and creating a destructive bond—”

  “I bet all that power and supernatural energy rolling around is why you could reach back in time and warn us about what was happening—” Nell snapped her fingers. “Wait a second, why are we worrying? Maggie obviously figures it all out, or else she wouldn’t be in the future sending a message back.”

  “We’re worrying because future Maggie has the answers and was smart enough to give the warning, but not smart enough to give the answer to this mess,” I said.

  “We’ve been through this—”

  I waved down Craig. “I know, I know. Metaphysical differences between the dream world and this reality.”

  “I share your frustration. None of the pieces fit the puzzle. Especially the serengti,” he said. “Something’s off about Serena, but I can’t figure out what it is.”

  “What could possibly be off about a faceless creature?” asked Serge. He turned. “Hey, Nell, see what I did there?”

  She read the text and said, “Where are you?”

  “Beside you.”

  “Fist bump. “She held out her hand.

  “He did it,” I said. “Now back to Serena.”

  “Serge nailed it,” said Craig. “Serengti aren’t faceless.”

  “You hide your face if you’re trying to hide yourself,” I said.

  “Yes,” said Craig. “But I feel like there’s more to it than that.”

  “Didn’t you say she’s going vigilante, and it’s not in their nature to do that? Maybe the loss of her features is literal,” said Nell. “Maybe she’s losing a part of herself.”

  “She’s trying to gain it back with Serge and me,” I said. “I get the feeling she’s given up on me, but she’s still trying to create a vigilante partnership with Serge.”

  “The soul-eater’s coming for both of you,” said Nell. “Serena’s coming for Serge, and all the souls in the town are up for grabs.” Nell ticked the list off on her fingers. “What I don’t get is how Amber and Principal Larry play into all of this. Are we sure they’re connected?”

  “The bullets from Amber and Principal Larry’s murders and Maggie’s dad might be the same,” said Serge. “I heard the cops talking about it.” He pivoted to Craig. “There’s a weird liquid in the blood. It’s floating on top and it’s metallic, but shimmery and green, and it looked like stuff was wriggling in it.”

  Craig read the text. “Shimmery?”

  “Yeah, like it sort of changes shade but it stays green. What does it mean?”

  “I don’t—” He stared out the window into the dark night. Craig stood and shut the drapes. “I can’t think of it. Stupid thing’s just out of reach. It’s—” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Green. Green is healing, green is life, grass. Blood and life, grass and death.” He opened his eyes. “Let me think on it. The harder I reach, the more it’s out of my grasp. It’ll come to me, I just have to relax.”

  “Why would the soul-eater kill Amber and Larry?” I asked.

  “There has to be a connection,” said Nell. “What of it, Casper, are you the missing link?”

  “Me?”

  She read his text. “Yeah, you dated Amber, you had the connection to Larry. Anything you’re not telling us?”

  “Like what?”

  “You secretly loved her?” asked Nell.

  Serge shook his head.

  “He’s shaking his head,” I told them.

  “I really miss having my powers,” murmured Craig.

  “Then maybe it’s something different, deeper,” Nell said. “Maybe it’s about guilt.”

  “Guilt?” asked Serge.

  “For not helping her, for not stopping the reverend,” said Nell. Her tone was gentle, devoid of accusation, but Serge’s face flushed.

  “I tried,” he said. “I tried to tell Mrs. Sinclair, tried to tell the deacons at the church.” He stopped to take a painful breath. “What do you do when no one wants to listen?”

  “You do what you can and when that fails, you do what’s necessary,” said Nell.

  Debbie-Anne, her aunt, had said the same thing the night we’d gone to her trailer, trying to solve the riddle of who’d murdered Serge. She told us about the abuse Serge had suffered at the hands of his parents, that she’d tried to report it, tried to get help, and all of it had been ignored or trivialized. She turned to alcohol to cover the pain of failing Serge, and I hoped that should I meet failure on the road, I’d be strong enough to turn to my friends instead. “We should talk to your aunt,” I said. “She knows everything about everyone.”

  Nell grimaced. “Great. Can’t wait to get drunk from her breath. Are we sure she knows things?”

  “She knows things.” I glanced at Serge. “She knew about Serge when no one else did.”

  “Jealousy! Possession!” Craig grinned. “I knew it would come to me. Jealous blood, that’s what made the green liquid. But it’s more than that—it’s trying to get something that’s not yours to have—trying to ta
ke the thing, even though it’s not yours to take—” He made a frustrated sound. “I can’t explain it, but it’s not a regular kind of jealousy. It has psychic fall-out.”

  I took a second to catch up. “Who was jealous?”

  “Whose blood was it?” asked Craig. “The principal’s or Amber’s? Was the shooter injured?”

  “I never asked,” I said.

  “It was comingled,” said Serge. “What does that mean?”

  “Not much,” admitted Craig. “But it might help with motive about why they were killed. What about—” He stopped as someone knocked on the door. “You expecting someone?”

  I shook my head. “You?”

  “Nope.” He rose. “Let’s see who it is.”

  “Not all of us,” I said. “We look like a bunch of four-year-olds chasing a soccer ball. Serge and I will go. The two of you stay here and grab a knife or something—” I looked over my shoulder at them. Nell already had a knife in each hand. Craig, too. “—Never mind.”

  The knocking continued, more insistent with each rap.

  “Coming, coming.” I hit the bottom step, then waited for Serge to do his thing.

  He pushed through the door. The lower half of his body on this side, his upper half on the other. A second later, he came back. “I have no idea who that is.”

  “Does he look dangerous?” I asked.

  “We’ve had three people murdered in two days and over half-a-dozen people killed in the last couple of months. At this point, everyone looks dangerous to me.”

  “Maggie,” said the voice on the other side of the door. “Nancy, my name is Gregory Ryan. I was a friend of Hank’s.”

  “Is that true?”

  I looked up the staircase to where Nell and Craig stood and nodded in answer to Craig’s question. “I don’t know what he looks like.”

  “If Nancy was here, I bet she’d know,” said Serge. “She looked him up on the police database.”

  “Maggie? Nancy? I know someone’s home.” His deep voice boomed through the wood. “I know—” His voice dropped. “I know things are weird right now, and I know you need help. That’s why Hank called me.”

  “Do I open the door?” I asked my friends.

  “I’m pushing my licence through the door so you know it’s me.”