Doubling Down - Book 1 - The Infinity Series
Chapter 1
London
Current time
Ciaran swung his power sword through the air. In no time, the remaining head on the strange-looking creature's gigantic tentacle dropped to the icy ground. Then its body collapsed, wriggled for a short time, and disintegrated into a puddle before evaporating into nothingness.
“Didn’t expect this, did you?” Ciaran muttered and smiled to himself. He retracted the sword blade. The sword's handle turned into a gun as he holstered it.
“Let’s go,” he said to the black horse and patted its neck. The horse reared up on its back legs, kicking its front legs in the air, then spun around and turned into an enormous motorcycle. The engine roared. It sounded powerful enough to propel a small spaceship.
The sound gave Ciaran a rush of adrenaline. He accelerated the vehicle. The icy surface didn’t affect his speed or traction, as the vehicle's wheels hardly touched the ground. Behind him, power and light sparked like fireworks, recording his triumph and the credits of the game he had just won.
Ciaran stepped out of the 3D screen hovering in the middle of the game room in the penthouse in one of the most exclusive areas in London. The screen still flickered, as the energy had not yet settled. He put the game controller on a bench littered with numerous electronic devices and glanced back at the screen.
He’d give it a couple of minutes to cool down and record the new data.
This hologame technology was still new and was difficult for him to master. But he didn’t mind the slow process. He enjoyed playing the hologames—especially when he was winning.
He made himself a cup of strong black coffee and took it to the veranda. The expansive balcony arched out into the cold air and overlooked the magnificent city of London.
The vibrant city had started waking up and getting ready for a new day. Ciaran used to prefer the peaceful and tranquil views of the countryside and the rolling hills in front of Mon Ciel, the LeBlancs' estate where he grew up. But now, he preferred the city views.
Mon Ciel and what happened there seemed like a lifetime ago.
He shook his head, trying to shake off the song that started playing in his head as soon as he stopped playing the hologame.
And all the roads we have to walk are winding
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding.
It was strange…
He knew the song, but he didn’t really like the band, Oasis. The words were haunting though, and they reminded him of something he didn’t want to think about.
Ciaran took another sip of coffee, only to find that the cup was now empty. He went back inside to make another one, but then he changed his mind and put the empty cup aside.
It was time to head to the LeBlancs' headquarters. He had a couple of important meetings scheduled today. He’d grab some real coffee on the way in.
The hologame screen was still flickering.
He frowned. “Come on!” he muttered and grabbed the controller.
Before he could shut down the hovering screen, a message box popped up at the bottom.
“Greetings!”
Ciaran wrinkled his brow. Hologamers weren’t supposed to interact outside of the games.
“The game has ended," he typed. "I'm logging out,”
“I’m not finished with you yet.”
Ciaran shook his head and hovered the cursor over the logout button. He could use a voice command, which would probably be faster. Still, he didn’t want to give this gamer any more information about him and his whereabouts. Before Ciaran clicked the button, another message popped up.
“Ciaran LeBlanc, I know where you live.”
Rage exploded in his mind.
He had managed the LeBlanc conglomerate since he was a teenager. He'd handled countless numbers of business deals and conflicts, and sometimes they ended in fights. He won some, and he lost some. That was the nature of competition, and Ciaran accepted the rules of the game.
But he had never been threatened.
“If you think a threat will garner my attention, then you’re mistaken.”
“Hologame rule number one forbids interactions with other players outside the games. I have taken a significant risk to reach out to you.”
“But I’m not interested in whatever it is you want to say. You’ve lost. If you don’t accept the outcome of the game, take it to the game council.”
“I accept my defeat, Ciaran, and I didn’t mean to threaten you. I only want your attention.”
“You’ve got thirty seconds.”
“I need you to delay the conversion of the prize you won in the game with me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“What you won in that game isn’t as important as what I have lost.”
“If it’s so important to you, why would you gamble it? You must be an addict. Why should I have any sympathy for you?”
“I know you didn’t play simply for entertainment. You want to keep an eye on technology and its interaction with the outer world. You want to protect human interests.”
“I’m no saint.”
“I know you’re not a saint, Ciaran. We both work for profit, but we also act in the best interest of our kind. And on that ground, I'm asking for your compassion. All you need to do is to delay the credit claim.”
Ciaran leaned back in his chair and looked at the empty chat box hovering in the air. Then he triggered the voice command.
“What will I receive in return?”
“When humans reach the end of their limited lifespan, I have access to the essence of their being after the physical body is gone. I trade what humans refer to as souls.”
Ciaran chuckled. “I guess you threw innocent souls in to buy the game credits?”
“Something like that. But the souls I trade are not innocent. They are of high value, and I can get a lot more out of them than by losing them in a game. But the game credit conversion doesn’t care what souls I used to buy credits. So, with a bit more time, I’ll swap in souls of a lower value. You have nothing to lose, Ciaran. You’ll get the same value of whatever it is that you used to buy the game credits.”
“If everything remains the same for me, then what’s in it for me? Why should I delay cashing out?”
“I’ll trade with you.”
“I'm not interested in trading anything with the supernaturals.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t believe they can deliver anything I care about.”
“How about life?”
“You can’t bring back the dead. I know that much about the supernaturals.”
“Oh, so you’ve lost someone you care about, and the thought of reversing their death has crossed your mind!”
Ciaran cursed under his breath. “I’m busy, and my interest and attention are waning.”
“You’re right that I can’t bring a dead human back to life. But I have access to the books of upcoming natural deaths that the underworld marshals use to collect souls. I can tell you whose number is up. I’ll leave it up to you to act on the information you receive. You can prevent the certain death of someone of your choice in the future. If you choose to alter someone’s lifespan, that person’s death will become unnatural, but it will still happen. I am more than sure you are interested in that deal.”
Ciaran shifted in his chair. “Keep talking.”
“There are two conditions, though.”
“Naturally.”
“One, you can’t request your own time of death. You can’t use the information to save yourself. And two, you can’t change your mind. Once you have asked your question about the person of interest, you can’t change your mind and ask for information about a different person.”
Ciaran shrugged. “I can accept that. What’re the terms?”
“If you delay the credits for this game, I’ll give you the number of one person you request.”
“But you’ve lost ten credits to me in this game.”
“I know the value of my trade, Ciaran. Ten credits for one life. Take it or leave it.”
“All right. We have an agreement.”
“I’ll be in touch with the specifics. But for now, you should think about the person whose life you want to prolong. Remember, you cannot change your mind.”
The gamer logged off.
Ciaran stared at the blank screen for a second and then shut down the hovering screen.
Chapter 2
Melbourne
A month ago
The light shone on an empty silver plate resting on a podium covered in black velvet. Gentle music floated in the air, lulling the audience and creating an enchanting ambience. The sound of thunder rumbled across the room. Sparks of lightning hit the silver tray, and wisps of smoke swirled up from the floor of the stage.
At the third lightning strike, an exquisite crystal shoe appeared on the tray.
A spotlight poured down from above, encircling the silver tray and the digital image of the shoe upon it.
The audience clapped as a man dressed in a formal black suit and bow tie stepped onto the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you to In Her Shoe, one of the most sophisticated pieces of digital art in this century, created by our talented digital artist Adriana Oliveira, original artwork by Juliette LeBlanc.”
A sign announcing this show had been projected to the audience outside the auction room. The grand hall of National Gallery Victoria exploded with applause.
However, it was quiet in this room because it was a place reserved for serious investors, collectors, and others who were here to buy artwork.
Ciaran diverted his attention to the cell phone he held in his hand as new items were introduced.
The Melbourne art precinct was one of Ciaran’s favorite places in Australia. He managed to visit whenever his business took him to this country. But this time, it was a planned visit to the exhibition center, and the business negotiation in town was only an excuse.
A message from the CEO of the LeBlanc conglomerate popped up on the screen of his cell phone. “Where are you, Ciaran?”
“Linsey, the right question is whether the meeting this afternoon went well. And the answer is yes, we got the deal. I’ll be at London headquarters the day after tomorrow.”
“All right, I’ll reschedule my plans. See you in the office. A quick question. What do you want me to do with the bunch of hackers we caught?”
“I don’t see them as a threat. Make sure they have nothing from our system, and then let them go.”
“You’re in a charitable mood.”
“No, but I don’t want to waste our resources on low-caliber thieves.”
“Will do. Bye, Ciaran.”
Another message popped up, this one from his brother. “I know you’re where you shouldn’t be, Ciaran. I put two security guards there.”
Ciaran rolled his eyes and glanced toward the back of the room. Two men in suits sat there, trying their best to look like the other people in the room. But to Ciaran, they stuck out like sore thumbs. He shook his head.
“This is a low profile event, Tadgh. I won’t be exposed, and there's no press in this private auction room. You’re my little brother, not my father.”
“I’m just worried about my own ass. You need to take care of the family business while I'm having fun on safari. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Want a souvenir boomerang?”
“Shut up, Ciaran. Get back to London in one piece.”
The auction for the shoe had begun. Ciaran didn’t pay much attention to the bidding. It would start slow, and he’d let it grow before he scooped it up in the final bid.
He stared at the digital image of the crystal shoe. It was almost as if he was looking at Juliette’s original artwork.
She had made this before they were married. Ciaran had no idea it existed. She had never mentioned her involvement in the art project until she asked for his help to retrieve her work. He refused, but only because he wanted to obtain the item for her surprise birthday present.
He never had a chance to tell her that he'd begun the search for her work. Losing her so suddenly was painful. And the idea that she had died thinking he didn’t care made his emotional wound unhealable.
“Thirty thousand dollars!” the auctioneer said in delight. “Can I have more? Anyone else want a chance to own this one-of-a-kind beauty?” He paused. “Thirty thousand going once. Thirty thousand going twice.”
Ciaran raised his bidding card.
“We have thirty-one thousand from bidder number nine.”
Ciaran clenched his jaw. The bidding seemed to move at a snail's pace.
The person who bid thirty thousand raised his card.
“Thirty-two thousand.”
“Thirty-three thousand.” The auctioneer acknowledged Ciaran’s bid.
“Thirty-four thousand,” the person returned.
Ciaran voiced his bid. “Fifty thousand.”
The other person appeared to receive instructions on his cell phone. The auctioneer gave him a few seconds and was about to announce the win for Ciaran.
“A hundred thousand,” the man said and turned to look at Ciaran. His eyes sparked in a strange, almost neon-green shade in the dim light of the room.
“Two hundred thousand,” Ciaran bid.
The man smirked. “Three hundred.”
Ciaran nodded, acknowledging the man’s intention to drag out the auction. The man wanted to play games, but Ciaran liked winning. Money had never been an issue with the LeBlancs. But time was.
“One million.”
The room temperature seemed to drop when Ciaran lifted the bid to seven figures.
Now the man had to consult with someone on the phone again.
“Two million.”
Ciaran smiled. “Four.”
“Four point five.”
Ciaran heard the pitch of the man’s voice rise, and he knew when to throw the fatal punch.
“Six million.”
The man shook his head, stood up, and left the room.
The room applauded. The spotlight swung toward Ciaran.
“Congratulations to the owner of In Her Shoe. Ciaran LeBlanc!”
Ciaran's security guards stood up at the back of the room when the auctioneer accidentally revealed his name.
“Sorry, I meant the highest priced item of the event, sponsored by the LeBlanc conglomerate. Now that we've concluded this auction, ladies and gentlemen, please head to the VIP lounge for the celebration.” The auctioneer signaled his staff to clear the room.
Ciaran’s security stood a few feet away from him and stopped anyone, especially the press, from approaching.
“I am so sorry, Mr. LeBlanc.”
“Ciaran, please.” He shook the auctioneer’s hand.
“Your name wasn’t on the list. Plus, the room was dark, and I didn’t recognize you. You didn’t have to bid. You already sponsored the whole event. All you needed to do was pick the piece you liked, and it would have been yours.”
“It’s only fair to bid, and I think it’s good for the artist's exposure.”
“Speaking of the artist—this is Ms. Adriana Oliveira.”
Adriana approached with a radiant smile on her beautiful oval face and a glass of champagne in her hand. An elegant dress wrapped around her perfect body, as perfect as her artwork.
“So, you are the famous Ciaran LeBlanc.”
“I’m not sure what I'm famous for. I admire your work, Ms. Oliveira. It’s very nice to meet you in person.”
She smiled.
“It’s my honor to meet the man behind the passion that inspires my work.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t mean to make a fuss about the shoe when you called and asked to buy it. The shoe was a small inspiration for my work. The love your late wife put into it was a large part of the inspiration. But even working as a commercial artist for a long time, I still found it hard to complete that piece. Until you called me.”
“Except for the offer to buy the shoe, I don't recall giving you anything else—not even information about why I wanted to buy the shoe.”
She chuckled. “You gave me the vision of your love and devotion for her. I could feel it in the way you asked me for the shoe. It was as if it was the most delicate thing, the most precious thing you could possess in life. It’s not the shoe, but your memory of her. You treasure that. And you didn’t want to cause any friction that might break the memory. You didn’t want to force anything, because forcing love will only break it.”
“I don’t analyze my own emotions. But I appreciate that you gave it so much thought, and I’m glad you could use that one phone call as the inspiration to complete the work.”
“That’s just the surface of your emotional ocean, Ciaran. But thank you for your support. The original artwork, the shoe, is now yours. It’s in a box underneath the digital display.” She gestured toward the podium.
The auctioneer smiled. “I wager you’d like to have a bit of time by yourself here. I’ve cleared and secured the room.”
He nodded goodbye and took Ms. Oliveira out of the room. Ciaran's security left to stand guard at the door.
Alone in the room, Ciaran looked at the digital version of the shoe Juliette made. It was an exquisite and beautiful digital representation of the original artwork.
Despite what others had said about Juliette and what she did, Ciaran believed the shoe was simply a piece of art she had created.
As he approached the stage to get the shoe, a 3D figure of a beautiful woman appeared, standing in front of the stage. She looked mesmerized by the shoe.
It was impressive, Ciaran thought.
The Triennial exhibition was going on in the art gallery. Before coming to this exhibition, Ciaran had seen some of the digital art performances in other rooms. Digital art, digital light, and digital projection merged classic paintings with the real environment and made the audience feel like they were in a magical forest or at the bottom of a deep ocean.
He liked what he had seen in the other rooms. But this life-size digital image was much better. It was so real. Almost like the hologram technology he was investing in.
The woman stood, staring at the shoe on the podium.
He smiled to himself and continued to the stage.
“Excuse me!”
The woman's voice was real. He could tell it didn’t come from a speaker. He turned around.
“Excuse me, that’s my shoe. I would like to have it back, please.”
“If you mean the digital artwork, I own it. I just won the auction for it.”
The woman blinked and looked at him with striking, beautiful blue eyes. He swore he saw a tear rolling down her face. She couldn’t possibly be a digital image.
“I understand the shoes are a work of magic. But they were given to me, and I need to have this one before midnight.”
“Oh no—don’t tell me you’re Cinderella.”
“How do you know my name?”
Chapter 3
Ciaran stood next to the podium where the digital art version of the shoe was displayed and stared at the image of the beautiful woman who claimed that she was Cinderella. Aside from film and theater representations, he didn’t know what Cinderella was supposed to look like. But for some strange reason, the woman's presence made him feel as if she was the Cinderella, if the character was indeed something other than a concept.
Ciaran kept his mind open to unexplained phenomena, but most of the time, he preferred to stick to what he knew best—science.
“Assuming I believe that you're Cinderella, and I want to give you this digital artwork, you couldn't even take it with you. It’s not a tangible thing.”
“I don't understand. It’s a shoe from a pair I was given.”
She held up the other shoe, and Ciaran could see that beneath the skirt of her beautiful princess-like dress, she was missing a shoe. The shoe on her foot did indeed look like the shoe on display.
“I’m sorry, but this is just a digital image. I know it looks like a match for the other you have, and it perfectly complements your dress, but you can’t physically take it with you. Here, let me show you.”
Ciaran switched off the digital display from the control panel on the podium, and the digital artwork vanished.
The room darkened several shades when the light from the display went out. But he could still see the devastated look on the woman’s face.
Ciaran stepped down from the stage. He approached Cinderella to give her some comfort.
“Look, I don’t know how this works, but—” As soon as he touched her arm, it felt like he had been electrocuted. The zap sent him back several feet. His knees almost buckled, but he managed to remain standing.
The guards stormed into the room.
“Are you okay, Mr. LeBlanc?”
The woman stood there, blinking at him. She looked as if she wanted to approach him, but her movement seemed restricted to a meter's circumference. The guards didn’t see the woman at all.
He gestured to stop the guards from walking into the center of the room, afraid they might accidentally collide with the woman’s image.
“I’m fine. I need to leave now. Can you get the car and park on the West side of the gallery, please?”
One of the guards left. Ciaran looked at the remaining one. “Could you get me my jacket from the cloakroom, please? I checked in as Anonymous Bidder Number 9.”
The guard hesitated but then left to do what Ciaran asked.
Ciaran returned to the woman. “How can I help you?”
She raised the shoe. “I lost a shoe when I ran away from the ball, and the prince has it. He’ll come to me soon. I’ll try the shoe on and show him this one that completes the pair. Then we will be united. We can be together happily ever after.”
Ciaran nodded. “I know that part of the story. But I still don’t know how I can help you.”
“This afternoon, my godmother told me that the shoe in the prince’s possession has been swapped for a different size. That means, when he comes to see me tomorrow, the shoe won’t fit me. Godmother said the correct shoe is here. She sent me here to get the shoe so she can replace the one in the prince's possession. But now the shoe has vanished. The prince and I can never be together.”
“Cinderella, what you saw was a digital image. You can’t physically bring it to your world and give it to your godmother. And you saw what happened to me when I tried to touch you. I don’t think you can interact with this environment without being hurt. That’s why your movement is restricted within the small space where you're standing right now.”
She frowned.
“Simply speaking, I don’t think you can take any object in this room with you. Here, see if you can hold this water bottle.”
He placed a bottle on the floor close to where she stood. When she reached down to pick up the bottle, her hand went right through it. Frightened, she stepped back and away from the bottle.
“Did your godmother give you any instructions on how to get the shoe she needs back to your world? How do you even know this is the right shoe?”
“She said I’ll know the shoe when I see it. But I can only take what I’m given.”
“All right, that’s very cryptic. I am absolutely certain that this is not your shoe. But I’m going to give it a go to see if I can help you.”
Ciaran took the box with the shoe from underneath the podium and put the shoe on the silver tray atop the podium. It was the first time he had held Juliette's artwork—an elegant life-size crystal shoe—in his hand. Ciaran had dealt enough with symbolism to know that this piece of art represented infinite love. But they had been happily married, so why did Juliette suddenly want to track down an old art project symbolizing love?
Cinderella’s voice pulled his mind back to the current reality.
“This is the shoe.” Tears rolled down her face.
“It’s not possible. This is my wife’s creation.”
“So you’re not going to give me the shoe?”
Juliette was dead. There was nothing he could do to bring her back. It didn’t matter if this fairy-tale character in front of him was real. She was a woman in distress, and she had a real problem that he could help solve. He was more than certain that wherever his wife might be, she would forgive him for not retrieving her work as promised.
“I will give you this shoe.” He picked up the shoe and placed it on the floor next to the bottle of water.
Cinderella tried to grasp the shoe. But just like with the bottle, her hand went right through it.
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Thank you for reading. This is the end of the sample of Doubling Down, Book 1 in the Infinity Series - Edition 1.
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