A Sinister Game (5 page)

She was still dressed in her leather Game jacket and pants and, though she’d secretly always loved the way she looked in them, they were a dead giveaway as to the fact that she was a
T
eam leader.

It was something she had a feeling she should keep under wraps tonight.

With a sigh and a building sense of anxiety for the passing time, Victoria waved her hands over the transporter console and the machine shifted, whizzing her back through space to her quarters once more.

She hurried through the motions of changing, not bothering with anything but the essentials, and when she was finished
, she made sure the sleeve of her downtime uniform covered her Game band.

Moments later
, she was
back
in the transporter and headed toward the TGB.

I have flutterbies in my stomach
, she thought to herself.
At least, I think they’re called flutterbies
..
.
.
It was hard to remember such things. Training had wiped away so much of who she once was.
But it makes
sense,
right
?
She thought
. It’s a
n insect that flutters
by.

My mind is wandering,
came a harder thought.
Time to pull it together, Red.

Focus.

The transporter doors slid apart
,
and Victoria stepped out into the marble foyer of the TGB. Servers bustled by, carrying trays filled with colorful concoctions. Gamers lounged by the indoor wa
terfalls or sat at round tables
playing cards.

This was the main room, and had no particular designation. It was where you met your party before you moved on to the more private, numbered rooms beyond.

There were five halls that led off of the main room. Each hall had three levels, and each level had approximately twenty rooms. In essence, Gamers had their choice of literally hundreds of different gathering spaces, each unique in its own way. It was important. Game Control did not want Gamers to feel as if they
were getting bored with life, b
ecause this was all there was for them. There was no going back. Once you were in the Game, you were in the Game forever.

Victoria stepped out into the foyer and scanned her surroundings. No sign of Black. Not yet, anyway. She
thought
for a moment and then decided on a room.
Winning teams did not normally frequent room 72
. It was a darker room, made up to resemble a tavern in some Old World realm, long before the days of transporters and com
munication
devices.

She was not concerned with Black’s ability to find her. She knew he would.

What she didn’t want was for one of her own team members to see her speaking with Black. For now, she wanted to find out what was going on with him and deal with it herself. The Red
T
eam wasn’t likely to wander into
R
oom 72 any time soon. Ty preferred the dance clubs and April preferred to be anywhere that Ty was. Simon was the intellectual in the team and would be bent over some leather-backed tome right now in one of the TGB’s many ancient libraries.

Max was…
.
Well, Max was probably in a training room. The captain’s idea of having fun was to beat the living hell out of an opponent during a grueling sparring match and then take a hot bath. And then do it again.

So she
should be okay for now.

After only ten years of being a leader,
Victoria was young enough an
d relatively new enough at the Game
that not many people
recognized
her for who she was as she made her way up the escalators, down the hall
s, and finally to the room
she wanted. With her Game band well hidden beneath the sleeve of her gray jacket, she felt just inconspicuous enough that this almost seemed…
fun
. It was different for her.

She’d never gone sneaking
off
an
ywhere like this
. She’d never
before
tried to duck u
nder Game Control’s radar
. It was definitely a novel experience.

She suppressed the smile that threatened to curve her pink
lips and opened the tavern
door to
R
oom 72, stepping into the fire-lit room beyond.

There were about a dozen round tables made of wood, surrounded with likewise wooden chairs scattered throughout the
dimly lit
tavern. The fires in the hearths at either end crackled warmly; the temperature in the room was perfect. It felt as if she’d stepped out of a cold winter’s night and into something much more cozy.

The conversation was subdued. It was mostly men in the tavern, hunched over ceramic plates that were piled high with what looked
and smelled
like mashed potatoes, gravy, and fresh baked bread.

Victoria’s stomach instantly began to growl.

The patrons of the room seemed ou
t of place in this atmosphere, a
s if they’d stepped back in time and forgotten to wear the proper costumes. They wore downtime clothing
of their own world that was
obviously not a part of
R
oom 72’s historical atmosphere
.

But they didn’t seem to notice, or if they did, they didn’t care.

The tankards set before them appear
ed to be constructed of metal, possibly iron or steel, a
nd
were
filled with what smelled like beer. At the far end of the room was a bar, more or less, a
nd several stools
around the bar were currently occupied by other patrons.

Victoria stood at the entrance to the room and scanned it for a moment, gaining her bearings. Then she made her way through the subdued crowd to a table more or less in the
corner, surrounded by shadows
but for the single candle at its center that cast a dancing, flickering light across the table’s scratched wooden surface.

She pulled out a chair and took a seat.

It wasn’t long before a woman was at her side to take her order.

“
I’ll have whatever they’re having,” Victoria nodded at the table not too far from hers, where
the men were playing a game of c
hess
, eating mashed potatoes,
and drinking the stuff that smelled like beer.

“A
full plate and a
pint of ale, then. Anything else?”

Victoria shook her head and smiled. The woman returned the smile and then glanced around, almost nervously. “Erm…
w
ill you be meeting someone else tonight, miss?”

At that, Victoria honestly didn’t know what to say.
“I’m not exactly sure,” she finally replied, a shy shrug accentuating her words.

The serving woman nodded, her mouth forming an “O” of understanding. “Very well then. I’ll get your ale
first
.” She sauntered off.

Victoria was about to lean forward, her elbows on the table, hands beneath her chin, when a pair of hands slid over her eyes from behind.

“Guess who
.
”

She didn’t recognize the voice, but she could smell the liquor on the man’s breath as he
whispered across her ear. A
familiar, sickening feeling uncoiled in her stomach.

“I have no idea,” she hissed, “but if you don’t get your hands off of me this instant, you will lose them.”

It wasn’t exactly an empty threat. She had a
bilities other leaders didn’t, a
nd the band on her wrist would only amplify them.

He laughed a rather slippery laugh and removed his hands, coming around the table so that she could get a better look at him.

She remembered him now. Tall with
blonde hair and hazel eyes. His name was Jack Emerald and he was the Green leader.

H
e
definitely
knew who she was as well. He
clearly
remember
ed her from the Playing Field – w
here her
t
eam had utterly annihilated his almost a year ago.

It was also clear
that he was toasted.

He leaned slightly to one side as he slid into the chair opposite hers, a strange twinkle in his light
-
colored eyes and a half
smirk on his lips.

“Not your usual hangout,” he said. His words were surprisingly crisp for one as drunk as he was.

“Nope
,
”
s
he replied.

“Slumming? I hear you’re up against Black these days. Shouldn’t you be in your private room with your
team,
celebrating?”

“Maybe
,
”
s
he replied.

Victoria’s body was tense, back straight
and
mind alert
,
expecting
to whip out with her powers at a moment’s notice.

What she had
not
been expecting however,
was the pair of gloved hands that slid over Jack’s eyes and the pair of lips that lowered to his ear and whispered, in a slightly accented voice, “Guess who
.
”

Jack stiffened and stilled, his breath quieting in his lungs.

There wasn’t a Gamer on the Field who didn’t recognize
that
voice.

Victoria gazed up at Victor Black, her golden
eyes like saucers in her
face. Something abo
ut what he was doing was
over the top.

S
cary
.

Everyone in the tavern had gone quiet. Jack Emerald tried to clear his throat. It didn’t work and he tried again. And then, in a voice that squeaked, he said, “I… I’m sorry, sir. Is this your chair?”

Victoria almost laughed. But she managed to keep the hysterical s
queak lodged deep in her throat
where it belonged. She shifted in her seat, apprehensively, and Black’s gaze cut to her. Green eyes flashed in the dim light of the tavern. The candle’s flame sent shadows dancing across the sharp angles of his handsome face.

He smiled a slow and entirely evil
smile.

And then Victor straightened and stepped back, his gloved hands sliding away from Jack’s face. Emerald was up in a flash, jumping from the seat and turning in place so that he could face the Gray leader. It was as if he’d known the devil was at his back and wanted to rectify that as fast as humanly possible.

“Mr. Black…”
h
e stammered.

A few patrons in the room laughed. It was an amused murmur, but Victori
a could hear the nervous note in
it as well.

“Green leader
,
” Black said in greeting, as he gracefully
stepped around him and
took the seat that Jack Emerald had vacated.

When E
merald continued to stand there
as if frozen to the spot, Victor glanced back up at him and cocked his head to one side.

“You may go now.”

Jack glanced once at Victoria, opened his mouth as if to say something, and then, thinking better of it, closed it once more. He backed away from the table
,
and Victoria watched as he weaved out of
R
oom 72, bumping into a man’s chair just before he made it to the door and pushed through to the rest of the TGB beyond.

* * * *

He’d been watching of course. He could see everyone in the TGB – and no one could see him. So he knew where she was headed almost before she did.

Invisibility… had tremendous advantages.

When Victoria entered Room 72’s ‘tavern,’ Victor watched her take a seat and order a meal.
And then he watched another man approach her
and place his hands over her eyes.

The anger and jealousy that instantly spiked inside of Victor was telling and terrible, but he managed to tamp it down. He had grown very good at such things.

Victor recognized
the stranger
for who he was
:
Jack Emerald, Green leader for seventy-five years. He’d been bested a year ago by Victoria on the Field. Did he hold a grudge?

The lust in the man’s hazel eyes was understandable. But there was anger there, too.

So he
did
hold a grudge.