A Sinister Game

  “Pull yourself together Victoria,” she hissed. She never accepted regret or guilt from her team members in the middle of a Game. She wouldn’t accept it from herself, either.

  One does what one must. Max had told her that once. It made sense to her more now more than ever before.

  She pushed herself off the wall and straightened her uniform. She smoothed her hair, touched her smoky quartz locket.

  Then she strode to the transporter’s console and inserted the small key that Arthur had given her. At once, every button on the console flashed red and the transporter blurred into impossible motion.

  Victoria forced herself to take a few deep, calming breaths.

  By the time the transporter slowed again and the walls solidified once more, she was feeling a little better and ready to face the next challenge in Victor Black’s Game.

  She turned toward the doors and waited. They slid open with a quiet hiss that was instantly drowned out by the mad rush of water blasting through the opening and into the transporter cube. Victoria gasped as the impact shoved her hard against the back wall. When she did, she inhaled not only air but a painful amount of water.

  She coughed violently and tried to inhale again, only to get another mouth-full of water. The cube was already full.

  Salty, she thought vaguely as the water filled spaces in her body where water was never supposed to go.

  Hope she drowns….

  Arthur’s mental words came back to her now as her lungs began to scream at her and her head started to pound. Without thinking, she awkwardly punched at the controls, trying to close the doors again as she treaded water, but the doors wouldn’t budge.

  The console began to spark, and currents of electricity arced through the water. She could vaguely hear them, though they sounded different than they would have had they been moving through air rather than water.

  She tried to jam the doors closed telekinetically, but could barely concentrate through the pain, and the doors weren’t obeying anyway.

  Pain throbbed through her lungs, up into her neck, and surrounded her like a cloak. Desperately, Victoria left the console and dove through the open doors into the unknown water beyond. Somehow, maybe out of sheer desperation, she managed to hold her breath even though every fiber of her body was telling her to cough and inhale. Cough and inhale!

  As she propelled herself through salty brine she could barely see through, she imagined her lungs full of air instead of water.

  But that didn’t work either. There was nothing to heal, really. There was just pain. They still hurt and they were still partially filled with salty liquid, caustic and un-breathable.

  And she was drowning. She swam and swam, but her muscles were seizing up, thick and heavy and corded with agony. There seemed to be no surface to this ocean. Stars swam in her stinging vision. Her toes were going numb in her boots.

  Arthur One was going to get his wish after all.

  Chapter Nine

  The first thing Victoria noticed was sound. It was a crackling and popping and a slow whoosh-shoosh kind of sound. The whoosh-shoosh was distant. The crackling and popping, however, was very close, and Victoria recognized it as the sound of a fire.

  She tried to open her eyes, but when she did her vision was a mass of blurry orange and black, and the air burned her eyes. She closed them again, blinking rapidly to wet the sting away and clear her sight.

  “It’s the salt,” a man said. He was somewhere to her left, beside the fire.

  A campfire. She could feel something like grass and sand beneath the fingers of her right hand.

  “Go slow, Victoria. Take it easy.”

  She knew that voice. Max. She tried to say his name, but when her lips peeled apart, she found her throat swollen and incapable of sound. All she managed was a raspy sort of gasp.

  “Shhh. It’s okay, I’m here.”

  It was Max. She felt the cool brush of his fingers against her cheek, then her forehead. He was moving the hair out of her face.

  “That was close, Victoria.” He sighed and seemed to move away, perhaps sitting back. She still couldn’t tell because her eyes were shut tight. Her world was nothing but feeling and sound. Not even her sense of smell was working right; it was as if her nostrils had been seared by the salt.

  “You were almost at the surface, you know. Another few feet and you’d have made it. You just didn’t know because it’s dark right now.” He was moving again. She heard the creaking of leather. A downtime uniform jacket? There was a muted clunk of thin metal, followed by the sound of pouring liquid.

  “Here, drink this. Slowly.”

  Max wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders and helped her sit up. She could tell by the feel of him that he’d positioned her back against his chest and was kneeling behind her.

  He placed a metal cup of some kind to her lips. She inhaled but still could detect no scent. She hesitated.

  “It’s water,” he said, “and not salt water this time.” His voice was very slightly reprimanding, and perhaps a bit impatient. But it was gentle, nonetheless.

  Victoria took a sip. It hurt to swallow and almost instantly turned her stomach. It was just water. Why did it have that effect?

  “You almost drowned,” Max told her as he gently laid her back down. He moved away, and she again tried to open her eyes. This time she managed to see the outline of the fire a few feet away and the dark shadow of Max’s tall form as he moved about the camp.

  She lifted her arm. It felt heavy, but it worked normally. Gingerly, she rubbed her eyes, ignoring the burn. After a bit, they felt cleansed by tears, and her vision was much clearer.

  A gleaming long sword rested against a boulder on the other side of the campfire. It was Max’s sword. Its scabbard lay on the ground beside it, along with a sheathed dagger and a small metal canteen, Field issue.

  A few feet closer to Victoria, Max was bent over a leather sack searching for something. As if he could sense her eyes on him, he stopped what he was doing and peered at her over his shoulder.

  Eyes like blue topaz speared through her with almost tangible force. He was wearing black, which she had never before seen him wear. The dark color caused his wavy shoulder-length hair to appear darker than normal and his eyes to look lighter.

  Victoria’s heart thumped. He looked good in black.

  He had a bit of stubble on his chin, the way he always did after they’d been on the Field a few days in a battle against another team. It lent him a rugged and careless air. Just then, it made him look like a rogue.

  It almost didn’t fit his demeanor. He was always so careful and capable and responsible. But at that moment, he honestly looked like he could easily bed a woman and leave her in the morning.

  Victoria blushed at that thought. She could feel the heat of it rush across her neck and up into her cheeks. She knew that Max had seen it when the blue in his eyes sparked with perceptive interest and the corners of his mouth drew up in the slightest of smiles.

  Victoria looked away, embarrassed. She tried to sit up, and her ribs and lungs objected. She winced as Max made his way back to her side.

  “Why are you moving? You should rest,” he said even while he helped her sit up as if he knew arguing was pointless.

  She wanted to ask him what had happened. The last thing she remembered, she was in a transporter cube and the doors had opened into what could only have been the ocean. She had been trying to find the surface, but she’d been drowning instead.

  And now she was here, on solid ground – with Max.

  Her throat was tender and probably seared by the salt, but not worth expending the energy to heal. Instead, she took another slow sip of water from the canteen he’d left beside her and carefully cleared her throat. This time, there wasn’t quite as much pain.

  “What happened?” she asked. She looked around, but all she saw was night beyond the blinding flames of the campfire. “How did you get here, and where are we?” A cool breeze rustled some tall grass in that
darkness and then moved through the small clearing to breathe against her exposed skin. She looked down to find that her downtime uniform had been removed. All she wore was a white tank top and matching underwear.

  She gasped, coughed because of it, and demanded, “Where are my clothes?”

  “Your clothes were soaked,” Max said. He gestured to where they had been laid out on rocks near the fire. “They’re drying. You can put them on now if you don’t mind chafed skin.”

  “I can heal chafed skin,” she told him.

  He gave her raised brow. “You’re welcome to this,” he offered, curling his fingers under the hem of his black shirt. He began to raise it up to take it off.

  Victoria could have stopped him. She fully planned on drying her clothes using her light leader telekinetic abilities, but… something kept her silent.

  Max quickly lifted the shirt over his head, the toned muscles of his abdomen and chest rippling with the movement.

  Victoria felt her blush deepen.

  When he handed his shirt to her, she smiled. It was impish, she knew. “I can also dry my own clothes a hell of a lot faster than the fire can.”

  She concentrated, sending hot rivulets of air moving quickly over and through the clothing laid out. Within seconds, the dark stains of water were shrinking to nothing and the clothes were dry.

  He gave her a bemused look. She blinked up at him. “I can’t get dressed with you watching me,” she told him.

  Max sighed, shook his head, and slipped the shirt back on, turning around to give her privacy. Victoria stood up, and as she did, she noticed that she had been sitting on leather. He’d laid her atop of his Game uniform jacket. That was why he wasn’t wearing it now, despite the relative cold in the air.

  She digested this, noticing the way it made her feel warmer. Then she pulled her clothes from the rocks and began dressing. When she’d finished with everything including her boots, she ran a hand through her long damp locks to comb them out and stared at the fire. The flames jumped a few inches, crackling and popping with new hyperactivity, reacting to her inner turmoil.

  The magnitude of her situation hit her. She was running from Victor Black, she’d attacked Arthur One, she’d broken every law in Game Control’s books, she’d left the Field, and now Max was here with her – breaking the rules as well.

  This is a disaster.

  It was bad enough for her. The last thing she’d wanted was to pull her team in with her. How in the world had Max even found her? And why had he gone looking in the first place?

  “Okay,” she finally sighed, “You can turn around.”

  Max failed to hide his look of disappointment at finding her fully clothed – and that temporarily distracted Victoria. But she hurriedly shoved the distraction away. “How did you find me?”

  Max eyed her in silence for a moment. His expression was suddenly unreadable. After a moment, he cocked his head to the side and asked a question of his own. “Why did you venture beyond the wall?”

  “Crap, Max.” Victoria felt helpless. “You saved my life, so I can’t say that I’m not happy you found me, but this is honestly not how I wanted things to play out.”

  “Play out?” he asked, bending to pick his jacket up off of the floor and slip it back on. He still gave no outward indication as to his mood. But Victoria had known him a long time. She could almost feel the storm building behind the deceptively calm blue skies in his eyes.

  “Yes,” she said. “Play.” She sighed again and moved to the rocks where her clothes had been previously laid out and sat down. “Victor Black approached me at the TGB the other day.”

  Max stiffened. She could see it, and she knew she had his attention whether she wanted it or not.

  “He offered me a deal.” She swallowed hard. “More or less.”

  Max said nothing. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

  “He proposed a Game, a private one, just between us. Seven rounds, as usual. Only I didn’t have to beat him, I just had to escape him. If he was able to capture me, then I –” Her voice caught and her eyes widened just a touch. She quickly looked away. She felt strange. Hot and cold. The memory of her conversation with Black was bringing her nerve endings to life. She could see the nearly glowing green of his eyes so clearly. She could hear the sound of his accented voice, so deep and intoxicating. She could see the blue tint to his ultra-black hair and recall how she’d wanted to touch it.

  It was disconcerting.

  To make matters worse, letting Max in on the details of this Game now felt distinctly like cheating. She’d already come this far. Was she breaking their private rules now? Would Black consider this a forfeit?

  How would he even know? she wondered. She didn’t have to tell him. No, I don’t have to tell him. He can read my mind, she thought ruefully. He’ll know.

  When she looked back up at Max, it was to find that the storm building inside of him had finally made its way into the blue of his eyes. They were visibly darker than before. His entire visage was grim.

  “You made a deal with Victor Black.” His voice was tight, his tone low. “I don’t need to ask what he wanted from you, Victoria.” His eyes blazed a hot trail down her body and back up again. “That much is decidedly obvious.”

  Victoria’s stomach knotted and her heart rate kicked up a notch.

  “But I will ask you what Black could possibly offer you that was so important it was worth breaching the wall and leaving the Field.”

  He was pinning her to the spot with this question.

  But she was the Red Team leader, not him. And not only did she not want to answer his question, he still hadn’t answered hers.

  She squared her shoulders. “Max, how did you find me?” she repeated, this time allowing some of her inherent power to lend weight to her words.

  His head rose a little, and he peered at her through narrowed blue slits. “Very well. Another Gamer saw you leave the TGB with Arthur One. I don’t trust the man – never have.” He paused and looked down at the ground. “So I transported to his lab and Arthur and I had a little talk.”

  Victoria blinked. “You what?”

  “He gave me a transporter code to get past the wall, but there are four codes – and I knew he wouldn’t give me the same one he gave you.” His expression hardened, something dangerous flashing in his blue eyes. “When he let it slip that I was ‘probably too late anyway,’ I knew he’d sent you into the Mare.”

  Victoria was stunned. Too much about what Max was telling her made no sense. How had he made it into Arthur’s lab without the code? How had he gotten past all of the junk that she’d shoved up against the door of the inner lab? How had Max retrieved the breach code for the Mare Ocean from Arthur One once he’d realized what the techie had done?

  She didn’t know which question to ask first. And she was feeling sort of dizzy.

  “Here,” Max moved with deft speed, closing the distance between them and bending to retrieve the canteen of water that he’d left on the ground before. “Drink this. You’re dehydrated. You vomited something like a hundred times when I was reviving you. That’s why your throat hurt so bad.”

  Another deep flush of red swept across Victoria’s face and neck, but this one was born of embarrassment. She took the canteen from him and brought it to her lips.

  “Go slow. Don’t drink too much or you’ll just retch again.”

  “Do you have to keep making such references?”

  Max smiled, looking sheepish. “Sorry.” He knelt beside her as she tilted the canteen and took a drink. “For what it’s worth, you’re a very dainty vomiter.”

  She nearly choked on the water when she suddenly laughed, but she managed to finish swallowing. Then she lowered the canteen and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.

  Max, now smiling, said, “I suppose you want to know how I managed to remove all of the furniture and computer equipment you stacked against Arthur’s door.”

  Victoria’s eyes widened a little. She
nodded.

  “And I bet you’re wondering how I managed to get the key code to gain entrance to Arthur’s lab in the first place.”

  “Well…” she stammered. “Yes, actually.”

  “Let’s just say that I’ve spent a fair share of time training Simon Roon,” he said, referring to the fourth and “brainiest” member of Red Team. “And Simon spends a good deal of time with books.” He grinned, and she couldn’t help but grin back.

  Simon Roon was intelligent, well read, and knowledgeable about nearly everything almost to a fault. Victoria had to admit that if anyone could figure out how to gain access into Arthur One’s private lab, it would be Simon. But the furniture and computer bits?

  “As for the crap you piled up in our way – the Yellow leader owes Ty a favor, so we collected. He telekinesed it down for us and we swore him to secrecy.”

  “If Ty and Simon helped you, where are they?” She and Max were alone in the camp. “And where’s April?”

  “They were all there in the lab, actually, including April. But once I had the code, I told them I was going alone.” His gaze darkened and his tone lowered. “The fewer of us to break Game Control’s firmest laws, the better.”

  Victoria sighed. “Oh, Max. I’m so sorry about all of this.”

  “What did he offer you, Victoria? What did he promise to give you if he lost?” He asked the question as if he were desperate for some semblance of any sane answer, some clue as to what would make Victoria put her life and her team’s reputation at such risk.

  But, the absolute truth was… Victoria had no idea why she’d agreed to play Black’s dangerous Game.

  Yes, he’d thrown his weight around. He had invaded her dreams. He’d threatened her team, in particular Max. But she hadn’t been completely without options if she’d decided to turn him down. She could have turned to her team for help. She could have gone directly to their main building and notified Game Control. Despite the probability that they would make the situation difficult for her and might have even taken away her leadership status for getting involved in such an ordeal, in the end she would have spared herself all of this, spared her team, and Victor would have regretted cornering her the way he had.