Playing God (Game of Gods Book 3) Page 6

  “C’mon, Roo. Game face on,” I said to myself. “What would Prince do?” I had no idea what he’d do. I’d never met the artist. I used to ask myself that question all the time and randomly picked a song on my MP3 player, hoping the title would give me the magic answer.

  A childish game compared to the one I was now in.

  A knock at the door snapped me back to attention and I went to open it.

  “Damn, sis, if we weren’t related…” Lincoln’s voice trailed off as he looked me up and down and pulled at his shirt collar with a finger. His slicked back hair and tuxedo made him surprisingly dashing. Although on closer inspection…

  “Your jacket is inside out,” I said.

  He smirked.

  “Won’t Bruce be pissed?”

  His smirk widened to a grin, then a serious expression stole across his face. “Speaking of the devil, he’ll be going out after the dinner. I’m having a few people—uh, hi, Dad. Didn’t see you there.”

  Bruce waltzed up behind Lincoln. “The guests are here. Let’s make this snappy. I have an appointment later.”

  That was music to my ears. Sleep tugged at my seams and hunger prowled in my stomach. I couldn’t wait to eat up and then hit the sack. Start the day fresh.

  My father frowned at Lincoln’s attire and lifted his brow at his son, but when Lincoln shrugged, Bruce gave up and turned away.

  Lincoln caught my surprise. “Get used to it, sis. I need some form of entertainment. This dinner is only the first of many.”

  Dinner passed surprisingly without a hitch. Apart from the two hours of boring talk that barely kept me awake, let alone sitting upright in my seat, there was little intelligence gathered for our cause against my father. Zero talk about anything to do with serums or labs.

  An older woman, similar in age an aura to my father, and two young men were our guests. All three of them had a bull’s head embroidered onto the collar of their white shirts. If I hadn’t been so exhausted, I might have been interested in the way both men filled out their tuxedos. The jacket fabric stretched around their biceps, and the collar was snug around their thick, manly necks. I might even have been interested in how my father spoke privately with the woman the entire night. But I was exhausted, and grateful when they all stood up to leave shortly after dessert. My father followed them out without a backwards glance at us. When I turned back to the table, I realized Lincoln had already left.

  Right. Strange family.

  I made my way down the hall to Lincoln’s room, dodging some wooden debris still on the floor. My timid rap on his door barely left a sensation on my knuckles, but he heard the request and opened.

  “S’up sis.”

  “Hi. Listen, I have no clothes. You know, the bomb. Can I please borrow shorts and a T-shirt for bed?”

  “Yeah, for sure.” He tapped his chin and looked me over with narrowed eyes. “So you weren’t going to stay and hang out when my mates come over?”

  I frowned. “No. Thank you but, no. I’m too old for that, besides I have a lot of studying to do. I should read something. Don’t you have some to do as well?”

  He snorted. “As if, sis, just look at me.” He waved his hands up and down his body. “I’m not the epitome of the god of war now, am I? I got nothing but a short assed body and no powers and have already failed in his eyes. I don’t even know why I’m bothering. Rather be spending my last free days on this planet partaying if you know what I mean.” He wiggled his brows at me and bounced with excitement. “The offer is still open. I got some ladies coming, some blow—not that you’d be interested in the ladies, unless I’m missing something?” He checked my response from over his shoulder as he walked further into his room. I shook my head. “No? Thought so, there’s a couple of dudes coming too, so…”

  I stopped listening to his banter and rewound his words until I caught on something.

  God-of-freaking-war.

  Who has no powers, and, and—my mind stuttered to a halt as I became distracted by the decor in his room. Horse crazy. Like, seriously. Pictures on the walls, statues and figurines on the shelves, books littered around. Even his fake window looked out onto a sunny paddock with stallions galloping around under the blue sky. In the corner, just peeking over the cover of his bed was an old rocking horse, chipped and worn, threaded mane tattered. Weird.

  “How long have you been here?” I asked him, chewing on my nails so he couldn’t see the pity in my expression.

  “Dunno, somewhere between ten years and my whole life.” Lincoln placed his scrunched up clothing bundle in my hands and moved to collect folders off a table, first swiping off a layer of dust. He added the folders to my load. “Seeing as you’re so insistent you study, here’s some theory to get you started.”

  “Thanks. You mean you’ve never been outside?”

  “Nah, I’ve been out. Once or twice. It’s like I said, I got nothing to protect myself except my mouth. Players aren’t meant to kill each other until after the trials, but accidents happen. Daddy dearest didn’t want to risk another royal mistake. In the end that’s what he got because I’m a dud.”

  Jeez. I felt bad about my childhood, but his was worse. I could’ve spent my entire life underground but instead I got a father who at least pretended parental responsibilities on occasion.

  “So,” I continued. “If I need to study more for these trials, where would I go?”

  “Dunno. Maybe the depository?”

  I had no idea what that was. “And what if I wanted to see my mentor? Would there be anywhere in particular his quarters might be?”

  He shrugged.

  “Do you have a map?”

  He gave me a weird look.

  “Okay, guess not.”

  A shuffling sound behind alerted me to company. I turned around to find the grinning faces of two young males, baseball caps crooked, shirts inside out. Despite their appearance, it was clear they had money. Each wore a diamond stud in the ear, gold chains and designer sneakers. The waft of musky cologne was so strong I wanted to gag.

  “S’up Drew. S’up Crank.” Lincoln squeezed past me to get to his friends in the hallway.

  Both looked like carbon copies of Lincoln except with shorter hair. They could be twins, or brothers at least. One with his hat on backwards bobbed up and down and snickered over my shoulder to Lincoln in a strained voice. “Ah bro, you was right, she’s hella tight.” He bit his knuckles, and made the most obvious charade of inspecting me up and down, including lewd sound effects showing his pleasure.

  “And that’s my cue to leave.” I widened my eyes at Lincoln. “Thank you for your help. I’ll let you get back to your boy band.”

  I scurried back to the guest room to dump my package on the bed. I exchanged my dress for the plain black shirt and cotton jogging shorts I’d borrowed, then flopped onto the bed next to the files totally intending to read them, but sleep stole my vision, clouding everything up. I almost thought Marc had been here, pulling his sleep trick on me.

  My brain meandered between the worlds of the living and the dead for a few moments until a deep rhythmic bass thumped through the walls. Great. Just great. How was I meant to go to sleep with this racket on?

  After twenty minutes of ear tingling noise, I swallowed a frustrated screamed, got off the bed, opened the door, and slammed it behind me.

  The second I stomped into the living area with fists balled at my side, I regretted it.

  Two girls, or women—it was hard to tell the age of the demi-god race—lifted their heads to look at me. One had snorted a line of white powder off the glass coffee table and had red rimmed nostrils. Her mascara ran from her watering eyes and strands of her dull hair caught in the black pigment, streaking it across her face. The other woman sat on the couch with Lincoln’s arm around her. Drew and Crank stood behind the couch inspecting music on the digital player that filtered through the house speakers. They all looked up and lifted their drinks in a cheers. “Eeeyy.”

  I blanched, pivoted, an
d returned to my room. The door slammed behind me and I rested my back on the cool smooth surface of the wood then lowered my face into my hands. I was officially in hell.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “ROO.” MY WHOLE, dark world shook, and I disapproved.

  I scrunched up my face into my pillow and willed the voice away.

  “Wake up Roo, he’s on his way.”

  More shaking. It wasn’t fair. The world shouldn’t be shaking.

  “Roo. Oi. Sis!”

  I peeled open one eye and found the panic-stricken face of my brother. He didn’t look like a demi-god with extraordinary healing. His eye’s had dark circles and bags under them, his skin was sallow and his golden curls stuck together in matted clumps. He wore white boxer shorts and no shirt, revealing dark purple and blue clouded swirls painted over his entire torso and arm, a testament to his own territorial influence back at the Empire.

  “Bro, you need more sleep. You don’t look so good.”

  “Bullshit, I’ve had more sleep than you. You only went to bed an hour ago.”

  “Ah, no. I don’t think so. I went to bed around midnight.”

  “Uh, uh.” He stood back with his arms crossed and grimaced. “Don’t you dare think you can get away without cleaning up when you made half the mess. We were having a nice quiet X-Box tournament until you showed up and demanded we play ‘Flip, Sip or Strip’.”

  “Say what?” I pulled the blankets up to my chin. I didn’t remember anything.

  Lincoln shook his head. “Regardless of the shenanigans you got us into last night, we need to move. You have to follow me to my training session, remember? It takes about five minutes to walk there and we have to be there in ten. So I’d get going if I were you. We can’t be late.”

  He left the room.

  I was just about to ask what clothes I should wear when my mouth snapped shut before a syllable could get out. Strewn all over the floor was a variety of clothing items ranging from lacy underwear to a black leather jacket. Everything looked tried on. Almost like someone had a slumber party in my room and invited all their girlfriends.

  Uneasiness dropped in my stomach like a sinking stone. I didn’t remember putting those clothes there and, on closer inspection, they were all my size. I picked up blue jeans—my size. Flowery sun dress—my size. Fluorescent joggers—my size. I retraced my steps before I went to bed, but nothing came to mind.

  With nerves jangling, I rifled around until I found a decent enough outfit: jeans, a T-shirt that said “I Speak Fluent 90s Rap”, and the joggers. I ran my fingers through my unruly hair, tied it into a loose bun, and then checked myself in the mirror over the dresser when I caught sight of a note stuck to the glass. The blue scrawl across the white paper was recognizable handwriting. My heart leapt.

  “I’m sorry, I tried to stop them. Leila.” I read the message aloud as I plucked the paper from its place between the glass and the frame. “Stop who? What the hell?”

  But, I had a feeling I knew and ignored it. The logical explanation was that Lincoln had lied. I did not spend the night with him and his friends. I peered into my reflection’s pinched eyes. The girl looking back at me seemed distant, foreign, like the memory of a person I’d forgotten. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. A feeling, that’s all it was. A feeling. Like hairs standing on edge on the back of my neck.

  Perhaps I’d had a bad dream.

  A pounding on the door snapped me to attention. I joined my brother in the hallway. Walking through the trashed apartment, I noticed he’d done a number on the place. I could see why he was so keen for a little help to clean it up.

  “You start over there. I’ll start over here.” Lincoln made to move, but the front door opened. He gaped at me. “Shit. No time.”

  It was Squid. Apparently, he’d been there all night, guarding the door on the outside. Seeing as he had no troubles letting people in, I guessed he was placed there to keep me from leaving.

  The apartment was a mess. The thought that I’d slept through it without so much of a stir didn’t sit right with me.

  Then there was Leila’s note.

  Squid ushered us out of the apartment and into the hallway. Lincoln dragged through the opulent corridors, rubbing his eyes. Coupled with his matted hair, his inside-out shirt seemed haphazard, like a homeless person, not really packing the recalcitrant punch it had before.

  After a few minutes, we stopped in front of a series of elevators. Squid punched the down button and returned to me with his hands behind his back. He stared vacantly into the air.

  Slipping away would be hard with him around.

  But I needed to see the library—or depository—or whatever it was called. A place like that must have a great one. It should have the answers I needed about my passengers.

  Lincoln groaned beside me. “How did you pull up so well? You drank more than me and you partied harder than me. I couldn’t keep up. Even my Nephilim blood isn’t enough to recover. I’m shattered. But you’re perky as anything today. Your skin is totally glowing, man.” He gestured to my face.

  “It’s simple Lincoln, I went to bed early and got my beauty sleep.” I slid a glance right back. “I can’t say the same about you though, maybe you should think twice about blowing your study time for party time.”

  “Pfft, you did not go to bed early. Well, you did, but then you came out and joined us. Then you stayed up, drank, ordered room service, danced, drank some more and did some home shopping with Reaper and Mary. After you gave those two dye jobs, you modeled the lingerie for us then you all pinky swore you were sisters for life. With too much estrogen in the air, there was no chance of us boys getting any further than second base. Eventually, I told them all to piss off, and I hit the hay. Alone. Do you know how annoyed I am that you hijacked my chicks?”

  While he was busy figuring out the extent of his anger with gesticulating hands, a heavy feeling settled in my stomach. I didn’t like the idea forming in the back of my head so changed the subject. If I ignored it, it didn’t happen.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE ELEVATOR DOORS opened to a second sub-basement level with the same layout plan as the first. Immediately opposite us on the wall was the oroboros symbol. A long curving corridor that no doubt ended back where it started greeted us on either side. Everything was circular here. I guessed it was to remind us of the symbol they had plastered everywhere.

  Squid moved. Lincoln and I followed. We walked right. The outside walls had the same surreal fake windows as the top level. When we moved along, I noted more house names on plaques above each door. There was Cetus House with a wood carving of a whale looping through the letters. Epsilon House with a snake, Corvus House with a crow, and Aldebaran House with a bull’s head and horns. They were the ones who came for dinner last night. Their motto was Citius, Altius, Fortius which meant faster, higher, stronger.

  I stopped at the front of that door and wondered where Cash stayed, whether he had his own House plaque and what his motto was, then forced the thought away. I had to stop thinking of him. If I couldn’t, I’d never be able to do this on my own, and I had to. I simply must. For the names on that list, for my friends, and for my freedom.

  But Cash’s face wouldn’t fade from my mind. It had only been one night since I’d seen him last, but the memory of our embrace at the registrar’s office was a siren calling me back to him. My traitorous heart missed him. I rubbed my chest, aching with longing. That same ache gave me the strength to steer my thoughts away because, when we eventually split up, through death or something else, my heart would shatter. Better to toughen up now than to be too weak to hold it together.

  “Hurry up,” Squid growled a few feet in front of me.

  Lincoln noticed me staring at the plaque on the wall. “Bunch of bull-headed meat-heads, if you ask me.”

  Squid cleared his throat.

  Right.

  After more walking, we turned inwards into the center of the Ludus where there were more rooms. The sound of peopl
e talking, and the buzz of auras filtered through before we reached the double doors. The vast space inside was a cross between an auditorium and a stadium. Not football sized, but large enough to have a middle concrete field and a few rows of seats on the outside for spectators. Kind of like an indoor gladiator pit. The middle area already held a number of people engaged in combat style training activities, their sounds echoing in the chamber. We must have come down another two levels for the ceiling to be so high. The seats around the outskirt slowly filled with spectators. I took a step inside the door with my mouth open in awe. Lincoln shoved me in the back so I continued to the center of the room.

  As we moved, a hush came over the crowd and with it, the weight of many eyes landed on my shoulders.

  I felt myself shrink a little as I followed Squid to a circular padded mat where a strong looking woman and a lithe, tall man were engaged in a sparring match.

  Squid didn’t speak. He simply walked up to a man watching from the sidelines and stared wordlessly, eye-to-eye. The man, who appeared to be the mentor of the two, lowered his gaze, bowed and signaled the two on the mat to follow him.

  And just like that, we had a place to train.

  Squid moved to the side of the mat where the other mentor had stood and folded his arms, assuming the vacant position.

  “So…” I let my voice trail off as I surveyed the room. “What happens now?”

  Lincoln shrugged and pulled out his phone to check his messages. I felt rather awkward standing on the exercise mat without exercising. And dressed in jeans. All other participants wore Lycra fitness attire, and the occasional fighter wore leather armor plates across their arms and chest.

  I tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey.”

  He sighed and deigned to look at me from under his scruffy curls. “What.”

  “Aren’t we supposed to be doing stuff, like, you know, training and stuff?”

  “Nah. If Dad isn’t here, we don’t have to do jack.”

  “At the risk of sounding like a broken record, what about the trials? Shouldn’t I be learning how to pass them?”