The Last Queen Book Three Read online

  It was magic, wasn’t it? A spell. More than that – one that Rogers had been casting.

  That was why he managed to make it disappear so easily.

  I didn’t see him cast the spell, but that doesn’t matter. I remember what it felt like, remember the sense of it as I walked through it, as I ran, and as I exited into the mezzanine level.

  I let the memory of that magic sink through me for a split second.

  I can hear Roger behind me, feel him – he’s right there, less than a meter away, reaching toward me.

  Though I have my back to him and I still have my blindfold on, that doesn’t matter. His presence now takes up so much goddamn room in my mind that I swear I can see his fingers push through my magical aura as they try to latch onto me.

  I open my eyes in a blast, finally flinging the blindfold from my face.

  I have no intention of spinning on my foot and facing him.

  Hell no. I just lock my gaze on the hole I blasted into the wall.

  I bring up both hands in such a quick movement, my hands look like blurs. I press my thumb and forefingers together, and I think of a path.

  One that leads directly up to the city above.

  That’s all it takes – the thought in my head, the movement with my hands, and the deepest, strongest desire to get the hell out of here now.

  Rogers screams behind me. He reaches toward me. I feel his fingers brush against my gray hair.

  It’s enough to send a charge through me, almost as if I’ve been stupid enough to lean against an electric fence.

  I don’t let it stop me in place.

  I throw myself forward, my boots flopping and slapping against the freshly dug dirt path that leads directly upward.

  I hear Rogers scream behind me.

  He pushes into a run.

  But I’m faster.

  The reason I’m faster is I have a hell of a lot more to lose.

  I’m also the one controlling the tunnel. This is my spell, and with every step I take, I allow the tunnel wall to close behind me with a snap, almost like the rock is hands that are clapping.

  It’s not enough to squish Rogers – just enough to slow him down as he’s forced to cast his own spell and gain control of the rock himself.

  It gives me all the time I need to finally reach the end of the tunnel, to finally burst onto the city street above.

  I land in the center of traffic.

  A car swerves to the side as it sees me, coming to a stop and blaring its horn.

  I jerk to my feet, slam a hand around in a circle, and cast a reality-bending spell.

  I also control the traffic as I make my way across the street, right toward a building to my left.

  I hear another scream as Rogers enters out onto the street behind me.

  Now I know speed will be the key.

  I have to get away from Rogers fast enough that he won’t be able to track me.

  I sprint. I jump. Run. Practically fly.

  But he’s still behind me.

  Shit.

  Double shit.

  I wonder if I’m going to have to call on Rowley’s power again, head to his building, hope that this time John doesn’t figure it’s me as I run to him for protection dressed as another old-timer.

  But then I remind myself that it’s the dead of the frigging night. If I run into Rowley Tower now, he’s going to put two and two together. Oh, and as soon as Rogers slams into the building behind me, it’s going to start World War III.

  I have to get away from Rogers on my own.

  I don’t have time to think, don’t have space, just don’t have the goddamn mental energy.

  But a thought slams into my head.

  If I had the power to split apart, to look like two people, then I’d be able to put Rogers off the scent, right?

  My disguise spell is powerful, goddammit. I can make a bike, for crying out loud.

  But can I honestly split myself in half?

  Yeah, I get it, my disguise spell only works for things I’m touching.

  But why is that?

  Is it a fact of the spell itself, or is it because I just haven’t been able to apply myself correctly yet?

  Come on. I have to try, right? This is the problem I was bemoaning when I went down into the tunnels. I know I’m one of the most powerful pieces in the entire world, maybe the most powerful piece. I know I have access to magic that no one else does.

  And I’m sick of just waiting around to find out new spells.

  Why not try to cast one myself?

  I don’t know what I’m doing. Of course I don’t know what I’m doing. Probably wasting time and precious energy when I should be concentrating on running as fast as I can to get the hell away from Senator Rogers.

  That doesn’t stop me.

  I concentrate. Slam a hand on my chest, kind of try to... I dunno, split myself in half.

  I think back to the moment I learned the disguise spell when I fought that woman. The way she dragged her hand across her chest. I remember the feel of it, the novelty. But more than anything, the power.

  And the thrill when I tried it myself.

  I concentrate on that thrill. I let it settle in my chest, let it play with my magic, let it extend, almost like I’m feeding my power.

  That’s it, I’m feeding it.

  I hear Rogers scream a few times, but his voice echoes and punches out from several blocks away. He’s not behind me. He can’t see me.

  So I have a chance.

  I grind to a halt.

  Maybe it’s the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done.

  It doesn’t matter.

  I concentrate fully, bringing my hands up, letting them control themselves as I spread them apart as if I’m trying to wrench open an orange.

  And it works.

  I... feel myself shudder. Like I’m taking several lurching steps from left to right, like I’m standing on a wobbling board.

  A breath splits my throat, my head jerks back, and I feel myself split.

  Except I’m not splitting. I’m still myself – it’s just there... a perfect image of me right beside me.

  I can control it, kind of extend my awareness to it, but it’s not me.

  It’s a copy.

  I stare at it for a single second, allowing myself to realize what I’ve just achieved.

  Then I hear him. He’s much closer now. Several seconds away.

  I plant my foot hard into the ground, spin, and head in one direction, forcing the image of me to head in the other.

  I make it slower, though, and ensure my copy crosses paths with Rogers.

  I won’t tell you how much of a mindfuck it is to be able to split yourself off and to control a copy of your image. But it feels almost exactly like what happens with my two swords. I concentrate on that, remind myself that I can control my two swords autonomously and that I’m uniquely skilled to do just that.

  I keep running, and it takes me a block or two to realize that Rogers is no longer following. Me, at least. He’s following the copy.

  I slow down, concentrating hard on the copy, leading Rogers in the opposite direction.

  It’s... a total mind-bend. It really is. I’m fortunate that I’ve run through the city so many times that I kind of have a living blueprint of it in my head. I use that as I half close one eye, letting half of my mind concentrate on where I’m leading my copy.

  Away. As far away as I can get.

  I don’t walk home.

  I’m not an idiot.

  Not yet, anyway. I get somewhere safe, then I change my appearance, back to the short bob and bomber jacket of the woman who lives in my apartment.

  It’s then that I finally end the double spell.

  I have... the craziest notion to let the spell continue, to actually let Rogers catch me, just so I can see the look in his eyes as he realizes I’m a copy.

  But I can’t do that. The further away I push the spell, the harder it’s getting to control it. My body’s shaking
now. I’m leaning against a wall, back arching into it, eyes flickering back into my head, sweat practically sloshing down my brow.

  With clenched teeth, I finally do it – snap my mind back.

  The spell ends.

  Even from here – on the other side of the goddamn city – I swear I can hear Rogers scream. I swear the whole city shakes with it.

  You know what? I smile. It’s halfhearted, it’s small, and it’s weak considering the night I’ve had. But it’s there.

  Because screw Senator Rogers.

  I turn around, suck in a deep relieved breath, and walk home.

  I flop face-first on my bed and asleep.

  Because though today was goddamn horrible, this fight ain’t over yet.

  Chapter 7

  I’M SITTING AT MY DESK, in my dressing gown, staring at the sun filtering in through the windows of my loft apartment.

  It’s kind of peaceful. Maybe the first peaceful moment I’ve had in weeks. I’m sipping a glass of milk – not guzzling it down, actually enjoying it as it fills my tummy.

  In front of me are the documents and papers I’ve managed to scrounge on this world.

  I let my gaze dart down them as it locks on the newspaper.

  I have it open to the events page. It talks about the garden party. The garden party that’s this afternoon.

  It’s been two days.

  I didn’t go out yesterday nor the day before. Couldn’t dare allow myself to. For one, I was tired, and for another, I just couldn’t face the prospect that Rogers was still out there looking for me.

  Maybe it was a risk. Maybe I needed to take the opportunity given to me and head back down to the chessboard. But that would’ve been a mistake.

  “And you can’t allow yourself to make any more mistakes,” I say quickly under my breath, lips and tongue darting as I whisper the words out loud.

  I place my milk down, hook a hand over the paper, and draw it closer.

  The garden party is to be held in the botanical gardens in the center of the city. In the rose garden, to be exact.

  It’s meant to be some kind of charity function. And, you guessed it, it’s being led by Senator Rogers.

  “You bastard,” I whisper under my breath, words whipcrack fast like a knife to the throat. Which, incidentally, is exactly what I want to do to him.

  It’s not just that I underestimated his power, and it’s not just that I hate the effect he has on my body. It’s that I know he’s far worse than John and Spencer combined. Yeah, Spencer is a lot of things – and underneath his confusion, he’s brutal and arrogant. But he’s not Rogers.

  Rogers is calculating. Rogers also doesn’t have a scrap of compassion anywhere in him. All he wants is power. And he has the desire and means to get it.

  “But you’re not going to catch me,” I say once more. Yeah, I get it, I’m not speaking to anyone – and it’s just useless bravado to be spitting this crap out in my lonesome apartment. But it has the effect of bolstering me, which is exactly what I need.

  “You will get what’s coming to you,” I spit at Rogers as I stare at a picture of him in the paper.

  I’ve been staring at that exact picture for the last half hour, trying to figure out what I should do.

  The garden party is this afternoon. For the first time in weeks, the weather is nice, the sun’s shining, and there’s barely a breeze out. But for some reason I feel like it’s fake, feel like it’s a trap to get people to come to his goddamn party.

  The question remains, should I go?

  I know John and Spencer are going to be there. And maybe it’s the perfect opportunity for me to be able to witness what three kings will do in one spot. I wonder if they’ll use manipulation magic and have some kind of secret conversation with each other. Maybe they’ll just get into a fight.

  If it weren’t for my enduring connection to Spencer and John, I would take this as the perfect opportunity to leave Rival City once and for all. But I know I can’t do that. I’ve tried so many goddamn times. I reach the city limits, and it’s like there’s a wall stopping me in place. No, worse than that, a chain around my heart that connects me to those two men. If I dare to get too far away from them, I know that chains going to yank my heart clean out of my chest and kill me on the spot.

  But there’s another way.

  Isn’t there?

  A smile spreads across my lips as it finally strikes me.

  I didn’t have the guts to go back down to the flood tunnels yesterday. I knew Rogers would be looking for me. But today, he’ll be at the garden party, hosting the damn thing.

  And yeah, maybe he’s going to set some of his forces down in the tunnels to protect the gameboard. But I know I’ll be able to get past them. I managed to get past Rogers in a blindfold, for God’s sake. More than that, I now have the ability to split myself in half.

  A seriously strong smile presses across my lips now, but I know I can’t let it go to my head. Because Rogers, as I have to keep reminding myself, is too smart to be underestimated.

  “He’s going to know you’re going to go down for that gameboard again,” I say to myself out loud as I realize that. “He’s going to have put a trap in place,” I realize again.

  I shake my head, bring up a hand, go to place it over my face, go to hide behind my fingers, but I stop.

  I forcibly let the hand drop as I swivel my jaw from side to side.

  Wait.

  Shit.

  There’s another way.

  My eyes practically burst wide as I realize that.

  I also shoot to my feet, catching my milk just in time before it can topple off and waste any of its precious liquid.

  I gulp it down, slam the glass back down on the table, and grin manically.

  I can just split myself off, can’t I?

  I can go both to the garden to keep an eye on the kings and get down to the tunnels, can’t I?

  I’ll go down to the tunnels with my real body, and keep an eye on the kings with my fake.

  It’s goddamn perfect.

  I take another step back, plant a foot into my dusty floorboards, and actually twirl.

  This is the happiest I’ve been in ages. And it’s not because someone’s bought me a gift or because I’ve gotten lucky – it’s because I’m finally making my own luck.

  I don’t waste any more time.

  I start to draw up a plan of what I’m going to do.

  I also mentally go through the steps it took to split myself up.

  Then I practice.

  At first, it’s hard and takes a while, but the more I practice, the more I get it, until finally I can split myself off in a matter of seconds.

  Then?

  I start to figure out what my outfit should be.

  I quickly realize that my copy has to have the same outfit as me. I can’t look like an old man and make my copy look like a young woman. It just... takes way too much mental energy. And I can’t allow the spell to drain me. If I’m going to face a fight down in the tunnels, I’m going to need to preserve my magic to keep my double in place.

  I settle on looking like a middle-aged man in chinos and a shirt – kind of, I hope, like an engineer.

  Hopefully if someone sees me down in the tunnels, that’s what they’ll think I am. And if someone sees me at the garden party, I’ll just look like another one of the guests, albeit not as well dressed.

  I practice for a little longer, and I soon look up at the clock and realize I barely have half an hour left.

  My stomach does everything you would expect. It flips around, jerks up and down, feels like an atom that’s trying to dance out of my grip. I slam a hand on it, take a shuddering breath, and finally walk out of my apartment.

  For some reason, I give it one last longing look, as if this is the last time I’ll get to see it. “No way. Don’t think like that. This will work.”

  I force that thought to settle. But then, another rises up to meet it. Even if it does work, my life will change, right?
If everything goes according to plan, and I not only manage to spy on the kings and find out something useful, but I manage to secure the ancient chessboard, then what?

  I have no idea what will happen when I have my own gameboard. It’ll definitely change everything, though – I can figure that much out.

  And that has been the one constant for the past several months. Change. Every second, every day, every week.

  Being pushed forward, by someone else, by the fact I’m the Last Queen, by the desire of the kings.

  When I get my own gameboard, you know what? I’m going to start pushing.

  I let that thought settle a smile over my lips. It’s hard, it arches into my cheeks, and it makes me look like a bitch.

  You know what? I don’t care.

  I stride out of my apartment, lock it, and walk out onto the street.

  It’s time to do this.

  Chapter 8

  THOUGH I KNOW FOR A fact that I could just create a reality-bending spell, stand roughly in the center of the city, and produce a tunnel that would punch down to the flood drains, I’m not that stupid.

  No displays of magic.

  Not until I have my disguise in place at the garden party.

  I can’t afford to do anything that would create too much attention.

  I don’t bother to split my body off until I’m close to the botanical gardens. I find a nice alleyway, nestle myself into an alcove, and do it.

  It’s the weirdest experience to not just split yourself off, but to stand there for a few seconds and stare at a copy of you. Okay, it’s not actually me – it doesn’t look like the real me, but I still have control of it.

  And I smile at myself.

  Then I send my copy off, splitting half my attention into it as it walks down the laneway and onto a street.

  The real me walks in the opposite direction. I also shove my hands into the pockets of my pants and let out a wry chuckle.

  You know in school my teacher always told me I was easily distractible. I wasn’t the kind of kid who could focus on a complex task. My mind would go everywhere.

  Yeah, so maybe I wasn’t so good at nutting out hard mathematics equations. You know what? This is a much more useful skill.

  I pay enough attention to my copy to allow it to navigate smoothly toward the botanical gardens. Other guests are starting to arrive, and they’re the hoi polloi of the city. There’s so much money around, I wonder how Senator Rogers – since he’s just arrived in Rival City – can command so much attention.