The Devil Inside (The Game of Gods Book 2)

by Lana Pecherczyk

  “We don’t have time to play knock on wood.”

  She gasped and covered her mouth. “Was that… was that another joke?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  She fell back on the bed in fits of laughter. I couldn’t help grinning. When she saw my face, she laughed harder. How did she do that? She could pull me from the brink of darkness in the blink of an eye.

  But we had work to do; my smile clouded. “Seriously, what happened to your clothes?”

  “I can’t help it!” She tugged at the hem of her nightgown. “Every time I get worked up, my fingers burn holes through my clothes. I’ve got nothing left. It’s so frustrating!” To prove her point, smoke curled from her fingers and a burning scent plagued the air. “See?” She threw up her hands. “Anyway, what about your mother? She’s invited us to dinner the night before Tommy’s funeral. Despite your assurances that he’s not really dead because he’s a part of you, nobody else knows that. I think it’s important to go. She misses you. She’s not as bad as you made out, quite sweet in fact.”

  I blinked at her, staring quietly until she fidgeted and asked, “What?”

  “It marvels me how you jump from topic to topic like a monkey on hot coals.”

  “What can I say? I’m multi-talented.”

  The smell of burnt rayon singed my nostrils. “Clearly.” Her clothes were Swiss cheese. I had to help her out. I collected my wallet, retrieved one of the many credit cards and threw it on the bed. “Go with Jed and get more durable clothing today.”

  Roo opened her mouth, presumably to argue, but the ring of my phone cut her off.

  I turned my back on her. “What?” I snapped into the receiver.

  “Mr. Samson, it’s Nell, from the office.”

  “I know who you are, Nell, I hired you.” I glanced back as Roo left. Shit, she’d left the card on the bed. I turned my attention back to the phone. “This better be good.”

  “I’m sorry to disturb you during your personal leave, but there’s been a situation, and the other men asked that I give you a call. I think you’d better come in.”

  “What the fuck do I pay you all for if you can’t handle things when I’m gone?” I clenched my fists until veins bulged in my forearms like writhing snakes. “Okay. Tell me. What happened?”

  “Teenagers all over the South have been reported missing under strange circumstances, and now it’s hit your orphanage. It’s one of your boys.”

  Shit.

  Fuck.

  I kicked the bed.

  I couldn’t ignore this. Training would have to wait.

  Nell filled me in on the details and, after I cut the call, I was both relieved and pissed. Relieved to have a focus for the rage boiling inside me and pissed that I’d have to leave my charge to someone else. I certainly wasn’t going to take Roo with me; she was untrained, insubordinate, and, with her recently gained powers, vulnerable.

  I supposed I’d have to get used to it. I was quitting after all. Roo would be better off under the protection of somebody who wouldn’t harm her in his sleep. Leaving life on this planet was the logical thing to do even if I had no idea whether my soul would land in a body or not.

  I’d figure that part out when I got to it.

  I dressed in a designer charcoal suit with a chalk collared shirt. When intimidation was needed, expensive was best. I secured a black tie around my neck and entered the open-plan living area of my loft. Weights, a boxing bag and exercise equipment filled the room. I bypassed the gym and walked into the kitchen where I poured myself a coffee, sipping as I leaned against the granite bench. I breathed in the rich scent to clear out Roo’s intoxicating smell.

  “Samson.” Jed’s voice, thick with sleep, came from behind me.

  I turned to find the Australian ex-police sergeant, dressed in a pair of gray sweats and a singlet, rubbing his eyes. The blonde regrowth in his auburn hair revealed his Player status. That, and the star map tattoo peeking out from under the chest area of his singlet. I eyed him. Could I trust him to teach Roo—leave them alone together?

  “There’s an emergency. I have to go.” I downed the espresso.

  “Oh?” Jed raised his eyebrows. “Something I can help with?”

  “Maybe. I know I promised to train you, but Roo is a priority. She’s absolute shit at anything but using her abilities on instinct. And, as I can’t be here, I want you to run drills for her on self-defense. Also, see if you can hone her telekinesis. Take her to the park. It’s cold, and no one will be down there to see.”

  I turned to go, but stopped and fished out the credit card Roo had discarded. “And here, take her to get clothes without holes in them. Something for the funeral too.”

  Jed took the card and nodded. He pressed his lips together.

  I clenched my fists. Say something, I dared him silently. Tell me I’m no good for her.

  When he didn’t, I strode for the door and left. I had to put as much distance between myself and my houseguests as possible.

  Her smell lingered.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Marc

  I INHALED THE dank air at the underground British Ludus, my preferred stomping ground, and sighed in pleasure. About bloody time. It had been too long since I’d walked these halls and I was dying to visit the administration quarters to see which lovelies had been hired since my last visit. How long had it been? A decade? More?

  As I walked down the corridor, I used the particles in the air to materialize clothing over my naked body. The nakedness, an unfortunate side effect of traveling through the dimensions, didn’t bother me. But it unnerved others—prudes if you asked me—so it was time to cover up.

  Today my jeans were painted on and my pin-striped shirt hugged my torso right up to a collar that stood on end. The outfit emphasized all the strong, hard lines of my body. Just because I couldn’t be naked, didn’t mean I’d let them get away without a tiny taste of my godly assets.

  I caught my reflection in one of the enormous fake windows and gave my blonde, tousled hair a quick groom, checked my Hollywood teeth and winked. Handsome Devil. Just in time, too. I diverted my grin to the stunning brunette bouncing down the hallway with a clipboard in her hand. Her hair swayed and her white mini dress highlighted the smooth curves of her body.

  Her swinging ponytail reminded me of another one, years ago, millennia in fact. It had belonged to a young version of Queen Sephie, my best friend. We’d been neighbors growing up. As we were both from aristocratic families, we’d shared a mutual disdain for them. I had always been a bit too… vigorous… for my parents’ liking, and she wasn’t enough of a lady. That ponytail had swung in my face, taunting me, as we ran through the grounds of her father’s estate. She’d always win, always outrun me. Or so she thought. Occasionally, I’d reach out and tug her hair to tease her, to make her think I’d caught up, and she would squeal and kick it up a notch. I liked chasing her, and she liked running.

  Sadness coated my heart. She’d been so full of life, of such vibrancy and the only one in the world who called bullshit with my attitude. She knew the real reason I chased women tirelessly and she loved me all the same.

  In the end, she was nothing like I remembered. The last time I’d seen her at her palace, her brown hair had turned white and hung ragged around her face. She refused to speak to anyone for decades and was more enraptured with the inside of her chambers than without. The most I got from her was a small smile here, a gentle touch of my face there. The life had depleted from her eyes and, despite my efforts to bring it back, there was nothin
g more I could do. So I stayed on this planet, nurturing her creations. Having fun with them. What else was there to do?

  The bouncing brunette stopped in front of me. She blushed and batted her lashes.

  My mood brightened instantly. All right. She’s up for it.

  “Hello, love. Don’t believe we’ve met. I’d remember that beautiful face if we had,” I said.

  She leaned forward and pouted, coming right up to my nose. I closed my eyes ready for—Ow! Pain sliced my right cheek. My eyes shot open. She’d slapped me.

  “What the bloody hell was that for?” I rubbed my cheek.

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t think we’ve met, ay? You’d remember my face, ay?” She put her hands on her hips and tapped an agitated rhythm with her foot. “All you gods are the same. The lot of you. Bloody perverted bastards.”

  My eyes widened, and I desperately tried to remember her name, but nothing came to mind. She didn’t look that old, but with advancements in human medicine, and gods-forbid witchcraft, who knew how old she really was? Even when I scrutinized her aura, I didn’t recognize her. Humans were a dime a dozen, and I’d had so many women. It had been so long since I visited the London Ludus….

  I tried another winning smile. “C’mon, love. Don’t be like that. It’s been too long to hold grudges.” I cleared my throat. “You’ve done something to your hair, yeah? It looks much more… womanly. And you’ve lost weight, yeah? You look ravishing.”

  “Well, I have…” She dropped the clipboard to her thigh, caught herself and then frowned. “Anyone would think you’re a Player, not the Gamekeeper.”

  I snorted. I bloody well wished! I’d have way more freedom as a Player—no responsibilities, no memories of the world beyond this earth, no idea what I was missing—the politics, the backstabbing, the friends. Sheer luxury.

  She spun on her white heels and sashayed away, footsteps echoing in the lonely corridor.

  The years had been kind to her well-shaped rear.

  I jumped to follow. It was a nice view after all. “Love, I need you to look into something for me,” I said as we entered the administration’s open-plan office.

  I stopped dead in my tracks.

  Blimey… It was filled with Simons. All rather fit-looking versions. A slow whistle blew from my lips. I liked to call humans simple Simons, but what I saw was anything but. Natural stunners, the lot of them. When had they changed the administration uniform to a sinful white mini dress? An office girl at the copy machine looked up, met my gaze briefly and then turned back to her task, perfect lips quirking. Gods, I could see the shape of her nipples through the taut fabric.

  How the hell was I supposed to choose between them now? Maybe I didn’t have to. Maybe I could just menáge-them-all.

  What was that brunette’s name again? I scratched my head. Trying again to place her face. If we’d done the dirty, then she mustn’t be a Player because they’re prohibited to me. So, she must be a Simon. The short lifespan of the breed meant I changed partners frequently. Probably met her in her youth. After a few years, all faces blended into one.

  Except for Little Red.

  Now where had that thought popped in from?

  That beautiful Player I’d met a few days ago obviously still had her metaphysical fingers hooked into me. Somehow, I couldn’t get her out of my head. I didn’t trust her further than I could throw her, but I wanted her. Bad. I got a tingling in my goolies just thinking about the possibilities.

  Utter codswallop.

  She was a Player. I was the Gamekeeper. We had roles to uphold.

  I’d like to uphold her, all right.

  No.

  Ma-arc. No.

  I had to forget her.

  I returned to admiring the fresh crop. Had they restocked for my pleasure? Tremendous.

  “Marc, dah-ling, good to see you back.” A tall, familiar woman with an unwavering baby-pink bob, walked out of a glass office. She held out her limp, manicured hand. “We have souls for you in storage, overflowing in fact, and some requests that need to be actioned.”

  “Jacine.” I gave a curt nod and ignored her hand. Just because she was Seraphim, like me, didn’t mean we were equals. She was also a Watcher—banished to live on this planet, forbidden to participate in the Game or to interfere with human society—watching until the end of days.

  It was hard for the Queen to uphold this rule, but in the end, if the Watchers fraternized with humans, they weren’t allowed back home. They were on occasion allowed to breed with them to make more Nephilim bodies for Players to inhabit, but that was it. Thou shalt not harm a Simple Simon’s head. I did everything I could to hold them to that law. Some of them, most of them, including Jacine, hated it.

  They also despised the fact I was free to travel between Earth and the Empire (or Paradise as the Simons liked to call it in their mythological fantasies).

  Her lids drooped in disdain, and gigantic lashes painted her cheeks in shadows. It was obvious she was trying her patience with me. I loved it. She cleared her throat. “Was there something we can help you with today?”

  I gave her the once over to judge her worthiness. She dressed decently enough for an out-of-touch Watcher. Her clothes were hip, her makeup un-tarty and, although she appeared to be sucking on a lemon, I rather thought she was good at her job as the Operations Manager and Tribunal Member of the London Ludus. As far as I knew, she was also loyal to the Queen.

  And then of course, we had history. Steamy, hot-tub history.

  That did it then. In for a penny, in for a pound.

  “Right-o, love. I need someone you trust to be discreet with some research.”

  Jacine clicked her manicured fingers at the bouncy brunette. “Claudette, conference room.”

  I smirked. Claudette. Now I remembered. Rhymes with Corvette.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Cash

  THE COLD STUNG my face as I climbed the steps to Samson’s Home for Lost Boys. The air smelled like rain. I let myself in and the smell of wet carpet, pine disinfectant, and a cheap perfume accosted me.

  “Mr. Samson.” The receptionist stepped out from behind her front desk, knotting her fingers. Her drab brown dress hung from her withered body and her pointed face crumpled with concern. It made the mole on her cheek wink at me. “We weren’t expecting you to check on the boys for another week. To what do we owe this pleasure?”

  Pleasure? I snorted. Hardly.

  Hell, if it weren’t for my unending donations that kept the home afloat, I was sure she’d never want to see me again. I’d heard I had been described by some as akin to a jackhammer. So, a pleasure? I thought not.

  Without answering, I glanced around the foyer. No one else stood at the desk and the air held no residual scent from a third party. The side rooms behind the double glass doors to the right were light but quiet. I stepped up to the door and opened it a crack. No signs of life beyond, in the rec-rooms, and—I sniffed—no residual scent there either.

  Where were the boys?

  “It’s Mrs. Baily, is it?” Of course I knew, but my feigned ignorance bred superiority.

  In a flash, a memory from one of my new past lives surged to the surface. I briefly closed my eyes to catch the vision. I still needed to learn from my newly acquired soul tripartite and the memory provided contrary feedback about behaving optimally for the manipulation of persons such as she. Being a dick just wouldn’t cut it. I supposed I could also try appealing to her human nature—she was a caregiver after all. Perhaps, when I had more time, I would sift through those new memories and garner more appropriate information for shaping my behavior. But for now, my old way would have
to do.

  I strode through the rec-room.

  “Where are the children?” My gaze swept the area looking for anything out of the ordinary. Nobody at the billiards table, nobody playing video games, nobody watching TV—which had a new crack through the screen.

  “They’re at school, sir.”

  “Of course.”

  I let out a breath. How could I forget? That broken television though.

  Her broken neck.

  I shook the thought away and returned to the room. I’d have to send money for a new television, maybe more furnishings. It was looking bare in there.

  “I’m early because I have a meeting with Mrs. Merriweather from the school. About James.”

  Mrs. Baily relaxed. “Oh, thank goodness. I’ve been so worried about that boy. And the authorities won’t help. She’ll be bringing the children home in about ten minutes.” She paused and fiddled with her collar. “James hasn’t been home for two days, but do you want to see his room?”

  A thought trickled up through my memories. I didn’t suppose young James would appreciate it. He’d been such a headstrong, private boy. I remembered the first time I’d come to visit after I’d rescued him. He didn’t like talking, and neither did I. We’d respected that about each other. If he knew I was about to rummage through his inner sanctum, he’d break.

  Broken.

  Stop thinking about it, idiot.

  Think about James. His room. I should go and take a look despite the invasion of privacy. My gut twisted. The notion caused me to pause and frown. Why was I so concerned with what others thought? Fucking new emotions.

  “Yes. Refresh my memory. Where is that again?” I asked.

  I followed her directions upstairs.

  All open, the dormitory doors revealed pristine, single-bed rooms. Each doorway held an adjacent frame with a photograph of the occupant’s youthful face.