Queen of Storms

by C. N. Crawford

  He was counting on me to get us both out of this? I snatched the flask from him and took a long swig. The whiskey burned my throat. It tasted like fancy stuff. Like smoke.

  One of the demons took a step closer—a towering, silver-haired demon with ivory horns and a crisp, charcoal gray suit. Wind and leaves whipped around him, toying with his hair. “Taru sends his regards.”

  “Does he, now?” Melkarth sounded as if he found the whole situation amusing. Meanwhile, I was trying to keep my eyes on the tracking spell, which hadn’t exactly waited for us.

  The horned demon drew his sword, and lighting crackled around it. “He requests that you leave the Reaper alone to do the work of the gods. He understands your goals, but he does not support this project.”

  Melkarth snatched his flask back. “Mmm. I’m going to decline that request.” Another sip. “Well, there we are.”

  The demon adjusted his suit jacket. “Taru has politely requested that I skin you alive should you decline his request.”

  I cleared my throat. “We’re gonna be a no on that proposal, too, thanks.”

  The demon held up a hand, smiling apologetically. “Oh! Sorry, I phrased that poorly. He does want you to live. He’s just requested that I remove the skin from the legs and arms, and part of your face. Or all of it. He really is letting me use my own discretion on that front.”

  I nodded. “Mmmhmm, I do see what you’re saying, storm demon, and I like the creativity, but we’re just thinking of moving in another direction right now with our project, as you called it. Like, one that’s not torture and skin removal.”

  Please tell me that we’re actually getting out of this and that Melkarth isn’t simply a suicidal maniac.

  The demon bowed. “I regret to inform you that we will, in fact, be removing—”

  The rest of his words were cut off by the sudden severing of his head from his body with a simple flick of Melkarth’s wrist. Blood sprayed from his severed neck, staining his beautiful suit, and his head rolled toward us. The demon’s body fell to the ground with a thud so loud that it shook the street. Blood streamed towards us in rivulets.

  Way to go, dragon. I summoned my magic.

  For the briefest of moments, the other demons stared at each other. Then, they all drew their swords.

  I wasn’t going to wait for them to remove some or all of the skin from my face. A shielding spell burst from my body—a bubble of blue-gray that bloomed around me. The demons ran for the shield, hacking at it with their swords. Outside the shield, Melkarth was fighting them in a whirlwind of darkness. Blood flew over the street as he severed demons in two.

  While keeping up my shield, I worked up a second spell. I was bloody good at this now, if I did say so myself. Gritting my teeth, I slammed a binding spell into two of them, crushing their enormous bodies together like I’d done with that zombie thing. I focused on their necks, sliding the spell around their throats to snap their spines. Melkarth ripped another demon in half, this time from slicing the head down to his crotch. I had the feeling Melkarth was getting creative with his slaughtering.

  A demon slammed his sword against my shield, and the crack made my stomach clench. This shield wouldn’t last….

  My two bound demons were still struggling for life in my binding spell, and I hadn’t managed to finish them off yet. Sweat broke out on my forehead as I called up a third spell—one for the demon trying to crack through my shield. A rope of magic slid around his neck, strangling him.

  I needed some faster killing spells. I needed to rip hearts right through ribs….

  Oh gods, what was I turning into?

  I closed my eyes and poured all my power into the spells, those tendrils of magic curling around my victims, choking them. Then, I pulled—hard—and I broke their spines.

  They fell to the street. Three of them, dead.

  A silence had fallen over the street. From inside my shield, I surveyed the battle scene. Enormous demon bodies lay strewn around us, blood pooling in the street cracks.

  Melkarth dusted off his sweater. “See? I told you it would be fine.”

  I looked around for the silver sphere of light. “Right. Except we’ve lost Wren. Sorry—the Reaper.”

  Chapter 26

  We hadn’t been running for more than five minutes before we found another body. Turned out, I didn’t need the tracking spell. I only had to follow the smell of blood. My ol’ friend the Reaper had gone on a killing binge, and she’d left a withered husk of a woman behind.

  I crouched down to look at the body. She’d been hanging clothes from a low line that went across the alley from one building to another. Already, her corpse was starting to flake in the wind.

  Melkarth’s shadow loomed over me. “We need to keep moving.”

  “I know.” I straightened.

  Summoning my magic, I cupped my hand. I called up the little ball of light again to track Wren. The charge of magic all around us was so overpowering, my body was practically shaking.

  The little ball glowed and brightened like a star—perfect!—then started to zoom away, faster than I could follow. It was like a bullet shooting off, past the pubs on the main road.

  Melkarth narrowed his pale eyes. “Where did it go, exactly?”

  I shook my head. “There’s too much magic around. I’m not in control of it.” I clenched my fists so tight I pierced my palms. “I need a vantage—”

  Before I could even finish my sentence, Melkarth ran, turning a corner.

  And the next thing I saw, soaring over the tops of the roofs, was an enormous bloody dragon taking to the skies above me. Melkarth’s wings were spread so wide they blocked out the light in the neighborhood.

  The bastard was taking off without me. And what, exactly, would Melkarth do when he found Wren? I didn’t think he would kill her, because they’d taken pains to keep her safe in their fortress. But who the hells knew what he was thinking?

  I looked up at the building to my left, where plants overhung a balcony. Another roof garden. A vantage point.

  With a grunt, I kicked in the door, splintering the wood. I ran through a cluttered kitchen, up the stairs—thankful the place was empty—and emerged in the garden.

  Catching my breath, I scanned the neighborhood until I found her. Then, my heart started beating like a war drum. I could just about see her head as she stood on a street one building away, her dark hair billowing in the wind, body glowing with an otherworldly power. Her eyes glowed pale blue.

  And Melkarth crouched on the rooftop above her, already transformed into his fae form.

  “Wren….” I whispered her name, practically inaudibly, but she heard me, even from this distance. Her head snapped up, blue eyes on me.

  The aura of fire around her began to turn inwards, telling me she was about to disappear again. Better rein her in before Melkarth does it in his own way.

  Instinct sizzled down my arm, and my magic electrified me as it shot out of my fingertips. The bolt struck the top of her head. She staggered back and slammed into a wall.

  “Let me handle this, Melkarth!” I shouted. “No killing!”

  He turned his head slowly to look at me, his expression irritated, but he didn’t answer.

  I had to get down there, fast. The buildings here were tightly packed, not too tall….

  I took a running leap, aiming for the next rooftop. I sailed over the gap and landed in a roll on the concrete, then leapt up, running to the next edge.

  I climbed down the fire escape ladder, fast as the wind. A voice boomed from the alley behind me, a sound that chilled me to the core. It was Wren—the Reaper—a voice that sounded like an ancient, tormented soul.

  When I whirled to face her, I found that Melkarth had leapt down from his roof. Tendrils of his silvery magic curled around her. But her fiery magic prevented his magic from getting too close.

  “A little assistance would be appreciated,” Melkarth called out.

  Wren’s face was the visage of hate, teeth bared
like a wild animal, eyes burning bright.

  I’d trap her, maybe, with one of the binding spells. I called up my magic, and it buzzed over my skin. It exploded from the tips of my fingers and curled around my oldest friend in graceful coils—except it wasn’t penetrating her forcefield.

  Her eyes pinned me. “Do you really think you can stop me? I am chosen by the Storm God. He wants this to happen. And what are the two of you? A hedonist and a wretch.”

  Wren clapped her hands, sending a shockwave of power ripping through the tangle of backstreets. The concrete beneath my feet cracked, along with the walls of the brick buildings around me. I just barely managed to stay upright.

  Bricks shook from the building that had been nearest to Wren and smashed against the ground, shattering into pieces. Birds had fallen silent, and an eerie wind pushed through the crooked streets. Dust clouded around us.

  And Wren? She was gone.

  I didn’t waste a moment. As quickly as I could, I summoned my magic tracking ball into existence, breathing it to life—but the ball puttered out before it could be born. I tried again, focusing harder, but it failed. What the hells?

  Melkarth dusted himself off. “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s not working.”

  “That’s a very inconvenient time for your magic to decide not to work.”

  “She must be blocking me now that she’s gotten stronger, but we can figure this out. She’s reaping souls for Taru. You said yourself Taru was bloated with spirits. He’s greedy.”

  “I did, which means she could be going to the most crowded place possible.”

  Distant music, the thump of a bassline, vibrated over the city. Ricky Martin was lonely, apparently.

  “The music festival,” I said.

  “We’ll take the skies.”

  I clenched Melkarth’s body tightly with my legs as we soared through the air. Beneath us, the people in Casemates Square cowered at the sight of the hulking dragon taking to the sky among them. I held tight to one of his neck spikes, trying to cling on. It wasn’t as if dragons had evolved to carry fae on their backs.

  We’d been in the air for less than ten seconds, had barely cleared the stone buildings surrounding the square, when the concert arena came into view.

  There, moving closer to the arena, a dark storm cloud slid through the skies. The concertgoers should be running, but they hadn’t yet noticed anything amiss. The wind whipped powerfully through the air, lashing my hair into my face.

  The Nathair circled above the football field—the Victoria Stadium—which gave us a good look at the storm. It took me a moment before I found Wren, stalking toward the concert. She wasn’t alone, either. Taru had sent more of his storm demons, who flitted on the wind like ghosts, protecting her.

  The Nathair’s muscles tensed as he arced sharply toward the storm, where beams of light shot from the clouds into the heavens. Taru was hungry. I could feel it. And if we didn’t stop Wren before she got to the concert, he’d have all those souls.

  I knew what it sounded like when Taru claimed a soul. I knew what it felt like for the god to control you. Taru had forced me to kill for him before, just like he was forcing Wren. And underneath the Reaper’s actions, the real Wren would be in there, screaming for control.

  I glanced up to the skies, where the Storm God’s face loomed above us. He wanted to grow fat on souls today, and I hated him for it.

  In that moment, I was no longer wondering why Melkarth hated Taru so much. Truth was, I loathed the Storm God more than anything. I’d just been too scared to admit it.

  When I looked back down again at Wren, she’d stopped moving. Now, she was looking straight above, staring at us.

  And she was ready to hit us with the full force of Taru’s power.

  Her storm of magic was moving for us.

  Chapter 27

  Melkarth angled his wings, and we began soaring toward Wren—toward her wild storm of magic that convulsed in the air.

  With a shock, I realized she’d lifted into the skies as well—twenty feet above the ground—and gusts of wind whipped about her. Gods of mercy. She could fly?

  Melkarth was certainly hells-bent on catching her. I’d never seen him actually care about anything before, and now we were speeding toward her storm. But her magic was going to shatter us.

  With my hands outstretched, I summoned a shield to protect Melkarth us from the brunt of her power, but we were moving so fast—

  We slammed into the edges of the storm like a wrecking ball into the side of a building, tearing through it with explosive force. Wren’s magic was powerful enough that it could’ve kept bullets away, but there was no way she was keeping out the dragon barreling toward her.

  Melkarth roared as he swooped in on her, my shield buckling under the stress of protecting us. Around us, storm phantoms slid over my flesh, sending shivers of dread through my body. Their twisted faces swept past, teeth gnashing, forged in mist and fire.

  And they seemed to be solidifying, because I felt claws rake over my skin.

  Still, they wouldn’t stop us. Not as long as I was breathing.

  Melkarth arced around, taking us closer to Wren. Screeching like a banshee, she lifted her hand to strike us down with magic. Melkarth swept toward her, jaw open.

  “No!” I yelled, and tugged at the spines on Melkarth’s back like I was fulfilling some kind of cowboy fantasy … only, on the back of a dragon, not a horse.

  Melkarth clamped his jaws shut, and I realized it had been a warning. For one reason or another, he wanted her alive. But Wren hadn’t heeded his warning. Instead, she slammed him with a blast of magic. White light shot from her body, searing one of Melkarth’s wings.

  I grimaced, bracing myself for a crash.

  Roaring, he turned away from her, his wing smoking. But I had to get to her now, and she was just below me, not far from a building—

  I leapt off the dragon’s back and hurtled through the air toward Wren, heading right for her. She didn’t see me coming, and I crashed into her hard. We rolled together in the air, then slammed hard into a roof. Pain shot through my shoulder.

  For a moment, I stared at Wren, and she stared back. Malice flashed across her face as we locked eyes, an expression I wasn’t used to seeing on someone who reminded me of beer and pancakes and home.

  Focus. She was going to kill me if I didn’t. Then she’d kill everyone listening to “Livin’ La Vida Loca” right now.

  Lightning coursed through me, my shoulders and arms prickling as I called up my magic.

  Ghostly fire wreathed Wren. “You can’t stop us,” she bellowed. “No one can. You’re too late.”

  “Wren, if you’re in there, I need you to fight this demon!” I yelled. “I know it’s hard, believe me, but you have to fight.”

  Wren laughed, a diabolical sound that made my skin crawl. “Wren isn’t available. There’s only me, and there’s only Taru.” She pointed up at the sky, at the massive smoky beast waiting to feast on everyone at the festival.

  From here, I could hear Ricky Martin singing about dancing in the rain.

  For just a moment, my eyes flicked above. The phantoms were still there, but Melkarth was fending them off, jaws tearing them in two. His wing looked badly damaged, though, and his flight path looked erratic.

  Wren hadn’t tried to kill me yet. She was fighting in there.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I said to Wren. “Please don’t make me.”

  Another blood-chilling laugh. She narrowed her eyes and lowered her head. I could see the intent in those cold, blue orbs. She was floating again, which creeped me out to no end. With supernatural quickness, Wren flicked her wrist and sent a scorching blast of energy hurtling toward me. I raised my hand, screamed the words to bring the magic out.

  The Reaper’s bolt struck my shield before she could hit me. My feet slipped on the rain-slicked roof a bit, but I was able to keep myself standing firm even against such incredible power.

  Clenching
my jaw, I knew I had no other option but to attack before she did. Luckily, I could hold a shield and send out another spell at the same time.

  I sent an arching bolt of lightning toward her with my right hand, and it whipped around her like a lasso. The Reaper had been too busy focusing her intent, her hate, to stop me. When it coiled around her, her magic attack on me faded to burning cinders in the air.

  With both hands, I pulled the lasso tightly around her, completing part two of a cowboy fantasy I’d never actually wanted. Wren toppled and fell to the roof, a band of beaming magic wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her arms in place.

  With my left hand, I sent another whip of light toward her, this one wrapping around her legs, and as it flew, I chanted a binding spell. One that would cut her off from her magic, so she couldn’t hurt herself or anyone else.

  Slowly, the storm around us started to recede from the skies. Thunder grumbled and cascading light roiled inside of it. The bodies of storm demons littered the street beneath us. Melkarth had been busy, then. Even with his injury.

  Wren continued to struggle within the ropes of magic. Still, the binding spell was keeping her in place, suppressing her magic.

  “Well done,” a soft voice purred behind me.

  I whirled to find Melkarth, his arm scorched, clothing burned through. I winced at the sight of his injury, and I could see the pain etched on his features. I felt a strange tug toward him, and my magic rushed over him, as if pulled by magnetism. Some of his seared skin began to heal.

  At least dragon-bloods seemed to heal quickly.

  A smile ghosted over Melkarth’s lips, and I could tell it took effort to keep his composure. “See? I told you it would be fine.”

  “Assuming I can keep her bound till we get her back to the Institute.”

  “You can’t stop…” Wren croaked. It was like all the fight had gone from her. “You can’t stop Taru…. He always gets what he wants.”