The Magic Queen (15 page)

“You’re hurt!” she snapped at him, fear turning her words sharp.

Clutching at his stomach, he gritted his teeth and gingerly rolled to a sitting position. “There isn’t much that can hurt me, but other gods can.” His voice was filled with pain but still held a thread of his customary laughter.

Ignoring her own wounds, she slapped his hands away and shoved up his shirt, eyes quickly scanning the damage. Her insides rioted with tension, and a knot of cloying, oily fear made her feel short of breath and dizzy.

“I’m fine, woman. I’m fine,” he whispered.

But she didn’t relax until she’d pressed down on the small, circular wound several times, determining that though the fire had cut a path straight through his abdomen and out his back, it’d hit no major organs, and he wouldn’t bleed to death.

Gods, by nature, were made of sturdy stuff. But the Norse gods weren’t as indestructible as some of their counterparts. Ragnorak was a prophecy long spoken of among their people, an end-of-the-world-type destruction that was doomed to take down many of their major gods—of whom Freyr was one.

Thankfully, Ragnorak wasn’t slated to happen for many more eons yet, and it never would if Baba had anything to say about it. There were ways to change one’s destiny, and she knew them all. But because of that foolish prophecy, Freyr’s health was far more delicate than she cared to admit, even to herself.

She closed her eyes. “It’ll heal.”

Only after she’d spoken did she realize how much that mattered to her. Her stomach curled in on itself, and she had to clutch at his shoulders to remain upright.

Her own injury made itself known. Nauseous and breaking out in a sweat, she tried to breathe through the fiery pain. Unlike the rest of them in this goddess-forsaken realm, she was not a god and could die. Quite easily.

“Love.” Freyr’s word was gentle, drawing her back from the agony of pain. His touch on her cheek was feather light as he whispered, “You are unwell.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m good. I’m just—”

In a rush, adrenaline zipped through her body, and she shoved to her feet. She realized that in all the time she’d been worrying over him, she’d left them both exposed to Fiera power. Twirling, suffering a moment’s vertigo, she looked directly at Fiera, who only smiled back at them.

“Wonder why I didn’t end you, witch?” Fiera’s words echoed loudly in a world that’d suddenly grown hauntingly quiet. She held up her hand. Shimmering and floating upon it was a small fire orb. But it wasn’t the fire orb that mattered. It was the deep, crimson jewel of blood protected inside it.

Only gods’ blood glowed so brightly. Heart thundering like horses’ hooves in her ears, Baba shook her head.

Fiera nodded. “I got what I wanted.”

As a practitioner of magick, Baba knew the properties of blood inside and out, knew the havoc that could be wreaked by a witch upon one unfortunate enough to lose even a precious drop of it. Somehow, some way, Fiera had obtained a single—now crystallized—drop of Freyr’s blood.

“No!” She screamed and snapped her fingers, cancelling out Xolotl’s incarceration in the invisible netting.

He dropped with a thud to the thin ice, cracking it into a million spider-webs. He clawed at the ice for traction, but with a mighty groan, it fractured, and he fell through. The fireball in Fiera’s hand vanished, as she dove into the waters for her lover. Baba could only hope he’d drown first.

“Mistress!” The sharp, childlike voice snagged Baba’s attention. She glanced to her left, noticing that Peabrain had returned and was looking down into the water with a look of sheer horror written on his face.

The kicking and noise suddenly vanished. And they were gone.

Peabrain looked up at Baba, and with a lone tear dripping down his cheek and his face twisted into a mask of rage, he shook his head once and then
poofed
out of existence.

That look caused Baba’s heart to sink. That’d been pure hate reflected back in those demon eyes. But she didn’t have to time to think about the fact that if Peabrain hadn’t hated her before, now he totally did.

Neither Fiera nor Xolotl could have vanished on their own. Baba had a quick second to wonder if they had actually drowned, and maybe that was why the battle had ended. But then shouldn’t she and Freyr have been spirited back to their own realm?

Thunderous clapping boomed around her. Baba twirled toward the source of it, only to note a funnel of pure water rising up and shaping itself into a female with sensual curves. Calypso, in all her elemental glory, stared down at them with lightning dancing in her eyes. Her hair was seaweed, her dress built of fish scales, and her flesh was as transparent as a thin stream on a sunny day. The sounds of her clapping continued to ring out around them, and Baba’s stomach rolled. She’d expected this, and yet somehow, she’d managed to forget all about it too.

“You’ve battled well, witch.” Calypso’s words sounded like the roar of a tsunami pounding the shore.

Baba’s brows felt like they’d just risen above her hairline. She moved in front of Freyr, who’d stood up at some point, spreading her arms wide as she shielded him from the goddess’ view. It was a vain effort, of course. Freyr reached up a hand to her shoulder and squeezed gently, making her hiss in dizzying pain. But his touch grounded her, pain or no, so she gritted her teeth and bore it.

“But you’ve bested both my granddaughter and my sister. Those are unpardonable offenses in my book.” She shrugged as if sorry, but Baba wasn’t fooled for a minute.

“How the hell do you expect me to battle and not to hurt them?” Baba snapped, knowing that Calypso would say nothing. Mostly, she’d said it to show Calypso just how foolish her notions were.

“Well, true.” Caly shrugged. “It’s really nothing personal. I’ve punished anyone who’s come against them, which ironically has been all of them.”

She laughed, and Baba rolled her eyes.

What a bunch of arrogant, stupid
—

Caly grinned, and Baba groaned, realizing her foolish mistake. Her thoughts were not her own here.

“Well, my dear witch, I hope you’ve had fun and will continue to do so. Until we meet again, I’ll leave you with a parting gift.” Calypso snapped her fingers, and power rushed through the winds, slamming forcefully against Baba until she was forced to take a step back.

“Ta-ta, you crazy lovebirds.” Calypso laughed, and she too was gone.

They’d been returned to their own realm.

With a sinking heart, Baba looked down at herself and groaned. “Well, hell.”

Chapter 9

Baba Yaga

Baba hissed as she flicked the bowl full of rat carcasses out of the fire. The meat sizzled, bubbled, and smelled incredible. Rodent or not, she was hungry enough to eat all of it.

“Want one?” She flicked a glance toward Freyr.

His nose was curled and his lips downturned. “By the gods, woman, you really are ugly.”

He shuddered, and she chuckled because there was nothing to do but laugh about it. Of all the ways Calypso could have gotten back at her, the very last thing Baba’d have expected was for the goddess to attack the one thing that’d never meant anything to her before: Her vanity.

Picking up a smoked rat, she tossed it at his chest. His reflexes had improved. He very neatly snatched it up and brought it to his mouth, smacking his lips before taking his first big bite and moaning in ecstasy.

When she’d first seen what Calypso had done to her, Baba had felt the heat of tears gather in her eyes. She’d experienced a barrage of confusing emotions: rage, shame, mortification, humiliation, and finally acceptance. The tears dried up. At some point soon, she’d be forced to wear her crone form. And whether Fryer saw it now or saw it later, he’d see it.

Picking up her rat, she began to eat.

“How is your shoulder?” he asked without looking up, probably so that he wouldn’t be forced to gaze upon her for too long.

Truth was, she never even kept mirrors in her home because she was really that vile. She couldn’t blame him.

Wiggling her shoulder, she sighed. “Better, though it’ll take at least forty-eight hours for the spell to heal it fully. At least I don’t feel like vomiting anymore.”

He cringed as she spoke. Another side effect of her crone form: her voice sounded like dusty, rattling bones.

“Well, that’s good,” he said politely, continuing to stare down at the meat in his hand.

Baba’s pressed her lips tight, holding back the chuckle. He was trying so hard to be nice that it was difficult holding it in. Even she could appreciate the irony here. A sex god forced to endure the crone form of the woman supposedly destined to be his mate. It made for a good story, anyway.

Clearing her throat, which sounded an awful lot like breaking glass, she decided to see t how far she could press his endurance. “So tell me—”

He looked up then quickly flicked his eyes back down. His lips wobbled heavily. The male was definitely about to start laughing. It might have been hard on a woman’s ego, if she’d ever actually had one. He snorted. He was one second away from losing it.

Rolling her eyes theatrically, she feigned disgust. “Alright, enough of this. Just do it then. Get it off your chest.”

The peal of laughter that rolled off his tongue soared to the heavens as he doubled over, grabbing hold of his stomach and wheezing.

It took him a solid five minutes to settle down. She merely crooked a brow, waiting. There was more. There was always more.

“Well—” she prompted him. “I know you’re not done.”

Laughter continued to light up his eyes. “Can you curdle milk with that face? I’m sure you could. You know, I think my mother would love you.”

“Really why?” she asked, bored.

“Because curdled milk is her favorite breakfast food.”

He bent over laughing and slapping his knee once more. That one was rather funny. She might have snickered a time or two. But it seemed Freyr had only just started.

“Knock, knock.”

“Oh, gods,” she groaned, planting her chin on her fist. “Not that.”

He flicked his wrist. “C’mon, you have to answer. You can’t not answer a knock-knock joke. Now...” He cleared his throat. “Knock. Knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“You’re ugly!” He broke out into another peal of laughter. His entire body quivered with it.

And she simply couldn’t resist joining in with gusto. “You’re lucky I have a good sense of humor about this right now, Fellatio. Were you anyone else, I’d have probably eaten you.”

Tears streamed from his eyes as he wiped them up with the pads of his thumbs. “
Ohhhh
.” He sighed. “I’ve not laughed so hard in ages.”

“Got it out of your system then?”

He was about to nod before he started chuckling once more. But it wasn’t full-body spasms, so they were definitely making progress.

She only had to endure it for another ten minutes before she witnessed his shoulders droop and him shake his head. “I’ll die of agony if I laugh any harder. Dear gods, woman, the things you do to me.”

“Glad to entertain.” She popped a strip of rat into her mouth.

But honestly, she wasn’t at all offended. Had their situations been reversed, she’d have done the same. To her, the mere fact that he hadn’t run off screaming was a great sign.

“So I suppose I should fess up to something, a deep, dark secret in my own closet, since you had no choice in what happened to you today.”

She perked up. “I’m all ears.”

Setting his half eaten-rat aside, he rubbed his palms on his knees almost nervously. “Well, the fact of the matter is, I too have a dual form. Though I never wear it because...” He scratched the back of his head, grimacing.

“Ah hell, just get it over with then.”

Standing, he said nothing as he transformed. She squinted against the glare of his light before gasping at the sight that stood before her. Freyr was no longer sex on legs but a monstrosity of fat, liver spots, and an aged silver beard that fell down to his chest.

Those blue eyes, that hadn’t changed at all, still twinkled merrily. Grabbing hold of his enormous paunch, he wiggled it. “Wanna have sex?”

And that was her undoing. Cackling, she cried tears of delight at the sight of the two of them. There could truly be nothing quite as hideous as the pair of them anywhere in all the realms.

“Oh gods, you’re ugly too! You fat cow!”

Tossing his head back, he joined her, laughing with gusto all over again and mopping up even more tears. But hideous as he was, she couldn’t peel her eyes off him. Her own smile still crooked. The man was an unmitigated baboon. But he was her baboon.

After several more minutes, he said, “We do make a right fine pair, love.”

She snorted. “If you say so.”

“Well, you know what they say, don’t you? Two wrongs make a right.”

Shaking her head swiftly, she said, “No. No, I really don’t think they say that.”

But he only continued to nod with that big goofy grin plastered on his face. After that, they settled into a relaxed and easy banter, talking about nothing in particular. They’d eaten their fill of rat and set the rest of the bowl aside for tomorrow morning’s breakfast.

The night was cool, pleasant, the company great. She could hardly complain.

“True or false: you eat babies?”

His question came so far out of left field it almost gave her whiplash. Blinking, she shook her head then chuckled. “Been wondering about that one forever, have ya?” She knew the tales. It wasn’t really a surprise that eventually he’d get around to asking her about them.

“Might have been.”

“To answer your question then...” She turned so that she faced him head on. It seemed the time for twenty questions was at hand. “Yes.”

He wrinkled his nose.

She ticked the list off on her fingers. “Baby goat. Baby sheep. Baby cow. Sometimes baby birds. Their flesh is far more tender.”

“Baba Yaga!” he drawled with a note of tenderness. She couldn’t help sighing. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“Well, if by babies, you mean children, the only baby I’ve ever eaten was a baby giant. But I mean, who hasn’t eaten one of them before?” She was teasing, and judging by the slow curl of pudgy lips, he knew it.