The Last Queen Book Four Page 9

  It’s Antonio. As soon as my eyes lock on him, my stomach clenches. I’ve seen him around these past four weeks, but not as myself, and only from a distance.

  Antonio hates me because of what happened to Walter. I know he’s still suspicious of me. I don’t honestly know how much John has told him and whether John has finally confided that he’s almost acquired me as a piece. But I can bet that if Antonio knows, he’s not happy.

  His expression is awash with clear fear.

  He walks up to John but then darts his gaze over to me, a question forming on his lips.

  “It’s okay. She is a new piece,” John says.

  Antonio blinks, surprise obvious. “She is? Where did she come from? What kind of piece is she?”

  “She was unattached,” John answers simply, choosing to ignore the rest of Antonio’s questions. “Now, do you have news for me?”

  Antonio keeps his gaze locked on me, suspicion marking his brow.

  “Antonio,” John demands as he takes a hard step forward, the sound of his rubber-soled shoes striking the polished concrete echoing through the corridor. It sounds like a blast of thunder ricocheting through the skies and heralding a hell of a storm to come.

  “Yeah. We’re pretty sure Spencer has found it. He’s moving all of his pieces. We’ve never seen him organizing a concentrated attack like this. All of his pawns, all of his bishops, everything. Looks like he’s willing to risk all his pieces on this.”

  “Damn,” John spits under his breath. He moves to grab his chin again, but he drops his hand. He swivels his gaze over to me.

  I know there’s a question locked in his eyes.

  But I don’t dare meet it. I stare at the ground.

  Spencer.

  Spencer Gates.

  The man who fills my dreams. The man who’s locked in my left shoulder. The man, who, if I believe him, is the only one I’m truly meant for.

  There would’ve been a time not too long ago when I would’ve written off his promises as nothing more than lies.

  Now I’m not so sure. The last four acrimonious weeks with John have taught me one thing. Maybe we aren’t as compatible as I once thought.

  I bring up a hand, fluff my hair, and push it behind my ear as I finally glance up at Antonio. “Where is this gameboard, anyway?”

  Antonio doesn’t answer me. He looks pointedly at John. “Are you sure you can trust her?”

  “She has offered her allegiance to me. She has joined my pieces. Yes,” he clenches his teeth, “I’m sure.”

  Is it just me, or is there a delay between him saying yes and he’s sure?

  I press my lips together. “Where’s the board?” I ask.

  “You can tell her,” John’s voice drops.

  Suspicion still dances in Antonio’s eyes as he looks at me. “In the center of town. There’s a construction site. They’re digging a new section of the subway. They started the new tunnel about a week ago. It’s down there. On the corner of East and Seventeenth Street.”

  I blink quickly, casting my mind back to the place. I’ve had a significant amount to do with the subway and flood tunnels of this town. I may not have always been the most observant of queens, but surely if there was a superpowerful gameboard down there, I would’ve felt it, just like I felt the ancient board Rogers used to trap me.

  I shrug, bring up a hand, and scratch my head. “I don’t get it. Senator Rogers wasn’t in this city for a particularly long time. How exactly did he manage to hide a gameboard down there if construction has only begun on this tunnel a week ago?”

  Antonio’s suspicions grow deeper, his eyes narrowing to a point.

  John clears his throat. “Forgive her, Antonio – there are gaps in her knowledge,” he says pointedly. “It was irrelevant to a man as powerful as Rogers where he placed his pieces. He does not need existing infrastructure to map a board onto the land.”

  Great, just another part of game lore that John has failed to tell me.

  Before I can point that out, John strides forward. “There’s no time” he says directly as he shoves his hands in his pockets. It’s not a casual move – his body is rigid with controlled fear.

  Antonio shoots me one last look before he turns and strides by John’s side.

  Me? I guess I have no option but to follow.

  Chapter 8

  I’M IN JOHN’S CAR, sitting up back with him. My hands are clutched around my seatbelt, my head permanently angled toward the window. It’s not that I’m trying to ignore him and playing passive-aggressive or anything. It’s that I’m trying to track the flows of energy through the city. It’s a heck of a lot harder when you’re in a car, but it’s better than being locked up in my bedroom. This is the first time I have been out in two weeks.

  And the city feels... different. Okay, I don’t have the ability to tune into the natural world as quickly and as accurately as John would hope. But my skills are growing, and something tells me... trouble is brewing.

  I tilt my head back as much as I can, trying to stare up at the sky.

  I am aware of the fact that John shifts and locks his gaze on me.

  I turn.

  I open my mouth.

  But what can I say? Antonio is in the car. If I start berating John for the fact that he’s keeping me in the dark again, Antonio will figure out who I am.

  So I turn back and stare at the sky.

  I think I hear John open his mouth. Several seconds later, he presses his lips closed with a sigh.

  We continue to drive. The further we meander into the center of the city, the more my gut clenches until it feels as if someone has wrapped it up with rope.

  I force myself to bring a hand down and place it on my stomach, pushing my fingers underneath my blouse as I try to chase the distracting sensations away. Nothing will work.

  There are a few clouds scuttling through the sky. They’re moving so quickly, it looks as if they’re being chased.

  “Not too much further now, sir. We’ll park around the block, just as you suggested.”

  I wait for John to tell me what the plan is.

  He just pulls out his phone and starts playing on it.

  It’s just when I curl my hands into fists and lock them in my lap that I swear I see something.

  We’ve paused at a set of lights. To our left, and directly to my side, is the opening to the city park.

  It’s a huge place. Beautiful. Once upon a time, I loved walking through there. When I had time, that is.

  I haven’t seen it in what feels like months.

  And now?

  Something draws my attention, tugging me forward until I’m practically crammed up against the window.

  This time John does react. He reaches over and settles a hand between us. “What is it?” his words are quick, sharp hisses.

  “There’s... something in the park,” I mutter.

  I feel Antonio turn around in the front seat. “What are you talking about?”

  “Stop the car,” John says with finality.

  “What?” Antonio questions.

  “Stop the car,” John says louder.

  This time Antonio doesn’t demand answers. He abruptly pulls into the parking lane beside us, cutting off a taxi.

  The driver leans out and honks his horn, but Antonio shrugs his shoulders.

  Then Antonio turns around in his seat. “What the hell is going on, sir?”

  John’s not looking at Antonio. John slowly undoes his seatbelt and shifts closer to me. “What do you sense?”

  I open my mouth to answer. I don’t. In a quick move, I wrench my door open and jump out.

  “Dammit,” John spits.

  I throw myself through the grand gates of the park.

  There’s a quick breeze clipping through the tree-lined laneway.

  I jerk my head up, following it.

  It keeps leading me on.

  Though it’s an okay day, despite the wind, there aren’t that many people in the park. Just a few sporadic runners a
nd people on bikes. That’s about it. One or two couples having picnics, but nothing compared to the usual deluge of people you get on a pleasant day like this.

  I wonder if the people can unconsciously feel what I can. The chaos winding its way through the trees, taken along by the wind.

  “Dammit. Wait up. Don’t run ahead,” John snaps.

  I ignore him.

  Nature, if you will, is pulling me forward. And nature is a hard taskmaster.

  The next thing I know, I find myself stopping near the large lake that’s the centerpiece of the park.

  I see a guy standing on the bridge with his back to me.

  He has broad shoulders, and he’s wearing a dark suit. Even from behind, I can tell he’s one of Spencer’s pieces. I don’t catch sight of Spencer’s unique symbol – it’s just the feel of the guy.

  I can practically smell Spencer’s unique scent wafting off him from here.

  Out of nowhere, I feel John beside me. He yanks a hand forward, locks it on my arm, and pulls me to the side, muscling me behind the bulk of a tree.

  Antonio is behind us, but he’s not saying a word. I can still feel his gaze on me, though.

  After all, John’s move is familiar.

  And direct. Terribly direct.

  I angle my neck up to look into his fiery gaze.

  “Watch yourself,” he snarls. “That is Spencer’s sixth in command.” John leans out past the protection of the trunk to watch the man.

  The guy isn’t doing anything. If he’s aware of us, he’s not letting on. He’s not playing on his phone; he’s not talking to anyone. He’s just standing there, his hands locked on the railing of the bridge as he appears to stare into the water.

  John takes a hard, wary breath.

  “What is it? What is he up to?” I demand.

  “He’s casting a spell. Bastard,” John spits. I very rarely hear John swear.

  “What kind of spell?”

  John doesn’t answer.

  Finally, reluctantly, he lets go of my arm.

  Antonio squares off beside him. He shoots his boss a worried glance. “What the hell do we do? There are only three of us. We don’t have the power to take on his sixth. Not when he’s casting a blindfold spell.”

  “Blindfold spell?” I demand, though I don’t let my voice carry.

  No one answers me.

  This – this is why I took so long to join John. And this is why the last four weeks have been hell.

  He won’t let me in on the loop. He keeps telling me to trust him, but when it matters most, he won’t trust me.

  Yeah, I get it, he can’t risk using me as a piece. He can’t afford to let me run through the city streets and do my own thing in case I’m caught by another king.

  But this still isn’t fair.

  I take a solid step toward him. Again his attention is elsewhere.

  He peers around the tree. He brings a hand up and starts counting off on his fingers. At least, that’s what I think he’s doing. When I see a few faint charges of magic crackling beneath his knuckles and springing up into his fingertips, I realize he’s casting some kind of spell.

  He mutters under his breath, half closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

  I wonder if he’s communing with nature. Then again, he can’t be. Because if he was, he would do something rather than just standing there and muttering to himself.

  I’m on alert, my whole body vibrating with tension. It seems like every cell is begging me to do something.

  Maybe Antonio can see how riled up I am, because he’s not shifting his gaze from me. “We act when we are told to act,” he says out of nowhere. His words are vicious, and his lips move sharply around them.

  I simply glare at him. Once upon a time, I kind of liked Antonio. Now I’m not so sure.

  I’m not so sure about anything.

  Apart from one fact. I need to do something.

  I take a jerked step back.

  It brings me just out of the protection of the tree trunk.

  I watch Spencer’s man as he stiffens. It’s such a slight move. No one else would notice it, but I do, because I stare at him with all the combined attention of the Last Queen.

  “Dammit,” John spits under his breath. He doesn’t dart out and try to grab me. Warily, he takes several steps out until he’s by my side, blocking me off from Spencer’s man.

  Finally Spencer’s man turns. He stares directly at us. He brings a hand up, and I realize he’s holding something in it.

  It’s not a gun. Nor is it some handy magical weapon.

  It’s a blindfold.

  “What the hell?” I begin.

  I hear a cyclist from behind me. The rattling of the wheels, the pumping of their legs.

  The next thing I know, John loops an arm around my middle and pulls me to the side. It’s just in time before the cyclist can collect me and send me plowing into the lake.

  “What the hell? Watch where you’re going—” I begin.

  I catch sight of the cyclist’s dead eyes as he swerves before he can peddle into the lake. He stops, his body rigid, hanging there like a puppet on a string as he stares at Spencer’s sixth.

  Spencer’s sixth now turns all the way around. I can see he’s clutching that blindfold in his hand with tensed knuckles that look as if they’re trying to pop out of his hands.

  “Watch yourself. He now has complete control of everyone in this park. We have to attack the blindfold if we have any hope. But you must follow my every command,” John emphasizes the words you must.

  My mind is blaring. My heart’s pounding, and my ears are ringing.

  The very last thing I want to do is to pause and wait.

  Every sensation rushing through my body, from my pounding heart to my blaring mind tells me to act.

  It’s as if John can read my mind. He stretches a hand toward me, his eyes opening wide. “No. Don’t—”

  I shunt forward. Just as I do, I hear the pound of footfall. Out of the corner of my eye I see a couple who were picnicking quietly before. They suddenly spring toward me.

  Despite the fact they move with deadly force, their expressions are completely blank. It’s like they’re really asleep as their bodies are being controlled by their dreams.

  I hear Spencer’s sixth take an echoing breath. There’s something specific about the move, and I turn just in time to watch the lake react to it. The water undulates, rippling as if a massive stone has just been thrown into it.

  “Duck,” Antonio screams.

  I don’t duck. What feels like thousands of liters of water slam into my back, pinning me forward. I jerk onto my knees and throw my hands out, catching the sodden water ground as my hair slides and slicks across my face and cheeks.

  Momentarily, I almost lose hold of my disguise spell.

  The water is so much more than mere liquid. It’s full of magic, and every splash that rushes over my arms and back and body comes with the biting force of electricity.

  I hear John scream.

  Antonio does, too. I also catch sight of him as he slips over.

  Though it seems as if the lake has already been emptied out, somehow the water continues to rain down. It doesn’t affect the cyclist, nor the couple. All three suddenly throw themselves at me.

  Through the hail of water, I catch sight of their eyes. They’re just as lifeless as before. If I’d hoped that they would suddenly regain control of their bodies, that hope is dashed.

  I catch the sound of Spencer’s sixth muttering under his breath. His words are dark and quick, filled with power. The same power that continues to crackle through the water.

  Though I have more than enough magic to push back the majority of the sixth’s power, I can hear that Antonio isn’t as lucky. He suddenly lets out an earsplitting scream. I see him fall down to all fours, the water changing direction as it hammers against his back with all the power of an army.

  Antonio’s eyes blast wide and his mouth jerks to the side, blood splattering
his chin and instantly being washed away.

  “Antonio!” John screams. Of the three of us, he’s the only one who has managed to remain standing. He jerks toward Antonio, spreading a hand wide.

  This is when John should be attacking. Though this fight is frenetic, and the couple and cyclist keep throwing themselves at me while I dodge them, I still have enough left over mental energy to appreciate that fact. John is too cautious a player. Yes, Antonio’s down, but it’s clear he’s not dead. John should be taking the chance to attack, not protect.

  And that difference will cost him this fight.

  Unless I step in.

  I dash to the side, easily dodging an attack as the cyclist actually picks up his bike and swings it around as if it’s nothing more than a sword. Though the guy looks strong, it’s a heavy, directed move, and his lean form shouldn’t be able to manage it. Which tells me that while he is under the effect of this blindfold spell, his strength has increased.

  It’s the same thing as what happened to those bartenders when I fought the castle. Despite the fact the bar was literally falling down around their ears and tilting like a sinking ship, somehow they managed to retain the balance and strength to keep pouring drinks as usual.

  So this isn’t some mere control spell. Whatever magic Spencer’s sixth is casting is having a measurable effect on these people’s bodies, not just their minds.

  There’s something to that, isn’t there?

  It means that if I can cast a counterspell on these people, one to weaken them or knock them out, I might have a chance.

  I dash forward.

  John screams. “No, you have to wait—”

  The water is still hailing down. I think it’s being recycled. It’s the only thing that can account for how much there is. Yes, the lake in this park is large, and it’s correspondingly filled with a large amount of water, but it should’ve all fallen by now.

  The only thing that makes sense is if Spencer’s sixth is retaining control of it, just as he’s retaining control of the people.

  I’m not used to magic like this. I’m used to spells that are quick and have measurable and immediate results on their direct environment, not spells that linger. Yes, I’ve cast powerful enchantments on the earth before, like digging tunnels out from the flood drains. But that’s not the same thing. Spencer’s sixth is keeping hold of the water and the people and never letting go.