Very Bad Wizards

by Stunich, C. M.

  “Hellhound,” Taavi tells me, looking down at me with those familiar brown eyes of his. “I know you, Oz, and I know what you’re thinking right now, but you cannot let your fear of both failure and success overwhelm you.”

  “I don’t want to die, and I don’t want her to die, so what the fuck am I supposed to do?” I ask, turning my head to look at him with desperate pleading. “How do I get out of this?”

  Taavi doesn’t respond, instead turning his attention back to the arena … and the sound of the gong.

  Breise doesn’t hesitate, using a knife from her belt to cut her arm open—just like she did before. Fantastic. So we’re going to start with magical flying iron spears to the throat?

  “On my back. Now.” Taavi shifts into the hulking beast form of the barghest, his feathered tail thrashing, horns gleaming in the strange green glow from the shield above our heads. I don’t hesitate, scrambling up and using fistfuls of his fur to keep my balance.

  The iron spear comes crashing down where I was standing, giving Taavi just a split-second to dance out of the way. The other guardian is coming right for us, black claws tearing up bits of grass and clumps of mud as it clears the length of the arena in less than a minute. It launches itself, and Taavi just barely manages to scramble out of the way, maintaining his steady lope toward Breise.

  I curl my hands into fists and close my eyes, remembering how easily I was able to draw those lightning bolts from the sky. “Our power is wholly and truly ours; it comes from inside.”

  My eyes fly open and I release Taavi’s fur. As if he can sense that I’m no longer holding on, he slows slightly and keeps moving forward. I hold my palms out and then bring them together with a loud clap, sending a bolt of lightning down and directly into the wizard girl.

  The sound she makes when it hits her … the smell … I gag and crumble forward, just barely managing to grab onto Taavi’s thick neck as he leaps up and ricochets off the arena wall, avoiding a second strike from Breise’s guardian.

  He launches off and sends us flying over her crumpled form, turning back and then planting all four feet in the ground, claws extended. His lips are pulled back in a growl, slaver dripping thick and hot to the grass beneath his paws.

  I get his point without even having to hear him speak.

  The girl is not dead; keep going.

  She lifts a shaking hand up and gives a pathetic sort of wave with her hand, loosing vines from the ground that wrap around my waist and drag me from Taavi’s back. He lets out a scream of rage, tearing at the plants with his teeth. The hellhound crashes into him and the two of them go rolling, leaving me alone to struggle as one of the vines sprouts a thorn as long and sharp as a knife.

  Fuck.

  I listen to the electric tingle in my body, and even without the use of my limbs, I imagine bringing another bolt of lightning down on the vine. It shrivels up and draws back, releasing me from its thick green coil to land on the ground.

  Breise is already back on her feet, stalking toward me with both palms raised in front of her, hands pressed together. Another vine explodes from the ground and plunges right fucking through me.

  My vision washes white with pain as my head lolls back and blood bubbles on my lips. It feels like I’m drowning in my own lungs, like I might never get another breath. This is how my family felt, isn’t it? My little sisters, my brother, my grandparents …

  Water sloshes around me, ice-cold and black as pitch, filling the arena and lifting me up and away from the tangle of vines. I’m so disoriented that it takes me a moment to realize that I am the one doing this, that I’m calling up the water from my nightmares and unleashing it inside the arena.

  Taavi finds me fairly quickly, tearing the vine from my chest as he struggles to keep my head above the water. His long, hot tongue slides from his lips, tasting the blood on my chest and offering a sudden and immediate release from the pain.

  “Just as you can’t hold your breath forever, because your body won’t allow you to die … neither will your magic.”

  I think about the hole in my chest, about how I can’t possibly win this thing if I’m bleeding to death—even if I can’t technically die from it. My eyes close as Taavi grabs me by the back of the jacket, his powerful legs keeping us afloat in the water as I imagine the hole covering over, the water receding.

  Even if it’s an effective weapon, it’s triggering me. Already, I can feel my brain giving into the beginning of a panic attack.

  My eyes open as my ass hits solid ground and I see Taavi circling around me, ready to fend off Breise’s hellhound. The hole in my chest is gone, but my jacket is torn, my breasts showing through the rend in the fabric. Small miracles my nipples aren’t exposed.

  Gotta take pleasure where I can.

  I choke on my own breath, the panic attack creeping up on me, even as I try my old fallback: dry sarcasm and inappropriate humor.

  Forcing myself to my feet, I find Breise not twenty feet in front of me, her blond hair unbound and sopping wet, her face red as she coughs up water. When she lifts her eyes to mine, I see a very real fear in them, a desperation echoed inside my own heart.

  Her weakness is water.

  My eyes widen as I realize how truly cruel the universe is.

  My family died by drowning.

  The only way to save my own life is by drowning someone else.

  “Fuck.”

  Taavi and the hellhound are embroiled in a war of their own, leaving me and Breise in a strange, quiet place of our own, resting on the sharp end of a needle.

  I can kill her now.

  But … even if she wins, she can’t kill me, right? Not with Bain’s mark. So how can I end this without taking an innocent life? I’ve never been the superhero type, never even really been that good of a person. To be quite frank, I grew up privileged, loved, spoiled. Until I lost my family, I didn’t know the meaning of true suffering, of heartbreak. I was an awful brat. Even now, I’m a listless, sarcastic asshole without a single hope, aspiration, or dream.

  To kill this girl … that would shatter whatever little good I have left inside of me.

  I take a step forward as Breise struggles to find her feet, still choking, still coughing.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I say, and she flicks gray eyes up to me in disbelief and confusion. “But for us to get out of this, you’re going to have to hurt me.”

  “What are you talking about?” she whispers as I bite my lip. Okay, so Breise can’t kill me, no matter what, right? But it has to at least look like she has. How do we do that? How do we get out of this?

  She has to find my weakness, the thing that would kill me if I didn’t have the mark.

  My attention turns to Dorothy, seated up in the stadium on her little throne, watching us. She knows I have the mark, that I can’t lose. So maybe I’m not thinking of the right solution here. What if Breise ‘kills’ me, but Dorothy doesn’t declare her a winner? What if she leaves us in here, waiting for me to get back up and fight?

  Breise finally finds her feet, sweeping both hands over her hair and then flinging droplets of water back at me. In midair, they turn to icy shards, slicing through my flesh like knives.

  I cry out as blood spatters, but the move is meant more as a distraction than anything else. Breise swirls her fingers over the open wound on her arm and then draws an iron sword out, swinging it down toward the ground and flicking off excess droplets of blood.

  She raises it up like a proper weapon, like she actually knows what to do with it, leaving me to grapple with an ethical dilemma that involves drowning an innocent girl or getting one of my limbs severed.

  My hand unconsciously rises to my chest as my body rebels against the idea of that sort of agony. Shit, shit, shit. I don’t know how to summon a sword out of magic. I don’t know how to do any of this.

  My eyes close, and I taste the faintest whisper of honey and coconuts on the back of my tongue. When I open them, Breise is within swinging range of my neck, sen
ding her blade right for my exposed throat.

  I duck down and lunge forward, sprawling across the grass because I’m just a normal goddamn person, not some badass urban fantasy character in leather pants. This is not going to end well for me, I think as Breise turns on a dime and brings her sword down in an arc toward my belly.

  I close my eyes again and kick out blindly, not truly expecting to hit anything. Through sheer luck, I manage to kick her in the belly, throwing her off just enough that the sword lands between my legs. The tip is about an inch away from my lady bits.

  Taavi grabs me by the back of the jacket, yanking me across the grass as I spot the hellhound, arterial blood spraying from a wound across its neck. It stumbles, but it doesn’t go down.

  Part of me wonders if Dorothy isn’t right to be afraid of wizards and their guardians.

  They’re fucking invincible.

  Taavi releases me, and I stand up, exhaling sharply.

  The green shield above our heads abruptly flickers … and then disappears.

  For the briefest of seconds, there’s complete and total silence. And then the sounds of the audience pour in like a wave, deafening me as I look around, as confused as everyone else. Even Dorothy and Tuala have risen from their chairs.

  “We have a witch in the Emerald City.” Dorothy’s voice echoes around the stadium, as if from a loudspeaker, and I cringe, gritting my teeth against the noise. “Seek it out.”

  Soldiers sweep down the staircases, rousing courtiers from their seats as I glance in Taavi’s direction with a brow raised.

  “We should flee,” he growls out, big jaws moving with stilted words. My brows go up because that hadn’t exactly occurred to me. But … I lift my eyes up to the sky. There’s no shield above us; the glasses are gone; Taavi is free. There’s no better time than the present, right? “On my back, mate,” he snaps, blood and saliva dripping to the ground.

  I ignore his use of the word mate yet again, my gaze lifting up to Dorothy. Tuala remains by her side, wearing a diaphanous green gown, the skeleton key clutched in her hand. They’re both looking my way, like they know what Taavi and I are thinking.

  It’s time.

  If we’re going to go, we have to go now.

  “Ozora,” Taavi growls, and my attention turns back to the arena … and General Mannix striding across the grass. Behind him, Breise is on her knees, wrists bound with glowing silver shackles. Her guardian has reverted back to wolf form, collared with the same magic. “Hurry now.”

  I scramble up onto his back as the general pauses, swirling his finger in a figure eight. The shackles appear on my wrists, just as they did before. That initial feeling of panic takes over me as I feel my body empty of magic. I might not be an expert in the field, but now that I know the power is there, it’s quite obvious when it’s not.

  My attention moves from the shackles to General Mannix’s face, that cold, hard impassive expression of his leveled on me.

  “Dismount your guardian, Oz, the Great and Terrible,” he commands, his voice like a cemetery, full of quiet gravestones and laughing crows. “I won’t ask twice.” He makes a circle with his finger as Taavi tries to turn away, locking him in a glowing silver collar.

  My guardian’s knees buckle and he lets out a snarl, stumbling as his legs give out and his front half crashes to the ground. Mannix is already pulling off his glove, reaching to twist the tip from his finger.

  I exhale again, tasting honey and coconuts, and then open my eyes. Energy trickles out from my belly, not unlike an orgasm unfurls through the body, reaching into my fingers and toes with grasping fingers. The scent of gardenias hangs heavy and sticky in the air.

  Bain’s magic.

  My eyes widen as I realize what’s happening.

  General Mannix lifts his finger up to point at me, and I have no doubt in my mind that he’ll pull the trigger without hesitation. On impulse, I fling my right arm out and a gust of wind appears on command, ruffling the general’s silver hair and green cloak. His gray eyes narrow, but he doesn’t draw back, his hand jerking violently as he takes fire at me.

  But a column of wind’s already started forming around me, blocking the bullet’s trajectory and sending it into the wall instead of my flesh.

  The general grits his teeth, but it’s not him I’m worried about right now: it’s Dorothy.

  When I look back up, I see that she’s still watching me, the only sign of her displeasure a slight pursing of her lips. She lifts a hand my direction and panic spirals through me.

  I wish I were anywhere but here, I think frantically, my gaze drawn around to the skybox where Stryker waits. Even if I can get Taavi up and moving with Bain’s magic, I have to grab the wizard on my way out. I have to.

  Sliding off of Taavi’s back, I slip and fall, the heels of my shoes hitting together as I land sprawled across the ground. Pretty sure I twisted an ankle, too, but I make myself stand up, moving around to stand in front of Taavi, so I can take his big head between my hands.

  Three steps later … and something strange happens.

  A lurching sensation churns my gut and, try as I might, I find myself doubling over and losing what little I had in my stomach. When my knees hit the ground, it’s with a jarring that makes my teeth clack together.

  I haven’t fallen on soft grass. Instead, I’m now in the skybox beside Stryker.

  “Oh, you’ve figured out how to use the shoes then?” he asks casually, leaning down to help me to my feet. My head spins as I struggle to steady myself, collapsing into his arms despite myself. And the air, it still reeks of gardenias. Although, I have to say, I owe Bain a bit of thanks when I see him again.

  “The shoes?” I ask, looking down at the stupid things. The color drains from my face when I see that they’re glowing, like silver stars.

  “There’s always a trick to magical objects,” Stryker continues obliviously, as if the arena isn’t up in arms, searching for a witch—likely Bain—searching for me. If we’re going to run, we don’t have a lot of time.

  “A trick …” I breathe, pushing away from him and moving over to Taavi, beyond grateful that at least he was able to … teleport, or whatever the fuck I did … with me. I can’t imagine what I’d do if he were left behind. In the book, she knocked her heels together three times. Did I do that? When I fell, my shoes bumped together once. And then I took … three steps? Is that it?

  Taavi shifts back into his human form, shaking his head and pressing his fingers to his forehead.

  “We need to get out of here,” he says, struggling to his feet. The collar is very clearly weighing him down. Although the shackles on my wrists seem physically heavy, I feel energized, the fine hairs on my arms sticking up with the rush of Bain’s power.

  I’m not usually a fan of hard candy, but holy shit, if I had time to stop by my room during our little escape, I’d grab the rest of it to go.

  “The only way we’re getting out of here,” Stryker says, tapping his knuckles against the glass wall. “Is if you can get those shoes to work again; the walls are spelled, and the guard isn’t going to open the door until Dorothy and Mannix arrive.”

  He glances out the front window and cringes slightly. Without him even having to say it, I know they’re coming.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, as Taavi uses the wall to stand upright, brown eyes focused on mine. “When I fell off your back …” Feeling stupid, I clack the heels of my shoes together once, twice, three times. And then close my eyes, imagining home. Seattle. My parents’ old house.

  Nothing happens.

  “I hate to be a stickler …” Stryker begins, and Taavi growls at him.

  “You can do this, Oz,” he says, looking back at me, his face drawn and tight, but not discouraged. “What were you thinking of just now?”

  “Home,” I whisper, hands shaking as I start to pace. “Seattle.” Stryker gives me a strange look, so I make sure to add, “the H.W. But maybe it needs to be somewhere closer, more accessible …”

 
There’s no time.

  Just then, the sky opens, as if preparing to flood the arena with water. But instead of raindrops, there are crows. Thousands upon thousands of them. They sweep down and into the screaming horde of courtiers and soldiers, pecking at the green lenses of the glasses and shattering them.

  The door to the skybox opens and the green-skinned servant girl appears, panting harshly, eyes wide with fear. The green-whiskered guard, on the other hand, lies dead next to her. Also, he’s missing his goddamn eyeballs.

  “Come with me,” she says, turning and hiking up her skirts to step over the growing puddle of blood. Taavi, Stryker, and I exchange looks.

  “I say we take our chances,” Stryker begins, the first to speak up. “You’ve seen what Dorothy and Mannix are willing to do to maintain control.” He pauses for a moment, golden eyes closing briefly before opening back up. “Dorothy’s morality police drowned my fiancée while I watched, strapped to the stake, flames licking up my skin. I’m not staying here.”

  The word drowned catches in my mind, and I choke on it. It’s enough to get me to move, my hand clamping over Taavi’s before the pair of us start for the door, Stryker on our heels.

  Outside, it’s a bloodbath. There are headless crows strewn across the steps, dead courtiers in glittering costumes with no eyes.

  The servant girl is waiting for us at the entrance to the palace, pushing the door open and letting us inside, a flock of crows sweeping overhead and in ahead of us.

  “Why are you helping us?” I ask, and she shakes her head, reaching up to point at the winged monkey clip in her hair.

  “I work for Thyer,” she says, and Stryker’s eyes go wide before a smile curves across his full lips.

  “I’d thought I recognized his handiwork here,” the wizard murmurs, but there’s no time to stop and chat. We need to haul ass and talk later.

  “Head for the ballroom, and he’ll pick the three of you up there.”

  “Pick us up?” I ask, but the girl is already pulling the door closed, blocking off the sounds from outside. Taavi wastes zero time in barring it against Dorothy’s soldiers before we take off running down the hall.