The Magic Queen

by Jovee Winters

  Peabrain had left with a screeched, “hate you,” almost the moment they’d stepped on through to this gods-awful place, obviously smart enough not to want to hang around in this icy tundra.

  Pumping her hands to try and get blood moving, she noted with a frown that the tips of her fingers had begun to turn blue.

  “Blergh,” she groaned, hoping against hope she wouldn’t turn into a popsicle before they were allowed to leave.

  Being a god definitely came with some perks. Mr. God of Sex over there didn’t even look the tinniest bit put out by the cold. He stood tall as an oak with his gorgeous mane of silvery hair whipping in the wind, reminding her of some cheesy romance novel hero smoldering on a book cover. Even the edge of his shirt had lifted up a little so that a strip of sun-kissed flesh was exposed. All he needed to do now was strike a pose.

  “You look like you want to eat me,” he said. “I can’t decide whether that’s a good or bad thing.”

  Deciding to ignore that comment because she was definitely feeling a rush of hunger that had nothing at all to do with stomach pains, she banded her arms tight around herself., “I think I’m not the only one Calypso hates. I cannot believe she stuck her sister—an fire elemental—in here.”

  Freyr chuckled, and she thought he meant to tease her back, but the easy smile of seconds ago vanished as he cupped his ear and swayed a little toward the left with a look of total concentration on his face.

  “Do you hear that?” he asked a second later.

  She frowned, wondering if maybe he meant the wind since that was all she could presently hear. She was about to say so when she stilled because she’d definitely heard something other than wind: a squeaking, chattering noise. And it was suddenly growing louder.

  Twirling on her heel, she stared in astonishment as thousands upon thousands of snow-white rats screeched and ran their way. Their red beady eyes, distinct against the white-out conditions, had her spinning fanciful thoughts of demon rodents come to consume their flesh in a ravenous plague. But the rats didn’t seem to care a whit about them. In fact, they seemed more terrified than in attack mode.

  The rats ran, heedless of anything that stood in their way. Their movements were frenzied and hurried as they rushed past, scampering over her boots, some of them disoriented and crawling up her skirts. She glanced at Freyr and noted the same was happening to him.

  Reaching for that same belt pouch that he’d pulled a ship out of during Fable’s battle, Freyr snatched up as many rats as he could, stuffing them inside almost haphazardly. Knowing immediately what he was doing, she began to do the same, ripping the rats off her skirts and shoving them into his bag, as many as she could lay her hands on.

  When it was all said and done, they’d secured at least five-dozen of the pests, if not more. Freyr’s grin was exultant, and she returned one in kind. But then the plague of rats disappeared as swiftly as it’d shown up, and Baba sensed Fire’s presence. Freyr secured the pouch bag on his hip before maneuvering himself slightly so that he now stood in front of her. As though for protection.

  She grinned. How cute he was. Never in her life had she needed protection, not even against a goddess, but the mere fact that he’d done it made her feel all warm and gooey inside. What an adorable idiot.

  Fiera was as blazingly stunning as her sister Calypso was a watery beauty. Her skin gleamed like polished opal. The buttery gown of yellow flames curled enchantingly around her toned body. But most arresting of all was the wild mane of green flame undulating in waves around a face so beautiful it was almost impossible to gaze upon without feeling like she’d been staring at the sun for too long.

  Standing beside her was a dark-skinned man with ebony hair cut short. His eyes were deep, fathomless inkwells. He wore a jewel around his neck, a concentric helix of circles hammered out in gold and ear ornaments carved from jade and bleached bones melded together.

  “Well, hell,” she muttered, recognizing Fiera’s mate: the Aztec god of monstrosities, Xolotl, himself, another fire deity, whose sole purpose in life was the guardianship of the sun.

  This meant two things. One, there was the very real possibility that she’d be fighting not one, but two fire deities if she didn’t make sure to secure him first. Two, this male would probably truly throw himself upon a sword to protect his mate. So whatever spell she used it had to hold fast.

  There was only one in her arsenal at the moment that could do it, but she’d be forced to use the entire contents of the vial, meaning there’d be none left to use against Fiera herself, which was how Baba had planned to immobilize the goddess.

  It frustrated her that she hadn’t been able to get her bearings on who Fiera’s mate was until now because it changed her entire game plan. There was no doubt in Baba’s mind anymore that Calypso and Aphrodite had chosen correctly.

  If she could suffer Freyr’s presence in her life as she was, then there could be no explanation for it other than he truly was her mate. And if they’d found hers, no doubt they’d found the others’ too.

  Blasted, meddlesome goddesses. She clenched her front teeth together, an action Freyr noted.

  “Turning them into iron points again, love?” His hot breath feathered along the shell of her ear, making her squirm.

  He chuckled, as if aware of the effect he had on her, and she swatted his face away.

  “I probably should. You do know who that is, right?” She whispered, knowing that if Fiera or Xolotl, for that matter, really wanted, they could easily hear her. But they were having their own powwow and paying the two of them very little mind.

  Freyr nodded. “If I guess correctly, some third-rate deity of Aztec origin.”

  She smiled at his blasé reply. In ego, she and he were evenly matched. In this fourth battle, the dynamics of the game had shifted significantly. Neither side was eager to rush into things, not like when Fable had come at her from the beginning with a Blitzkrieg attack. Nerves had settled, and the sport had become more like sharks circling each other and waiting patiently for the moment of weakness before striking.

  So far, Baba had struck the males first, knowing them to be the true source of weakness. They’d become so hindered by the goddesses’ games that required the majority of their magicks to be kept at bay.

  Freyr stepped into her body. The length of him, so hard and muscle bound made her heart flutter. He slid his hands through her hair and leaned in to whisper, “She is his weakness.”

  To Fiera and Xolotl, it would appear as though the two of them were doing nothing more than making out, saying their sweet goodbyes, as it were.

  Clutching onto yet another one of his stenciled t-shirts that molded to his delectable abdominals and chest, Baba nodded and pressed even tighter into him. Freyr, following her lead, circled his free arm around her waist, hugging her tightly to him.

  “I thought so too. I’m going to do something to separate them, which will likely result in her retaliating.”

  The glimmer of a smile curled his lips, and his voice took on a heated shiver as he said, “I can handle myself, love.”

  “Mmm,” she murmured and rose up on tiptoe, nuzzling the tip of his nose with hers, delighting in his quick intake of breath and the simmer of fire that curled through icy blue eyes. “I know you can, Fellatio.”

  Shoving him a fair distance away from her, she turned into the Baba of legend and shouted easily above the din of howling winds. “Well, let’s do this, fiery bitch. And just so you know, I’m probably going to kill your boy toy. He’s ugly.”

  Behind her, Freyr guffawed.

  Fiera did not. Her eyes glowed with flame, and she shielded her lover, screaming defiantly, “You can try, you ugly whore of a crone, though we already know you’ll not kill him. Rumor has it Baba Yaga has gone soft on us.”

  “Oh, please,” Baba called back, “you know no one is killing anyone. If they were, I’d have heard something by—”

  “Shows what you know, witch.” Fiera grinned widely. Her halo of green hair shi
mmered hotly. “Someone has died. Did you really think we were all playing nice?”

  Baba frowned, taken aback and sucking in a sharp breath. Because yes, that’s exactly what she’d thought. The whole point of the games was to pair them off. She’d assumed that everyone else had come to the same conclusion, especially considering that she’d yet to hear of a couple vanishing from the games. The fear in her belly turned to anger. No one was going to do anything to Freyr. Not while she lived.

  Straightening her spine, she smirked. “I’m not soft, Fiera. And I’m very, very hungry.”

  Fiera sucked in a sharp breath, and Xolotl growled.

  Baba’s plan worked beautifully. As expected, the god who could do nothing other than guard his sun stepped out in front of Fiera, outside of the circle of safety. Moving faster than a thought, Baba slipped a hanging potion out of the hidden pocket Freyr had so thoughtfully created for her and flung it at the ancient god. Winds did the rest. Xolotl was hoisted into the air, suspended fifty feet above ground and struggling like a fish on a hook. As far as gods went, he wasn’t the most powerful.

  Freyr was right when he’d called him a third-rate deity. Xolotl fought like the devil with a blade, but without a weapon, he actually had no magick to call his own. He roared, kicking and punching against the net of magick that held him high, but her power was true, and not even the Fire elemental could burn her spell away. Baba had created enough to last the full twelve hours. That was one idiot out of the way.

  Fiera didn’t take the bait the way her great-niece Fable had. Baba saw the strain of worry pinch her brows. The goddess blasted a bolt of flame that licked and curled like a Chinese dragon directly toward Freyr’s head. God or no, a hit like that would knock him flat on his delectable arse.

  But prepared for Fiera’s retaliation, Baba quickly unstoppered her next vial and without taking even a second to measure quantity, flung her spell straight at him.

  His eyes widened, and he cocked his head. “Shrew! What the devil—”

  “Ssh!” She hissed. “And for the god’s sake, Fellatio, do not move a muscle!”

  Where once Freyr had stood, now there was no one. He’d seemingly vanished. Would that she’d had a vanishing spell at her disposal, but she’d merely had an illusion spell.

  Fiera’s bolt of fire hit true, but Freyr was no longer there. Baba, in her infinite wisdom this morning, had decided to combine both an illusion spell with a mobility spell, neither of which was incredibly powerful, but they would do in a pinch.

  Now Freyr was a hundred feet due south of where he’d been last, and so long as he didn’t twitch even an eyelid, the cloaking spell would conceal him from Fire’s predatory gaze. Against almost anyone else, Baba wouldn’t worry that he’d be found. But Fiera was god born, which meant illusions worked about as well against her as iron chains would against Baba herself.

  Fiera screamed. “Where is he?”

  “Ha!” Baba hopped out of the way of several bolts of flame, ready for the real fun to begin.

  Because Freyr had asked her not to kill, Baba was stuck in each battle cycle for the full twelve hours, which was loads of not fun. Thankfully, she had the body of a gazelle and could run miles around most anything or anyone without missing a beat. She’d packed a full arsenal of goodies today and used them with fervent abandon, slamming one vial after another against the goddess of fire. And Fiera gave her hell right back, shooting spray after spray of fiery bolts at her.

  Shadows. Slithering tentacles that rose up from the ground. An ape the size of a mountain with big hairy feet that stomped after Fiera, who was forced to turn and run or risk getting squashed by those big hairy toes.

  But Fiera was a wily, old veteran and met her stroke for stroke. None of Baba’s spells could last long. She simply hadn’t had enough time to craft anything as powerful as Xolotl’s holding spell because she’d spent the majority of her evening working on that one.

  Gasping, Baba had just seconds to roll out of the way of a dive-bombing phoenix built of blue fire. Its flaming claws barely missed her head but must have latched onto a few of her curls as the wind suddenly filled with the unpleasant stench of burnt hair.

  The ice and snow, which had been so easy to walk on before, had liquefied under the strain of such heat. Baba was forced to wade through a pile of gray muck and slush. Her body sweated buckets, and her feet felt like chunks of ice. If she did not die of hypothermia, it would be a bloody miracle.

  “Getting tired, ugly witch?” Fiera taunted, blasting her with yet another spray of fire.

  A glowing ember embedded itself into her left shoulder, causing Baba to scream out in pain as that cinder burrowed through her flesh like a demonic worm. Fiera cackled.

  “Oh yeah,” Baba muttered and snatched up a vial of water dragon tears. Whispering to the winds, she uncapped it. Fiera was fast, but not fast enough. The winds dumped the entire contents upon the fire elemental’s head, and she shrieked as though she’d just been set ablaze.

  Or in her case, as if her fire had been put out. The green glow of hair was now just hair hanging wet like limp noodles across her shoulders.

  Xolotl raged, kicking out furiously as he called out to Fiera. Baba smirked at the madness glowing through his eyes.

  “Fiera, my love! Hang strong,” he cried. “You can take her.”

  Fiera, nodded. And with a sinking heart, Baba could already see the tiny buds of flame beginning to curl at the tips of her hair.

  Lungs gulping desperately for air, Baba knew she should conserve her energy, but she’d never really been good at being good. Instead, she cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Should I kill her, Xolotl? What do you think?”

  The god’s face contorted and for a moment seemed to shift entirely into that of a jaguar with long, curving fangs and spotted fur.

  And what little time out she’d scored with those dragon tears was over in a flash. Eyes wide with fury, Fiera called to her flame. This took the form of a blazing dragon.

  “Ah, sheeeet!” Baba barely had time to snap out before she ran. Too late. That damn manifestation of fire magick blasted out a javelin of flame that hit Baba square in her bum.

  Thankfully, the gown absorbed most of the impact. Freyr’s magick held fast, the leaves, rather than igniting into a towering inferno of blazing death, absorbed the heat and turned an even deeper shade of teal. But Fiera’s fire was no joke, and though the leaves helped Baba not to turn into a crispy piece of bacon, she was now swimming as even her slush melted down to water.

  Another blast of fire came at her head, and Baba barely had enough time to suck in air and dive for her life. Reaching into her bag of tricks, she extracted a breathing potion and popped it into her mouth.

  The chewy piece of spelled seaweed eased the burning in her lungs and filled her body with the sweet essence of desperately needed oxygen, on top of that it also covered her in a very thin pocket of warmth so she’d not die of hypothermia. Quickly anyway. If she stayed in too long, there were no guarantees. Swimming far beneath the weak patches of ice, she circled around close to where she prayed to the gods, Freyr hadn’t been stupid enough to move away from. Tapping into the last dregs of energy, she broke through a soft piece of ice and crawled up and out.

  Fiera had her back to her, still looking in the spot where Baba had originally jumped, as though trying to suss out Baba’s whereabouts.

  A ripple like a heat wave shimmering on lava moved to the left of her, and Baba shook her head, hoping like hell that Freyr would take the hint and say nothing. He was still far from safe.

  ~*~

  Six hours into this nightmare, Baba wasn’t sure she could handle too much more. Being a maiden should have come with some perks, like twelve hours of badassery. The truth of it was she ached everywhere and knew she didn’t have another six hours in her. Bending over, she rested her hands on her knees and sucked wind, knowing she wasn’t being quiet and would get caught any second now but too exhausted to care.

  Fr
eyr’s gentle touch landed on the base of her spine and though she leaned into his hand, her heart clenched because she knew what he’d just done couldn’t be undone.

  “Behind you, Fiera!” Xolotl cried, pointing, not at her, but at Freyr. “He’s right behind her.”

  Baba squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head, and dug deep for what little energy remained. At this point, she was running purely on adrenaline and guts.

  Fiera twirled and smirked, lifting her hand for that final blow.

  “Dammit, Fellatio, I told you not to move,” Baba snapped, running a quick mental inventory of potions left to her and coming up empty for anything terribly effective.

  “You’re injured, Baba. This needs to stop already,” Freyr said, though he was still shaded in illusion.

  As though in slow motion, Baba saw the fireball launched their way. With no time left to think, she threw herself against the wavering mirage and screamed as the fireball licked across the exposed skin of her other shoulder blade.

  But at least she’d protected Freyr, whose illusion was quite gone.

  He looked at her with wide eyes. “Baba.”

  Sounding shocked and dismayed, he touched her shoulder, and she looked down only to cringe because the wound had been a little more damaging than she’d suspected. Her skin had charred almost down to the muscle. Now that she saw it, it hurt like bloody hell. Grunting, she wiggled, trying to stand back up and used Freyr’s chest for balance. But when she pushed down on him, he sucked in a sharp breath, and she noticed a stain of blood blossoming on his shirt that had definitely not come from her.

  “You’re hurt!” she snapped at him, fear turning her words sharp.

  Clutching at his stomach, he gritted his teeth and gingerly rolled to a sitting position. “There isn’t much that can hurt me, but other gods can.” His voice was filled with pain but still held a thread of his customary laughter.

  Ignoring her own wounds, she slapped his hands away and shoved up his shirt, eyes quickly scanning the damage. Her insides rioted with tension, and a knot of cloying, oily fear made her feel short of breath and dizzy.