I need to get away, but I have nowhere to go. If I walk out of Rowley Tower, I’ll come face to face with Rogers, and his wind spell witnessed me change into my current disguise, so he’ll know who I am.
I can’t walk for the elevators on the opposite side of the room, though. Though Antonio is freaking out, he’s still eagle-eyed.
There’s another option. The service door where the cleaners come and go. It’s several meters to my side, beckoning me like a friggin’ outstretched hand.
All I have to do is get close enough, wait for a distraction, and walk through.
I force myself to walk toward it on the premise that my phone suddenly rings and I want somewhere private to answer it. It isn’t hard to make a phone form in my pocket, not hard to force its shrill ring to echo out.
I pluck it up and press it to my ear, muttering out a, “Hello dear.”
I reach the service door and stand right in front of it.
I’m no longer facing John, but I swear I can feel his eyes on the back of my neck.
A spark of recognition floods through me.
It warns me of his suspicion.
But it’s suspicion that can’t last.
The doors open.
I can feel an energy push toward them long before they open. It’s an energy that pushes toward me. It reminds me exactly of the dark feel of the wind spell that chased me through the city.
Senator Rogers.
I don’t let him see me. Just at the last minute, when I know that both Antonio and John’s attention will be locked on Senator Rogers as he walks through the door, I jerk a hand out, lock it on the handle in front of me, and open the door with magic.
I walk through. I don’t throw myself through as if my life depends on it, even though it does. I force myself to control the move so it doesn’t grab anyone’s attention.
But it’s not enough.
Someone looks at me. I can see him as I shift through the door, whirl on my foot, and press it closed.
John Rowley.
He makes eye contact with me. Just for half a second, but it’s enough.
The door closes, and I plant a sweaty hand on it, my heartbeat clamoring in my ears.
I can taste bitter saliva in my mouth, as if I’ve cut my lip. A dense pressure forms through my head, feeling like someone has shoved a balloon where my brain should be.
I wait. God, I can’t move as I just stand there and wait for John to burst through.
But he doesn’t. Even though he saw me, he doesn’t run after me.
... He can’t, can he?
Not only will he have to lock all his attention on Senator Rogers, but if John comes after me now, he’s only going to let the more powerful Rogers know I’m in the building.
Still shaking all over as if I’m having a fit, I push back from the door.
That’s when I see a surprised cleaner behind me. “How did you get in here?”
I spread a hand toward him, fingers wide and charged with magic. “Ignore me. You never saw me. Don’t go into the atrium – go back to your station. Have a nice day.”
My magic works immediately, despite the fact I feel like I’m about to fall over from fear.
The guy takes a shaky step back and blinks languidly as if he’s on the brink of sleep. Then he clasps a hand to his chin and lets it drop as he takes a deep, sleepy breath and turns.
He grabs up his mop and bucket and drags them away without another glance in my direction.
I plant a flat, sweaty hand on my chest, letting my camera disappear with a crackle as I try to still my wildly beating heart.
I take a forceful step away from the door, but it feels like dragging myself away from something that has hooks in me. John, to be precise. The look he shot me just before the door closed, to be even more precise.
It’s stuck in my mind’s eye, playing over and over again as if it’s the last thing I’ll ever see.
I shake my head to dislodge it, then do the one thing I really need to do. As I bring up a hand and make a specific move across my chest with one of my magic-laced fingers, my disguise changes.
Power spills around me as I go from being an old lady to being the exact opposite. Now I’m a young man. One of the cleaning staff. Fortunately I know the uniform well and I don’t even have to think.
Now I force myself to take another step forward. I don’t turn around and run, though.
... I linger as I wait to hear the sounds of battle. But the building doesn’t shake, and nor do I feel magic spill in under the crack of the door.
Nothing.
Maybe they’re just having a conversation. Which they wouldn’t be having if Senator Rogers saw me slip in here.
So I’m safe. For now. If I can hold it together long enough to get out of here in one piece.
I walk through the corridor and head into the bowels of the building.
The further I get away from the atrium, the more normal I feel. I don’t ever let my guard drop, though. I’m just as nervous as the moment I walked into Rowley Tower.
I know my way through the building, but I don’t immediately exit using a side entrance.
No.
It’s time to steal something else.
I need a car.
And though I already stole one from Spencer this morning, I know he would have already found it.
I find the lift that leads down to the car park, and I take it.
The whole time my body is stiff as I wait for either the fight to begin, or John to find me. But neither happens, and I make it into the car park.
I select the car I want.
Though there are security staff on duty, I quickly cast a spell so they can’t see me.
There’s one good thing that came out of my ill-advised car trip with Spencer this morning. I saw the spell he cast on his car to stop it from hitting that guy on the bike. And though, at the time, I was kind of freaked out, a part of me had still registered the spell.
I now try to recreate the way it felt as I stride over to a car, magically unlock it, and swing inside.
I don’t intend to drive through people, but I equally need to get away fast.
I start the car, ensuring a spell is in place around it so security doesn’t figure out I’m stealing a vehicle right out from under their noses.
They look completely bored as they stand by the stairwell, chatting to one another.
I cast them a single glance as I focus on the spell Spencer inadvertently cast on me.
I drive up the ramp and out on the street. As I do, I finally make my car visible as I seamlessly slip into traffic.
I use Spencer’s spell to shift the cars out of the way as I manage to loop all the way around the building. Though it’s dangerous, and all I should do is drive home, I can’t help but do a drive by.
I need to find out two things. And both of them are making my heart beat like crazy as I get in the lane that will get me closest to the front of Rowley Tower.
I pay no attention to the road whatsoever as I turn all the way around in my seat and rely on my spell to keep cars away from me.
I stare at the front doors to Rowley Tower, looking for any indication that a fight is going on inside.
... It’s fine.
There’s nothing. Even if both Senator Rogers and John were casting reality-bending magic to stop the general populace from witnessing their battle, they wouldn’t be able to fool me.
No. There’s just no fight. But before I can let that thought settle me, I see the doors open.
Out walks a man.
He’s in a gray pinstripe suit with a jet-black tie.
As he strides down the steps of Rowley Tower, he reaches into his front pocket, plucks out a pair of shades, and slips them over his nose.
But it’s not in time. Even from here, I see him.
Senator Rogers.
The king who bought me. And who, presumably, is eager to collect his purchase.
... I can’t even describe him. Though I can s
ee his face, I... it doesn’t make sense to me.
He’s young. I don’t understand how he’s a senator. And yet, at the same time, even from here, I can feel his wisdom. No. Wrong word. Experience. He feels like he’s fought more battles than John and Spencer combined. He feels like he knows this world inside out.
And there’s a problem with that. Because a man like that is not going to fumble. He’s not going to make any mistakes. He’s going to come after me with everything he has.
If it weren’t for the spell I learned from Spencer, I would’ve rammed into the car in front of me. I’m paying negative attention to the road. Honestly, it’s like my entire world has whittled down to me and my first glimpse of Senator Rogers.
He’s a little shorter than John, maybe by an inch or two. He’s not as muscular as Spencer, either.
That doesn’t matter. Because Rogers is a man for whom his build is irrelevant. It’s the look in his eyes that matters the most. A look that’s far more powerful than anything I’ve experienced, that seems to have the destructive capacity of a thousand nukes. But at the same time, it looks like he can make something from nothing.
And a man like that cannot be underestimated.
I finally force myself to jerk my head around, finally latch both hands on the steering wheel.
The whole time I was staring at Rogers, I didn’t take a single breath, and now my chest rattles and punches out as I finally suck in the deepest inhalation. It can do nothing for the fear that’s twisting around me, pushing me in as if I’m suddenly trapped by a hurricane.
I rock back and forth in my seat as if I’ve just been hit by a car. No, wait, this feels like a freight train. My whole body is shaking worse than it ever has before. Because it’s telling me one thing. I managed to escape being acquired by John and Spencer through luck and grit. But neither luck nor grit are going to have any chance of working against Rogers. With Rogers, it will just be a matter of time. The longer he’s allowed to stay in this city and hunt for me, the more the likelihood that I’ll be able to escape him will be whittled down until it’s zero.
And the second it’s zero? I’m a dead woman walking. Or worse – a woman who will never be able to escape again.
I practically let the car drive itself down the street as I only keep one perfunctory hand on the steering wheel. With the other, I cover my face and rock back and forth until the leather seat behind me creaks like a tree under wind.
One or two tears threaten to trickle down my cheeks and moisten my fingers, but at the last moment, I clench my teeth and force them back.
No way. No way am I going to cry. There’s no time, and I refuse to lower myself. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think crying is a sign of weakness. Just the opposite, you cry when you need emotional release. But these tears aren’t release. They’re fear incarnate. The kind of fear that whispers poison in my ear and tells me the only way I can get away from it is to turn right around and surrender to Senator Rogers.
“Pull yourself together,” I snap so quickly the words whip through the car and echo in the enclosed space like a blast from a horn.
The words do their job. I sit straighter. I stare right ahead.
And I think.
What next?
I managed to escape Rogers for now, but the game has just changed, again.
And it’s time to look for another path forward.
I know one thing as I drive aimlessly through the streets, looking for a place to ditch the car.
I don’t know what I’ll be doing for the next few days, but in three days’ time, I know exactly where I’ll be.
At the garden party.
Because there, all the players will align. And I will have to face them regardless of whether I want to or not.
Chapter 5
I MAKE IT HOME.
I don’t think I’ve ever been more tired. I’ve fought harder, God knows I have. I’ve been injured, too – so badly it knocks me out.
But this is a different type of weariness. It doesn’t come from my bones and muscles – it comes from my mind. A mind that is thoroughly sick of new surprises, of new sources of fear. And, more than anything, of new kings.
I walk over to my bed, lock a hand on my face, flop down, clench my teeth, and let out an aching scream. It’s loud enough that all my neighbors below me should be able to hear. But I stifle it with magic. I let it echo around my room and nothing more as I clench both hands into fists and strike them against my bed. One after the other, until I almost break the frame beneath the mattress.
I stop just in time and lock my petrified but pissed off gaze at the ceiling. The dirty rafters, the dust and cobwebs.
They offer me no reason and no consolation.
Nothing will.
The only thing that’s going to make me feel better, let alone save me, is action.
A point I prove to myself as I push past my weariness by launching off my bed, landing with a thump, and stalking over to my fridge. I wrench open the door, pull out what I need, and eat over the sink. Though crumbs of cheese and butter and bread land into the sink, I just reach right in with a greedy hand, pick them up, and shove them in my mouth. They taste a little of dishwashing liquid, but I don’t care.
I’m not in this for the flavor.
Once I’ve fed myself, though I’m as ravenous as a pig, I push back from the sink and slowly tilt my head around the room.
My gaze is inexorably drawn back to Walter’s phone. I find myself pushing toward it before I know what I’m doing. I pluck it up with a quick, shaking grip, turn it on and thumb through the files until I get to the message about the ancient gameboard beneath Rival City. Just reading the text sends a blast of fear and recognition jumping hard up my back. It’s way more powerful than swallowing electricity. It feels like I’m a generator – and hey, I am. For a few sparks of magic react to my emotional turmoil and charge up my body. I don’t let them harm the phone, though. I cradle it like a baby and insulate it from my anger.
I hook a foot around the plastic chair that sits in front of my desk, and I pull it out. I sit, ensuring my weight doesn’t slam into the flimsy legs of the chair and cause it to crack.
I’ve done enough stealing for one day.
Though I was reluctant to ditch John’s car, considering transport sure would be handy, it’s too much of a risk. I left it on the opposite side of the city, as far away from my apartment as you could imagine.
I wonder what John will think when he finds it. Hell, I wonder what he’s thinking now.
I know he recognized me as I slipped into the service corridor. The first time he would have clapped eyes on the Last Queen since I took control of his chessboard several weeks ago.
I find myself staring over the top of the phone as I think about him.
I’m pulled. I’m always pulled. But this time I’m more pulled than ever. I cast my mind back to his suspicion. To Antonio’s anger. They obviously both still think that I attacked Walter. Or if not attacked him, John clearly doesn’t trust me enough to honor my version of events.
That really pisses me off.
“You keep asking me to trust you,” I say through clenched teeth, “but if you won’t even trust me, what the hell am I meant to do?”
It’s a question no one can answer, and before I let it undo me, I shake my head and cast my attention back to Walter’s phone.
I’ve already looked through it a hundred times, but now I scroll to a specific message.
I sit straighter.
Though there isn’t an exact location for where Walter thought the ancient gameboard was, there is location data stored in his phone.
I know where he was the afternoon before he died. And it was down in the flood tunnel system beneath the city.
I haven’t had a chance to check it out yet. No, scratch that, I haven’t had the balls. Just thinking about heading under the city to potentially find the location of an ancient gameboard that could start a war fills me with the exact kind of fear it shou
ld.
The kind of fear that feels as if it will rip you to shreds and throw you to the birds.
But you know what? I have a far worse fear to deal with now. And that fear has a name, a set of piercing eyes, too. Senator Rogers.
Just the thought of him does the craziest things to my body. I feel like I’m on a pitching ship, and if it weren’t for the fact I was firmly seated, I would’ve ended up face first on the floor.
As soon as I think about Rogers, John’s warning slams into my mind. The more I imprint kings, the harder it will be for me to turn away. The reason that warning slammed into my mind is my intuition tells me that I can’t afford to let Rogers imprint me once.
I go back to my first impression of him. He’s not a man who makes mistakes. He’s way more experienced than anyone I’ve met. He’ll know loopholes to this game I don’t. He’ll know spells I can’t even imagine.
I cannot afford to face him directly in battle.
Which means I need an edge.
And I can’t help but feel that that edge is this ancient gameboard.
That thought strikes me again. A thought I’ve been pushing away as hard as I possibly can.
It’s a thought that treacherously tells me that if I can find a gameboard of my own, I can use my own army. Because I do have my own army. The horse confirmed that fact. Every person I’ve ever killed in the name of this game is stored as an after impression in my magical aura.
One of the reasons the kings are so eager to get hold of me is as soon as they acquire me, they acquire my army.
But what if I can find a way to wield my army on my own?
What if I can find a way to attack the kings directly?
I know it’s possible to command a chessboard – just like I did with John’s.
I just have to find one.
I stand. My legs are shaky at first, but I just clench my muscles until I stand as straight as I possibly can.
Every day, I’m forced to take new risks, but this will be the worst.
I tilt my head to the side, staring out of my windows. Dusk is already settled. Night seems to come quicker these days. Pushed on by the wind, maybe. Or maybe, like I mused before, it’s all in my head. Maybe I can only see darkness now where once there was light.
The Last Queen Book Three Page 6