Magic Games (Dragon Born Serafina Book 2)

by Ella Summers

  “What?” she demanded. “You have to admit that you really do stink.”

  Sera wasn’t sure if the monster even understood her. It was thumping one of its hooves against the ground, kicking up a hell of a sandstorm, but that was just normal bull behavior. You know, before they…charged.

  She jumped out of the way of the charging bull, running behind a cluster of those metal mushroom cylinders. Cutler had warned her to stay away from them, but this was the same mage who’d gotten himself stuck on top of the Golden Gate Bridge. Twice. He’d been waiting to hitch a ride with a flock of migrating winged horses that had never come. And no matter how many times he insisted the horses took that path south, they never came. Maybe they didn’t even exist. Cutler wasn’t exactly the universe’s most reliable source of information. Or common sense, for that matter.

  So far, the metal mushrooms he’d warned her about hadn’t done anything more menacing than look like metal mushrooms, so she was going to take her chances with them. They couldn’t be worse than the elemental bull who wanted to skewer her on his horns and fling her bloody remains against the magic barrier.

  The mushrooms were sticking too far out of the ground for the bull to run over them. She hoped. The beast hadn’t yet slowed its gallop. The ground quaked under its hooves—and its magic. Earth magic, so ancient it rumbled in her soul, was pulsing out of the creature, seeping into the ground. The whole stadium was shaking now.

  Just as Sera was starting to worry that the bull’s magic would take down the entire building—pouring the broken steel and concrete remains into the train station below—the creature’s magic shifted to fire. Ablaze with red and orange flames, it veered away from the metal mushrooms and ran back to the other side of the pit, buying her a few precious seconds to figure out what the hell she was going to do to get herself out of this mess.

  Magic. The Game Architect was trying to force her to use magic. That’s why he’d sicked an elemental bull on her rather than, say, the Easter Bunny. Or Santa Claus. She’d heard both of them were total pushovers. Though rumor had it that the Tooth Fairy was a biter.

  Sera could probably take down the elemental bull with magic. After all, she’d fought Kai in dragon form. But the problem with magic was it’s a two-way street. Every time she used magic, it opened a temporary hole in the shield she’d put around her mind. Most supernaturals weren’t able to take advantage of this, but a mage didn’t get to be the Game Architect by being most supernaturals. Mr. Sadistic Blackbrooke had spent decades cracking open mages’ minds. He was experienced, efficient, and just plain evil. Even a split-second hole in her mental shield would be enough for him to wiggle himself into her head.

  On the other side of the pit, the bull reared, thumping its icy hooves against the half-height wood wall that surrounded the fighting area. One of the advertising banners hanging from the wall froze solid. The bull thumped it again, and the banner shattered into a million tiny icicles. Then the creature pivoted toward Sera, crunching the ice into the ground. A cloud of wintery air puffed out of its nose.

  The metal mushrooms picked that moment to squirt golden liquid at Sera’s feet.

  She hopped away, avoiding the lion’s share of the attack. A few yellow drops splattered her leather boots, but she escaped otherwise unscathed. Of course, her retreat put her back out in the open, well within charging distance. But it was either that or death by mushroom. Golden liquid was pouring out of the metal cylinders, drenching the sand with something that smelled an awful lot like gasoline. She hoped it wasn’t magic-infused gasoline. And that the bull didn’t run through it while it was on fire.

  The bull glared at Sera, blue fire burning in its eyes. It stomped its hooves against the sand, preparing to make another pass. The icy spikes on its back shattered, and tendrils of purple-gold lightning slithered across its body.

  Lightning. Earth would be next. The bull’s magic was powerful, but its elemental pattern was pretty simple. After earth would be fire. She eyed the growing puddle of gasoline. Fire. She could work with that.

  As the bull kicked off into a gallop, a web of sparks pushed out from it. The lightning shockwave shot toward her, frying the air. Sera jumped out of the way, retreating to the other side of the pit. The audience booed and hissed. Still running, Sera gritted her teeth. What exactly did they expect? That she grabbed the bull with her bare hands and tossed it at the barrier?

  The bull had made it to another patch of metal mushrooms. They looked dormant at the moment, but who knew how long that would last. Still sizzling with lightning, the bull kicked its back legs, spinning around. Behind the creature, its pink and purple magic crackled like electrical flowers atop the metal mushrooms. The air stank of metal and burning rocks and…earth. The bull’s element had changed again.

  The ground quaking beneath her boots, Sera hopped up and grabbed the nearest advertising banner hanging from the wall. It looked highly flammable, which was pretty stupid of the organizers considering what went on in the pit. Stupid, but useful. She waved the portable fire hazard at the bull, daring it to come.

  It didn’t keep her waiting long.

  The bull sprinted forward. Every time its hooves hit the ground, a tremor shook the arena. Like a pounding hammer, the quakes echoed through the arena. Fissures cut across the floor, splitting it open. Sand poured down through the cracks. Somewhere across the pit, one of the wooden panels ripped off the wall and hit the dirt. The crowd, which had been so rambunctious just a minute ago, had fallen completely silent.

  The bull was almost upon Sera, magic boiling in its green eyes as it rushed toward the banner she was waving. She dashed to the side, whisking the banner away. The bull smashed horns-first into the wall, knocking off a few more wood panels. Sera ran for the cluster of gasoline-gurgling metal mushrooms, zigzagging around the slippery puddles. She held the banner inside the golden geyser, drenching the cloth in gasoline.

  The bull was already running toward her again. Wood splinters freckled the emerald waves of magic pulsing across its body. Then, between one step and the next, fiery plumes split across the bull’s skin, swallowing the creature. The splinters dissolved, pouring down to the broken ground like ash tears.

  Sera tossed the thick banner over the bull’s head. An angry, panicked growl pierced the fabric, and the creature veered blindly to the side. The sudden jerk tossed the gasoline-drenched banner off its head. The flame-licked fabric landed in the big golden puddle, setting it ablaze. A moment later, the dazed bull sloshed in too. Fire crackled and hissed, pouring down the bull’s body and across the pond of fire.

  A frigid breeze tickled Sera’s ear, the precursor to the next elemental jump. Blue magic slid across the bull’s body and flooded the puddle. The war cries of fire and ice hissed and crackled, the wicked song echoing through the arena. The bull thrashed and sloshed and kicked. Chunks of ice broke off of its body, freezing the gasoline puddle upon impact. Its flames crystalized, the fire had been defeated. But so had the bull. Its legs were frozen to the ground. Sera ran at it, delivering a spinning kick to its side. Ice groaned, and the frozen bull hit the ground, shattering into a million pieces.

  The crowd went wild.

  Sera glared up at the cameras—and the television screens showing a closeup of her face, smeared with sweat and dirt. And rage. There was a lot of that too. The audience didn’t seem to care. They pounded their fists against the seats and cheered her name. Cutler was there, in one of the front rows. Smirking, he threw her a salacious wink. She was considering returning an obscene gesture of her own when a thick tube rose from the ground, and the pit spit out its next delight.

  A swarm of hornets shot into the air, their gold and obsidian bodies shimmering like metal. Poisonous magic hornets. Awesome. As Sera watched them swerve and loop overhead, the metal mushrooms behind her began to gurgle.

  She stole a quick glance back at them, just long enough to see that they were squirting up globs of dubious purple magic. The globs bounced out one after the other�
�like an army of suicidal ants diving to their deaths—and splattered the floor. A few drops sprinkled Sera’s pants, scorching tiny holes into the fabric and sizzling her skin. She bit back the pain burning across her legs and kept her eyes on the swarm.

  They’d turned their final loop downward into a dive headed straight for her. A sting from one of those hornets was enough to knock a mage unconscious. A whole swarm of stings would kill her. What was the Game Architect playing at?

  But she didn’t have time to think, only to act. The swarm was almost upon her, their fat stingers sparking with magic. She ran straight into the middle of the metal mushrooms, ignoring the bubbling, burning goo that splattered her arms and legs. Their collective buzz drowning inside her ears, the hornets followed her into the mine field. The goo geysers continued to gurgle and spew, smacking the swarm with thick, sticky globs, eating away at its numbers. Sera just kept running. Behind her, hornets and goo smacked against the ground.

  The deafening buzz had died down to a murmur. She pivoted around to look down a path of mushy purple goo. What few hornets had survived the goo bombing were stuck inside the translucent purple jelly, wiggling their wings in a futile attempt to escape. She glared down at them and stomped them into the ground.

  The crowd roared in appreciation. Sera scraped the purple goo off her boot before it ate through her sole, then shot the sick bastards in the audience a feral sneer. They pumped their fists in the air and cheered louder.

  A soft, feathery melody resonated against the barrier surrounding the fighting pit, filling the arena with its sweet song. The crowd’s cheers melted into awed whispers. Sera looked up—right into the eyes of her final opponents.

  A pair of gigantic magic dragonflies, each as large as a house cat, hovered above. Their wings, silken and sparkling, hummed out the magical song that had so captivated the audience. Giant dragonflies were beautiful, especially as far as monsters went, but despite their pleasing appearance, they were about as nasty a creature as they came. If you let them get close enough, they’d bite a big chunk out of you.

  As the two dragonflies swayed and danced in fluid, graceful loops, Sera reached down her legs. The guards had taken her sword from her, but she still had some knives hidden inside her boots. She slid them out and launched them at the monsters. The blades sank in, but it wasn’t enough. The knives were way too small to do real damage to creatures like them.

  The dragonflies fluttered past each other, making circles around Sera. She turned, trying to keep them both in her sight, but they’d coordinated their movements perfectly. The soft melody deepened—darkened—as they sped up. One of them head-butted her from behind, the force of its blow knocking her across the pit. She hit the ground, rolling away from the purple puddle she’d nearly smacked face-first into. She hopped to her feet, brushing off the magic-charged sand. Her legs were freckled with burns, she had a singe mark on the front of her shirt, and one of her sleeves had burned clear off.

  In other words, she was completely pissed off.

  Sera reached down and grabbed one of the cylinders that the elemental bull’s tremors had unearthed. It was long, awkward, and heavy—but it would have to do. She swung it at one of the dragonflies buzzing around her, knocking the creature at the cluster of electrically-charged metal mushrooms. It smacked against the little lightning rods, its body convulsing amidst screeches and smoke as it sizzled atop the mushroom caps.

  Sera turned her back on the dragonfly, walking away from the dying scent of sugar and vanilla icing. The second monster roared and spun around to smack her with its tail. She stumbled back, but before she could retaliate, it bit a chunk out of her arm. It performed a graceful backward loop, trailing the scent of chocolate chip cookies with a helping of delighted chortles.

  “Oh, think that’s funny, do you?” Sera growled up at it. Her body had blocked off all feeling to her arm, which right now was probably all that was keeping her in this fight. It also meant she’d be in for a world of pain later.

  The dragonfly chuckled.

  “You are so dead,” she told it, peeling her hand off her bleeding arm. Crimson drops flicked off her fingers, splattering the sand.

  The dragonfly came at her again. Its mouth opened, showing off two rows of tiny, pointed teeth. Sera swung the cylinder like a baseball bat, knocking the monster at the magic barrier. It smashed against the web of lightning and burst into tiny, dragonfly-bits confetti.

  The audience jumped to their feet, their voices raised in cheer.

  “You’re all a bunch of demented lunatics!” she roared back at them.

  Her words dissolved into the crowd. She wasn’t even sure if they’d heard her. And it didn’t matter. As the door out of the fighting pit burst open, she clutched her bleeding arm and walked toward it. The pain in her legs and arms was slowly returning. She walked faster. She had no intention of passing out in front of several hundred bloodthirsty supernaturals.

  Sera ran for her locker, reached inside her bag, and pulled out a bottle of healing spray. She drenched her body in the stuff, not even bothering about getting her clothes wet. They were ruined anyway.

  The bottled magic sank into her skin, flooding her with soothing warmth. The spray wasn’t half as effective as a mage’s healing spell, but it was enough to keep her conscious. She’d worry about second-degree burns and bleeding body parts later. For now, she had to worry about finding someone to heal her.

  “Sorry, peaches,” the guard said when she asked to see a healer. “You need to heal yourself. No outside help. Those are the rules of the fighting pit.”

  “I’m not in the fighting pit, genius,” she snapped back.

  A muffled sound buzzed from the guard’s earpiece. Someone was talking to him.

  “Rules are rules,” the guard told her.

  Sera grabbed her bag—and her sword—and marched off. “Rules, my ass,” she muttered under her breath as she headed for the exit sign.

  The guard had said he’d bet money on her making it through the day. It was in his best interest to find her a healer. Unless he was lying about the bet. Or someone had ordered him not to help her heal. Like the Game Architect.

  Dizziness rushed through her head, a kaleidoscope of yellow and purple lights dancing in front of her eyes. Sera swayed to the side. She reached out, catching herself on the wall before she smashed into it. Her hand, slippery with blood, slid across the satin-smooth surface, smearing it red.

  Sera had reached the exit door. She pushed it open and stepped out into the lobby, blinking back the flood of bright white lights. She staggered out and shuffled across the slick marble floor. The light show in her head had exploded into the grand finale of all migraines. She stumbled over her own feet and fell.

  Two arms caught her, powerful and smelling strongly of dragon. Sera blinked back the blotchy lights, and Kai’s face came into focus.

  “The dragon,” she slurred, then blacked out.

  She didn’t know how long she was out, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. When she came to, she was lying on top of a counter in the lobby. The fairy on the other side had retreated to the corner, her face as green as her hair. She looked about two seconds from throwing up. Beside her, her vampire colleague was licking his lips.

  A warm, soothing magic rushed through Sera, its silken touch washing away the pain. She turned her head, now that she actually could move it again. Dal was beside the counter, muttering as his hands wove a web of sparkling silver-blue magic across her body. He pressed his palms together, then yanked them apart, dissolving the spent magic.

  “Thanks,” Sera croaked, trying to sit up.

  Dal caught her arm and pulled her up. A wicked grin twitched at his bottom lip. “Does that mean we’re even?”

  “Sure,” she said, returning the grin. “After you’ve done that another hundred or so times.”

  He snorted. “There weren’t that many monsters in the tower at Alcatraz.”

  “How would you know? You were asleep the w
hole time,” she teased.

  “She’s back to her normal self,” Dal sighed, turning to look back at Kai.

  The dragon stood against the wall, his arms crossed stiffly against his chest, his jaw clenched like he’d just bitten down on a piece of iron chewing gum. He looked like he needed to kill something. Now.

  “Frowning gives you wrinkles,” Sera told him.

  Dark scales split out of his wrists, sliding up his arms. Magic boiled in his eyes, setting the dust in the air on fire.

  Dal sighed. “Sera, try not to stoke the fire too much,” he said, then walked off, dodging the cloud of burning dust flurries on his way out.

  When he was gone, Sera hopped down from the counter, landing beside Kai. “Are you all right?”

  “Am I…all right?” he grunted, his words scraping out like sandpaper.

  “I take it that’s a ‘no’ then.”

  “You’re hurt.” He set a hand on her shoulder. It was bare, bruised, and dirty. The strap of her tank top had torn clear off. The rest of the shirt hung in tattered strips. There wasn’t enough fabric left to make a bandage.

  “It looks worse than it is,” she replied with a shrug and a smile.

  “You’re hurt,” he repeated. “And you’re asking if I am all right? No, I’m not all right. You look like you’ve been run over by a tank, torn apart by vampires, then burned to a crisp by dragon fire.”

  “Nah, I only let you burn me, baby.”

  “This is not funny, Sera,” he growled.

  “I was very nearly killed. I’m going to deal with that however the hell I want.”

  “By making snarky comments?”

  “Laughter is the best medicine,” she said, smiling at him.

  He gave her the evil eye. “No, the best medicine is never needing medicine to begin with. You were supposed to use magic against those monsters, not play baseball with them or lure them into gasoline puddles and set them on fire.”

  “Magic is the window to the soul.”

  “How poetic,” he said drily.