Killing Game (Rishi's Wish Book 1), page 1
Killing Game
Rishi’s Wish: Parts I-III
C.M. Martens
© 2021 C. M. Martens
www.CMMartens.com
Cover Design by Jason Piraino & GetCovers
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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. If your story reflects that herein, the author would love to hear it.
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: www.CMMartens.com, www.stealingshade.com, Cindy_Martens@ymail.com
Previously published as The Fool’s Path: Book 1 July 2018
Contents
More from C.M. Martens
Part 1
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
Part 2
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Part 3
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Dee’s adventure will continue in: WE ARE FOREVER, coming September 2021
A Very Special Thanks
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Find C.M. Martens:
About the Author
More from C.M. Martens
Rishi’s Wish:
Book 1; Parts I-III: Killing Game
Book 2; Parts IV-VII: We Are Forever (coming September 2021)
Book 3; Parts VIII-IX: Wish’s Curse (coming Christmas 2021)
Book .5: TEN-ZERO-NINE (coming January 2022)
Book 4; Parts X-XII: Born to Die (coming April 2022)
Claiming Krinkae
a dark-fantasy romance series coming soon
Claimed by the Warchief
Claimed by Shadow
A Huntress Claimed
Claimed by Magic
To all those unsure:
Keep at it.
Part 1
1
She imagined it was like getting hit by a freight train. In that nano-second before thoughts vanished, as pain flared, she wondered just how strong she'd become that a train hadn't killed her on impact.
But there were no trains here. No tracks, used or abandoned, that ran through this part of town.
Of course, that piece of trivia occurred to her later. In the moment that pain shot through her and her head throbbed in tandem with a racing heart that threatened to render her unconscious, there was no room for thought. If not for the snarling of some crazed animal on the periphery of her senses, she might have considered the damp earth of the ditch the perfect spot for a rehabilitating nap.
There was as much sense for the snarls as there was for a train, so the observation of a predatory animal so close, and highly annoyed, seemed important. This thing, this sound, this train-that-could-not-be-a-train was significant to what was happening, and even more so to what would happen.
This future problem, the would and could of it all, pushed her to her knees. The sting of the brush bit her palms, enflamed the hurts of the initial tumble. It was dark, though a full moon was kind enough to reach silvery fingers out to illuminate the confusion that surrounded her.
Not a train, but some version of a boy that could only have come from some B-movie production set. Dirt-caked skin, tattered clothes torn, and eyes set into a sunken skull was not easier to interpret than a train or a large animal. No one looked like that, just like there were no train lines here or large predators that hunted full-grown humans.
The spitting rage of the boy pulled adrenaline from her in a rush that washed away her pain, her confusion, and her mounting terror. There was no time for any of it. There was only survival as a second attack mimicked the first, and explained everything. There was never a train. There was only this rabid humanoid finding a lone traveler on the back roads of a nowhere town. At this time of night, only Dee was still awake, drawn to the night in a way she could never explain.
-Guess we should have made good on our promise not to go out so late.-
Her inner voice, the nagging vocalization that nettled every problem, large or small, burned through her adrenalized focus. Another part of her mind cursed at it, shut it down as she braced, rolling and falling away when the creature leaped once more.
The miss of its second attack exhilarated Dee, but her celebration was short-lived when no pause preempted a third attack. She had only enough time to throw her arms in front of her face in a vain attempt to defend herself. Like offering up a bone to a mad dog, the creature drove fangs too unreal to be human, too real to be some movie set cast-off, into her forearm.
Agony washed over her, yet some layer of primal instinct held, kept her struggling until she kicked it away. The sound of forearm bones shattering, of flesh-tearing, would add music to already layered nightmares. But at that moment, it was the motivation that kept her from death.
Her strike sent it away. It landed with a grunt of expelled air, and this time, it did not come back for more. Instead, it took off in a blur of speed. A quarter-second hesitation was all the time Dee needed to figure she was the one who should take this thing out before it hurt someone else.
Miles later, she rounded the bend, flashed through the parking lot, and slowed just a half-step at what loomed ahead. Stretched before her, the epithets of the dead glistened like lanterns from the reflected moonlight. The serenity of the view coaxed her past the locked gate which she leaped in a feat that barely scraped the ability of her heightened dexterity.
It was when her feet hit the graveled drive over the threshold that she paused to consider just what the hell she was doing.
The cliché of the cemetery was another detail she would consider later. Now, the pain of her arm threatened to overwhelm her senses, her knees weakening under her full-body ache. Now that she'd stopped running the pain in her swelled.
-What are you doing?-
Centered in her right arm, the throbbing of her injuries pulled at her, her weight multiplied under fading adrenaline and the image of a boy-that-was-not-a-boy flashing fangs and violence.
What was she doing there? Did she really think she should be the one ridding the world of—whatever it was?
Expression set against the pain, she squared her shoulders, gasping when the small movement sent shocks of torture through her arm. She clutched it to her, wrapping the battered appendage over her stomach, keeping it there with her less-pained arm while blood that had slipped from her for the past few miles cascaded in a steadier stream.
It was a lot of blood. Even as she tried to focus on what lay ahead, on the mission she'd assigned herself before she could go home and sleep for days, she couldn't keep this thought from tugging at her.
So much blood.
This voice was not the naggy, pushy one. Much less annoying and more logical, this voice she should consider paying attention to.
Except for the thing that could hurt someone else. The thing she was the only one in a position to do anything about.
Resigned, she stepped forward. First aid could wait. It had to wait.
-Why does your position mean you are the one to deal with this?-
There was the snark she couldn’t seem to lock away.
Sucking her lips, she contained her frustrated answer that would have been something like: And who would the right person be? But an argument with herself wouldn't draw helpful conclusions. A conversation with herself might not even be healthy for her deteriorating state of mind.
Still, the annoyance the question raised pierced the veil of surrealism surrounding her while drowning out the terror that built in the back of her mind, threatening to bring her to her knees.
Staring into the hills of flowing graves, she allowed consideration for her decision to be here take center in her mind. Chasing the creature had stalled the need to think. Even in this quiet wake of the chase, she struggled with the reality of what had happened—what was happening. It had been unimportant in the attack and during the pursuit. Now, it might just save her life to reflect on what it was she'd given chase.
She had no name for it. At least, no name she was willing to say out loud. Saying it out loud meant forcing herself to consider that she really might be crazy. Or, that reality was much different than she believed.
Neither seemed like the better alternative.
Regardless, here she stood, at the threshold of a graveyard, in the middle of the night, short hair tossed like some mad scientist as she bled from a gash that ran from wrist to elbow, body aching like she'd wrestled a speeding train.
-Not to
The panic of what lay in front of her overrode the guilt this idea sparked.
Still, as bizarre as this all was, something about it tugged at hidden memories. Something about the thing she chased. Something about the night and blood and pain and—she just couldn't quite put it all together.
A year ago, she'd been attacked, forced to crawl home after years of running. She couldn't be sure this boy hidden among the tombstones was the same thing. She couldn't be sure that night hadn't been some insane nightmare, but in the face of the present, the chances seemed great that it all had been real.
-How many creatures of the night do you think there are?-
She ignored the question, understanding the absurdity in thinking there was more than one kind of scary, yet on the same train of logic if there was one, why couldn't there be many?
-Unless there are none, and you really are insane.-
Triggered by these words, her blue eyes no longer saw the cemetery stretched before her. Instead, she saw the inferno that had taken the house in the woods she had no memory of going to; only the vague memory of leaving, knowing she'd somehow escaped the death that had taken her friends. The sharp smell of chemicals, the brightness of the blaze surrounded by an overwhelming confusion wrapped her senses in the recall.
With considerable effort, she shook the images from her mind to force leaden feet forward. First this, then handle her fading sanity.
After a handful of steps, she stopped. With one arm useless, and no experience with fighting, she wasn't sure what her next move should be. Maybe lure the thing home so she could show Mike?
-What? Trap it in the basement?-
It was a stupid idea, but how could she prove it was real? Proving she was not out of her mind seemed as crucial to her as surviving. Maybe more.
-Take a picture?-
She stifled a burst of laughter at the simplicity of it.
An ironic chuckle followed when she realized her phone was missing. Likely back where she'd been tackled, her mind conjured an image of it lost forever in the thick brush. Another image, this one of a sweatshirt with pockets that zipped things like phones safely away laying uselessly on her bed brought her teeth together in a frustrated clench.
-I'm sure fitness clothing designers had assault-and-battery in mind as key design points.-
Annoyed by her bad luck, she found no humor in her head's wit.
More bad luck brought on by ineptitude triggered the creature to attack at that moment.
Driven by instinct, she ducked and rolled. The creature flew over her while she writhed in pain, never taking her eyes from the thing that remembered its desire to kill her. It landed in a graceful coil that brought it back to its feet while she flopped and struggled to find her footing. Searing pain from incurred injuries brought spots across her vision.
-You are so going to die.-
Teeth clenched against the silent announcement, she forced her legs to push her from the ground. Committed to engaging it, she squared towards it, but it ran off. A zig-zagging gait made attempts to trace its path impossible in the shadows of the tall hills. Instead of wanting to fight her, it seemed more eager to play.
-A game? Cat and Mouse? Who's who?-
She ignored the voice's implication. She was the one chasing here, making her the cat.
-Making this game cat and cat? Or cat and bigger cat?-
She ignored her self-mocking, eyes studying the lay of the land as if something in the topography would give her some insight into what to do. Unable to maintain a visual of the creature, she was wary of moving forward. Turning to exit seemed an equally bad idea. It had snuck up on her while she was looking for it. Turning away seemed a sure way to get dead.
Staring ahead, frozen with indecision, she tried to remember the reason she thought this chase was a good idea to begin with. This thing could kill her, and she had no skill to ensure it didn't succeed.
Pure instinct had compelled her to follow it. At a dead sprint, she'd pursued without thought. Reason hadn't returned until she'd stopped inside the cemetery.
-What? Don't think your heightened strength and speed is enough to take it head-to-head?-
More to run from the voice in her head than that she had formulated a plan, she took a step forward, then another, eyes frantic to penetrate the too-shadowed area.
Each unhindered step instilled a layer of confidence. As a blanket of surrealism wrapped her thoughts, pushing thoughts of pain and death to darkness, she allowed the reminder of what she'd become to strengthen her resolve. Holding on to this, she let this moment of empowerment take a turn at manipulating reality.
Maybe she could take this thing.
Movement farther in the cemetery, ahead and to the left, caught her attention. The arms of a concrete angel beckoned her forward, welcoming her towards victory. Believing this a sign that her chase was motivated by some redeeming cause rather than misguided instinct, she focused her attention on that spot.
She crept through the shadows, intent on surprising her prey, but when she arrived, there was nothing to find. She stared stupidly at the neatly tended plot, grass inked black by night.
Continuing to crouch, maintaining silence, she listened as she'd never listened before.
-You're not very good at this.-
A car at the far entrance distracted her attention, the crunch of tires telling of its turn onto the unpaved paths that curved through the cemetery.
Her attention was taken from this new problem when the old's rushing force met her in another surprise strike. The creature's enjoyment of tackling her was pissing her off. Whatever this game was, it needed to end.
Its body slamming into hers brought an exclamation of air from her lungs. Hissing growls sent panicked chills across her skin even as she fought to get her arms free from an iron-like hug.
Attempting to rip her arms from their trap only served to instill more carnage on her already battered body. The shredded skin of her damaged arm pulled away, so she wasn't sure what might be left to hold it together.
The sharpness of the pain overrode all thought, and she tightened her muscles in a body-sized cringe before going limp in defeat.
-Really? Just go fetal and hope it gets bored?-
Adrenaline surge overrode the pain of her many injuries, and she was suddenly free, tossing the creature away with a push of legs. Something wet ran down her face. Shutting off the part of her brain that wondered if the beast had managed to take a bite out of her for after she survived, she focused on completing her getaway.
Rolling to its feet in a display of agility that left her jealous, the two squared off, both panting as they stared each other down.
She noted the layer of grime covering it, hiding any clue to what its original skin color had been. Its similarly filth-dyed hair was matted so tightly to its scalp, only thin wisps protruding from the knot allowed her to tell there was hair there at all. But mostly, it was in the eyes, something just off about its facial structure that defined the thing as not human. Did its eyes bulge just too much? Was its brow-line retracted just so that the forehead sloped too sharply? Were its limbs elongated beyond their normal reach?
Whether one of these or all of them, it was too subtle to pin down in her current distress.
The creature pounced.
Rather than get out of its way, her great idea was to take it on.
