Fantasyland: Broken Dove Part 111

"You," he spat, starting to stalk toward me. "Christ, always lose my mind around you. f.u.c.kin' crazy."

He was f.u.c.king crazy but not for the reasons he thought he was.

I couldn't share this. I was circling as he kept stalking and heard an obviously not torn up about the recent demise of Cora, The Nasty, Baldur call, "Please don't. This is most amusing."

Therefore, I knew one of the witches was going to intervene.

She didn't.

Pol kept stalking.

I kept circling.

They were probably amused too, and it was clear Pol was right.

Cora, the Dead was expendable.

I stared at Pol thinking this sucked.

It sucked!

How could life be so awesome, so full of promise, so beautiful and here I was facing down my freaking ex confined by a magical cage in a whole other world?

I mean, really.

"Trust you to spoil it all when I'm finally happy," I snapped at Pol.

"Do not make me chase you, b.i.t.c.h," he clipped back.

"When Apollo gets here, he's totally going to cut off your steel hand, your other hand and conk you in the head with his sword again."

"Wake up, Ilsa, this s.h.i.+t is not gonna go good for you. The dude's probably already dead."

I could not believe that.

I would not believe that.

But just at the thought, my heart hurt.

"He'll save me," I hissed.

"Kiss him good-bye, babe," he returned.

"Come closer to us, Maddie," Circe called.

"I don't want him near you guys," I called back, still circling but doing it well away from the girls.

"Come closer, Maddie!" Finnie yelled.

"I don't-" I started.

"Come! Now!" Cora shouted.

I didn't know why I did it, but I ran their way.

The instant I got close, Circe clasped my hand and I noticed all of the women were holding hands in a circle.

Finnie grasped my other hand and the second she did, Circe ordered, "Think about your man."

I had no idea why she wanted us to do that but I did it.

It wasn't hard. It felt good. Beautiful. Calming. I pulled up a picture of Apollo, tall, strong, big, handsome, his cloak billowing out behind him, then falling forward, swaying around him, enveloping him in its embrace.

That cloak was totally bada.s.s.

So was my man.

On this thought, a charge shot through my hands and a ring burst out from our huddle colored in gold, ice blue, violet and poppy stripes. It sliced through Pol and Baldur, taking them off their feet.

Then the ring expanded, stretching tall, and the blue bars of the cage disintegrated.

Finally, it exploded and multi-colored sparks shot everywhere.

I guessed they were wrong about Circe's magic not working here.

Thank G.o.d "Now, run!" Circe shouted.

We ran toward the doors.

They closed with a loud crash.

c.r.a.p!

I skidded to a halt when my arm jerked because I was still holding Circe's hand and she'd gone down, tackled by Baldur.

She rolled him and Finnie grabbed onto his hair, yanking it back.

He howled.

"He was correct," the disembodied voice sounded. "This is most amusing."

f.u.c.king witch b.i.t.c.hes.

I couldn't think on them. Not yet.

I was about to help with the Baldur situation when I was pulled back with a forearm at my throat.

Pol's.

He jerked me two steps back but I twisted in his hold, coming loose. I ducked and shuffled away.

He reached a steel hand to me but didn't get it close.

This was because Cora tackled him sideways.

Not prepared for her, they went to the ground and I saw Pol getting ready to aim a blow of his steel fist to her head so I went for it. Lunging, I wrapped both hands around it and yanked it back.

Circe and Finnie must have dealt with Baldur because they showed and Finnie aimed a kick of her boot to Pol's crotch.

Always a good choice.

Pol groaned, stopped struggling (and admittedly winning) and he curled up on his side, both hands cupping between his legs.

Cora ran to the doors, put her hand to the handle and it was immediately dwarfed by the large dangling circle.

This didn't faze her. She pushed.

I ran to her and pushed.

Finnie and Circe joined us and pushed.

"Use your magic!" Finnie shouted to Circe.

"That wasn't my magic," Circe replied.

"What was it?" Cora cried.

"Our magic," Circe answered.

"Where... is...Valentine?" Finnie asked on a grunt, pus.h.i.+ng.

The voice sounding was actually shaking with humor when it stated, "Most amusing,"

"Ugh!" I groaned then demanded, "We need to form another huddle, ladies!"

And when I did, suddenly we all fell forward when the doors swung open.

We righted ourselves and I stilled, staring at Franka Drakkar standing outside the doors.

She didn't look at a single one of us as she strolled right in.

Strolled.

Right.

In.

We didn't get the chance to make a break for it. The instant Franka pa.s.sed the threshold, the doors slammed shut.

We all turned and watched as she slowly made her way across the expanse toward the witches.

"What the f.u.c.k?" I heard Finnie whisper.

"I'm not sure this is good," I whispered back.

"You know her?" Cora asked.

"Stay quiet and together," Circe cut in.

We again huddled.

"This is interesting," Helda said, her eyes cast down to Franka who stopped at foot of the steps at the bottom of the dais. She tipped her head to the side. "You would have made a good ruler. But soon you will be nothing."

"You should have asked without taking my Antoine," Franka replied, and I had to hand it to her, she was good. Ice cold even in times like this. She sounded calm as could be.

"Antoine? Who's Antoine?" Finnie asked.

"Shh!" Cora shushed.

"Prepare," Circe warned.

Oh s.h.i.+t, I thought.

"This is your flaw. He was nothing. The lesson comes too late but I shall give it to you regardless. You shouldn't waste energies caring about nothing," Helda said to Franka.

I could tell that wasn't the right thing to say with the way Franka's body language changed.

"So be it," Helda went on.

"Yes," Franka replied. "So be it."

And that was when it happened.

She moved, going into a crouch, twisting her torso around at the same time. Her arm extended and from her hand, a s.h.i.+mmering wave of emerald green shot out.

At that moment, from the ceiling a body fell.

Landing on his feet in a crouch at the foot of the dais was Tor, strangely wearing jeans, a chambray s.h.i.+rt, and brown boots.

He straightened out of the crouch pulling a gun (yes! A gun!) out of the back of his belt. He aimed it at Edith, who was coming out of her throne, and fired.

She fell back and down, hitting her throne which threw her forward. She rolled down the steps, trailing blood the entire way.

She barely came to a rest at the bottom before Tor turned his gun toward Helda.

But Derrik was on the move and he was moving swiftly. I sucked in a shocked breath when he took Helda's head in both hands, slammed it into the arm of her throne and let her go.

She slumped in the seat.