The Immortal Queen Tsubame: Ascension (3 page)

MaLeila had a feeling Tsubame was talking more than just about the tea, but didn’t get a chance to ask until after the two women left the mansion. When they were back in the woman’s room later that evening, MaLeila sat on the bench in front of Tsubame’s bed while the woman dug through her trunk. When it was apparent that the woman would be going through it for a while, MaLeila asked, “What was all that? What were you trying to show me?”

“What I have to offer.”

“As far as offers go, I’ve gotten better.”

“Maybe,” Tsubame said as she opened her wardrobe, the same wardrobe the fuchsia dress MaLeila now wore used to reside, “you just need a little context.”

Now in the wardrobe was a shelf and on it was a television turned to some international news station. Tsubame stepped aside to let MaLeila view.

MaLeila looked at the screen where pictures flashed of Tsubame in the compound, the gardens, in the market and at the hotel during the conference, and other photos that MaLeila had no clue how the media got their hands on circulated in a montage. She couldn’t understand the language but she managed to get the jist of the story from the captions. Fathi’s murder and the subsequent accusing of Tsubame for the crime had caused a media firestorm as the world dissected and analyzed who Tsubame was, what she had done, how she had come to power.

Apparently after Tsubame fled with MaLeila in tow, the Magic Council used their many connections to release the news about Fathi’s murder. Then they accused Tsubame of the crime, her guilt evident by the fact that she quickly fled the country. While trying to save her image from the media onslaught, Tsubame had also been forced to contend with the division of Fathi’s army, who unsurprisingly refused to listen to her lead. As far as they were concerned, either Fathi was as good as dead or if he wasn’t (because Tsubame wouldn’t confirm it) they still didn’t have to listen to her because no matter how fond of her the man had been, she hadn’t been his wife. They had attempted to take the compound from her and kill her, but Tsubame had managed to run the dissenters away. It was a temporary victory though, because just as soon as Tsubame ran them out they joined forces with the other warring factions that Fathi had once tried and failed to negotiate peace with. As it was, what remained of the army Tsubame managed to retain was severely outnumbered and outclassed, with most of Fathi’s strongest fighters deserting him and the entire city was surrounded on all sides. Yet Tsubame didn’t back down and in the midst of the media onslaught did the American feminists catch wind of what was going on and rise up to defend Tsubame and criticize their own nation for not coming to her aid.

“At least they’re good for something,” Tsubame muttered in passing while MaLeila watched an interview of one particularly popular political feminist blogger.

MaLeila didn’t ask what she meant by it, but by the time MaLeila was done putting together the pieces of what had happened when she was knocked out and consumed with trying to find the connection between her, Devdan, and Bastet, MaLeila still didn’t understand what it was that Tsubame was trying to offer her.

“I still say I’ve gotten better deals,” MaLeila said to the woman when she came back into the room.

“That’s because you aren’t reading the fine print silly girl,” the woman said to MaLeila though she wasn’t looking at her. Tsubame was staring past MaLeila, like there was something or someone over her shoulder. “When we were born in this world we already had two strikes against us. It was that we were black first and women second, both that came with a bunch of stereotypes that put us at a disadvantage. Some true, some false. But instead of working so hard to prove them wrong, instead of working so hard to prove that you’re strong instead of weak, all you have to do is let them think it’s true, make them sympathize with your struggles, your weaknesses, and then they’ll offer their hand to let you eat out of it, not realizing that you’ve actually got them eating out the palm of yours.”

Tsubame finally looked MaLeila directly in the face and said, “I’ve just proven that every rock they’ve thrown against you for being a woman of color, you can use as a stepping stone or throw right back at them to get whatever you want without trying to act like a man or be anything other than what you are.”

“Yet you are asking me to be something I’m not,” MaLeila pointed out.

“You have no clue who you are. You’ve been so busy fighting and trying to please others that you’ve never had the chance to be who you are. I’m giving you that chance. I’m giving you the chance to be the great person you know you were meant to be on your own terms by not just taking advantage of the inevitable chaos but conquering it.”

“The chaos that you caused.”

“It was already inevitable. I just decided to be the one to push the first domino.”

Though Tsubame’s face was calm as ever, passive even, MaLeila felt her concealed aura flare in a way that even a person without magic would sense that there was a lot more power to the little over five foot woman. It would have made most cower from her, avoid her gaze at least, but MaLeila matched her stare letting her aura flare around. She’d never backed down in the face of death before and she certainly wouldn’t cower before a woman who had made it clear she meant her no harm.

“Finally,” Tsubame said after their stares had been locked for what MaLeila was sure had been minutes. “You’re starting to show a little bit of who you really are.”

3

The first time Devdan picked up a gun, it was back in the 1800’s. He was seventeen years old and shot dead the man who raped and killed the girl he had planned on marrying. Somehow, Devdan had gotten away with it without having a lynch mob come after him. He hadn’t even told Claude about it, though Devdan suspected the old sorcerer might have somehow figured it out judging by the way the man brought it up in discussion over breakfast when it finally made the newspaper. He didn’t kill anyone else back then, though he did go secretly practice with the gun he’d decided to keep since a dead man had no use for it. Claude didn’t know about that either because while in some regards he was a way more tolerant white man than most when it came to blacks back then, he still got skittish like the rest did when it came to even thinking about a black man looking at a gun, let alone having one.

This side of history he was infamous for his quick shot, particularly in the magical world where there was little value seen in non-magical weapons, especially a gun, which was why Devdan only used it as a last resort in their fights. Because no matter how infamous he was for it, no one ever expected it.

So even with a bullet wound in his chest, his whole right side stiff, having to concentrate on his breathing, and probably needing to rest for a few days, Devdan was still a better shot than the vast majority of even the most elite snipers and assassins as he practiced his shot. Even with all that was wrong with him, he could have shot the unmoving targets with his eyes closed.

“What are you doing?”

Devdan ignored Bastet, even as she approached him, continuing to lazily shoot at the targets.

“Devdan,” Bastet said coming to stand in between him and his targets.

“I thought it was obvious what I was doing, but seeing as you stepped in front of me and a gun, I suppose not,” Devdan muttered.

Bastet gave him a deadpan expression before saying, “Yeah. I know what you’re doing. Trying to kill yourself. You were shot not even three days ago. You shouldn’t even be out of bed.”

Devdan shrugged, ignoring the pain the motion caused. Then he said, “It’s nothing compared to being whipped and having to be back out in the field before the wounds hardly had time to scab over.”

“We’re not slaves anymore. That means you get hurt, you rest,” Bastet said reaching to take the gun from him.

“Move out the way, Bastet.”

“Devdan—“

“I get it. You don’t want me to fall out and die. I doubt that’s going to happen, but if you’re that worried sit over there and just watch to make sure,” Devdan said reaching up with his left hand to move the woman out the way.

She went with the gentle force of his push, because if she really wanted to stand her ground Devdan was sure it would have taken much more force to move her. She leaned against the wall behind him and without even looking at a target, Devdan shot and landed a perfect bullseyes.

Finally he said to Bastet without looking at her, “What do you want?”

“Me and Irvin are about to come up with a way to infiltrate Tsubame’s city to get MaLeila,” Bastet replied. “I figured you’d want to be a part of that conversation.”

After he managed to miss his next shot, Devdan replied, “Why the fuck should we even bother?”

His focus back, Devdan unloaded the empty rounds, reloaded and took five simultaneous shots. He could practically feel Bastet stand up straight and hook her fingers into her jeans behind him, face pulled into a tense glare.

“I assumed it was a given that we were going after her. That’s generally how it’s always worked.”

“Cut the bullshit, Bastet,” Devdan said, finally turning around to face his sister, not biologically, but in spirit by shared circumstance at the very least. “You feel it.”

“You’re going to have to be straight with me for once.”

“The bind is gone,” Devdan said.

“I’d noticed.”

“So it means that we don’t have to chase her anymore, go after her every time she gets into some type of trouble, follow her to hell and back because we don’t have a choice and everything we are and do will compel us to do it even if we aren’t aware of it.”

“Yeah. We don’t have to,” Bastet said, her lips forming that same straight line they would form when he was just a teenager and she was a young woman ten years older and she was about to let him have it for something stupid he’d done. “But if you would take you head out of your fucking ass and stop being a dick, you’d also have noticed that everything that the three of us were wasn’t all because of that binding.”

Devdan huffed. “Says the person who was convinced that Claude was a good master as far as masters went.”

“For someone who claims to be a free man now, you sure are letting Claude master you even from the grave.”

“At least I acknowledged I was his slave and there’s no way around that as opposed to you justifying it,” Devdan snapped back.

“Look, Devdan, I get it. Things happened between you and Claude. Things that somehow you kept me in the dark about, but damn it he’s dead. And just because MaLeila happened to end up heir to his magical legacy doesn’t mean his personality and morals were a package deal. So it’s up to you. You can be a brooding insufferable asshole and stay here, confirming MaLeila’s fears about breaking that fucking binding in the first place. Or you can get over yourself and we can figure out how the hell we’re going to get to Tsubame, let alone where she’s got MaLeila tucked away,” Bastet snapped and then walked briskly out the room.

Devdan turned back to the targets and lifted his gun to shoot again, only to find that his hand was shaking. Devdan wasn’t sure whether it was from exhaustion or distraction, but he was sure he hadn’t shaken this much while holding a gun since he first picked one up and made in his mind to get revenge on the man who murdered his intended.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he slamming the gun down on the bench.

He sat next to it, not quite ready to be amongst all the bustle and shuffle that was no doubt going on as the council figured out what their next step was going to be about Tsubame and the Russian Clan, who had promptly left to go back to their home country where they would undoubtedly prepare to wage some type of war against the woman.

He concentrated on his breathing, much more than he usually had to, and shifted to his ethereal vision, instinctively finding the red wisp that until recently had been chains and connected him to the young sorceress who more often than not occupied his thoughts. He hadn’t been this conflicted about her since those early days when he was still trying to figure out whether it was worth getting to know her as Bastet had decided or to kill her and get on with his life. Her mother had a lot to do with it, but what he didn’t tell MaLeila or Bastet that most of it had to do with MaLeila herself.

Saying she was feisty was a cliché. Most young women he knew were feisty, but when they were threatened or put in a dangerous situation, all that fire got thrown out the window along with common sense while they waited for someone else, usually a man, to rescue them. As much as he’d loved his mother that was something he had always resented her for, no matter how much he tried to justify her inaction because of the situation they had been forced into. But MaLeila, even with him pointing a gun to her face, was determined to fight him to the end when he finally did corner her and she could run from him no longer. And when she finally subdued him, she had been ready to kill him if he tried to make a move again. The only thing that had stopped her from doing it before being that he was Bastet’s brother. She’d had more balls than men three times her age; that was for sure. It was the fact that she’d managed to impress him so that stopped him from killing her immediately, made him curious enough to come to town every few months in addition to checking in with his sister and because he also liked the girl’s mother. And she was also the reason he decided to stick around once her mother died and her brother decided to go on another tour oversees.

He may have been somewhat socially inept, but he was far from stupid or blind. He was very aware that there was a natural chemistry between them, partly born out of spending so much time together but mostly because they both seemed to have an innate understanding of each other’s motivations and drives. It had scared the fuck out of him, so he spent most of his time when around MaLeila trying to keep her on her toes and throwing her off when she managed to pinpoint something about him that he rather not talk about. Besides, chemistry didn’t mean a God damned thing. He and Claude had chemistry too and that had fucked Devdan over. Not to mention the bindings, specially made to make the one they were bound to more apt to affinity to the one they were bound with. And even with them gone, Devdan still wasn’t sure where the effects of the binding ended and his real feelings began, what emotions were lingering effects of the forced bond between them.

Still, Devdan found himself reaching out with his magical senses to touch the red wisp that connected him to MaLeila, so weak and mangled without the support of the chains that had once bound them, so weak that Devdan bet he could easily severe it. But even though he could, even though he could end this, destroy the last exercising of authority and control Claude had on him, he couldn’t bring himself to even touch it.

Devdan sighed and retreated from his ethereal vision. He glanced at his gun and manipulated the shadows to swallow it into a pocket in limbo until he needed it again. Then he got up and followed Bastet’s lingering presence, otherwise he might have gotten lost as he made his way through what was one of the many safe houses and sanctuaries the Magic Council had scattered around the world. He found his sister in a greeting room nursing a cup of coffee with Tilila and Jaffe next to her. Both Tilila and Jaffe glanced at him looking like skittish cats.

“Relax,” Devdan said. “I’m not going to shoot you.”

“Glad to see you’ve changed your mind about that,” Jaffe replied.

“Don’t get it wrong. I said I’m not going to. I still want to and will if you give me enough reason for it and no one is there to stop me,” Devdan said.

Bastet glanced at him out the corner of her eyes in warning before focusing all her attention on Tilila again.

“I thought you said this was us coming together to figure out how we’re going to find Tsubame,” Devdan said to Bastet. “It looks like all we’re doing is standing around.”

“We already know where she is,” Bastet replied. “That’s no secret. I said how we’re going to get to her.”

Devdan raised an eyebrow and Bastet threw his phone at him. “You might want to catch up on the news from the past couple of days.”

Devdan simply typed in Fathi’s name along with Nadiyyah, the name Tsubame used in public for now, and after reading the first result, he had an idea of what had been going on in the last few days since he was shot.

“She certainly knows how to start swinging the tide in her favor, even when the odds are stacked against her. She got the feminist movement on her side in just a week and a half?” Devdan asked.

“Underground blogs and websites have been curious about her since she showed up at Fathi’s feet in the first pictures, even though mainstream media hasn’t cared until she was accused of killing the man, put out most of his army, and has fortified her city against the forces trying to come against her,” Tilila replied.

“And now that the army is split with the better half allying with Fathi’s opponents, what does the council expect to happen next?” Devdan asked.

“Either the army is going to sit tight and wait until Tsubame runs out of supplies and surrenders or they’re going to see her as an easy target, storm her stronghold and take over,” Bastet explained.

“What’s the more likely scenario?”

“Considering that I doubt her opponents are patient enough to wait out months for Tsubame to run out of supplies, not to mention I doubt Tsubame could ever run out of supplies if she wanted to stay that long and tire the army out, the latter is the more plausible scenario.”

“And what do you think Tsubame’s going to do?” Devdan asked, because while they could predict pretty well what the rebels against Tsubame and the dissenting army was going to do, Tsubame was the wild card.

“That’s the million dollar question isn’t it?” Bastet asked. “It’s hard to know what Tsubame’s process is.”

“And the council?” Devdan continued.

“They want to let this take it’s natural course, not get involved but they’re having a hard time convincing the Russian Clan that’s the best route.”

Of course they would. The Russian Clan was nursing one hell of a vendetta against the woman who interfered with their original plans to wipe out Fathi’s regime and Devdan didn’t have to ask Bastet what she thought they were going to do. They were likely going to fund the army growing against the woman and help them defeat her. Bastet nodded her head at him to signal that he was thinking in the right direction.

“And what are we going to do in the midst of all this?”

“Change your mind?” Bastet asked.

“No, but whether I want to or not, you’re going. I’m not letting you go into hostile territory alone,” Devdan replied. “So what’s the plan?”

“It’s obvious isn’t it?” Irvin asked as he entered the room from behind Devdan. “We take advantage of the inevitable chaos, find Tsubame and save MaLeila.”