The Lost Queen

by Jenn Stark

  “I feel overdressed,” I murmured, and as easily as I could manifest an elevator full of stilettos, I’d manifested my own clothes off my body and onto the floor. Another handy skill I had heretofore underappreciated.

  “Your abilities never do fail to disappoint.”

  “Mm.” I leaned down until my face was a bare inch above his, some part of me shocked at how natural it felt to share an intimate moment with Armaeus. More natural than it really should, given what I’d witnessed going on inside his body. “I should know better than to trust you, shouldn’t I?”

  “You should definitely know better than that,” he agreed with a soft smile. “I will attempt to bend you to my will without blinking if I think it is for the greater good, and even more quickly if I believe it is for your good. You, of course, have the ability to stop me at every turn. You always have.” He shifted beneath me. “And now that you have the Eye of Horus upon you, your connection to your own abilities is increased tenfold.”

  “So you knew about that?”

  “Of course.”

  “Great. Anything I should be aware of?” Though I wanted to know the answer, I mostly wanted Armaeus to keep talking as I reveled in the heat of his body, the touch of his skin against mine. There was the magical healing that a being as powerful as the Magician could enact with a thought…but there was a different kind of healing too. The healing of simple touch between two people, a connection as old as time itself. The combination of the two in this moment threatened to overload my senses, but only in the best possible way.

  “About the mark? No. Nothing of any import, anyway,” he said. “But there is something you should know, something I feel you may not understand.”

  “Okay…” I pursed my lips. That didn’t sound like a good opening.

  I was wrong.

  “I love you,” Armaeus said, his gaze once more meeting mine. “I love you so much that I will move heaven and earth to be with you, to support you in any way that I can. But if it were to ever come down to the world going up in flames because of something you did or something you were becoming…”

  “I know, I know,” I sighed. “You would sacrifice me for the greater good.”

  “No, my dear Miss Wilde,” he said, his eyes a fathomless black. “I would sacrifice myself for the greater good. That is the change you are detecting, that you cannot quite understand. You should understand it. It’s the truth of the matter.”

  I stared at him, not even blinking, my heart suddenly too full in my chest as the power of his statement, his meaning rolled through me. You can’t! I cried inside, desperation and terror echoing down the long corridors of my mind. You can’t, you can’t. Tears welled up unbidden, and when Armaeus’s soft, beautiful mouth quirked into a gentle smile, they slid down my cheeks.

  With that, he moved, quickly and easily, rolling me over onto the bed as he covered me with his own long, sleekly muscled form. I drew in a shaky breath as he slid himself along me, every inch of him hard and sure against the give my body allowed. My legs fell open easily, and as he moved to take the opening I’d given him, his gaze caught mine again. “You are more powerful than you realize. You would do well to remember that.”

  “Is that—oh,” I shuddered as Armaeus slid into me, and the field of magic around us didn’t just vibrate, it practically exploded into myriad colors and lights, the pressure from both within and without almost too much to process. I studied him in the midst of all that drenching energy, understanding suddenly lighting through me.

  “That’s why you’ve leveled up,” I whispered as he started to move. I didn’t want to think anymore, I didn’t want to do anything but feel, but that didn’t change the reality of what I’d just learned. Armaeus was literally pushing himself to the limit to ensure that he was my equal—to protect me? To protect himself?

  Or merely to make himself a big enough prize to offer in my stead should the absolute worst come to pass?

  I didn’t know, and I no longer cared. Not when he was with me and only the two of us mattered, lost for this precious moment in a world beyond space and time.

  I drew him down into my embrace, and we surrendered to each other.

  Chapter Twenty

  Having recently sat in on a meeting of a senate of magicians in Venice, Italy, I wasn’t at all sure what to expect from a meeting of a coven of witches in the heart of LA. But it definitely wasn’t an exclusive set of booths at the nightclub Lure, with a line out the door that we bypassed without even raising an eyebrow, a $1,500 bottle service, and music loud enough to drown out all thought, let alone all conversation. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “There’s no need for you to shout, Miss Wilde,” Armaeus thought in my head.

  I flashed him a worried look. Despite waking up in his arms that morning, I’d grown increasingly uneasy as the day had progressed. I’d healed the man, and he was…certifiably functional. But there was a weight to his energy that simply had not been there before, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do with that weight. Also, it appeared that no matter how much I’d leveled up, he still could block any intrusion into his thoughts, and his stonewalling of my attempts to read his mind hadn’t lightened my mood. And now this—his clear self-assurance in the face of this wall of music and noise and light. The chaos made me want to curl up into a ball. Armaeus, however, seemed to be in his element.

  Which surprised me. Nightclubs like Lure were supposed to be Kreios’s element, and in fact, the Devil of the Arcana Council was currently holding court with several men and women near one of the opulent bars, a glittering Nikki on his arm. But Armaeus seemed much more inclined to be muttering imprecations over some foul-smelling cauldron deep in his twisty lair than hanging out in a trendy nightclub.

  But he wasn’t putting on a show. He practically vibrated with the energy of the place, clearly drawing satisfaction from it, even pleasure, which made me feel…at a loss. What else didn’t I know about him?

  Probably too much. I was determined to find out exactly what—later. Later, I promised myself, I’d have all the time in the world. Now, however, I needed to hear myself think. I wanted to have an in-person touchpoint with the leader of the coven, plus the three witches most likely from our murder board. Once I met them face-to-face, I hoped to weed the three down to two…maybe even one. They were undoubtedly too skilled to show their cards—or that they were marked for Justice—now that they knew I was looking for them, but there were other tells.

  I hoped.

  I refocused on Armaeus. Believe it or not, you’re not the person I actually need to speak to here. That means I’m going to have to use my outside voice.

  “And do you really believe that the witches of LA haven’t found a way around a pesky issue like sound? Because, as I believe I mentioned, the members of this coven have several unique talents that have evolved specifically to meet the unique requirements of their environments.”

  Yeah, you mentioned. They’re like geckos.

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.” Armaeus waved his hand, and the scream of music faded to a barely audible backdrop. It was suddenly as if we were walking through glassed tunnels underneath the ocean, while a hurricane raged all above. We could see everything happening all around us, but we were separate and protected from all of it.

  “You did this?” I asked, this time speaking out loud. I immediately had to ratchet my voice down to an acceptable level. “Or did one of them cast some sort of spell?”

  He smiled, and I was reminded again why so many of the women and men in the room instinctively gravitated toward him. There was something about the Magician, even before he’d given himself a power upgrade, that always proved irresistible to normal humans. Now, with whatever it was he’d done to himself, they oriented themselves toward him like he was their true north.

  “Your suspicions of me are unfounded, Miss Wilde. The spell that was cast to allow for polite conversation is not of my doing, but it is accessible to any who
know it. You could access it as well.”

  I lifted my brows. “This is another nudge for me to get formal training, isn’t it? Because you’re not super subtle, if you’re wondering.”

  He chuckled. “Training would be wise. But here, you’ve only to demand it be done, Miss Wilde. That’s all you’ve ever had to do.”

  A second later, the cacophony of sound dropped around us with the force of a sonic boom, and I went rigid with shock.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed, pushing back at the noise mentally, lifting it up—

  And there it was. A thin skein of electricity, rolled up tight like yarn, with the end hanging loose. I pulled on it, then pulled harder, and suddenly, the yarn sprang free, not as a single thread but an entire cloak, blanketing the space around us.

  Silence reigned again.

  “Well, that was cool,” I allowed. “I thought witches used spells.”

  “Witches use nature, and bend nature to their needs, as do any of the Connected,” Armaeus corrected me. “While it’s true that only a master magician should have been able to access that spell, you’ve proven my newest hypothesis quite effectively. You are not classically trained, you’re not trained at all, in fact, and yet when it comes to accessing the wavelength of power that is open to a trained witch—you can co-opt it, neatly and effectively. That bears some study.”

  “Plan on it.” I smiled at him. “After we’re done here.”

  “Agreed.”

  We’d approached a small enclave of deep, curved, upholstered seating, the roar of music still quieter here, allowing for the conversation of those seated around the cluster of small round tables. One of the women looked up, then smiled expansively as she stood. I recognized her immediately as Lara Drake.

  “The Arcana Council,” she said, her voice rich with approval. “Welcome to Los Angeles.”

  “I’ve stayed away too long,” Armaeus said graciously, and I didn’t miss the undercurrent that passed between him and the woman I’d only seen stuck to a board up to this point. I sort of preferred her that way now that I could see her in person and witnessed the way her gaze traveled over Armaeus like a hacker’s spider on the dark web.

  Lara Drake turned to me, her manner still smooth, and my eyes narrowed as I felt the sudden and insistent touch of her Connected abilities against my mental barriers. Did she not know who I was?

  “Justice Wilde,” she said, the epitome of grace. “Allow me to be the first to welcome you here. We are honored by your presence.”

  “High Priestess Drake,” I said, through ever so slightly clenched teeth.

  The pressure from the leader of the LA coven didn’t ease up as she uttered a light and tinkling laugh. “No need for formal titles with me. Call me Lara. You will find the coven in Los Angeles to be one of the most progressive in all the northern hemisphere. I understand you’ve had the opportunity to meet High Priestess Danae?”

  Throughout this entire recitation, the witch’s pressure did not ease. If anything, it increased in its intensity. As if she was so confident in the distraction of her words that she didn’t even bother to monitor my reaction.

  I shrugged mentally. Two could play at that game, but I wasn’t necessarily sure that a display of power was my best gambit here. Not when I was the one who needed the information. No matter how irritated I was at the lack of respect from the high priestess of the LA coven, I continued to suffer the witch’s pressure on my mind and gave her a winning smile.

  “Of course. I’ve had the pleasure of working with Danae a number of times, starting in Las Vegas.”

  Lara’s attention flicked by to Armaeus, ever so slightly frostier. “There really was no need for that, as the LA coven was so much closer to Las Vegas than the Chicago coven.”

  If Armaeus picked up on her censure, he didn’t betray it. His answer was as smooth as hundred-year-old scotch. “My specific requirement at the time dealt with ley lines. I’m sure you’ll agree that Danae’s expertise in that area is undeniable.”

  “Oh, I suppose,” Lara said, “though it’s not as if she invented the discipline of managing such energy sources. We also have a great deal of experience in ley lines, as well you know.”

  “Of course,” Armaeus murmured. I watched Lara more closely, flicking open my third eye to improve the view. Her energy was a study in contrasts. When she focused on the magician, she was all feminine guile, sultry and alluring and powerful. On the outer edge of her focus, she was acutely aware of the conversations and positioning of all the other witches in the coven, at least the ones currently present at Lure. She did manage to maintain a tendril of attention toward me, poking and prodding at my mental barriers, but even as I watched her, her interest in that was waning.

  Suddenly, a flare of energy bloomed at my solar plexus, coils of interest snaking toward me. I blocked them without hesitation, and I didn’t miss the flash of frustration across Lara’s face or the narrowing of her eyes on Armaeus.

  This provided me with a wealth of information. First, Lara had totally drunk the Kool-Aid that Armaeus was the most powerful member of the Arcana Council, bar none. She was so convinced of that fact, she wasn’t giving me the time of day. She completely did not believe that I was the one blocking her efforts to crawl through my brainpan. I tried not to take that personally, since I fully planned on using her prejudice against her, but it did piss me off.

  Armaeus, for his part, merely gave Lara a rich and indulgent smile. He could clearly read my thoughts.

  “But now we are here, and I’m sure you know why,” he murmured, turning subtly toward me. I was the star of this show, after all. It was time for me to shine.

  Lara dutifully pivoted my way. “I can’t imagine why Justice would take such an interest in the private business of a coven—any coven, but especially one as old and revered as ours.”

  Irritation cycled through me, and I regarded her a little more shrewdly. Was she trying to annoy me, or was she merely exceptionally good at it? I decided to play it cool.

  “I’m hoping that I won’t be interested in your private business for very long,” I said smoothly. “But perhaps some education is in order. I don’t randomly show up on people’s doorsteps without a summons to do so. In the case of your coven, I’ve received multiple summons.”

  “Multiple,” she echoed in disbelief, drawing up straighter. “Who? Who would dare to denigrate one of my witches?”

  “Given your activism, your willingness to doubt the victim rings a little false, Lara.” As that gibe sank in, I kept going. “You know who we’re here to see.”

  “Tammy Butler, Gail Fredericks, Monica Jones. All of them among the most powerful and venerated of our number,” she said frostily.

  “Then I’ll need to talk to them.”

  As Lara Drake stiffened enough to give her chiropractor fits for weeks, I flicked open my third eye. And realized that, once again, the full effort of her blocking mechanisms were trained on the Magician, not on me. Annoying though it was to be treated as a lesser player, I really did need to take Armaeus out more often. Because with him by my side as a distraction I could easily delve into Lara’s energy field. I couldn’t read her thoughts, which was definitely a skill I needed to put on my “developmental studies” list, but I could read where she was placing her energy.

  And where she was placing her energy was…interesting.

  “You’re afraid.” I spoke the words quietly, but from the way Lara reacted, you would have thought I’d announced it on the loudspeakers between synth pop rotations. She whirled on me, her face apoplectic with rage.

  “Lara,” Armaeus said quietly, and her expression instantly went slack for a hairsbreadth moment. Then she recovered.

  “How dare you?” she seethed at me, which I thought was an interesting opening, since we’d already been introduced.

  “Why?” I asked in return, and she knew what I meant: why was she afraid? I wasn’t going to say the words aloud again unless she pushed
me to it, but I was more than willing to be pushed. “What am I not understanding?”

  “There’s no end to what you don’t understand—either of you,” she said darkly, targeting this last comment to Armaeus. “But I’ll start with the basics. I know Danae is here, and I know why—it’s not to track the pattern of ley lines on the western coast, no matter what she wants you to believe. The coven of Los Angeles is in the middle of a power struggle, and though we are nowhere near as strong as the coven of the Iron Sea, we are not to be discounted.”

  “Who’s looking to overtake you?”

  “Who isn’t?” she retorted. “But what’s important is the prophecy of Myanya didn’t come to our coven by chance. She sought the best-trained and most experienced witch in the world—and one with a taste for power.”

  “That implies age,” Armaeus said amiably enough. “The women we’re targeting are all younger than thirty-five. Are they Revenants?”

  “They are not,” Lara shook her head, clearly disgusted. “Nor are they reincarnates, though don’t think I didn’t check that when I realized the energies that were building. But I categorically deny that they are killing anyone who is not a witch in order to draw Myanya to them. Any consort who attempts mastery of Myanya knows the risk as well as the reward. They get what they get.”

  “That’s your line?” I asked. “Really? A prophesied witch turning deadly to her potential consorts—killing them before they have a chance to fulfill the prophecy—is an outcome that should’ve been expected after how many thousands of years?”

  She slanted her eyes at me. “You believe a powerful witch should be subjugated by a male not her equal?”

  “Dude, it’s not my sick prophecy. I’m not saying that the male witches who have reached out to subjugate the subject of the Myanya prophecy are winners, but they are following the script. Whoever Myanya is currently targeting as her vessel has changed that script. And I think that’s a little sketchy.” I looked around the room. “Where are the candidates, anyway? And do they know they’re under scrutiny?”