Queen of The Hill (Knight Games)

by Genevieve Jack

  Juice dripped down my chin. Blood pulsed in my temples. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. I lifted both hands, tingling with power. The normally blue hue of my veins purpled under my skin and the muscles in my forearms bulged.

  “Your eyes,” Julius said. “The power is in you. Are you still of your own mind?”

  “Hell yes!” My magic threatened to burst the seams of my skin, but it didn’t own me. I was still me. “I’ve never had such clarity.”

  “Excellent.” Julius clenched his hands into fists and looked toward the house. “Let us teach Tabetha the ultimate lesson.”

  “No,” I said. “Tabetha is mine. Besides, I need your help with something else.”

  He scowled at me. “What?”

  “Dig up the rest of the trees. Pull them up by the roots. Free whoever is underneath.”

  A smile stretched across his face. “Disconnect her power source.”

  “Exactly.” I pointed my chin toward my familiar. “Poe, I need you to help him. Catch animals to feed whoever is buried here.”

  He landed in a nearby branch. “As you wish.”

  “While I am doing this deed, where will you be?” Julius asked.

  I turned toward the house, rolling my shoulders back and drawing Nightshade. “I thought I made myself clear. I will be taking my fiancé back … and killing Tabetha.”

  CHAPTER 29

  War and Roses

  Nightshade in hand, I strode up the veranda’s stone steps two at a time. Power, pure and unadulterated, pulsed aura-like around me and gave off a telltale shimmer. The air was thick and tingly. As far as I could tell, the fruit had the opposite effect on a Hecate as it did on other supernaturals—it amplified my control, made my mind sharp, and my magic more accessible.

  I thanked my goddess mother I’d had the courage to try it. I’d need all the help I could get if I was going to take down Tabetha. I shivered apprehensively but shook it off. Fear was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

  As I approached the door, the carnivorous flowers swayed in their pots. In two swipes of my blade, I beheaded the plants, and then carefully avoided the sap as it leaked around my toes. It sizzled menacingly on the stone. I pushed through the unlocked door.

  “Hello again,” the bow tie-clad man said. His vacant smile took on new meaning now that I understood Tabetha’s power. He wasn’t an overzealous employee. This man was drugged on fruit-filled pastry. He didn’t attempt to stop me as I climbed the stairs. His eyes drifted back toward the door. How long had he been standing there? How long would he stand there?

  The tangle of roses grew faster as I passed, their heady perfume filling the hallway. This time, the fruit I’d eaten seemed to protect me from the neurological effects. I didn’t feel dizzy or anxious in their presence. With a clear mind, I barged into Tabetha’s room.

  A naked Rick still lay on the bed, but he’d turned over to face the door. With a clear view of his face, I could see his eyes were glassy and his breathing as shallow as if he might be sleeping. Drugged.

  Naked Tabetha drew a finger down Rick’s outer arm. “You’re back,” she drawled. “A glutton for punishment?”

  “I came for my caretaker.” I clutched Nightshade in front of me with sweaty palms.

  “Your caretaker.” She scoffed. “Not anymore. You did not relinquish your territory to me, and I am due blood. He is mine now.”

  “You are due nothing,” I hissed. “Rick didn’t follow through with your spell. I offered you fair payment, a spell for a spell. It’s not our fault you didn’t accept.”

  She crawled off the bed, lifting a kimono patterned silk robe from a hook on the four-poster. She wrapped it around her shoulders and tied it at the waist, her gold scarab talisman peeking from the vee of silk at the neck. “Rick is here because he wants to be here. Right, sweetheart?”

  “Yes,” Rick said flatly. The word was a dagger to my heart.

  “Only because you’ve drugged him,” I said. “What did you do? How did you get him to eat the fruit, Tabetha?”

  “Ah, the fruit. Frankly, I’m surprised a baby witch like you figured it out.” Her features changed. She shed the pretense of Rick wanting to be there, in lieu of arrogance and ego. “Persigranates. My own personal hybrid. An act of pure magical genius on my part.” She picked up her wand from the nightstand. “An endless source of power and a convenient way to dispose of enemies. You want to know how I got Rick to eat it?” She pouted at me with full red lips. “A heart-shaped tart.” She giggled and rolled her eyes. “Men are so gullible. I left it on his counter with a note that it was from you, the witch who never cooks, in honor of your new beginning. How could he turn down such a sweet gift on your wedding day?”

  “He ate it because he thought I baked it for him,” I said more to myself than to her. That’s why he’d sent me the text about new beginnings. A text that meant he understood how difficult it must have been for me to learn to cook. A text that implicitly promised he would work hard to learn to text. My heart clenched.

  “Of course. He wouldn’t eat it if he knew it was from me.” She widened her eyes. “Blame yourself. I’d planned to use Logan to lure you here, but he’s gone missing. Then again, I’m sure you were behind that. Can’t lose your precious boy on the side. I could have found him easily enough, but he was never what I was after.”

  The thorny vines on the walls roiled and twisted as the magical tension between us took on the quality of cream soup. A thorny vine snaked across the floor toward my ankle. I sliced it in two and brushed it away.

  “Wake Rick up. I’m taking him home.”

  She laughed at me and sent a blast of energy in my direction. Instinctively, I shifted Nightshade, intercepting her attack. Her magic fizzled between us.

  Tabetha’s face fell, genuinely confused.

  I grinned. “Did I mention I had a snack of your fruit a moment ago? Interesting, the effect it has on a fellow witch.”

  Her lips peeled back from her teeth. “I’m still older and stronger,” she said. Absently, she touched the scarab around her neck.

  “We’ll see about that.” I attacked. Nightshade sang through the air. A blast of power from the tip of her wand blocked my blade and knocked me back six inches. I rushed her, struck again. Nightshade narrowly missed her throat.

  A hex exploded next to my ear. I lurched forward. I faked a stab at her heart and instead twisted my wrist to slide my blade under her collar of gold. I caught her scarab necklace with the tip and pulled. According to The Book of Light, the scarab amulet was channeling and intensifying her power. I planned to level the playing field. Nightshade sliced through the gold like butter. The scarab dropped from her throat and through her clutching fingers. I kicked it toward the bed.

  “You bitch,” she hissed. Hexes flew from her wand, exploding around my head as I parried her attack. All the while, her roses reached for me. Thorny whips whacked at my skin. I cut them away when I could and positioned myself closer to her. Close contact meant the thorns had equal chance of tripping her up as snaring my limbs.

  She grunted with the effort of dodging me as I swung with sword and fist. I kept her on the run, doubling down to avoid giving her a good shot with her wand. We circled back toward the bed. I crushed her scarab necklace under my heel. If it helped drain her power, I wouldn’t know. She used the distraction to land a curse on my left shoulder. The limb went limp and rubbery. Good thing I was a righty. I rounded Nightshade toward the crown of her head. She ducked and a lock of her hair floated to the floor, sheared off by my blade.

  “Uhng,” she grunted, rushing forward. A flick of her wrist, and a hex landed in my stomach. I coughed and gagged, a spray of blood peppering my hand. I forced myself to attack, even as a vine erupted over my tongue.

  “Thith old twick,” I said around the vine. As I’d seen Gary do, I grabbed the end of the plant and tore it out of my innards without pausing my one-armed attack. I was successful, but the roots brought up more blood and fleshy chunks. I tossed the mess aside. Without the fru
it, I might have bled to death, but despite the pain, I could feel myself healing.

  Tabetha panted. She was winded. I suspected between the destroyed scarab and Julius digging up her trees, her power was flagging. The flat of my sword slapped her on the side, and she yelped. I tripped from the force of impact. Tabetha took advantage of my wavering balance. She rushed me, lowered her shoulder, and tackled me into the full-length mirror in the corner of her room. I braced myself for impact and shattering glass. It never came.

  When she recoiled, I tried to follow. My head slapped a solid surface. I pressed my hand in front of me. Cold glass held me in place from the front and dark metal pressed into my back. Solid. Polished silver. Fuck! She’d locked me in the damned mirror.

  I kicked and punched, tried to stab the glass with Nightshade, even threw my shoulder against the glass hard enough I’d have a bruise.

  Tabetha shook her head. “You can’t break it, sister,” she said. “New trick I learned since I acquired Polina’s territory. You’re trapped inside the silver.” She pretended to toast the air with an invisible glass. “Here’s looking at you.”

  Bitch. I needed to concentrate. There was always a way. I thought about the pentagram of power Poe and Rick had taught me about. I was encased in metal. Certain elements fed metal; others weakened it. What weakened metal? Closing my eyes, I tried to picture what Rick had drawn on the envelope on my kitchen counter. If I had any hope of defeating Tabetha I needed to use my natural power. Fire. Fire melted metal. I focused on my breath and the sound of my heart. I had a power that could melt silver; I just needed to call it. Eyes open again, I lowered my chin and glared at Tabetha. She gripped one of the bedposts as the winds started, her hair whipping around her head in my gathering power. An electric cloud formed near the ceiling, rumbling and crackling like an angry god. I focused, channeling every ounce of anger I felt toward Tabetha into the cloud. A bolt of lightning sliced through the air and into my silver prison. The mirror shattered around me.

  In one powerful leap, I landed on my feet and drove Nightshade toward Tabetha’s heart. I missed, but the blade sank into her shoulder. Her high-pitched scream rattled the room. I withdrew the blade by slashing upward, ripping through her skin. I expected to see blood and lots of it. Instead, purple fruit filling—persigranate—slopped onto the floor. Fuck! She was made of the stuff.

  “Immortal, remember?” she said as the wound stitched itself up. “I wasn’t stupid enough to give my immortality to a caretaker.”

  While I gaped at the realization she was a walking jelly-filled donut, the roses on the walls got all touchy feely. Apparently my electrical storm had woken them up, or else Tabetha was just getting serious. Thorns wrapped around my ankles. I hacked at the vines, only to have more encircle my waist and yank me back against the wall. My skull slapped the drywall. The impact was hard enough to break my concentration. The winds stopped. The electric cloud dissipated.

  I wriggled and thwacked, my blade slicing again and again. The roses kept growing. Thorns dug into my wrists, my forehead, my neck. Soon I was bound spread eagle to her bedroom wall as if I were part of some warped S & M game.

  My gaze darted toward Rick, still catatonic on the bed. “Rick, help. Please!” I begged.

  He didn’t even turn his head.

  “Rick is in a much better place now,” Tabetha said, her wand raised between us. “And when I’m done with him, he’ll make a beautiful addition to my garden.” She sauntered up to me, all attitude and swagger. She squeezed my chin. “So will you.”

  Rage poured out of me in a blast of wind that knocked her on her ass. I called the lightning again. A massive bolt struck the floor at my feet and fried the vines binding me. I levitated over a huge hole the strike had made in the floor and flashed a deadly stare in the direction of Tabetha’s crumpled form. Boom! The hex flew from her wand without warning. She’d been playing dead!

  I dropped like a rock, landing on the edge of the jagged hole in the floor. Unfortunately, the section I landed on gave way. I fell through the floorboards, thorns and wood scraping and poking, until I slammed into the dining room table. The wood cracked and toppled under the impact. My body bounced off a chair and landed in a heap on the stone floor of the dining room.

  “Fuck!” Blood. Everywhere. I’d broken my nose and probably a leg. A bloody gash split my stretchy black shirt, and my bottom rib smarted when I tried to move. “Nightshade.” I’d dropped her when I fell. I searched the rubble around me but couldn’t find her.

  “She bleeds,” Tabetha said from the doorway. New vines wound around my throat and dragged me by the neck over the rubble and toward the fireplace. I might have screamed if I wasn’t strangled silent. The vines hauled me up the brick wall where I dangled and kicked my legs. My tongue protruded from my mouth as I attempted to gasp for breath, and my fingers clawed at the strangling plants.

  “You’re practically human,” she taunted. “Live like a human, die like a human, I always say.”

  Black spots danced at the corners of my vision. The light constricted like a tunnel that led straight to Tabetha. To my credit, she did not lower her wand, despite the fact I was dangling helplessly by the neck. The thought bolstered me. I was a threat. Darkness pressed in. I hated that she would be the last thing I saw before I died. Her and the man standing behind her. Men. Covered in dirt. Zombies? No. Whoever they were, they attacked Tabetha from behind, a mob of ripping hands and tearing limbs. Tabetha screamed and flailed her wand.

  Oh. I needed oxygen. Levitation. I tried to clear my mind and call the air around me, but I was too weak. It fizzled against my skin, barely a tickle.

  “This is the third time I’ve saved you,” Julius said into my ear. He ripped the vines from my throat, and I crashed into his torso. His forearm was the only thing that kept me from crumbling to the floor. I pulled air into my lungs in greedy gulps. My throat burned.

  “Come now, Hecate,” Julius said. “Pull it together and take what is yours. And do it quickly. The blood on your face is almost more than I can bear.”

  I staggered to my feet, foot really. Only one leg worked. I extended my hand. “Nightshade,” I whispered with intention. A pile of rubble to my right vibrated and spit out my blade. She flew into my hand.

  Tabetha was still screaming, but she was also fighting back. The plants coiled and heaved against her captors. At least fifty former supernatural lovers had come to bring Tabetha her due. Purple flesh with green seeds bled from her wounds like sand from a sandbag, but she was immortal. She healed almost as fast as they pulled her apart.

  I approached the fight with Nightshade glowing blue. “She. Is. Mine.”

  “She is ours,” a female voice said from the other side of the crowd. The men parted, and I saw a redheaded woman, dirty with torn clothes.

  “Polina,” Tabetha spat. “I … I …”

  “You are over.” With a wave of the woman’s hand, the metal gargoyles on either side of the fireplace leapt forward and wrapped their claws around Tabetha’s legs, shackling her to the stone floor. Polina locked eyes with me. “Do it now. Mother has given you permission.” She pointed to my blade.

  Usually blue, Nightshade had turned onyx black, the scent of sulfur and death leaching from the sharp length of bone. Shaky, I limped forward, bloody and broken. My injuries must have been extensive because I moved at a snail’s pace. My vision swam with pain and dripping blood.

  Tabetha’s eyes widened at the sight of my black blade. “Don’t listen to her, Grateful. I could be an ally. I could give you the children you desire with Rick. A simple potion is all it would take. If you spare me, I’ll help you. I am your sister.” Her dark lips pouted and pleaded with me.

  I pictured her an hour ago, in bed with Rick, and chuckled. Through my teeth, I said, “I’m an only child.” I swung Nightshade with everything I had left and sent her head tumbling from her neck.

  It was the last thing I did before my body gave out.

  CHAPTER 30

 
Polina

  “Drink of me,” Rick said. He tipped his head to the side, revealing his jugular.

  I straddled his lap, but unlike every other time I’d done so, he did not respond to me physically. “What’s wrong?” I asked. The words came out as a mumble, gibberish with the cadence of vocabulary.

  “Drink,” he demanded. He pressed the back of my head firmly so that my lips hovered over his pulse.

  I was woozy and in pain. Blood and other things leaked from a wound in my abdomen, and my leg hung awkwardly from my hip. Survival instinct took over, and I sank my teeth into his skin. His blood, a sweet elixir of magic and mojo, flowed down my throat, swallow after swallow. In response, the pain became more acute, then faded to pressure, then a tightness of my skin. I heard my nose snap into position. Felt my rib pop into place and my eye lift in its broken socket. A tickle along my scalp meant my hair was growing back where I supposed it had been ripped out of my head.

  Lost in the pleasure of Rick’s blood, I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I was flat on my back with Rick’s wrist in my mouth and a redheaded witch leaning over me. Fuck, I’d been dreaming.

  “Drink,” the witch said, pressing Rick’s bloody wrist to my lips.

  Pushing his arm away, I scrambled to a seated position. I must have been dreaming. I was on Tabetha’s four-poster bed. Gross. Rick was stretched out beside me. I shook his shoulder. He looked dead, eyes glassy and distant, limbs unmoving. “Why isn’t he better?”

  “Eating the fruit is like being bitten by a snake. His body and mind are paralyzed until it wears off. It could be hours or days. Frankly, I’ve never seen anyone this unresponsive. I suspect Tabetha had to give him a large dose of persigranate to keep him under control. Probably means he had a strong will to escape. But don’t concern yourself. I’m sure he will live through this and be as good as new.”