Queen of Storms

by C. N. Crawford

  The shield cracked, and the Reaper slammed me again with magic.

  I was sure she’d shattered my bones. I couldn’t stand.

  Acrid smoke filled the room. Fires had ignited around me, scorching the air, and I coughed. Groaning, I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked around.

  The Reaper had gone. But I wasn’t alone.

  Standing in the scorched doorway was the Nathair. His unnatural stillness was almost more unnerving than everything that had just happened.

  Steel underpinned his silky voice. “What have you done?”

  Chapter 24

  The Nathair’s cool composure didn’t break for a moment. I’d hit my head in the Reaper’s attack, and I felt like smoke had clouded my mind. The shadow of wings swooped behind him, like he was ready to attack.

  Now, my head was pounding like a war drum, and I could hardly think straight enough to heal myself.

  What in great Taru’s storm hell just happened?

  One minute I’d been talking to Wren, the next minute she’d transformed into the bloody Reaper. Whatever that was—something dark and ancient. Something that made the room smell like mossy water and burning sulfur. Not Wren. Not my Wren who still slept with an old stuffed rabbit she called Jeremy Buttons.

  My body felt shattered. “What happened?”

  “You unleashed the Reaper.” Cold fury laced his tone. “And she may have killed half the Institute.”

  The jig was definitely up, and I wasn’t getting past Melkarth with my magic. I could hardly stand. “She’s the reason I came.”

  Understanding dawned in his eyes. “You know her.”

  “I’ve known her since we lived in Edinnu.”

  “You work for the king. I suspected as much.”

  I could hit him for that, and rage skimmed up my belly. “Screw the king. I hope his flesh rots off. Wren and I are exiles because of him. He killed my parents. We fled Edinnu together because the king had determined that we were heathens. He cursed me. And if he knows where I am, he’ll try to have me killed. Wren is my oldest friend. I never knew she was the Reaper, whatever the hells that is. But she came here, and you captured her, and I tried to save her. And didn’t know she was some kind of demon. I don’t have the first bloody clue what that was.”

  He tilted his head, studying me closely. I didn’t know what would happen next, but it felt like a weight off my chest to get the truth out.

  “So you allowed yourself to get captured, to get to your friend. You came here on purpose, as I suspected.”

  “Yes. I came here on purpose to save her.”

  “What I want to understand,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his jaw, “is why your Reaper friend would come here, to this Institute.”

  I sighed, slowly rising from the ground. The room had been thoroughly wrecked. “She said something about trying to get back to Edinnu. To get her curse lifted. I don’t know how she’d get there, since the worlds are closed.”

  He leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. “Probably best if you don’t know, considering you’re not trustworthy. Do you know what I discovered on the way up here? The scent of death. It came from a closet, as it happens. A closet containing an assortment of soaps and rags. Oh, and Oren’s body. From my calculations, he died right around the time you mysteriously lost your clothes.”

  My mouth opened and closed. “Maybe your calculations are off. Maybe the Reaper killed him.”

  He flashed me a cruel smile. “Aren’t you clever. Sure, we can blame the Reaper. No one needs to know. And now, you owe me for keeping your secret.”

  “Why were you keeping her up here? Why not in the dungeons?”

  “She’s a powerful weapon. She can claim many souls for Taru. And souls are power. We weren’t going to kill her.”

  “She’s not a weapon. She’s a person.” I took a deep breath. “So, what now? Now that I let your weapon out?”

  He heaved a heavy sigh. “Now, we clean up the mess you made. We go find Wren. The rest of the Institute does not need to know that you let her escape, only that she’s on the loose.”

  “Why would you keep that secret for me?” I stared at him. “You don’t want to execute me or throw me in the dungeons or something?”

  He gave one of his characteristic slow shrugs. “I need your tracking spell to find the Reaper. If you actually do a good job this time, perhaps I’ll be inclined to be forgiving.” He narrowed his eyes. “You know, I always hated Oren.”

  I dusted myself off. “Where will we find Wren? In her Reaper form?”

  “My guess would be that she’s trying to kill everyone in Gibraltar.”

  The walk through the corridors had been enlightening. Our magical fight had scorched the walls, and the Reaper had killed two pixies and a knight on her way out. In all the commotion, no one was paying much attention to Oren. Just another victim of the Reaper.

  The darkness inside of me doesn’t like you. Wren’s words rolled in my mind as we crossed toward the pillar. We’d come here to survey the city beneath us. I sniffed the air. The faint scent of sulfur floated on the wind.

  “A real tracking spell this time, please,” said Melkarth.

  “I know.”

  I made my hand into a cup, then summoned my magic. A little silver ball of light appeared above my palm, then hovered in the air. It still looked dull, which meant it hadn’t found her yet.

  I drew my eyes across the city, searching for signs of a Reaper, waiting for the tracking spell to work. I spotted a dockyard filled with stationary ships, some of them military. Moving further across, a cable trundled up a line that went from somewhere mid-city at ground level, all the way to the top of the Rock.

  Yachts docked at the marina swayed from side to side, gently now that the sea had calmed. Cars rolled silently along single-lane streets. Emerging from the clouds, a passenger aircraft was on its descent vector into the small international airport to my right.

  Next to the airport, people were gathered in what looked like a football stadium. It looked like it had been turned into a concert arena for the day—some kind of music festival. I could hear the throbbing bass from here, and what I thought might have been Ricky Martin singing She Bangs.

  Not the real Ricky Martin, of course; for obvious reasons.

  Please don’t tell me the Reaper is going there.

  Melkarth pulled out a flask, taking a sip. It smelled like whiskey. “Will this tracking spell be done before the sun explodes, do you think, or should I expect a few more millennia of this dull sphere?”

  “Are you really drinking now?”

  “You’ve just unleashed an apocalyptic monster on Europe. It seems the perfect time to drink.” He glared at my little orb.

  At last, it began to glow more brightly. Then, it zoomed away from us, heading for the densely packed buildings far below us—right over the steep edge of the rockface.

  “Shit. It’s moving too fast.”

  He slid his flask into his pocket. “Jump on in a minute.”

  I frowned. “What?” What in gods’ names did that mean?

  Without explaining himself, Melkarth stepped forward, toward the steep edge of the rock face, and rolled his powerful shoulders. As he moved, he cracked his neck, and then made a running jump off the side of the Rock.

  He disappeared from view in an instant, plummeting past the ledge in front of us. I rushed to the edge, and as soon as I got there, a huge, winged beast shot into the sky, scales gleaming against the faint sunlight. His gray eyes shone fiercely, and his vicious talons glinted in the dim light. Dark spindles crowned his head.

  My stomach swooped, legs weak. In this form, he was truly a creature of nightmares.

  He couldn’t have meant that I was supposed to…. No.

  The force of his wings whipped my peach hair around my head. I watched the dragon rise into the clouds. He roared, flying out of sight and sucking the clouds up behind him. A memory—no, it couldn’t be a memory. A vision rose in my mind, of blood-s
meared marble, prints left in gore by a dragon like that. An image that haunted my nightmares.

  I let out a long, slow breath, trying to master control of myself. Just a giant reptile. Not a big deal.

  And more importantly, where the hells had he gone? I could feel the tug of the tracking sphere pulling me down the hill, telling me which way to go. The only problem was, Melkarth was off for a joy ride.

  The dragon’s roar came from above, a sound so loud it bounced off the Rock. When I turned my eyes up, Melkarth was there, emerging from the clouds like they’d birthed him. Wings spread wide, he dove lower, now disappearing out of view below. I crossed to the edge of the Rock, staring as he looped around again, coming back for me.

  Bloody hells. I was really supposed to just jump on. Surely there was a better way to do this.

  My heart hammered against my chest. I shook my head. “Holy hells.”

  Clenching my fists, I barreled to the ledge and leapt with a running jump.

  The world stood still for an instant as I sailed through the air. Then, I landed on the dragon with a hard thud, reaching desperately for the spindles on his neck. I clenched tight with my thighs as he swooped higher.

  He rocketed down like a hawk. I caught sight of the tracking sphere shooting through the air before us, and Melkarth picked up speed, in pursuit of the apocalyptic beast who’d once been my friend.

  The dragon was right. This would be a perfect time to drink, and I regretted not snatching that flask from him.

  Chapter 25

  As we soared above Gibraltar, I couldn’t see the faces of the people beneath us, but I had a feeling fear would be etched on their features. My mind filled with an image of hundreds, possibly thousands of faces staring up at us, their hands clasping their shopping bags and babies, mouths hanging open.

  Humans today were familiar with supernaturals. They’d seen all our wars in the past. They’d run from demons and angels alike. Their concepts of religion, their place in the universe, had been flipped on its head. They’d likely glimpsed Melkarth through the clouds as I had—but a dragon swooping close … that would terrify anyone.

  Including me, clinging to his back.

  Melkarth’s body radiated heat like a furnace, and his hide felt uncomfortably hot against my legs. Still damp from the storm, my clothing now gave off steam. I was lucky the trip down was quick.

  The tracking spell zipped past us in the air and circled my head. Then, as if to grab my attention, it whooshed away. The salty wind whipped my hair into my face as Melkarth dove lower. As we neared the ground, it became clear that his huge, winged form wouldn’t fit at ground level.

  “There!” I yelled. “Set me down on that roof with the flowers!”

  Melkarth arced in the air. I readied myself, crouching on his back. He angled his wings, slowing a bit as he swept over the ground. When the low rooftop came within reach, I leapt off the dragon’s back and, to my surprise, landed perfectly on my feet.

  “Holy shit,” I said, looking around. I’d landed in someone’s rooftop garden. Peonies surrounded me, and a cat scuttled away, hissing. In a basin near a corner, turtles bobbed up and down.

  As I turned to cross into the house, Melkarth soared away, circling overhead. The screams of humans pierced the air. I moved quickly through the house, startling a gray-haired woman in a floral bathrobe. I excused myself as I rushed past her to get to the front door four floors down.

  Outside, the streets were somewhat empty, because everyone had apparently fled inside. Cars on the street had stopped moving, and drivers stared out from their windows. Death circled above in the form of a whiskey-drinking, birdhouse-building dragon.

  I spotted the ball of light a little way up the street and made a dash for it, catching it as it turned a corner and then following it again when it zipped off. Wren was close. I could feel her. And yet, no one was screaming, which meant no one else could see the dreaded Reaper. That thought filled me with hope. Maybe she’d managed to get control again. The normal Wren would be back, and we’d drink a pint together and laugh at our little misadventure. Or perhaps I was delirious from the running. I really needed to get into shape.

  I sucked in a sharp breath, pumping my arms. Lots of hills in this place. My lungs were burning by the time I reached the small alley where the tracking spell had led me.

  And that’s where I found Wren, her body wreathed in blue and purple fire. So, not in control, then. I guess we’d be putting off that pint.

  She stretched out her hand, pointing it at a man who floated in the air before her. My jaw dropped as I realized something was happening to his skin. It was withering and putrefying. His clothes suddenly started to look too big for his frame.

  My mind roared. I knew what this was. I could feel it in my chest, in my stomach. She’s taking his soul.

  “Wren!” I yelled, and she turned to look at me, dropping the man in front of her.

  Before his limp, crumpled body had even hit the ground, the fire around her had turned in on itself and imploded.

  She was gone.

  I rushed over to the man and knelt beside him, hoping I could save him with my magic. Immediately, I could tell his heart had stopped. Worse, as I watched, it looked like his skin was starting to flake off, revealing rot underneath instead of muscle and bone.

  “Where is she?” A deep, calm voice turned my head. The Nathair stood in the mouth of the alley.

  “She just disappeared into a blue flame thing.” I glanced at the corpse at my feet. There were few things worse than having your soul snatched away like that, but she hadn’t just taken his soul. It was like she’d fed from his living tissue—literally sucked the life out of him. The way he’d gurgled, trying to scream…. It must have been excruciatingly painful. “What the hells is she, exactly?”

  He ignored my question. “Where did she go?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I said. Standing, I turned to look at Melkarth. “Why is she taking souls?”

  “Because that’s what Reapers do. Tracking spell. Now.”

  Dick.

  I cupped my hand again and summoned the tracking spell. The protections shielding her back at the Institute must have been gone now, because the ball of light sprang to life without any resistance. As soon as it appeared, it shot out of my hand like a bullet, and I felt that familiar tug in my chest. But as soon as I took my first step after it, a hand grabbed my leg.

  A chill slid through my bones, one that froze me when I looked down at the corpse at my feet. Anger twisted his face—or what was left of it. Part of the skin had peeled off, revealing a shadowy, almost demonic visage beneath. His human teeth had been replaced with sharp, enlarged fangs. His eye sockets glowed with the same blue light as Wren’s fire.

  “Cora,” he said, my name drawn out like a sigh.

  “What in the nightmarish zombie hell!” I yelled, trying to yank my leg from his grasp.

  “Taru will stop you….”

  He tried to rise, but I kicked him hard in the jaw. He fell back—then lunged at me, lashing out with razor-sharp claws. I rolled to get out of his way, just barely evading his talons. One hit from those would tear me open like I was made of tissue paper.

  I jumped up, summoning my attack spell, but the creature came for me again, his cold eyes flashing with malice. I hurled my magic at him, and his body went stiff. Waves of blue magic poured off my wrist, wrapping around the creature, binding his body. It was a spell to constrict things, and it was breaking his bones, cracking his neck.

  The creature shook and convulsed. The veins on his neck pulsed and throbbed, his rms stretched out to his sides, then he let out a massive howl of pain until his throat stopped working and his head cocked to the side.

  When his neck had snapped completely, the scent of death rose in the air; a disturbing scent of moldy plants left in a vase too long.

  “Are you quite finished with this nonsense?” Melkarth’s calm voice floated through the air from behind me.

  I turned to g
lare at him.

  He stood leaning against the wall, arms folded. “Well? Come on. The Reaper isn’t going to catch itself.”

  Without saying another word, Melkarth turned out of the alleyway. But the creature’s words stuck with me.

  Taru will stop you….

  Melkarth was moving at a fast clip—walking, but because of his height, I had to jog to keep up with him. The wind was picking up speed, and sand and leaves were spinning through the air. A strong gust rustled Melkarth’s dark hair. Clouds gathered darker on the horizon. Taru was close again.

  I kept my eye on the tracking sphere, jogging as I tried to keep up speed. “He said Taru will stop us.”

  Melkarth heaved a sigh, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “A Reaper is a fae who was born possessed by a demon. Specifically, Wren is possessed by the type of demon who reaps souls for a god. And in this case, your friend Wren the Incompetent is reaping souls for your friend Taru the Bloated Sky Prick.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Good. So, at any minute now, Taru is just going to smite the shit out of us. Well done.”

  The wind had picked up a ferocious speed behind our backs, and I almost felt as if it were pulling me into it.

  He cut me a sharp look. “If he wanted us dead, we’d be dead by now. Stop worrying. He’s probably going to send some flimsy little blond Valkyries after us who care more about their hair than killing. Or a little zephyr demon who files grievance paperwork every time he’s not on the job. You’re with a Nathair—”

  A roar from behind us rumbled through my gut, and I turned slowly. Dark vortexes of wind whirled before us, tornados of storm magic.

  The vortexes multiplied, surrounding us now. Faces began to form in them, then silhouettes that began to solidify into enormous, muscled shapes, armed to the teeth with dark metal. At last, a dozen powerful demons surrounded us, skin white as bone, eyes dark as a stormy sea.

  I cleared my throat. “You were saying, Melkarth? Nothing to worry about?”

  He straightened, pulling out his flask to take a sip. “I stand by it. You know how to fight with magic, don’t you?”