The Last Queen Book One

by Odette C. Bell

  As for my mind? I swear I’m going crazier with every single day.

  I know I should leave this city. It’s the only smart thing to do. For all I know, maybe there are only magical pawns in this city, and as soon as I head somewhere else or leave the entire country, maybe... just maybe I’ll be able to live an ordinary life.

  But while it’s a faint hope I can entertain, I can’t go through with it.

  I can’t leave John Rowley behind.

  I swear, the moment he looked deeply into my gaze with his penetrating eyes, he did something to me. Somehow he set up a fence beyond which I can no longer travel. And that fence is the city limits. For every time I try to push past them, going through with my plan to leave and get the hell out of here, I stop. Because my heart starts to feel as if it’s being squeezed to death.

  I know I can’t keep going on like this.

  I need a new plan.

  I also have to figure out what the hell is going on.

  Because it’s happening again.

  I am... finding new powers. Every day, I swear I grow stronger, even if I only have enough food to live.

  And yet, at the same time, I’m growing crazier, and strength and insanity are a volatile mix.

  I haven’t yet lost it enough that I’ve revealed my powers to ordinary humans.

  No, for the most part, I stay hidden during the day, catch whatever sleep I can, then come out at night to find food.

  I feel like a wild animal, like a rat, like nothing more than the vermin that live in the sewers.

  But today, it’s 10 o’clock in the morning, and even though I’m curled up in the back of an old car park, I can’t sleep.

  I’m on edge. My whole body is zapping and tingling as if I’ve swallowed a live wire. And that energy is forcing me to move.

  For a while, I try to fight it, just allowing my body to jerk back-and-forth, my hands to clench in and out as I lie there in a ball.

  But all too soon, I can’t stop myself, and I press to my feet.

  I’m jittering all over as if I’m coming down from a drug high.

  My hair, which has been completely unwashed for two weeks, sits slack and oily around my cheeks, trailing over my leather jacket.

  I bring my arms up, try to clamp them around my waist, try to huddle in on myself in the hopes that I can stop whatever weird reaction is happening to my body. I can’t.

  And the longer I pay attention to the zapping, chaotic sensations that are running through my chest and hard into my arms and hands, the more they force me forward. I take one step, then another, then another, and before I know it, I’m running.

  I shouldn’t be running – this car park is largely unused, and I found a maintenance section toward the back that’s completely abandoned. It’s 10:00 in the morning, and I run the risk of coming across real people.

  Which I do. As I stream through the car park, running as fast as I can without calling on my special abilities, I sprint straight past a surprised old couple.

  The sound of my frantic footfall against the old concrete echoes through the car park until I finally make it up the ramp and onto a street outside.

  At first, I’m disoriented, and as the bright light of the day streams down, I jerk my head hard to the side.

  There are several people walking on the street, and they all glance at me, not least because I’ve just pelted out of a car park, but because I’m bedraggled.

  Though the sensations running wild in my heart are still strong enough to see me shiver, I try desperately to control myself as I let my hair fall in front of my face and I attempt to hide behind it.

  I shift to the side, keeping close to the road as I skirt around people, never making eye contact.

  It’s so goddamn dangerous to be out on the city streets in the middle of the day, but I just can’t stop myself. There’s a kind of desperation building within me, and it pulls me forward, directing my body as I head down one block then another.

  Before I know it, I come across a tight laneway squeezed between two office blocks.

  I hesitate at the mouth, and just for a fraction of a second, I get control of my own muscles again. I pause, shifting backward and forward on the soles of my old, well-worn walking boots.

  One of my shoelaces is undone, frayed to within breaking point. I tried to fix it with gaffer tape I found in a dumpster, but it’s not enough, and it shifts loosely on my foot as I hesitate and take another step backward.

  But that’s when I hear a particular sound. It’s just beyond a normal human’s range of hearing. So high-pitched, it’s the equivalent of a dog whistle.

  I jerk my head hard to the side, clenching my teeth as I try to block out the god-awful noise. But then I find that my body is compelled once more, and I jolt forward, dashing into the laneway.

  I swear it’s too narrow – far too cramped to be a normal laneway. It feels different, too. Choking, almost as if someone’s done something to the air to make it feel like it’s millions upon millions of tiny groping hands.

  Now I’ve plunged into the laneway, I feel that desperation pulling me forward with even greater strength. I’ve never felt something stronger, and that’s saying something considering the crazy things that have been happening to me over the last two weeks since my life went to hell.

  Sometimes... sometimes I swear I can feel when I’m on the cusp of another transformation. And though my mind is being controlled by the terror pulling me forward, I still retain enough reason to appreciate that fact.

  I’m coming up to a fight, aren’t I? Another fight which will define me.

  Before I know it, I come across someone.

  It’s a woman.

  She’s standing there in the middle of the laneway. But... space isn’t right around her. That’s the only way to describe it. As I come to a screeching stop several meters away, it’s as if the laneway is bulging. It’s as if it’s a photo, not a real point in space, and somebody has zoomed in on a single aspect of the image.

  It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever felt. My skin tingles, hard prickles dance through my belly, and my jaw jerks back-and-forth as if somebody has attached strings to my teeth.

  My eyes couldn’t be wider, and finally, I let my lips open and I gasp.

  That’s enough to get the woman’s attention.

  I can see she’s doing something with her hands. But as she hears me gasp, she turns her head over her shoulder, her eyebrows narrowing. There’s a suspicious look in her deep hazel eyes. In fact, her eyes are so deep, they look like two tunnels leading to some unknown place.

  I catch sight of her hands.

  They’re glowing.

  Magic is zapping over them. Harder, faster, trailing all the way up her fingers and over her wrists.

  Though I’ve fought many pawns so far, they’ve never possessed magic like I do. This woman, however, does.

  “How did you break through the barrier spell?” she hisses. Then she jerks forward.

  Instinctively, I twist to the side.

  I don’t call on my swords, and neither do I call on my magic. I just take several swift steps until I reinforce the distance between us.

  Her eyes narrow all the way down into two slits, and yet, somehow that can’t change the penetrating quality of her gaze. I imagine even if she closed her eyes entirely, she’d still be able to stare through my very soul with those intense pupils.

  I take another hard swallow that somehow feels as if it will tear my throat in two.

  She’s wearing some kind of office suit. Trim and stylish, it suits her figure perfectly. Though I should be too focused on the magic snapping over her wrists and fingers to appreciate this, it’s obvious she comes from money. She’s wearing an expensive gold bracelet and diamond earrings. Her hair is coiffed, too, and her makeup is pinpoint perfect.

  She takes another step toward me, her high heels ringing against the pavement.

  I take a step back, my old, worn walking shoes ringing out with dull thumps.

>   My arms are held stiffly by my sides, my hands rolled into fists. My teeth are clenched, too, and I know there’s a wild, frightened look in my eyes as I continue to look from her magic hands to the bulging space around her.

  “Who are you attached to?” she demands. “My king won’t be happy if you interrupt me.”

  She takes another step forward, and I take another step backward. In my head, I kind of hope that if I turn right around and head back out the laneway, whatever this woman’s doing to space will stop. But that hope is sorely mistaken, for as I take two more jerked steps out of the way, space continues to bulge around her as she follows.

  “Who are you attached to?” she spits, her voice ringing so loudly, the pavement beneath her shakes.

  I’ve fought many pawns by now, and some of them were powerful – but none of them could do this. Bend space, shake the ground. Nor could they produce so much magic.

  ... I’ve always kind of assumed that I’ll be able to win any fight I enter, but a realization slams into my gut as I take one final step backward.

  What if this woman is more powerful than I am?

  “I am my king’s fifth,” she says, voice spitting on the word fifth, eyes opening wide, too. There’s an unmistakably proud look in her gaze, a powerful one, as well. It’s clear that she thinks the mere mention of the fact she’s someone’s fifth should shake me to my knees.

  I don’t understand. I just clench my fists tighter.

  “Who are you attached to?” she demands once more.

  A part of me knows I shouldn’t speak to this woman – I should just turn around and run. But curiosity burns through me, forces me to open my lips before I know what I’m doing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What do you mean attached?”

  She opens her lips quickly in a snarling motion that reveals her perfect white teeth. Then she stops. Her eyes narrow. “Are you unattached?” There’s a covetous quality to her tone, one that makes my back crawl.

  She takes a far larger step toward me now, and as her high heels slam against the pavement, it doesn’t just shake – it’s as if the bitumen has been turned into a sheet that somebody is waving in the wind.

  I have to widen my stance and force all of my concentration into my balance not to be thrown off my feet.

  I barely manage it as she shifts to the side, a prowling quality to her move as she looks me up and down. “My King will be pleased indeed if I bring him an unattached. What position are you?”

  I don’t answer – I can’t. I just stare back at her, my fear and confusion obvious.

  This makes her lips curl hard and wide into a vicious smile. “No matter. We’ll find out. Now, come here, child.” With that, she springs toward me. So much magic leaps over her hands and curls around her arms, covering her body, that I swear it could light up the entire city. But whatever she’s doing to space – however she’s warping it – seems to contain her light to only this laneway.

  It’s the same with whatever she’s doing to the pavement – though it continues to undulate more violently now, trying to throw me from my feet, I can see over my shoulder that the streets beyond are unaffected.

  I would never usually fight in the middle of the day. I would be terrified that any of the innumerable office workers in the buildings beside us would glance through one of their windows and see.

  But I have no chance now.

  The woman is fast – like a goddamn bullet as she blasts toward me.

  It’s instinct alone that sees me dodge the first of her blows.

  As she curls her fists and tries to punch me in the face and stomach, magic pulses out from her moves in waves.

  I shift down, roll, and try to jump to my feet, but she’s still controlling the pavement, and she interrupts my move, sending me lurching to the side.

  She reaches me, and before I know what she’s doing, lands a powerful kick against my back. It’s enough to see me skid and roll several meters to the side. I impact the office wall to my left, but before my body can come to rest, the wall starts to undulate. It spits me back toward the woman, and she manages to land another kick against my knee.

  It doesn’t buckle, even though that kick is categorically one of the most powerful moves I’ve ever faced. It feels like being struck by a sledgehammer – one that’s completely covered in magic. And the magic is not passive – it doesn’t just bolster her human strength. It tries to shift into me, almost as if it’s some kind of insidious gas that’s looking for a break in my skin, that’s looking for a way into my circulatory system.

  And yet, before it can find that way – my own magic reacts.

  I don’t even need to call on it – it calls on itself and bursts over my body.

  It doesn’t glow nearly as brightly as hers – instead, it’s different. Powerful in a wholly other way.

  For the first time since the fight began, the woman stops her relentless assault and takes a jerked step back. As I roll to my feet, finally managing to stand even as the pavement tries to throw me toward her, I see her eyes. They widen. There’s recognition behind there – as if she can appreciate what I am, and it looks exactly like the look Walter gave me after I saved him.

  Her lips open in a jerked move, but she stops herself from saying something. She shakes her head and powers forward once more. She has more determination now, which is saying something. As she rushes toward me, it’s like facing an artillery attack.

  The only thing that keeps me safe from her relentless blows is my body itself. It’s the same force that saw me rush to this laneway in the first place. As she slashes toward me with her electrified fists and continues to manipulate the space around us, it’s my feelings that keep me safe. That pulsing desperation that first woke me up in the car park and saw me run several blocks – it’s the strongest damn thing I’ve ever felt. And if I’d had the time, I would’ve been able to appreciate that it was coming from whatever John Rowley did to me when he looked into my eyes.

  The woman slashes at my face once more, this time with one fist and one foot. She’s the agilest person I’ve ever met. She’s like some ninja or superhero off of a movie. The things she’s doing shouldn’t be physically possible. Human bodies aren’t built for moves like this – they should break and snap and pop.

  But the woman? She just moves faster and faster as a new sense of desperation fills her.

  Throughout the entire fight, I haven’t yet attacked.

  But that changes as I sense something shift within me. It’s almost as if a switch is flicked in my head.

  Maybe the woman can feel it, too, because, in a snapped second, her eyes blast wide.

  I thrust forward. Since the fight began, my body has been glowing – but now that glow increases tenfold.

  Though the woman is categorically the fastest thing I have ever fought – that doesn’t matter. For, as I round a hand into a fist and send a truly powerful charge of magic into my knuckles, there’s nothing she can do as I land a punch.

  It slams into her gut and instantly sends her backward. It’s as if I’ve shot her from a cannon. There’s nothing she can do as she slams against the office building to our side. As her back impacts the concrete, even though it tries to push her backward as it undulates, I hear something snap in the wall.

  She plows right through it. Not into somebody’s office inside, but into a supporting beam.

  Concrete and plaster and snapped bits of steel crumble around her as she slouches onto the pavement.

  I have a single second to appreciate just how much power I just used, then she snaps up.

  She shoves a hand into her pocket, and in an instant, something forms around her.

  It’s some kind of... barrier. A magical wall that crackles and sparks like a force field out of science fiction.

  I’ve never seen one before, and that fact costs me, because even if my gut tells me to push out of the way, my confusion locks me to the spot.

  As she plows forward, she rounds her shoulder, almost as
if she intends to use herself like a battering ram. Her magical barrier slams into me, and there’s nothing I can do as it flattens me backward against the wall.

  I hear her screaming as she pushes into me with all her might, trying to squish me between her crackling, charged force field and the concrete wall of the office block behind me.

  Fear and terror blast through me as pain radiates through every part of my body. I feel at once as if I’m going to explode outward and yet implode with the force of a dying star.

  And that desperation does something.

  It unlocks something even deeper.

  Before I know what I’m doing, I thrust a hand forward and I produce one of those magical barriers of my own.

  There’s no thought in the action – I don’t understand what I’m doing, but I don’t need to. The desperation in my body is enough to dig as deep as it can to unlock powers that had previously been hidden from me.

  The woman has enough time to scream, but it’s cut short as my barrier plows into hers, and with a snapping sound like a branch breaking, her magic shatters.

  She’s thrown backward. Again I hit her with enough force that she slams across the laneway and strikes the office building on the opposite side.

  She impacts the concrete, and it crumbles around her as she falls on her ass, her head and arms slouching down.

  It lasts several seconds, then with a gasp and blood trickling over her lip, she pushes herself up once more.

  This time she’s a hell of a lot warier, and she doesn’t throw herself at me.

  She takes several steps back. And though, before, she was confident as hell on her high heels, now she wobbles, her body obviously injured.

  I just stare at her, wanting to draw up my hands and gaze at them until I understand what on earth I just produced.

  I don’t have the time. She shoves a hand into her pocket, pulling out her phone.

  A thrill of fear passes through me as I realize she’s probably calling for reinforcements.

  I go on the attack.

  As I do, she flattens one hand toward the pavement, and it kicks and buckles with more power than it had before. It’s as if this laneway is undergoing its own category 10 earthquake.