The Closed Game: Oneiroi War, #2

By Kim May

A girl without hope

A vengeful god

An emerging power

Sachiko "Koko" Nakamura's life was turned upside down when she lost one of her dads to cancer. When a stranger gives her an unusual pendant it opens to her a world of possibilities. It also puts her in the crosshairs of a vengeful god.

When Sair locked Morpheus out of the Demos he thought that would be the end of the constant danger but it was only the beginning of their troubles. The Demos is dying.

Morpheus is in the real world and in a new body. If he can get his hands on the Moonflower no one, not even the gods, would be able to stop him…and he knows who has it.

Alliances shift and secrets are revealed in this exciting continuation of The Oneiroi War.

• Language: English
• Publisher: May Day Books
• Release date: Jan 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9780999074732

Kim May

Kim May has been a dancer, competitive swimmer, actor, singer, model, bald spot duster, and slug licker. Sadly she wasn’t paid for any of it so she gave it all up in favor of being a writer. True to form, Kim writes a bit of everything: sic-fi, fantasy, steampunk, thrillers, historical fiction, and horror. Kim lives in Oregon. For more information check out Kim’s blog ninjakeyboard.blogspot.com

Book preview

Prologue

A Three-Sided Coin

Phobetor felt like he was being watched. It didn’t matter how many times he searched the rocky plain with every sense he possessed. He still had that prickling sensation on the back of his neck that kept warning him that someone was near. That sensation was a trick that he performed countless times on mortals, right before he sprang upon them in the form of their greatest fear.

He didn’t like being on the receiving end.

This desolate arid plain was on the border between the mundane and the divine – the dividing line between normal human dreams and the Demos Oneiroi. A tall wrought iron fence with spiked caps separated the two realms but that was only a visual marker. For some unknown reason mortals seemed to be unable to feel the thick wall of prickling energy that was the true barrier. Morpheus used to sit here for hours when he was young. He watched the hapless dreaming mortals walk into it and then laugh till his sides ached when the mortal flickered in and out of consciousness before finally waking from the shock.

When Zeus ordered Hephaestus to create the foreboding structure, Morpheus was surly until the Bronze Age. He called it an eyesore. Morpheus was right, but it was effective nonetheless. Of course that only irritated him more but that was hardly difficult.

If mother gave us middle names, Morpheus’ would probably be irritation.

A momentary pulse of power to Phobetor’s left was the only warning he received before Phantasos appeared. At Phobetor’s request he had temporarily discarded his usual flamboyant gender-bending garb in favor of a white chiton and an amethyst himation. His natural golden blonde hair hung loose around his shoulders. The divine glow his skin cast off lit the area more brightly than any of the celestial bodies above. This was the first time in centuries that Phobetor had seen his face reflected in his twin. It was both strange and comforting.

Let’s get this over with, Phantasos said. He looked about nervously, as if he expected Zeus or one of his spies to jump out of a crack in the ground and catch them in the act. Phobetor nodded. This was exceptionally risky and the sooner it was over the better.

Since Zeus’ usurpation Phobetor and his brothers had hidden their true power under veils and disguises so as to not arouse their younger cousin’s suspicions. Even in the recent scuffle at the altar, Phobetor and Morpheus hadn’t doffed all of their veils. They had no desire to share an eternal prison with their uncles, the Titans, and that was exactly where they would find themselves if it were discovered that they were revealing themselves, in their full glory, to a mortal.

Of course, tonight they weren’t revealing themselves to a mortal but that was pure semantics. Zeus was paranoid enough to cast them into Tartarus anyway.

Phobetor stood and let his hooded cloak fall to the ground. He was dressed the same as Phantasos, except his himation was a green that was dark enough to almost look black. The combined light from their bodies cast so much light that it banished all the color out of the dirt and rocks at their feet. The ground and fence looked like an extension of their grace. But their himations, being physical manifestations of their office were the only objects that weren’t drained of color.

The brothers approached the fence and each placed a hand on the prickling barrier. They both sent a pulse into the barrier that struck it like two large drops of water simultaneously hitting a still pond. Energy rippled out along the barrier, causing the hair on Phobetor’s arms to stand on end.

They sent a second pulse. This one was accompanied with a single command. Come to us. The energy pulse rippled across the barrier like the first but an echo of the command trailed after it like the memory of a whisper.

Phantasos glanced over to him with a question in his eyes. Phobetor answered with an affirming nod that said, yes, we have to know. They turned their attention back to the barrier and sent the third and final pulse. This one carried with it the same summons as before with one little addition. A name.

Morpheus.

The summons rippled along the barrier, leaving glowing cerulean embers in its wake. Phantasos quickly pulled his hand away from the barrier and shook it. Phobetor simply let his hand fall. There was an oily slickness coating the palm of his hand but it was illusory. No amount of shaking would remove it – though knowing that did not completely remove the uncomfortable sensation.

Does he really need to stay on the other side? Phantasos asked.

Phobetor nodded. It will be safer.

But in a human form…

It will be safer, Phobetor said firmly. Regardless of form he is still our scheming brother. He turned to Phantasos. For our safety as well as his, he must stay on the other side.

I know, but the Demos…Phantasos looked to the sky, his expression somber. It’s…shifting. Mor’s presence, even for just a few minutes might calm her.

Phobetor tried to keep his face a blank mask and only partially succeeded. Some of his concern and sympathy bled through. He almost reached for his cloak and the safety of his hood but no, not yet. Only when this was finished could he once again conceal his softer emotions.

As much as Phobetor wanted to deny it, Phantasos had a point. He felt the shift too and it worried him. A few minutes may stabilize the Demos, or it may not. Normally the Demos was docile and pliable but ever since that battle at the altar she had become…willful? No, that wasn’t the right word. The Demos still obeyed their commands, but there was some other influence he could not name that was swaying her and sustaining her ever so slightly. And it was influence that was slowly getting stronger.

The only thing Phobetor could be certain of was while Morpheus inhabited a human body, they could not risk allowing him back into the Demos. The consequences of him having a link to both worlds could be disastrous.

The air directly across from them began to solidify into a human shape that was slightly taller than they were accustomed to. Phobetor watched with interest as their brother’s facial features quickly filled out. His new body had short dark hair and a lean face with pouty lips that suited him far better than his original form. His new appearance increased the oddness of tonight’s meeting. Of the three of them Morpheus was the only one who never tried to hide or alter his appearance.

Phantasos planted his hands on his hips. The whole of humanity to choose from and that’s the body he picked?

Phobetor glared at him.

What? He could have picked Idris Elba or Tom Hiddleston!

Phobetor shook his head. Sometimes he wondered if he was the only sane member of this trinity. The other times he knew he was.

How did I get… Phobetor squinted through the veil. Oh, of course. I suppose I should have known you would do this.

Morpheus, Phobetor started but Morpheus interrupted him with an eye roll dramatic enough to make Euripides jealous.

No, Morpheus almost shouted. I am not going to stand here and listen to the two of you bleat about how hard it is to see to everyone’s needs without me. Morpheus started to send himself back to the waking world. Phobetor held up a hand and with a small exertion of will held him fast. That flared Morpheus’ temper.

Let. Me. Go. Morpheus spat out each word.

Or what? Phobetor said wryly. You chose to be mortal. You knew the consequences. Do not think for an instant that you can escape those consequences simply because we are family.

You may as well calm down and listen, Mor, Phantasos cut in. You aren’t a match for us anymore. We can keep you here all night and all day if we need to so the sooner you listen the sooner you can to get back to whatever you were doing.

Phantasos’ tone was very matter of fact but the tension in his shoulders and the rigidness in his back belied him. Phobetor could tell that Morpheus noticed too. His temper had simmered down and he now looked very much like a predator stalking their prey. It was only a matter of time before he struck.

Morpheus narrowed his eyes at them. Usually when he did that he was trying to intimidate them into acquiescing. Not that it would do him any good tonight. Surely he knew that. But of course, he probably could not help it, just as Phantasos could not help being capricious. It was too ingrained.

Phobetor sighed. He flicked his fingers ever so slightly to the left, causing Morpheus to be flung two feet to the left. Morpheus was thrown off balance and only Phobetor’s hold on him kept him upright. If Morpheus had been on this side of the fence he would have been cast much farther but two feet was the most Phobetor could affect from here. Before his brother could recover, Phobetor reversed the motion to return his brother to where he was a moment before. Morpheus glared at Phobetor but finally relented with a huff.

The tension in Phantasos’ shoulders lessoned, which made Phobetor feel marginally better about tormenting their brother. He certainly took no joy in dragging Morpheus around. Oh yes, it was enjoyable when it was a mortal that he intended to feed off of but when it was done simply as a show of power it left him feeling hollow. He tried to console himself with the fact that Morpheus had not left him much choice but that only made him feel worse.

For the first time in his very long life he doubted if he could go through with this, that he could see this through to the end. He may possess the strength but did he have the stomach? And will I become as heartless and callous as my Olympian cousins? As cruel as my brother? Phobetor sighed. It was too late to change his mind. They were committed to this path for good or ill.

Say your piece and be done, Morpheus said, staring black daggers at both of them. But know this, nothing you say will turn me from this path.

Why did you leave us? Phantasos said softly, with downcast eyes.

Morpheus started to speak but paused when Phantasos’ words sank in. Clearly he had not anticipated that. Phobetor felt sympathy spread across his face and for once he allowed it to show. All this time, Morpheus, and you still do not understand us?

Morpheus saw and flinched. However, his reaction was gone in an instant. Did Phantasos see? Was that only meant for me or is he trying to hide his regret from us? Was Morpheus even capable of regret?

Morpheus laughed. It had a haughty note to it but sounded forced. You really do not know? I thought for certain that out of everyone in our forsaken family at least the two of you would understand.

Phobetor and Phantasos exchanged confused glances but said nothing.

We, Morpheus said with his arms spread wide are centuries older and vastly more powerful than Zeus and his bastards, yet we are the ones who were banished to this half-world. We were denied the honor of temples and acolytes. We have had to survive on the psychic scraps of humanity so that parasitic ass can reign supreme!

It surprised Phobetor that all of this was about power. And yet at the same time it was exactly what he expected of his brother. Their situation had never sat well with him but Phobetor thought that he had come to accept it. When he confronted Morpheus about their father, shortly after the attack on Sair’s home, Morpheus had explained that he was only putting the upstart in his place. That was why Phobetor interceded at the altar. It was long past time that their petty feud ended. However, Phobetor had not considered that there was far more to this.

How long had Morpheus been planning to cross over? More importantly, what plans had he yet to reveal? Phobetor felt like a three-sided coin was spinning in the palm of his hand and he was trying to see all three sides as they flashed by while trying to calculate the odds of which side would be the victor. Heads, tails, or the edge?

Morpheus lifted his chin. I am not going to sit here and reign over shadows and borrowed shades. I will claim my place in the sun and receive the honor that I am due as a son of Nyx.

Phantasos nodded absently. He was clearly taken in by the passion of Morpheus’ speech. Not enough to follow Morpheus across the point of no return, to Phobetor’s relief, but enough to accept the weight of Morpheus’ choice.

And what about you? an inner voice asked.

Morpheus was right that the usurpation had denied them their birthright. However, that did not justify Morpheus’ actions. Granted, that could be said for a lot of what Morpheus had done over the past millennia but this was perhaps the first time that his misdeeds directly affected him. Perhaps that was what prevented the proverbial scale from tipping in Morpheus’ favor? At least it seemed to be as far as Phobetor was concerned.

When we were born, Phobetor said with trepidation mother said that our purpose as gods was to serve, not to be idolized. Zeus’ actions, or anyone’s actions for that matter, cannot change that.

Mother is older than dirt. What does she know? Morpheus fumed.

Phobetor and Phantasos were taken aback.

She… she has spent her entire life – Phantasos stammered until Morpheus cut him off.

She has spent her life on the sidelines, content to watch life pass her by! Morpheus shouted. She and the rest of our progenitors cannot fathom the wonders that humanity has created! What we see here pales to what it is like in the waking world. He paused. Cross over. Experience it for yourself.

The ground shook. Phobetor and Phantasos were barely moved. The shaking was gentle on their side. Morpheus had a much harder time of it.

It appears she answered for us, Phantasos said. Neither of them needed to ask who she was.

Phobetor touched the edge of his himation. You may be able to cast aside your mantle but we cannot. We have our duties.

Morpheus had the decency to look a trifle ashamed. Though Phobetor could not help wondering if he was sincere.

They’re coming, Phantasos whispered. I can feel them.

Phobetor could too. Twin pinpricks of sensation on the edge of his awareness of the Demos and they were approaching quickly. They sliced through the Demos like a sharp knife separating a hide from flesh. The hounds of Dolos were coming for them.

Phobetor’s shoulders slumped. So be it. Once again the fates forced his hand. He did not like it but what could he do? Nothing. He had to accept it and try to make the best of what he was given.

I think, Phobetor said hastily it would be best for all of us if you do not return to the Demos. Do what you must, but do not pass through the gate.

And for our sake, Phantasos interjected don’t attract our cousin’s attention. If you get caught then all of us will pay the price.

Swear it, Phobetor said firmly.

Morpheus did not reply. He stood there, patiently waiting for Phobetor to release him. Phobetor did not take his eyes off his brother, though he desperately wanted to look in the direction the hounds approached from. Were they close enough to identify them yet? Phantasos’ anticipation and fear sweetened the air while Morpheus continued to be as obstinate as a mountain.

Phantasos nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Phobetor and Morpheus were still locked in a battle of wills. Though for the first time in a long while it was not the landscape that they fought for control over. It was control over their own fates.

The pinpricks across Phobetor’s skin turned into a crawling sensation as the hounds neared. Just a little longer. He will cede if I can hold out just a little longer, Phobetor repeated over and over in his mind.

Phantasos yelped. Phoby! I can see them!

Morpheus smirked. Run along, brother.

Phantasos reached out squeezed Phobetor’s shoulder. We have seconds left.

Then go, Phobetor said more harshly than he meant.

Phantasos vanished. In the much dimmer light the ground took on a pale gray tone that made it feel a little sinister. Phobetor’s heart pounded in his chest, as adrenaline filled his veins.

Fine! I swear it, Morpheus said.

It did not escape Phobetor’s notice that Morpheus did not say if he was agreeing to one or both of the conditions and unfortunately there was no time to find out. Phobetor released Morpheus, snatched his cloak from the ground, and left Morpheus’ sight. He did not however, transport himself to another landscape. Instead he hovered in between in a formless state. He watched the hounds approach and sniff Morpheus’ mortal form with curiosity before he too vanished.

Ten seconds later three small figures soared through the air and landed where he previously stood. The figures were thin and feral-looking. They appeared to be little more than children but these creatures, trained by Artemis, were far more dangerous than the fiercest Amazon.

The trio scented the ground and inspected every inch for the slightest clue. The further they searched the more they grunted and growled in frustration for there was no evidence on the hard, pressed dirt. Phobetor nodded in satisfaction.

The tallest of the trio looked directly at Phobetor. How can it see me? I am not even there! Rather than learn the answer, Phobetor shifted himself far away from that plain.

The entire journey, his heart pounded and not from exhilaration or relief from the close call. That terrified him.

1

Bitching In Brooklyn

Sachiko Koko Nakamura stepped into the storage pod. Her light pink yoga pants and oversized white t-shirt were smudged with dust and who knew what else. The pod took up two parking spaces, half the sidewalk, and even jutted out a bit into the street. It made the neighbors and everyone who tried to drive past so happy.

Koko swept a stray strand of her long black hair behind her ear before dragging in a suitcase filled with shake and go wigs. The suitcase itself wasn't heavy. It just felt like it weighed fifty pounds because of how tired she was. They had been packing boxes and loading this pod all day and it was still only half full. This was the last time she let drag queens help pack. Or more accurately, this was the last time she let dad accept help from his high maintenance and ADD friends. They were great people and fun at parties but only two of the five were interested in actually helping.

Koko lifted the suitcase of wigs and shoved it on top of a box of evening gowns. With a heavy sigh she rearranged the other boxes and plastic tubs that were carelessly shoved in. It was hard to tell which was more draining, constantly rearranging what had already been loaded so that everything would fit or listening to dad and the girls bicker about how everything should be packed – and there was a lot to pack. Between the furniture and household things, her stuff, dad’s regular wardrobe, and his drag wardrobe it would take a miracle to fit everything in the pod.

Maybe if I lubed the boxes I could squeeze them in tighter…

Honey, stop fussing with those, dad said from the pod door. We're never going to finish if you keep shifting boxes around.

Dad’s beige cargo shorts and navy t-shirt hid the lean frame that he accentuated when he dressed in drag. Even though pronouns were an interchangeable thing for a lot people in the drag community, Koko always referred to her dad as he and every other queen as she. Mostly it was because she saw him out of drag more than in and other queens in more than out but it was also because it broke her brain as a child to use female pronouns for her dad. For some reason her mind was very fixed on dad being a masculine role.

Dad set down a box of dishes, pinching a finger in the process. He hissed and shook out the pain in his hand before inspecting his nails to see if one of them got chipped in the process. When dad was out of drag he looked just like any other Japanese man in the city. It was his feminine mannerisms that signaled that he was more fabulous than the average male.

We’re never going to get everything in here if I don't, Koko growled, and at this rate were not going to finish anyway. Koko pushed the box of dishes into the center of the pod and stacked boxes of her clothes on top of it. We're going to miss our flight to Vegas and half of our stuff will end up getting left behind.

Dad waved dismissively. You worry too much. It'll get done, you'll see.

Koko rolled her eyes. And if you weren’t so dismissive you might understand how big of a problem this is.

Well, Koko said, if you hadn’t bought a club you’ve never seen we wouldn’t have to move at all. She planted her hands on her hips. You could have kept doing drag here, but no. You have to go to Vegas because they’re clearly lacking people who can lip-synch in sequins and ten pounds of makeup.

As soon as the words left her mouth she wished she could snatch them out of the air. Shit! When am I going to learn to watch my mouth? I can’t deal with another one of his episodes right now! Ever since papi died dad had been irrational and at times even suicidal. Mitigating dad’s ever-changing moods had become her full time job.

Dad crossed his arms over his chest. "Koko, you know how important this is to me and we both need a fresh start. Besides, you know this is what papi would’ve wanted for us."

It actually wasn’t but Koko was too relieved that she’d dodged the earlier bullet to point that out. She walked out of the pod and went back inside their building before she said something else that might trigger him.

Their apartment was a small two-bedroom third floor walk-up in Brooklyn. Koko winced as soon as she walked into the building. From the first floor landing she could hear the mixture of raised voices echoing from upstairs. They’re at it again? Koko ran up all three flights of stairs. Daniella Lott was arguing with Bella Naughty in the hallway directly outside the apartment. Koko didn't know what they were arguing about and at this point she didn't care because they were preventing Irma Stalker and Honey Combs from carrying some chairs down to the pod.

For the love of all that's holy will the two of you shut the hell up! Koko shouted as soon as she reached the landing.

Who asked you? Daniella said with a hair flip that she meant to be dramatic. Instead it looked silly because her real hair was too short to flip.

No no no, I'm not putting up with any more of this, Koko said. Both of you volunteered to help us move but if all you're going to do is stand around and argue then get the hell out.

Well how's that for gratitude? Bella said.

Gratitude for what? Koko asked her. "For the two dresses you threw in a