The deadly game, p.1
The Deadly Game, page 1
The Deadly Game
G. Bailey
CoraLee June
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Authors Note
Stay in Touch
About G. Bailey
About Coralee June
Coming soon by G. Bailey and Coralee June.
The Deadly Games © 2018 G. Bailey & CoraLee June
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.
Edits by Helayna Trask and Denise Krekling.
Cover Design by Amanda Rose.
Chapter heading design by Ellen Yates.
Created with Vellum
1
It was unseasonably cool for this time of year. The leaves outside covered the ground, brushing against my boots with every step, as I walked back to my house on Main Street. Pumpkins sat rotting on my neighbor’s porch and the smell of incense filled the air. I looked down at my phone, checking the alert flashing on the rectangular screen.
Curfew at 6:00PM. All humans not in their home at that time are forced to participate in the Deadly Games.
It was foolish of me to be out so close to the Deadly Games, but I’d just picked a fresh bouquet of flowers for Mama’s grave, and I wanted to decorate her tombstone for Día de los Muertos. The witches might be the only ones able to communicate with the dead, but I still held hope that she’d see them and follow the trail of marigolds through our little town to my ofrenda. There was only one night a year that bridged the gap between the living and the afterlife, and after almost a year without her, I craved something—anything—that brought her memory alive.
I brushed my long, brown hair behind my ears and looked around, clutching my red jacket closer to my body. I was wearing long jeans and a button up shirt, but it did nothing to fight the chill. The street was deserted. Not many risked being outside just before the curfew—not unless they were one of the witch worshipers, those that wanted to play. Ever since I was a little girl, I’d been warned about the Deadly Games. My papa would tell me, “Don’t stand too close to the window. The witches will get you, Camila.”
One night a year, all the witches crossed the human border and came to our town to compete for a chance to talk to the dead. We shared a cemetery that was a magical hot spot of activity, necessary to win. I’d heard rumors about their deadly games.
The humans that participated were cursed.
They needed humans to complete each task, and you were forced to play if you were stupid enough to be out and about on the Day of the Dead. Our two communities had a treaty, signed by the Cráneo Alliance, that cast a spell protecting those that made it to their homes in time for curfew.
But if you weren’t inside when the spell cast, you were fair game.
Walking faster, I turned down the alley, bypassing the main road to my home. Papa moved away when Mama died, leaving me their house. He said being here was too hard after her accident. Everything reminded him of her, and he wasn’t wrong. Even now, I’d noticed that the leaves were the shade of her favorite cardigan. The brick on the building beside me was the shade of her blush, and the air smelled of cinnamon—like her favorite dessert. And even though my papa and I were close, I stayed behind. I loved my job at the public library. My life was predictable, but it was pleasant. I liked the quiet consistency.
A gust of wind hit me again, this time carrying a teasing whisper, so low that I almost couldn’t hear it. Some witches used magic to lure humans out, tempting them to participate in their games. I couldn’t help but feel a pricking sense of being followed as I walked, so I increased my strides, desperate to get home.
There was a high pitched laugh behind me, a woman’s cackle that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I spun around, looking for the source of the sound but saw nothing. The laughter broke out and echoed off the walls in the alley, making me stumble as I stepped forward.
“Little Human, won’t you come out to play?” a light, teasing feminine voice whispered in my ear. I could practically feel the hiss of her breath on my skin, and I shuddered while jogging towards the end of the alley. I glanced down at my watch, gasping when I saw the time.
I only had ten minutes. I could have sworn I had a full hour—at least! Had I been spelled?
“Come on, Little Human. I know all your secrets. You want to see your Mama, don’t you? Come here, mija. Let me help you.”
Nothing about the voice sounded helpful. In the back of my mind, the part of me that thrived on instinct and could discern between friend or foe, I knew it was just a trick to get me to play the games. Each witch team needed a human to complete the trials, it was part of the magic. “I don’t w-want to,” I cried out while spinning around, feeling foolish for speaking to the air. I couldn’t see anyone, though my sluggish eyes searched everywhere. Just a little further and I could get home.
“You could see your Mama again,” the voice whispered. I felt a gust of wind hit my cheek, directing my attention to the left side of the alley, where a shadowed figure stood. I tried to force my eyes to focus on the wispy shadow, but everything in my mind felt like an echo of reality. There was a delay between what my eyes could see and what my brain could process.
“Camila?” a voice similar to my mother’s called out. It didn’t feel real, though. It was more like a memory, an echo of the tone my brain constructed then projected across my skull. Somehow I waded through the disorientation to decide that it wasn’t her, but the urge to reach out and double check was oh-so-tempting.
“See? Just stay, and I can let you talk to her again,” the voice promised. I found myself slowing down and spinning to face the shadow. My brain was screaming at my legs to keep running, to go home and lock the door, but I couldn’t force myself to tear my eyes away. Upon closer inspection, I recognized the long auburn hair and black eyes of my mother. I cocked my head to the side, willing myself to really look at the apparition in front of me. I knew she wasn’t real, but I ached for my mother. I missed her hugs, her confidence in me. I missed listening to her make breakfast and humming her favorite songs.
“Just stay, little Camila. I’ll help you talk to her again. She misses you terribly,” the voice echoed once more as I moved forward. I inched my hands out, wanting to touch the silky material of the ghost’s dress and wrap my arms around her for a hug. Would she smell like rose water, my mother’s perfume? Could a human also talk to the dead?
Everything felt slow and sluggish as I moved. It was like I couldn’t control my muscles. I wondered if the witch cursed me to be suspended in time, leaning to touch the ghost of my mother but never really making that connection. “Mama?” I called out, my voice sounding youthful. I felt like a child again, reaching for the comfort of my mother, wanting to be held close.
I’d hoped that she would respond, reach out to hug me and tell me one of her cheesy jokes. But instead, it was a man’s voice that greeted me.
“Well hello there, Natalia. Playing dirty, I see?” a low voice rumbled, cutting through my fog and confusion. It was different than the tempting whispers of before, clear and precise, it broke through my confusion. “You know it’s against the treaty to lure a human out past curfew.”
I heard a snapping sound, and the ghost in front of me disappeared, making me cry out. Tears streamed down my cheeks at her sudden disappearance. I wasn’t sure why I was so connected to the idea of seeing my mother again, but watching the projection of her dissolve before my eyes made my chest hurt and the grief I’d been feeling this past year swell up within me.
The sounds of heels on concrete made me turn around, and a woman with bleach blond hair strutted down the alley, her arms crossed over her chest as she lifted her hand up and danced her fingers in the air with a dainty wave. “Hello, Luca. Long time, no see,” she said while looking over my head. She was wearing an all-black dress with a slit up the thigh.
I turned and flinched when I saw a tall, imposing man standing behind me. His arms were crossed over his chest, honey eyes warm but dark as he stared back at her. They were in a deadly stare off, and I was trapped between them. “You know you can’t tease the humans with their memories. That’s a cheap move, preying on the poor woman like that,” the man named Luca said to her, his eyes squinting as he looked at her with displeasure.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to be composed. Everything still felt so fuzzy, like my brain was disconnected from the rest of my body. I felt a cold finger on my temple and flinched when I realized it was the man named Luca touching me. For a moment, I tried to shy away, but then a warmth filled my brain, starting at my temple and traveling all the way down to my feet. With it, came a clarity and awareness I didn’t have before.
“And a disorientation spell, too? You’re disgusting, Natalia,” he said to her once more. I shook my head loose of the residual confusion then looked up at him with clear eyes. He was handsome. Sharp features lined his face, and I couldn’t help but gape at how...pretty...he looked. He was at least a foot taller than my five foot five inches. His broad chest was covered by a tailored suit that fit perfectly. His brown hair looked soft, and it suited his complexion. But more than that, now that my disorientation had worn off, I’d registered that he looked familiar, somehow.
“Thank you,” I whispered, suddenly feeling grateful that he’d shown up. I didn’t know who this Natalia person was, but I didn’t appreciate that she was trying to spell me into being cooperative. I was about to excuse myself but then the community bell tower rang, indicating that curfew had started. I was too late. “Shit!” I called out while looking at my watch.
Natalia sauntered forward, a broad smile on her face as she reached out to me. “Welcome to the Deadly Games, Camila.”
2
"No! This isn't happening!" I shouted, shaking my head and stepping away from both of them. I wasn’t sure who I could trust. Although Luca seemed to have stopped her from spelling me to compete, I didn’t know if he was just doing that to use me for himself. Either way, I was screwed.
The bell kept chiming in the background, reminding me that my time was up, and the moment the last chime rang throughout the town, an orange mist filled the streets, traveling past us in a powerful current. The protection spell. Shit.
I felt a shiver as it passed over me, solidifying the fact that I was without protection for the Deadly Games. Even if I went home, there was no guarantee that a witch wouldn’t pluck me from my living room and force me to participate. It was all in the treaty. I made the mistake of looking at Natalia and cringed when I saw her pleased expression, which made her grin only grow wider. She had a look my old cat once got when she caught a mouse outside the house.
"You're mine now. My sisters are going to be happy I found a human so quickly," she announced, her words making me beyond fearful. Witches were not known for being kind to humans. No one ever got in the way of their games or survived to tell the tale. A girl I once went to school with was a witch worshiper, and once she was of legal age, she intentionally sat in the courtyard of our school, begging for a chance to play. That was the last time anyone saw her alive.
Some witches even argued that the games were cursed. Humans that play were doomed to die, and I didn’t want to die tonight.
"No. Mila is mine," Luca stated, smoothly stepping in front of me so that I was blocked from seeing Natalia. I stared at his back in frustration. That nickname, I hadn’t heard it in years. How did he know?
"Like hell she is. I found her first. The Hex Coven can’t have all the nice things," Natalia snapped. There was obvious animosity between the two. I went to side step Luca but accidentally brushed against his back. A shockwave of magic traveled up my spine, and he let out a little sigh. What the fuck?
"Don’t test me, Natalia. I can play dirty, too," he calmly replied, but I heard the threat in his tone. The brick building beside us seemed to echo, confirming his power and just how serious he was about keeping me away from her. Rocks and debris started to fall, and I looked around me, not seeing any other witches. I wondered if I could run somewhere to hide while these two argued with each other. It was worth a shot. I wasn’t playing the witch games. No way. I’d barricade myself in my home or cross the border to the neighboring shifter community. I’d risk a night with the wolves over a night with the witches.
"Oh I know just how dirty you can play, Luca. Can't we come to an agreement that benefits us both?" Natalia purred, and I could hear the sound of her shoes clicking across the pavement as she stepped closer. For some reason, the image of them together disgusted me.
"Oh, Natalia. I wouldn't repeat my night with you even if you paid me. Now, get out of here. Don't you have a human to trick into helping you win the first object?" he cruelly replied. I screamed, holding my hands over my ears as a loud and punishing buzzing noise echoed across my skull. Falling to my knees, I wished the noise would stop. Agony, pure, pure agony. Every muscle in my body tensed as I fought off the painful noise. And after what felt like an eternity, it stopped, leaving nothing but the sound of Natalia walking away and my thudding pulse.
I rubbed my ears a few times while listening to Luca shout at Natalia. “You always did throw tantrums when you didn’t get your way!” His yells seemed to intensify the residual ache in my head, and I winced. "Here," Luca offered me a hand a few seconds later, and I jumped back in fear, climbing to my feet on my own.
"How do you know my name?" He kept his honey brown eyes on me as I spoke. There was a hint of familiarity there that I couldn’t place. Witches didn’t come to this town, at least not unless it was Day of the Dead. And I wasn’t one of those humans that frequented the neutral zones—places where witches, shifters, vamps and humans coexisted.
"Shouldn't you be thanking me for saving you?" he responded, tutting a little. "Don't you remember me, Mila?" His playful voice had my skin tingling. It was similar to the feeling I had when Natalia had spelled me, but this was marginally different. Something about Luca called me to him, but I didn’t trust it. No matter how good the sensation felt.
"Should I? I don't remember hanging out with witches in the past.” I stepped back once more. No one called me Mila. Not anyone I could remember off the top my head anyway. There was nothing but the sound of leaves blowing in the wind and the distant sound of laughter as we stared at each other. I knew he wanted me to remember who he was, but I didn’t.
Luca let out a frustrated sigh, as if personally offended that I hadn’t remembered him. "If I remember right, you used to like sitting with me at lunch and stealing my chocolate buttons. You had no trouble hanging out with me then," he finally replied, and it all came back to me.
My eyes widened as I realized who he was. "Wait, Luca? Luca from middle school?" I asked, staring at him in shock. Luca, the only person to ever call me Mila. He looked nothing like he did back then, though, so I didn't feel too sorry for not recognizing him. Luca once had messy hair that fell into his face, he was always brushing it out of his eyes for it to just fall forward again. He wasn’t athletic and preferred to read during gym instead of play. Add puberty and pimples, and Luca wasn’t the most popular guy in school.
Everyone was mean to him because of how he looked, everyone but me, at least. I was pretty sure that every girl in school would be kicking themselves if they knew what Luca looked like now. I’d always felt bad for him, so I used to sit with him during lunch instead of with my friends. He was severely bullied, but I never knew he was a witch. It made me wonder. If he had powers all those years, did he just decide not to attack the boys that used to beat him up?
Luca moved away just before high school, and I never heard from him again.
"Bingo,” he said with a chuckle. “We've both changed a lot it seems," he then said, stepping closer to me. My back hit the side of the building as he invaded my space. "Tan hermosa." His low spoken words in Spanish made me shiver as he stroked a finger down my cheek and across my lips which parted from the shock. I couldn’t remember the last time someone called me beautiful. It might have been my mother.
"Have you always been a witch?" I asked him, trying not to focus on how he was staring at me, or how his words made my body feel alive for the first time in years.
