The Last Queen Book Four

by Odette C. Bell

  John shivers on that word, and I’m no better.

  I push back further into my seat, really clamping my hands on the arms as I push a breath through my teeth. But it doesn’t – surprisingly – take me all that long until I center myself. I look up at him. “I’ve got more questions. So many it feels like they’re drowning me,” I add in a rare moment of vulnerability. “But I think you’re right. The longer we allow Spencer to do whatever the hell he’s doing,” my voice becomes tight, “the harder it will be to stop him.”

  Abruptly, I push to my feet.

  John obviously isn’t expecting the move, and his head jerks back as he follows me. He doesn’t push to his feet, though. He just shakes his head. “You need to rest.”

  I shake my head. “We need to get out there and secure those pieces. You said yourself that even though Rogers is defeated, the person who finds his boards first will find most of his power. We can’t let that be Spencer.”

  John continues to stare at me in surprise until another smile presses across his lips.

  This one?

  God, this one is unsure. Careful. Weird. Broken and yet fully formed. Just... I don’t know.

  One thing is for sure, though – it sure as hell makes my stomach kick.

  John pushes to his feet. “You can’t fight on your own anymore.”

  I arch an eyebrow and look straight at him. “Why? I’ve always fought best on my own.”

  There’s an unsure quality to his gaze – and I’m pretty sure it’s suspicion he’s trying to swallow.

  So I flick him a smile – even though I’m not really in a smiling mood considering everything I’ve just learned.

  You have got to have a sense of humor though, don’t you?

  Don’t worry. I’m not going to leave you again,” I say, voice going all strange on the word leave. “My only intention is to get out there and do what I can. And I know from experience that I work best on my own. Plus... I think we should wait until we tell your staff. It’s probably gonna be a little shocking to them. And as for Antonio,” my voice stiffens a little, “though he’s already technically met me – I know he’s suspicious of me,” I point out directly. “And I’d rather trust myself then have someone I don’t really know watching my back.”

  John doesn’t look comfortable. But he also doesn’t jump to point out that Antonio is not suspicious of me.

  John shifts his gaze to the side, and he looks as if he’s thinking something through. With a sigh, it’s clear he’s come to a decision. “I’ll come with you.”

  I look at him and shake my head softly. There’s a definite, certain quality about the move. One that surprises the hell out of me. In my head, when it finally came time to facing a king, I assumed I would be a mess. I would be fighting weak. But this? It’s strength.

  “You just had a hell of a fight,” I say to him directly. “You come out there, and you are going to be nothing more than a liability. No, you stay here, and I’ll go and investigate. What are queens for, after all, apart from protecting their kings?” I quip before I think it through.

  John’s expression stiffens. Is it with paranoia? Desire? Or some other complicated emotion I don’t have a hope of understanding?

  Maybe it’s all of them. But when he lets out a sigh and doesn’t force the issue again, I actually salute. “Don’t worry, I’ll check-in. Though, I don’t actually have a mobile anymore. I lost it somewhere.”

  He smiles. “You work for a millionaire now. Let me cover that expense.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “Who’s said I’m your employee?”

  “Fine. Partners, then?” he asks as he pushes a hand forward and opens his fingers toward me.

  My stomach twitches. You bet you does it twitch. It grumbles, too, shifting around as if the prospect of touching John’s hand is about as fun and yet terrifying as grabbing up the reins of a bolting horse.

  Maybe I shouldn’t grab his hand – because maybe he’s forcing the issue of me joining him before we’ve had a chance to discuss it fully. Yet that doesn’t stop me from shoving a hand forward and grabbing his.

  Suffice to say, his fingers are warm, his grip strong as it wraps around mine.

  He looks into my eyes directly. “Good luck. And do check-in. Especially if you need help.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “I’ve never needed help before. I’ve been pretty lucky.”

  His expression hardens.

  “But I guess now I have someone to rely on,” I add before his expression can fall completely.

  At that, he looks right into my gaze.

  And it is... penetrating on every level. I don’t simply mean that the way his eyes lock with mine makes me feel as if he can see right through me. It makes me feel as if I want him to see right through me. As if I never want to hide anything from this man again.

  I lock my attention on the warmth of his fingers until he lets my hand go.

  Then I turn around, and I leave.

  For it’s time to work.

  Chapter 2

  YEAH, OKAY, SO THIS does feel different.

  As soon as I get out of Rowley tower – after John gives me a phone and some kind of tracking device – it hits me. All at once. My life is going to be different from this point on. I don’t have to go back to my lonely apartment. I don’t have to sit at my reclaimed desk – going through whatever notes I can scrounge on this world. All I have to do is ask Rowley. It doesn’t look as if he’s going to hold back anymore.

  I wouldn’t exactly say that all my problems are solved. Far from it. This just puts together a whole new world of woes. Because for some reason I get the feeling that Spencer is going to find out sooner rather than later that I’ve joined hands with Rowley, even if I haven’t technically joined him as a piece yet. And as soon as Spencer finds out....

  “You put that the hell out of your mind for now,” I counsel myself through stiff teeth as I continue to run across the rooftops of the city.

  “I just have to put this shit out of my head until this mission is done,” I comment to myself under my breath as I launch forward, using a blast of magic to easily sail through the air and across a gap in a laneway. I strike the roof on the opposite side, momentarily allowing my hands to become adhesive as I use them to climb up the brick and leap once more.

  If John were here, he’d probably tell me to stop using so much magic. That I have to conserve what I have. And though, on one level, I kind of agree with him, on another I realize that he can’t treat me with kid gloves. He said it himself. I’m the most important piece in this game because I can do the most. I have the power to protect and to destroy gameboards. And I’m going to use it.

  It doesn’t take me that long to reach the industrial section of town where the butchers wholesaler is located. As soon as I do, I slow the heck down. No more throwing myself over the rooftops with wild abandon.

  I pump more magic into my reality bending spell, too.

  I reckon by now Spencer would have found out that Rogers has fallen.

  So he’ll be on full alert with all of his little pawns spread through the city.

  As I slow right down, I jump off a roof, land in the laneway, pare my senses back to ensure that no one is around, then switch my disguise.

  I now look like a pretty ordinary man out for a midnight stroll.

  My hands are shoved into my bomber jacket pockets, and my short hair is rustling in the wind. I stride down the laneway and exit onto the street. Across the road, is the butchers wholesaler.

  I don’t have thick shades on – as its night. But fortunately not all of the streetlights work along this section of the road, so no one should be able to tell that I quickly dart my gaze over and lock it on the wholesaler.

  I let my senses completely concentrate on it as I scan it for any magic.

  It’s there. Boy is it there. It’s all complicated and confusing, too. Way more than the first time I assessed this building.

  It sends a deep frown etching across my lips, and I sho
ve my hands into my pockets harder as I react to the chaotic sensation.

  “Just what exactly is that bastard up to?” I mutter.

  As soon as the words are out of my lips, the door to the factory opens. It’s sudden and dramatic, and two suited men plow out. Between them, they are carrying a big thick black plastic-covered object. It’s bending in the middle and is large, and immediately my gut twists as it tells me it’s a body bag.

  Both the guys glance up and look at me.

  Well shit. I thought not using the reality-bending spell would be better, but I didn’t think I’d witness these stooges removing a frigging body.

  Though the disgust of what I’m seeing is strong, I force it away as I realize Spencer’s men aren’t exactly gonna let me go.

  I swear I can practically hear the cogs moving around in their heads as they glance from each other than across to me.

  I suddenly realize I have an opportunity. Far from this being the worst thing that could happen to me, maybe it provides me with a chance.

  I shove a hand into my pocket, and just before I bother creating a mobile phone with magic, I realize I’ve got one from John. I pull it out and pretend to make a call to the police.

  That gets the two men going.

  Both of them dump the body on the ground and start running for me. Me? I turn around hard on my foot and run back down the laneway.

  I’m quick, and in the time it takes them to run across the street, I have already ducked down the side of the building. I immediately create a reality-bending spell with a flick of my fingers. Then I leap right up on top of the building.

  I’m quick. As blisteringly quick as I can possibly be. I leap and push myself until I’m around the block and I reach the house adjoining the butchers wholesaler. Instantly, I feel just how chaotic the magic from the warehouse is up close. It’s undeniable. Feels like I’ve just ventured into a goddamn lightning storm. I want to explain it, but I can’t. It’s chaos itself.

  As I crouch on the rooftop next to the warehouse, I start to wonder if I can do this after all. Was it just bravado that made me tell John that I was better off going alone?

  Maybe, but it’s too late to back out now.

  I bring up a hand to wipe it across my suddenly sweaty mouth, then drop it quickly and push forward.

  I need to make the most of the commotion I’ve caused. And it is commotion. Because it’s not just those two louts in suits that were caught up by my distraction. More and more of Spencer’s men have exited the warehouse, obviously to track me down.

  At least that means it’s thinned the ranks inside.

  “Come on, girl,” I say to myself, really clenching my teeth together until I gather the courage I need to plant a hand into the roof and to push.

  I flip. I love the feel of air rushing through my hair and circling around my limbs. I enjoy it until I land just behind the warehouse.

  Though I already know I can go in through the top, I want to avoid the people in the main warehouse as much as I can. Which means heading around back.

  I’m not an idiot, though. And I don’t immediately shove forward, throwing all caution to the wind. I remain there on my knees for several seconds as I take in deep breath after deep breath.

  I’m not gathering my nerve. I’m gathering the specific energy that’s lapping off the factory like smoke from a raging fire.

  Damn. Now I’m this close, I can fully appreciate that chaotic doesn’t even do this place justice. It’s... like a black hole. Yeah, okay, so it’s not as if I’ve ever met a black hole. But I know for certain that whatever I’ll face inside ain’t gonna be pretty.

  I don’t bother to crack my lips open and whisper to myself once more to get the hell on with it.

  I push up, and I move.

  I’m about as wary as I can be. I’m heading forward with my back stiff and my hands held tightly by my sides. My head swivels as I continue to breathe like a deep-sea diver.

  And then, finally, I reach the back door. So far, I’ve been assessing this place for any sign of booby-traps, and there hasn’t been any. But as I press two fingers out and reach for the door, I stop. It’s an old, large door that has several suspicious old brown stains on the handle. Even from here I can smell that its blood. Which kind of makes sense considering this place is a butchers warehouse, but something within me tells me that blood doesn’t come from any mere animal. It’s human.

  I want to crack my lips open and ask what the hell these bastards have inside. I just bring my hands back and place them together, steepling the fingers. I’m not taking the opportunity for some impromptu deep meditation. I press my mind out, really letting my senses penetrate the door before me. Instantly, I recognize that it has one of those maze locks that Spencer utilized in his office.

  And yet... this is different somehow.

  I don’t know that much about ancient history, but for some crazy reason it reminds me of the nets gladiators had in ancient Rome. If I’m stupid enough to shove a hand out and grab the handle without permission, I get the craziest notion that a massive net will sail down and catch me from above. And that isn’t as impossible as it sounds, because there’s a hell of a lot of magic at play here.

  Right. It’s time to show John that my assertion that I could do this wasn’t mere bravado.

  I get down on my hands and knees in front of the door. I close my eyes fully. I keep my senses sufficiently open that I’ll feel if someone comes up from behind.

  I start to really focus myself, pushing as much awareness as I can into the maze lock in front of me. Though I’m relatively confident that I can break it easily, disabling the net is gonna take some time. And I don’t have time. I don’t know how much of a distraction I made with Spencer’s men, but I know that they will eventually give up and head back here.

  So I’m going to have to brute force my way through this lock.

  I still don’t know everything there is to know about magic, but I need to start accepting one fact. This is the reason the Queen is considered the most important piece. Even though I’m technically out of my depth, I can adapt quickly.

  Throwing my mind into the task, it doesn’t take too much longer. I feel something click under my hand as the maze unlocks.

  Finally, I’m in.

  I enter into a dark room.

  It feels like I’m in some kind of back room, and as I squint, I see several boxes lined up against the walls.

  The junk littering this place, however, is irrelevant.

  The thing that really piques my mind is the smell.

  I catch a whiff of something from here, and my stomach turns as I angle to the left.

  I peer into an open crate. Inside, is a bloodstained carcass. It isn’t in the fridge or anything, so it’s rotting like meat left out under the sun. The smell is so repulsive, I instantly have to bring a hand up and shove it over my mouth so I don’t gag.

  It takes several seconds to compose myself. What the hell are these creeps doing here?

  Then I start to hear voices from the main room of the factory.

  I don’t have any more time to waste.

  So I shove forward.

  Though I don’t know the blueprint of this place off by heart or anything, I can figure out its basic layout from what I know of its outside proportions. Judging from the length of this facility, there must be a room in between this back section and the main factory.

  Though there’s no light in here, I have enough magic to account for that fact. And yet, even as I flick my fingers and allow a few magical flames to spread across the skin, the powerful light doesn’t penetrate that far.

  Something isn’t right.

  I take a hard breath, push it through clenched teeth, and focus my awareness on the darkness. That’s when I realize it isn’t right. It feels too thick, too viscous, almost as if it’s oil and not a simple lack of illumination.

  It’s the kind of darkness, in other words, that looks as if it’s hiding something.

  It is
also getting thicker the further I walk down this long room. With every step, the movements of my muscles strain, kind of like I’m now trying to run through wet sand.

  You would think that I would’ve given some thought about what to do if I come across an eater. I have, on a cerebral level, at least. But as I keep pushing through this thick darkness, stabs of fear climb my back and pounce hard into my hindbrain, reminding me that no matter how many times you rehearse the fight, the real thing will always be different.

  I finally come across a door at the back of the room.

  It looms before me, just perceptible through the practically impenetrable darkness.

  I measure my fear with a deep, shaking breath.

  So this is it, I think to myself.

  Then I move.

  But as I approach the door, the thick blackness somehow becomes even stickier, pushing into me as if I’m trying to walk through a net.

  As that image rushes into my mind, I appreciate it doesn’t do so by chance.

  A net. That’s what it feels like the darkness is – an invisible web. If I want to get to the door, I will have to break it.

  I spread my fingers wide, concentrating. I send a charge of magic out in a wave kind of like a blast from an echo-locator searching for an object to ping off.

  For just a second, I can see a matrix of light spreading through the room. It disperses into the darkness quickly, but I can still feel it there, blocking my path forward.

  With my eyes half closed, I suddenly push my fingers forward as if I am shoving them through holes in metal mesh. Then? I pull. With all my might. I hear sparks and crackles of magic as the net gives way. With a snap like a thousand threads breaking, it disappears.

  Before I can throw myself at the door, I think things through and realize I need to place a few booby-traps of my own. So I re-create the net spell, easily throwing my mind into the feel of it until, with a simple blast of white blue magic, I sense my own invisible net spread through the room. It should be enough to hold off Spencer’s men for a few minutes. And hopefully, that’s all I’ll need.