I hear another bellowing scream.
While at the same time it should terrify me, it thrills me, too.
I also find myself reaching out a hand toward him.
I’m lost in the moment, trapped by the fear welling in my gut, incapable of appreciating who I’m holding my hand out to, but that doesn’t matter.
Because a second later, Spencer finally crests the stairs.
I now appreciate where the horse is taking me – he puts on a burst of speed as he reaches the small, carved wooden staircase that leads up to the attic above.
“You’ll pay for your treachery,” Spencer spits, his voice so loud, it cracks the windows that line the hallway.
I jerk my head hard to the side, trying to lock my gaze on his, but the horse knows what I’m doing, and shifts his shoulder around, jamming it hard against my head and forcing me to stare forward.
The horse takes the small set of stairs up to the attic so quickly, he breaks several of the wooden steps, and the sound of cracking wood splits through the air.
A second later, I hear Spencer incant something quickly under his breath with a blast of air that sounds like a shot from a cannon.
The horse stiffens and mutters something, too, and it’s just in time to see an absolute flurry of those white, disembodied whips suddenly dart out from beneath the hem of his trench coat. They spread behind him, forming a latticelike wall. It’s enough to stop Spencer’s magical blast before it can blast right through the horse’s back.
The horse finally reaches the attic, running so quickly into it, he is like a car at top speed. There’s also so much magic spilling off him, that as we enter the attic, I swear that every single mote of dust on the floor and every single cobweb catches alight in an instant.
I jerk my head to the side, closing my eyes against the powerful, bright illumination.
The horse comes to a skidding stop in the center of the room, his boots gouging a hole in the floorboards.
Though I want to close my eyes against the horrible illumination that is the horse’s growing power, I force them open, if only for a second. And it’s long enough to appreciate one fact – the attic has been fixed. The last time I was in here, it was completely trashed when one of the wooden beams above came slamming down and knocked the Queens Book of Rules from my hands.
Now?
It’s as if that fight never happened.
The wooden beam in question is still in place supporting the ceiling above.
I wonder who fixed this place? Or maybe, if the house itself found some way to heal?
After all, when I first came here last night, I appreciated that this house is heavily imbued with magic.
I hear the horse mutter faster now, his tongue so whipcrack fast, I swear it’s like a bullwhip slicing through the air.
I thought that a lot of magic had surrounded him before, but it’s absolutely nothing compared to the sea of sparks and flashes of fiery energy that amass around him now. It’s almost as if he’s calling on the power of the center of a star.
It’s so much force that space all around us begins to bend and warp. The walls undulate, the floor shifts as if it’s nothing more than wind over sand, and the ceiling groans and creaks like a forest under the force of a tremendous gale.
I hear Spencer scream as he reaches the base of the stairs outside.
I almost want to scream back.
Because though I have no idea what spell the horse is getting ready to cast, I can appreciate that whatever it is it’s powerful.
Sure enough, while he keeps one hand pinned on the back of my legs as I’m secured over his back, he stretches his other hand out toward the floor. As he does, his magic sinks down into the floorboards. Instantly, a circle forms beneath us. It’s exactly the same dark red color I remember from our fight on the wall two weeks ago. And in a snap I appreciate what it is. Some kind of transport spell.
The horse is going to disappear, just like he did two weeks ago, but this time, he’s going to take me with him.
My stomach has just a second to pitch to the side, lurching as if I’m a torpedoed ship.
Then, finally, I see the one thing that lifts my heart and yet twists my mind. Spencer. He throws himself up the stairs.
The horse appears to be ready for him, and with just a flick of his tongue, he mutters a strange word. It appears to electrify the room. Almost as if the air is gas and he’s just lit a match.
Something happens to all of the magic zipping around us, and it blasts out in such a fiery explosion, it takes two of the walls out and completely destroys half of the floor.
Suffice to say, it’s more than enough to knock Spencer backward. But instead of flying down the stairs and striking the floor below, at the last moment, he flicks his hand around in a circle, and some kind of magical barrier of protection flickers up over his skin.
It fights off the brunt of the explosion, and even though the ends of Spencer’s jacket are completely singed and bubbly burn marks appear on his cheeks and jaw, he manages to hold his ground.
I hear the horse give a hiss. It’s rattling and deep and comes from the depths of his lungs. Almost as if the very center of him – his soul – is appreciating one fact.
Spencer, as I’ve already pointed out, may not be the smartest king out there, but he is the most passionate. And smart men always underestimate passionate ones.
Spencer throws himself forward. At the same time, the horse finally begins to descend. With me still locked over his shoulder, it feels like I’m going down in an elevator. One that’s completely charged with magic. Flames and crackles burst over my skin, sinking into my jaw, making me feel as if I’m jumping up and down on a pogo stick.
That’s nothing at all to mention what they do to my own magic. Even though I can now appreciate that that dark suffocating spell that the horse cast on me was meant to suck my magic, slowly, it’s coming back. And it’s just enough that whatever spell the horse is casting now reacts to my own power. It feels like water to potassium – like my blood is going to explode and burst out of my skin.
But there’s something even worse than that feeling. The fact that Spencer’s just there – just within my reach, and yet, he won’t be able to get to me quickly enough.
I know my eyes have never been wider. I know I can’t control my expression, and I’m staring at him as if he’s my long lost lover.
But that doesn’t matter.
I hear the horse let out one last hiss of satisfaction, and we disappear. But just at the last moment, something happens.
The whole floor shakes, tips, and twists. It’s almost as if somebody has taken the house, jacked up one side of it, and allowed the other to slope down like a child’s slide.
I have just enough time to see Spencer lurch toward me.
Then the spell comes into effect.
I disappear.
I’ve never been in a transport spell, and I have no idea how they should work. But a part of me assumes that it will be instantaneous. That we will just disappear from this broken attic and then arrive in whatever heinous place the horse wants to take me.
But that is not how it works.
For, at the last moment, Spencer inserts himself into the spell.
I hear a deafening sound, almost like a mountain breaking apart, stone by stone. It’s one of the most powerful experiences of my life, and there’s nothing I can do to try to block my senses off from it.
I feel like I’m in... some kind of formless space. Almost as if I’m nothing more than a soul drifting through the afterlife. I can hear, I can taste, and God knows I can feel magic as it continues to shake through my very bones, but that’s it.
I cannot push back.
I feel a fight, though. And though everything around me is black, I can appreciate who’s fighting. It’s the horse and Spencer.
Though I still don’t know enough about this world to appreciate the rules, surely I know enough to question one fact – how exactly can a horse beat a k
ing?
Okay, if we were playing chess, then a horse is far more maneuverable than a king. A king can only move one square at a time, after all.
But though it’s by now clear that this strange magical game has some resemblance to chess, I know the rules aren’t completely the same. Just as I have seen how strong Spencer is.
I don’t have time to question that fact for too much longer. I start to hear this cracking noise. Then I finally see something shift in front of me. For the first time since I entered this formless, colorless, shapeless void, I see something.
It’s a crack, like a door. As I focus on it, it gets larger.
I hear a hiss by my ear and suddenly feel something grip around my wrist.
Though I have no way of knowing, my heart tells me it’s Spencer’s hand clutching at me.
Sure enough, I feel a surge of hope catapult through me.
But a second later, it turns to dread as I feel a much stronger grip latch around my middle. This time, I know for sure it belongs to the horse.
He’s dragging me backward.
I jerk my head to the side, and suddenly I see that there’s another crack, just behind me. Another door.
I’m suspended there, between the two, as Spencer and the horse try to drag me in opposite directions.
I’m terrified of Spencer. God knows I am. Despite the power of the connection we have since he imprinted me, I still have common sense, and I can still appreciate how much of a monster he is.
And yet, I know he is 150 times better than the horse.
So I use what little magic I can to fight back.
I latch both of my hands over the horse’s arm as it locks around my middle. I clench my teeth, I squeeze my eyes closed, and I send a blast of my magic ricocheting into his arm, sinking through the flesh, letting it do as much damage as it possibly can.
Though I’m still immeasurably weakened, considering what the horse did to me, my spell is just enough to weaken his grip.
I hear him scream. There’s something primal about it. Almost as if he’s a wild animal who’s suddenly realized his only chance of escape has been destroyed.
Then there’s a crack.
The door in front of me opens, and the next thing I know, I tumble out of it.
I roll, strike the floor, then come to rest on my stomach. My chest is heaving as I suck in breath after breath, and my hair is a mess over my face.
It takes me several long, protracted moments until I finally gain the strength to lock my hands on the polished floor beneath me and push up.
I blink hard as light floods into my eyes.
I’m... in somebody’s office.
It’s massive. Utterly immense.
It’s lit by a chandelier, but it’s unlike any one I have ever seen. For the globes within are not illuminated by electricity – but by seriously bright gold yellow dancing magical flames.
I stare at them in total shock until I finally jerk my head to the side. I see the huge plate glass windows and the view of the city beyond. It’s still night, but there’s plenty of reflected light coming from the street cars, buildings, and streetlights.
My stomach pitches, lurching to the side as I wonder if I’ve suddenly ended up back in Rowley Tower.
But that’s when I hear somebody groan to my side.
I jerk my head to the left, and I finally notice that Spencer is lying there. He’s crumpled, though. There are deep wounds along his arm, almost as if he’s been fighting with a wild animal. And that’s not to mention the massive burns across one side of his face.
And yet, somehow, despite his injuries, he finds the strength to swivel his head toward me. He locks one eye on me as the other is pressed closed against the floor.
I can see him rapidly losing consciousness, and yet he obviously holds on long enough to do one thing – to spread a hand toward me.
It shakes there as he waits for me to accept his hand, but a second later, he finally succumbs to unconsciousness.
I... I have no idea what to do. So I just lie there and stare at him for several seconds, trying to take in what just happened.
Spencer saved me from the horse. And as I take one more look around the office, I appreciate there’s no way I’m in Rowley Tower. Which means I’m in one of Spencer’s buildings, right?
I have to gather together all of the coordination I can to force myself to sit. And then it takes a good minute of cajoling my tired, aching muscles until I can force myself to my feet. Even then, I stagger badly, and I have to half crawl over to the wall, latch a hand on it for support, then use it like a railing as I make my way around the room.
I don’t bother to drop down on one knee and check Spencer’s vitals. Even from here I can tell he’s alive. I’m not just drawing on the connection we have between us. It’s the fact I can hear him softly breathing.
There’s something very... rhythmic, almost warming about his breath. As I listen to it, momentarily, I forget who he is.
But nothing can stop me from forgetting where I am.
Though I can’t exactly appreciate the full details of what just happened, I can put two and two together. Somehow, Spencer jumped right into the horse’s transportation spell, pulled me out of the horse’s hands, and changed the destination of the spell.
And yet, as I fear that the horse might’ve wound up in this office too, I confirm he isn’t here as I finally check behind each expensive couch and desk.
Once I’m done, I press a hand against Spencer’s desk, then lock the other over my chest. I try to work through the cold, frozen, surprised fear that is trying to lock me in place. It’s combining with my low magic and making me feel more fatigued than I ever have before. It’s begging me to close my eyes, to stagger over to one of the couches and to allow myself to fall unconscious. But I’m not that stupid. Though Spencer is down and out for now, I know that won’t be the case forever. Though a part of me doubts it, I have to appreciate that it’s possible that the second Spencer arrived in his building, it somehow alerted his employees, and any second now, they could burst through his doors and find me. I’m in absolutely no condition to fight anyone. Though I suppose I could probably call on my swords, I just don’t have the mental coordination to be able to use them.
I need to find somewhere I can rest.
... And yet, this is an opportunity. I push past my marching weariness to point that out to myself.
This is an opportunity I may never get again. I am inside Spencer’s office. Who knows what secrets he has?
I lock my wary gaze on him, then jerk it toward the desk beside me.
I don’t hesitate any longer. Even if this is one of the most dangerous things I’ll ever do, I tell myself that Spencer will be out for a little longer, and I have to use this opportunity.
So I grit my teeth, lock my hand harder against his desk, and use it to balance myself as I shift around.
I flop into his generous leather chair. Instantly, two things hit me. His scent and his feel. It seems to be impregnated into the leather, and as I shift forward and tentatively lock both hands on the edge of the desk, I can appreciate it’s in the furniture, too.
I told myself over and over again that Spencer Gates is a monster. Not only is he an arrogant socialite who would acquire me as soon as he would acquire stock shares, but he had Walter Shepherd killed, for God’s sake. And that’s a fact I can never let myself forget. Even if the power of the imprinting spell still wants me to throw myself into Spencer’s arms, I must retain hold of my reason.
I keep repeating that to myself – that this guy ordered Walter’s death – as I finally reach forward and start to rifle through his drawers.
I don’t bother to do it neatly. I just pull the drawers out, dump them on the desk, and start to sift through the items. Though there’s a mobile phone or two, some seriously expensive pens, and some other paraphernalia, none of that gets my attention. It’s not until I make it down to the bottom drawer that I stop.
Even though I’m
wary and I don’t have much magic, as soon as my fingers alight over the drawer handle, I feel it – a charge of magic.
I try the handle hesitantly, and quickly appreciate that the drawer is locked with magic.
I grit my teeth together and swear softly through them, jerking my eyes up and locking my gaze on Spencer.
Keeping my hand on the drawer and my eyes on Spencer, I try to calculate how long it will take me to force my way through this lock, and yet how long it will take Spencer to wake.
Again I tell myself that I can’t give up on this opportunity, because it’s the only one I’m never going to get.
I force myself out of Spencer’s chair, even though I have to admit that I enjoy the feel of it. The hard, cool leather feels remarkably similar to being embraced by Spencer himself.
“Push it out of your head,” I chide myself with a vicious snarl as I get down on both knees in front of the bottom drawer and flatten both palms over it.
I close my eyes and try to feel my way through the magic.
I’m aware of one fact – I’ve never broken my way through a magical lock in my life, and there’s every chance that if I don’t do this right, I’ll set off some kind of booby-trap. It could kill me, or worse – knock me out just long enough that Spencer has a chance to rouse before I do.
I lick my lips, take a hard breath, then let my fingers start to tap the wood.
I don’t really know what I’m doing. Or at least, what I’m doing isn’t something conscious. Instead, I’m focusing on the energies of the room, on the power trapped within the wood as I try to let it direct me.
It takes several minutes, and as each minute passes, my fear that Spencer will awake doubles. But finally, finally I hear something shift in the wood.
I can feel it. I can also half see it if I close my eyes. This... trail, almost like a path through a clogged, weed-filled garden.
It’s as if the magical lock is some kind of maze, and all I have to do is find my way through it to unlock the contents of the drawer.
“Come on,” I tell myself softly under my breath as I clench my teeth and try to force my way forward.
The Last Queen Book Two Page 10
