Game Over (Game of Gods Book 4)

by Lana Pecherczyk

  “We have few left in our House after it was slaughtered by Urser.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Zebedee,” I said. “How many Nephilim and Seraphim were taken?”

  “Forty-one were infected. Sixteen were Nephilim children, twenty-five were Players who had their Game ended.” He looked around the room. “Additionally we still have three Draco Seraphim unaccounted for. It is unclear whether they had a hand in the betrayal or were taken themselves.”

  “From the intel we have, I don’t believe there are any Seraphim infected with the serum,” Cash said from behind me. “Only Nephilim and the occasional human.”

  Any Seraphim missing must be a traitor or a prisoner. I studied my hands, thinking back to something Zebedee said. “Nephilim Players know their souls will return to the Empire, but did the children have a clue?” What I wanted to say was, did the children know they were being murdered, or was this shock tempered with the knowledge that they weren’t really dying, but going to a better place?

  “Nephilim are not educated about the truth of their Player status until they reach adulthood. They all thought they were human. Oh, and that figure I gave you about losses was just for our House. If you want a report on the full extent of Afrikaan casualties, I’m afraid I can’t give it to you.”

  Cash glanced down at me. “Do you want to know?”

  “Yes,” I said quietly.

  “It was in the hundreds,” he replied.

  I slumped in my chair. There were no words. Anger replaced despair as I dwelled on Seraphim betraying their own kind and I kept thinking of how I would have felt if, as a young child, I was suddenly thrust into the world of the gods, watching others of my kind turned into monsters. I refused to let my train of thought touch on the possibility that they were infected too. How could any decent person willingly gift wrap Players for darkling conversion when they knew they were killing their forever souls?

  “This is why I believe we should go public,” Zebedee said, interrupting my thoughts. “We expose Urser, we blame him for the catastrophes, and get the human population on our side before he manages to do it first. We can use human resources to flush him out and capture him. The sooner we squash his rebellion, the sooner we go home.”

  “And unleash chaos? That’s the worst suggestion I’ve heard all year,” Cato rumbled. His son snorted in approval.

  “You would use humans as pawns to clean up our mess?” Another nameless Seraphim rumbled from his table seat. I was about to ask for an introduction, when Zebedee snapped, “And what do you suggest? Give them all a makeover?”

  I let them bicker amongst themselves and glanced at Cash who frowned at the Watchers. Feeling lost, I looked for Marc.

  “Excuse me, but has anyone heard from Marc?” I asked, interrupting.

  Jacine shifted in her seat as did a few others. It was Lena who finally spoke. “He’s taken the last load of souls in Purgatory back to the Empire where he is gaining insight on how to further proceed here.”

  “Oh.”

  “Roo, do you have an opinion?” Cash rested a palm on my shoulder. “About going public.”

  “I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t feel I’m the right person to ask this.”

  “You’re the queen,” Thurstan stated.

  “But I don’t know.” My pulse quickened at the irritation directed my way. “I don’t know anything.”

  Someone made a sound of agreement which made me feel even less welcome.

  “Like I said, my vote is for going public,” Zebedee said, turning to his neighbors. “It’s happening anyway. We should get ahead of the curve and control the dialog.”

  “I agree,” Cato added. “I say this without intended offense, Your Majesty, but your original decree to remain hidden for the term of the Game doesn’t apply anymore. You’re not the same person and times have changed.”

  “She’s still your queen,” Jacine snapped.

  When I’d first met Jacine at the Australian Ludus, she’d treated me like a child. I hadn’t expected the Goddess of Love to have such an abrupt and crisp demeanor. The years on this planet had changed her, as it had with many of them. Another stark reminder that whoever I was before, she wasn’t all that great in my opinion. Surprisingly, the minute Jacine discovered my true identity, she became my biggest supporter. Who’d have thought?

  “Was, Jacine, she was our queen,” Thurstan said. “This young woman sitting before us is arguably not the same person. She can’t remember the reason she confined us to this planet, so how is she supposed to use correct judgment to make an informed decision? The only proof we have that she is actually the queen is that she appears to have the Seraphim physiological response when her true name is called. As far as I’m concerned, anyone can fake those shivers. I move she abdicate in favor of this Tribunal. At least until we get word from the Empire.”

  A murmur of approval clashed with outcries from my supporters—Cash among them. The split was easily fifty-fifty. On one hand, I was honored that people were on my side, on the other… maybe they were right.

  Would they stop arguing if I said it sounded great to me? I started to reply but was stopped by Cash’s firm hand on my shoulder as he glared at the Tribunal. “Mention abdication again and I’ll abdicate you.”

  “You can’t abdicate me. I’m not King. That doesn’t make sense,” Thurstan sneered.

  “Sure it does. Think about it.”

  My head dropped in my hand. This was going nowhere. Whatever the case, there were bigger fish to fry. My circumstances were second fiddle to Urser. This world was in danger and we were the only ones able to protect it. I sat up. That’s probably what I should be saying.

  “Excuse me,” I said, my voice barely heard over the din. Thurstan flicked a balled up paper at Zebedee, provoking him. Who would’ve thought these were immortal gods? Someone had to rally them. I tried again, this time with more power in my voice. “Stop. Please, everyone can we focus on the important thing here?”

  Seeing what I was trying to do, Cash added his voice to mine. “Quiet,” he shouted and slammed both palms on the table. The carafes of water and half-full cups trembled and sloshed.

  All conversation dimmed.

  Cash straightened, and looked down at me with an arched eyebrow as if to say, The floor’s all yours. It was then I became acutely aware that while he had called the meeting, it was me he kept deferring to. That warmth in my chest bloomed again.

  I plowed onwards. “We have other pressing matters to discuss. Urser is our main concern. We deal with him first.” I angled my head to look up at Cash. “What do we know about his plans?”

  I asked Cash because his past two weeks had not only been searching for survivors and infected, but scouting for traces of my father’s operations, in particular the lab he created the serum in.

  Cash folded his arms, jacket creaking. “My team in Houston have been working on this for months. We’ve discovered experiments on humans with the serum but as far as we can see, they were just tests. After the initial cases, we haven’t detected any further activity. As you all know, the serum was used on Nephilim during the Libertine Ball across the world. Urser’s taken control of these darklings and spirited them off somewhere. We’re getting reports from pockets of groups still playing the Game that Nephilim in their camps have also sporadically gone missing. We’ve put the word out for survivors to seek refuge together, or to come here if it’s possible. Thanks to your queen, we have purged the few darklings we recovered and are keeping a close eye on them.

  “The location of Urser’s lab has been narrowed down to somewhere in South America, but we are unsure precisely where. We have analysts assessing what we can from the country. As far as evidence to Urser’s plans, we don’t know enough. It’s all conjecture at the moment.”

  I straightened, remembering something from my time living with my father at the Australian Ludus. “I overheard Squid talking about the serum production being almost finished. We could interrogate anyone I�
�ve purged to see if any of them saw or heard anything while they were under the influence. We might be able to learn more about the location of the lab and anything else about Urser’s whereabouts. I would imagine, that if they were used against their will, they might be forthcoming with some Intel.”

  “Great idea.” Lena leaned forward. “I’ve got a mind-raider on staff. We can discretely visit each survivor and fish for information.”

  I blanched. A mind-raider? It didn’t sound inviting. “Can’t we just ask them?”

  “Mind-raiders are more effective. Similar to the Librarian, they can rifle through memories, but are slightly less intrusive and undetectable.” Cash paced behind me. “They can also be used to search for more Player animosity and bad blood. We had a Player attack in the medical lab today. Seems some don’t care we’re fighting a war with Urser, they only see this as their last chance to up their evolution points before the Game is canceled for good.”

  “No. That is not acceptable,” Jacine said. “This is meant to be neutral territory. A temporary Ludus if you will. We simply cannot have Game plays on site. What happened?”

  “I ended his Game,” Cash replied and then proceeded to explain how Malcolm had successfully masqueraded as a survivor to get close to us before he attempted to kill us.

  The story plunged the group into silence, but their auras did the talking for them. Some were shocked, others appeared thoughtful as though they too were contemplating what this last chance at the Game could mean to them. Watchers weren’t Players, but they created Players in the hopes that when they returned to the Empire, their blood-tie to their progenies would pass on evolutionary points. The thing was, nobody had tested that theory yet as no Watcher had returned to the Empire. Ever.

  I tuned back to what Cash was saying, “… another sentinel guarding the gate, and if we could have a mind-raider check each refugee as they are allowed into the compound, I believe that would help avoid another incident.”

  “We can arrange that,” Jacine said. “What about that psychic girl who alerted us to Urser’s plan back in Australia. The Astraia House child? Can she help?”

  “You mean Victoria?” I asked, remembering the awkward goth girl who tried to alert me to the problem I had with the Others, and then again to the arrival of my father on the night he destroyed the Ludus. “The seer?”

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  Cash answered. “She returned to the Empire. Before she left, she helped us narrow down the location of Urser's lab. We’re close. I’m in the process of getting a team together to comb the areas she’s pointed out and as I mentioned before, we’ve got a team of analysts interpreting data from multiple sources. Any sightings of darkling like behavior will be checked.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I said, standing to face him.

  He lowered his voice for my ears only. “Until you agree to convert to Seraphim, you’re not going anywhere.”

  “I can heal fine as it is.” I grit my teeth.

  “You will heal better once your human DNA is purged.”

  I bit down my response. I wouldn’t talk about this here. I mean, logically, of course I knew being Seraphim was far superior to being Nephilim, but there was so much more to it and I wasn’t ready.

  Marc chose that moment to grace us with his presence. He popped into being in a corner of the room, appearing as his charismatic youthful self, covered in an illusion-construct of obscenely fashionable clothing. Tight pants, tight collared shirt that looked a million dollars, and leather loafers. He smoothed his styled blond hair back from his head. The dimple in his chin twitched as he smothered a smile. “Having a party without me, ay? Where’s all the booze?”

  Everyone started talking at once. Some to Marc, others to each other, and I rounded back on Cash.

  “You can’t keep me locked up here like a troublesome teenager,” I hissed.

  “It’s because you’re acting like a damn teenager that I can.”

  “Tell me what you really think, why don’t you.”

  “You were attacked in our refuge. What makes you think you’ll be fine out there?”

  “I can look after myself.”

  He smiled. “Roo, you’re not a fighter.”

  “I was when I was queen.”

  “That’s debatable, and was being the operative word. Your powers aren’t at half capacity. When you convert, then you’ll be stronger, and we can talk.”

  “Again with the converting.”

  “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

  Someone cleared their throat. I’d forgotten we were in front of people.

  “Love, the hunter is right. Having you at full capacity is best for everyone.”

  Jacine frowned at Marc. “You need to stop calling her, love. It’s irreverent.”

  “I’ll call her what I bloody-well want. She’s my friend.”

  “Your Majesty. Your Highness. Those are more appropriate.”

  “Bollocks.”

  “Well, that’s definitely not appropriate.”

  “You two should just get a room and get it over with,” Thurstan grumbled from his seat.

  Jacine went white and Marc went red. It wasn’t long before the entire room erupted into conflict again. It was too much. With the way all these people snarked at each other, I honestly felt like I sat in a session of Parliament. I readied to leave by gathering my bag from under the table.

  Cash leaned toward me. “You’re not going anywhere. You may be the queen but you need me to go out in public with you. The human world still has protocols against witches to contend with.”

  Like a slap in the face! “Why are you doing this? Why are you treating me like a criminal, locking me in a prison?”

  “Because you’re not thinking right.”

  “I can help.”

  “You can help more once you’re Seraphim. I don’t understand why you’re resisting.”

  Because if I converted, then I would be her.

  I blinked away the tears. He was only trying to protect me, and a part of me knew that. In a way, he was right. Being at the same power level as my peers in the room—as Urser—was a smart thing to do. These dangerous and finicky gods could turn on me any minute. Zebedee called for my abdication. All it took was for the rest of them to agree, and I’d be out of there. The crown, I didn’t really want, but my life? Yes. I wanted that dearly. I wanted to be done with all this and move back to Margaret River. I wanted my barmaid job back at The Cauldron. I wanted to ride my Suzuki dirt-bike down Bibbulmen Track when no one was looking. It was a simple life full of simple pleasures. I was being stubborn, I knew it, especially when I was in the thick of the mess here—a mess my other self created. God, I felt like a teenager in front of these ancient people.

  “Even if I convert, my memories won’t come back, will they? Lena said I might get pieces here and there but I won’t get the whole lot. I shouldn’t be the queen. I should be Roo. Let someone else do it.”

  There. I said it.

  After the heat from my cheeks died down, I realized the room was now silent. All eyes on me.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WITH THE WEIGHT of the gods staring at me, I balked, and then my phone rang. It was the tune to Sir Mix-a-Lot’s I Like Big Butts. Must be Kitty.

  I retrieved the vibrating object from the jungle of my handbag. Not too hard to find considering the sheer volume and movement the phone made. It almost jumped out. In fact, it did jump out. Right onto the table where it proceeded to vibrate and tremor its way across the expanse. It headed right for Cato and Thurstan who both widened their eyes. We all stared at the phone with different shades of horror, then I snapped out of it.

  “Shit, sorry,” I said and reached for it.

  No dice. My fingers slipped down the slippery phone casing and it popped out of my hold onto the wooden surface where it proceeded to jump along to the beat of the song, almost as if it were dancing.

  Oh God, Sir Mix-a-Lot was now singing about round things in faces. I launch
ed onto the table, attempting to catch the electronic bug. It jumped, hopped and skittered. In slow motion, I saw my doom. The phone moved toward Cato, his eyebrows lifted, the whites of his eyes expanded, following the intrepid path of the phone toward him. My belly slid across the wooden table, my hand outstretched. The next lyric was… Oh God… please don’t say horny. Please don’t say horny. I wouldn’t make it. At the last minute I sent my power out to catch the phone telekinetically as my body stalled at the center of the table. The rapping phone went airborne over Cato’s lap and paused, suspended mid air.

  He said horny.

  My forehead slapped on the table. This was not what I needed right now.

  Marc laughed with a snort. “Great song choice, love. What have you got for my ringtone?”

  “You don’t have a phone, Marc,” I mumbled, voice muffled.

  “Oh yeah.”

  Cash grabbed my ankles and slid me back to the end. The phone came with me and before I could make a bigger fool of myself, I answered the call and moved, intending to take the conversation outside. “Hello?”

  “Put the Gamekeeper on.”

  The words stopped me in my tracks. Not Kitty. Deep, female, distant. But certainly not Kitty.

  “Who is this? How did you get my number?”

  Cash tensed next to me.

  “Put the Gamekeeper on or there will be suffering.”

  The air halted in my lungs. My hand grew heavy, and I lowered the phone to my side. I caught Marc’s eyes.

  “It’s for you.”

  “Ooh. Right-O.” Always the one to miss social queues, Marc wiggled his eyebrows jauntily, probably expecting a party invite, or something. He walked around the table to where I stood and retrieved the phone. “Is that you, Dave?” he said into the receiver. “I told you I don’t do lawn bowls unless it’s nude. Perhaps a game of ten-pin… oh, you’re not Dave.”

  All playfulness fled from Marc’s expression and he caught my gaze and held it. I wasn’t the only one watching him. The entire table had their eyes glued. Something was wrong.

  Kitty.

  “Uh-huh. Mm-hm. I see.” Marc rolled his eyes, and I relaxed a little. “No need to get snippy. I know what I agreed to. Right, we’ll see you in a few hours, then. Oh, and not a hair on the busty siren’s head to be harmed, yeah? Else ix-nay on the eal-day.” He stared back at the phone, and prodded it, frowning. “How do I turn this thing off?”