The Magic Queen (10 page)

“Like it or not, Fellatio,”—she brushed her fingers along his now scaly back— “I’m just as powerful as you. So let’s play nice. Okay?” Laughing, she planted a kiss atop his horny head, liking him much better when he couldn’t talk back.

~*~

Freyr

Freya had always told him that he was a boar when he didn’t get his sleep. He had no idea where he was. Baba had stepped through a glowing portal, emerging in a place full of water with only a few outcroppings of rocky soil.

He hopped on strange legs on the gravel, attempting to adjust to this strange new body. He should be angrier than he was. Deep down, he knew this was his fault. He’d only meant to tease her. He’d had no intention of sinking quite so much of his magick into her, but she’d gone so soft and pliant on him, and he’d thought more with his cock than his brain in that moment.

Last night had been hellish for him, sleeping out in the open and forced to endure the cold, howling winds. He hadn’t really meant to seduce her against her will. He’d thought it’d been going smashingly too. He’d planned to unlock her from his magick, to give her the choice to accept him only to be shocked to discover she’d never been as gripped by lust as he’d thought. He’d smelled her need for him, but she’d remained herself.

Smiling a froggy smile, he wondered if she meant to keep him in this form for long. A fly flew past. His stomach rumbled.

When in Rome...

~*~

Baba Yaga

“Stop that!” She kicked out at the frog, not hard. She wasn’t trying to kill it, but he was eating flies. Fellatio turned froggy blue eyes up at her, croaked, and snatched up another one. The idiot was sassing her.

Her lips twitched.

She turned toward Peabrain. “Well, where is Fable?”

Baba Yaga inspected her hunting grounds. The area was far too open to have any suitable places to hide. Dark, deep blue water surrounded them. Large gray fins swam among the small islands of land that consisted only of a small bit of moss, kelp, and sand.

There were a lot of sand flies though. Transforming Fryer into a frog had been a stroke of genius after all. He happily munched away on fly after fly, and she had to admit that his little froggy legs were sort of adorable. Even as a frog, he was attractive.

Peabrain shrugged. “She’ll be here—”

His words were interrupted by a loud and terrifying screech from above. Glancing up, Baba spotted an extremely large shadow winging overhead. With its long serpentine neck and tail and bat-like wings, it could be nothing other than a dragon. Her hunch was proven accurate a moment later when it dove for land. Its golden scales shimmered like fire in the sunlight. The massive beast landed on the island opposite Baba, spraying a cloud of sand in every direction and forcing her to cover her eyes.

Freyr croaked in distress. His pouch expanded like a balloon. Kneeling, she scooped him up and shoved him down her bodice. At first, the frog seemed like he wanted to run away until it clearly dawned on him where he’d been shoved because a little bottom wiggled on one breast, and something tacky and sticky caressed her other breast. She didn’t need to glance down to know he was licking her.

“Fellatio, behave.”

His wiggling didn’t stop, but he did at least cease his licking.

When she glanced back to the other island, she saw Fable being helped down off the dragon’s back by her male. Baba’s eyes narrowed as she noted the length of time they held hands and the way the male squeezed before letting go. He was taller than he’d appeared in her scrying bowl with long, black, polished hair that fell down to his waist. His skin was a deep brownish-red color. And even from this distance, she caught the glow of stars twinkling in his eyes.

The name that’d evaded her all night long suddenly came with clarity: Owiot, Native American god of children. A lesser-known god and not incredibly powerful. Fellatio was tougher.

And there was one fatal flaw she could and would exploit. She grinned, lips curling up almost devilishly as her game plan solidified in her head. This game wouldn’t need to go all day. Fable wouldn’t last even an hour against her.

The dark queen hadn’t dressed at all for battle. She wore a gown the colors of smoke and ash. It flowed wide around her ankles and had Baba Yaga snorting in derision.

“Foolish chit,” she muttered beneath her breath, fingering her pendant. Calling forth the bottles she’d need, she took them as they appeared, one by one, on her palm and slipped them into the pockets of the hidden vest she wore.

Baba hadn’t known what sort of terrain she’d be forced to endure for this trial, so she’d dressed with just about anything in mind. Gathering her skirts, she rucked the dress up off her body, shimmying out of it before tossing it to the ground. Freyr buried himself beneath her corset, making her look like she had three breasts instead of two, though one was badly malformed and lumpy.

She held her head high as she stared them down, dressed in nothing but her skivvies and a tight leather vest. Oh, and boots. She probably looked a fool. She hardly cared.

Fable’s eyes were fixed firmly on Baba, confused and unsure. Freyr croaked. The sound was different this time. He croaked again, this time louder and rougher, as though he were trying to get her attention. Frowning, she looked down at him and snapped. “What?”

The little frog twitched, his blue eyes full of venom. He was angry. She had no idea why until she noticed that he kept casting his eyes toward the opposite shore, toward Owiot in particular, and then back at her. It took less than a second for her to realize he didn’t want her parading half naked around another male.

The thought almost made her laugh. “Oh, shut up, and eat flies. I have to protect
your
honor now.”

He bristled again, but in the end, did as told and resumed his fly eating. The dragon that’d delivered Fable and Owiot flew into the air.

Peabrain, who’d been so silent that Baba had forgotten him, snapped his fingers. “Hope you die.”

She frowned. Had he really said that, or had she missed the “don’t” in there? “What?”

He sniffed and hopped toward the shimmering veil that would transport him out of the realm. Without even a backward glance, he vanished. She was pretty sure he had actually wished her death.

“Little bastard.” But she couldn’t help chuckling. His honesty was refreshing.

Freyr wiggled his butt. She popped him on it to get him to stop moving. What good was hiding the brute if he only made his presence known?

Owiot grabbed Fable’s hand, bringing her into his side and leaning in to whisper something in her ear. The dark queen swayed toward him, her body moving like iron shavings into a magnet. The two were halfway to being deliriously in love already. It nauseated Baba.

Curling her lips, she called, “If you’re done playing kissy face with ugly over there, let’s get on with this already.”

Fable twirled, and suddenly there was no longer a docile, pretty, spoiled queen standing in front of her but a raging tsunami of fury. “I will end you!”

Touchy, touchy. My, my
. Well, it did seem like the goddesses had made at least one successful pairing after all.

“I’d like to see you try!” she called back, unable to stop herself from antagonizing the pretty villainous.

The waters churned and frothed. Waves crashed upon Baba’s shore. Winds howled, whipping the sea higher and higher. Storm clouds gathered above. Lightning and thunder rolled in. Rain pelted Baba’s face. A black fog obscured her vision of the opposite beach and Owiot. She realized she’d just roused a sleeping dragon.

Grinning happily, Baba clapped her hands together and dodged a lightning strike. “Missed me!”

“Where’s your male!” Fable roared even above the din of nature gone berserk.

Baba laughed. “Find him if you want him so badly. I’m sure you’d be his type. Anything’s his type. Probably even your male would be his type.”

She made a lascivious gesture with her tongue and fingers. Freyr croaked angrily.

“Oh, hush,” she muttered beneath her breath just to him. “This is a game, Fellatio, so let me play it.”

Baba slipped one of her vials out: a locating spell. Tipping it over, she grasped onto the wiggling, squirming, inky spell. Bringing her hand to her lips, she whispered, “Owiot.”

Like lightning, the spell raced off her palm, temporarily obliterating the veil of fog obscuring Owiot, and hit the male square in his chest, absorbing instantly into his flesh. Owiot, who was looking down with a look of anxious worry on his face rubbed at his chest, no doubt wondering why he hadn’t exploded into a shower of crimson.

She smiled serenely. If they only knew...

Fable’s aquamarine eyes grew thick with rage. “What have you done, you witch?”

“Now, now. Temper. Temper.” She
tsked
a finger and laughed as another strike of lightning came bearing down, this time scant inches from her booted heel.

It was only then that it dawned on Baba that Caly’s favoritism had extended even to this trial. Fable was the daughter of the Sea King. She controlled water. More than that, she also controlled shadow. That dress that’d Baba had assumed to be made of cloth the colors of smoke and ash was in fact the real deal. All-consuming darkness coiled out around Baba like a serpent’s tail so swiftly she couldn’t toss up a shield in time. It banded tight around her body so that she couldn’t even see the hand in front of her face.

Freyr croaked.

“Well, shite,” she snapped. She might have underestimated Fable a wee bit.

A flash of lightning nearly blinded her and caused Baba to trip out of its way, which also caused her to land on her hip on a sharp rocky outcropping that’d appeared as though by magick beside her. Thoroughly annoyed now, she reached for another vial. The
ryba
—Russian for fish, since that’s exactly what Fable was to Baba now—had made her bleed. Well played, but she was done playing.

“You will show me your male!” Fable pressed on, her words echoing with the winds so that she seemed to be everywhere at once.

Tipping over the bottle, Baba snatched up a huge fistful of the powder. “You seem to really have a hard-on for my male. What’s the matter,
ryba
? Owiot not man enough for you?”

A scream of rage mingled with a roll of thunder. If only Baba wasn’t blinded by this goddess- awful fog, she’d have ended this long ago. Fable was strong, but she was too emotional, too caught up in her fury to think rationally. She was bound to trip up soon.

Baba would only have to endure this a tiny bit longer. She really did know what she was doing, though she hadn’t quite expected the onslaught of Fable’s power to be so ferocious.

Baba’s blood sizzled with a rush of endorphins. Sand tore at her face, rubbing her raw. Freyr’s tacky tongue was back on her nipple, though this time, it seemed more like he’d done it to hang on than to make out.

Clutching the powder tight, Baba stood stock-still, listening with all her might. And even though a storm raged she smirked. Able to control water, Fable had no doubt crafted some sort of a bridge to reach across to Baba’s island.

The purpose of this game was for Baba to kill Owiot or Fable to end Freyr—and also to figure out the riddle. That bit was proving to be a little more challenging since she didn’t have a clue what the riddle even was.

For now, she’d focus on the first part: kill Owiot. Baba didn’t need to be in love with Freyr for her to not want to see him dead. She was rather partial to the baboon when it was all said and done.

“Owiot,” she called, knowing he was close because she could hear the bell-link ringing in her head from the locator spell. “I think that maybe you and I have gotten off on the wrong foot, don’t you think? I don’t hate you. I just need to kill you. It’s nothing personal, really.”

The male was mere yards away. Finally, she put her plan into place. She cast the powder out of her hands, directing its flow some twenty feet to the left of her. The shrill, piercing cry of a baby rent the space between them.

“A child, Fable! She’s hidden a child!” Owiot cried.

And there, right there, she’d exposed his weakness. Owiot, the male made of stars and pining for the child he could never have could never allow harm to come to any child.

And just as Baba knew the bleeding hearts would do, Fable sucked the darkness back into her gown and killed the winds. Owiot and Fable looked around frantically for the source of the child’s cries. In Baba’s hands was a vial of black death. Fable and Owiot paused, looking puzzled, knowing they’d heard the cries of an innocent, but finding nothing.

“Oh, there’s no child. I just made you think it.” Baba shook the little pewter vial.

Owiot and Fable held up their hands, tortured looks on both their faces as they realized that they’d come at Baba with everything they’d had, but in the end, she’d bested them.

“There is however, death in here. I’m sorry, Owiot, I’m sure you’re a perfectly nice—”

Ribbit. Ribbit. Ribbit.

Freyr’s head popped free, and Baba groaned because she knew the instant Fable saw him, she’d put two and two together. A strong wind blew, snatching Freyr into the air. His cute little froggy legs dangled as he croaked and bellowed for all he was worth.

Baba rolled her eyes. She’d had them too.
Damn that insufferable idiot.
Baba saw the flare of bloodlust rise in Fable’s eyes, and her spine stiffened. Like hell that woman would take away Baba’s male.

Little known fact: Baba was wicked good at knife throwing. Slipping the knife from its sheath on her thigh, she aimed and threw.

It landed with a dull
thwack
in Owiot’s foot, pinning him to the ground. He bellowed in fury and pain. And Fable turned her eyes from Freyr to him.

That split-second distraction was all Baba needed. She’d already had her powder in hand. Tossing it at her idiot male, she transformed him back to the arrogant, good-looking bastard he was. His grin made her heart stutter. And now that he was not only human, but also had his godhood back, Freyr didn’t need to ask her what to do. Reaching for a small pouch threaded through his belt loop, he yanked it off and tossed it.