The Queen's Flight (Emerging Queens) (5 page)

Chapter Six

Stuffed on steak and home fries, all Viola wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep in the booth, but Sergei wouldn’t hear of it. He encouraged her to finish another large mug of coffee, even though being overtired, overfed, and over-caffeinated was a recipe for disaster. Walking back to the bikes, Viola hugged herself against the chill. As they pulled back on the highway, she wished Carolyn had left the car because Viola’s attention wandered from the road in front of her to the muscles on Sergei’s back. And while you were driving sixty miles per hour down the interstate with only a denim jacket to stave off the road rash, having an erotic fantasy about a dragon wasn’t a good idea.

“Get off my ass,” she said to the Jeep that was coming up fast on her tail. She’d already switched to the right-hand lane, and it switched over with her.

A black Porsche Cayenne whizzed by both of them and cut off Sergei so abruptly, she could hear him curse over the wind and the road. A Humvee rolled up in the left-hand lane, blocking them both between the Jeep and the Porsche.

“Pull over,” a man in the Humvee said. He waved a pistol toward the side of the road.

Viola gunned the engine and raced past him, coming neck and neck with Sergei. But the car in front swerved to keep them from passing.

“What should I do?” she yelled.

“Don’t let them catch you,” he said.

Shots rang out. “Pull over, or the next one goes through your tires,” someone yelled.

In a swift movement, Sergei pulled his feet off the pedals and tucked them up on the seat. He exploded upwards, shifting into his dragon form above them. Viola turned to see his fifteen-thousand-dollar bike get crunched under the Jeep’s tires. Sergei roared a battle cry and shoulder-slammed his entire dragon bulk into the Cayenne. Heart in her throat, Viola leaned down and darted through the opening.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

Adrenaline shot through her, waking her up more than the coffee. The Humvee and the Jeep were still in hot pursuit and gunfire had her scrunching down lower. A shot to her tire at this speed would probably cause a crash that would kill her. Viola had to bank on the fact that they didn’t want her dead.

Who were these idiots, anyway? Were they the Order of the Dragon Slayers? Had her mother ratted her out to them after all? They couldn’t be dragons, otherwise they’d be in the sky instead of in cars.

She took the next exit, hoping to lose the two bigger vehicles in rural traffic, where she could zip in and out of the lanes and duck down streets. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a GPS and was playing this by ear. From the way the Jeep and Humvee kept on her tail, this wasn’t the first time that they’d done this. Turning down an industrial park, she slowed enough to jump the curb and speed along a nicely manicured storefront.

The Humvee followed, its big tires tearing up the lawn. The Jeep entered the parking lot to head her off. They raced in parallel, with the Humvee gaining ground on her. Decelerating, she pulled the bike back into the parking lot, just missing the back of the Jeep’s bumper. The Humvee narrowly avoided crashing into the Jeep as it did a 360, brakes screaming.

She took the curves of the business park low, almost scratching her knee on the pavement. It slowed her down enough that when the punch of the bullet in her shoulder pushed her forward, she didn’t lose control of the bike.

However, she blanked for a moment as the shock warred with the adrenaline and she exited the business park, running a red light. Horns blared and she risked a glance behind her to see the Humvee slam into a pickup truck and the Jeep maneuver around them.

The pain came next. She had been shot.

She wondered if she was going to bleed to death. Her arm was numbing and it was getting harder to think about controlling the bike. If she didn’t get off the road, she was going to kill herself—or someone else.

She rode the yellow line, blowing by the few cars still on the road at this hour and giving herself a decent lead away from the Jeep. Even though it was agony, she peered over her shoulder. She could see headlights, but they didn’t look like the Jeep’s. Putting on a last burst of speed, she pulled farther ahead and started to look for someplace to hide.

She passed a
YMCA
on her left, but she figured that would be the first place they looked if they decided they lost her. Plus, all the blood would attract attention, and she might not be able to stop the bad guys from taking her away from the
EMT
s.

Someone could get hurt.

There was a baseball field at the next corner and, taking a risk, she pulled off into the field. She cut her lights and drove to the dugout. Laying the bike down so it couldn’t be easily seen, she staggered to the bleachers and hid under them in a position where she could watch the road.

Shrugging out of her denim jacket, she cried out in pain, but she had to see how bad the damage was. Fumbling with her cell phone to give her some light, she was amazed there wasn’t any holes or blood.

But reaching around was agony. Her shirt was soaked, but when she drew her hand away, the wetness was clear. Sweat. What had did they used? Rubber bullets?

Viola let out several shaky breaths. She tried to be quiet, but that made her nose run twice as hard. She had to blow it on a crumpled-up napkin under the bleachers. If she ever got out of this, she was going to soak in a hot, soapy tub for hours. She could almost feel bugs crawling on her.

As she waited in the dark and minutes passed, she realized she’d given her pursuers the slip. Scurrying out from under the bleachers, she attempted to pick up her bike. But the pain in her back and shoulder was too much. She couldn’t lift the heavy thing back up.

“Great. This is perfect,” Viola said, shaking. She walked into the dugout and sat on the bench, gazing out at the field in the moonlight. What she wouldn’t give to see a dragon shadow on the moon. But she’d not only lost her pursuers, she’d lost her back up as well.

She hoped Sergei took them all out. Or at the very least, got away uninjured. Under his tough guy exterior, he was a good guy. Hot as the desert sun at noon time, too. Viola wished he was here right now to scowl at her or something. Maybe she could sneak in a pity hug?

She glared down at her phone. Of course, none of them thought to exchange their numbers. The only dragon she had on speed dial was Smythe—not that she’d call him. And to make matters worse, she had no idea where the hell she was.

Viola folded her jacket into a makeshift pillow and turned so her good shoulder was on the wood bench. She could call her mother, but that would end in disaster, and Viola wasn’t a hundred percent sure her mother wouldn’t call the Order of the Dragon Slayers on her.

Thumbing through her phone, she considered and discarded names. Her ex-boyfriend, Turk? He owed her something for the bike. But she wasn’t sure she could trust him not to sell her out. Her ex-husband Mark was a possibility. If she’d been bleeding, she would have called him to patch her up, and to hell what his new wife thought. She still might, but he might sell her down the river, too.

And what was she going to say to them? “Hi, I’m in a baseball dugout somewhere in New York State and I think I’m lying on gum. I hope it’s gum, anyway.” Why were their numbers even still in her phone? She deleted them with a pleasure. Jerks.

For all Viola knew, her phone calls were tapped. Didn’t Reed say he was with the government? Maybe they could get a lock on her cell phone signal and trace her? If her battery held out.

She texted
FML
into her Facebook status and hoped someone would care to ask what was wrong.

Chapter Seven

Sergei watched the room of controlled chaos while his guts churned. Viola hadn’t checked in. After he’d finished taking out the members of the Porsche Cayenne, he’d hoped the Jeep and the Humvee had retreated instead of going after her. He flew around with his prisoner clenched in his mouth, but he didn’t see any trace of them. So he went to the safe house.

Hope was for suckers. He, of all people, should have known that. It bothered him that her sweet, sassy ass wasn’t here. He almost missed her babbling nonsense about yarn. If she suddenly walked in the door, he’d gladly listen to how she knit her way out of this jam. He sighed. She wasn’t his concern. Still, the thought that right now she might be hurt made him want to smash things.

Reed was on the phone trying to get protection for the fifty or so Queens that had descended on the American dragon embassies in the past week seeking sanctuary. Jack was “questioning” the prisoner Sergei had hauled out of the destroyed Cayenne. Carolyn was typing furiously on her computer. Sergei paced and occasionally searched out the window to see if Viola was in the sky. Not that she would have known where to go. They were in Reed’s research facility in upper state New York. It was an old college campus the dragons had bought to use for their affairs. Reed ran it like a fiefdom.

“We can’t just sit here,” Sergei said, hitting the wall with the palm of his hand. They were in a high-tech boardroom, and it felt like a prison. He couldn’t tamp down the rage that was coursing through him. It had happened on his watch. It should have been a cake run. “They knew what we were driving and where we were going.”

From the head of the conference table, Reed hung up the phone. “We have no leads. We don’t even know if she was captured.”

“Of course she was. She has no experience dealing with terrorists. She’s probably already dead.”

“She’s not dead,” Carolyn said. She was sitting at the table with her back to the door, tapping away on her laptop. She didn’t look up as she spoke, just bit her lip and frowned at the screen.

“How do you know?” Sergei asked, keeping a firm grip on his tone. Carolyn was Reed’s mate and this was Reed’s domain. As much as Sergei could use a good fight, Reed would have the upper hand.

“She updated her status.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Sergei gritted his teeth.

“She’s not dead. But she’s in trouble.” Carolyn tilted the screen so Sergei could see the social media post.

“That status was over five hours ago.”

“Sergei, this isn’t your fight,” Reed said. “You’ve made it very clear you want no part in associating with a Queen. We appreciate that you even contacted our office to let us know about Viola. And your help in rescuing her. We’ll take it from here. Go on back to your lair.”

“She’s not rescued,” Sergei said. “I’ll finish the job. It’s my fault she got taken.”

Reed nodded. “All right. You should see this, then.” He turned on the television and started the DVR. “This was broadcast about an hour ago.”

Sergei flinched when Cassandra’s human features filled the screen. She resembled a delicate Irish rose, red curls falling artfully around her face, wide blue eyes over a freckled nose. Her dragon form was far more sinister, an emerald Chinese dragon with brutal fangs and claws the size of scythes. It was an interview, set in her keep on top of Carrauntoohil in County Kerry.

“I want to grant my sisters sanctuary. The emerging Queens are in danger of being exploited for their innocence and are at the mercy of some nefarious studs who would harm them for their own purposes.”

“Bullshit. What’s her angle?” Sergei said.

“Every Queen she recruits is one less stud she has to lay eggs for,” Carolyn said.

“Fuck,” he said and dented the table with his fist. Beating up on inanimate objects wasn’t doing anything to quell the helplessness.

He hated that feeling.

The scene on the television changed and they were staring into the face of another Queen. Hui Zhong was another lethal-looking Chinese dragon, with bronze and gold scales that shimmered in the camera. Unlike Cassandra, she didn’t deign to change into human form. Sergei had never been in her court and was glad for it. As vicious and sadistic as Cassandra was, she had a method to her madness.

“We will aggressively defend our territory from all encroachers. Any Queens found on our land will be free for the taking of any dragon that captures her,” said a human male dressed in a traditional white robe that fell to his ankles translated. Hui Zhong stared into the camera with her fathomless black eyes.

“And of course, Choyo wouldn’t be left out.” Reed stopped the video when a cobalt blue dragon flew across the Taj Mahal and wound her snakelike body around the dome. Choyo spoke for herself. She made the guttural dragon language sound almost perky.

Subtitles scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

“I have need for handmaidens to service my studs. I will welcome my sister dragons with fine food, clothing, and wealth beyond imagining. They will want for nothing.”

“Except for freedom.” Carolyn scowled.

“At least she’s honest.” Arianna blew in like a thunderstorm.

Sergei did not shy away from her presence, but he tensed and set himself up for battle. Too many Queens in too little space. Carolyn was all right—she was almost human. But this one smelled like one of those bitch Queens. She had lizard in her blood.

There wasn’t a drop of human in her.

Her hair was as a black sheet cascading down past her shoulders. She was exotic and graceful, and he hated her on the spot. She bore a slight resemblance to Reed and that’s what stopped him from launching a preemptive strike on her exposed back.

Jack came in behind her and not so subtly put himself between them. He stared down Sergei with death in his eyes. Sergei took a few steps back. Enough to acknowledge Jack’s claim, but not enough to be seen as a retreat or a submission.

“I’m going to take Australia,” Arianna cooed, oblivious to how close she was to being attacked. “G’day, mate! And of course any refugees will be welcome in my kingdom. It will be one big party.”

“Well, if Arianna gets an island, I should get one, too. How about Madagascar?” Carolyn typed on her computer. “Oooh, did you know that Madagascar is the primary exporter of ylang-ylang and has the largest titanium mine?”

“How are their libraries?” Arianna said with an affectionate smile.

“I’m going to build one. The largest library in the world! It will make the Library of Congress look like a bookmobile.” Carolyn’s eyes shone with a zealotry reserved for the truly insane.

“A good place for your hoard, but are you sure it can house
all
your books?” Arianna asked her.

“The decision is not up to me,” Reed said. “Or you. No territories will be finalized until next year at the conclave.”

“It’s in those crones’ best interests that none of the new Queens ever get to that conclave,” Arianna said darkly.

“Cassandra is the most dangerous,” Sergei said, walking around the table so he was far away from Arianna and the temptation to snap her slim neck. “She will train the Queens that come to her to be a Queen. They will see her as a mother figure and an ally. Cassandra could very well be ruling all of us through her proxy Queens.”

“Esmeralda will take Queens, also. It’s in her best interest to treat them like the precious commodities that they are,” Reed said.

“I am
not
a commodity.” The pencil in Carolyn’s hand snapped.

“And neither is Viola,” Sergei said softly. “If she’s listening to this broadcast, she’d go to Ireland, right? Is that where you would’ve gone?”

“What?” Carolyn stopped glaring at Reed and turned to Sergei. “No, I would have gone to the Great Wyrm, Niall. He was my boss. Or the dragon embassy.”

“I feel for the new Queens,” Carolyn said. “I’m sure on some level, all their lives they felt different—like I did. And then
pop
to shift into a dragon and a Queen.” She shook her head.

“You don’t think Viola would go back to Smythe, do you?” Carolyn asked Sergei.

Sergei shook his head. “Viola’s father is in Cassandra’s stable. I’m not sure in what capacity—henchman, lover, employee. Viola could head to Ireland.” The thought of Viola in that viper’s den drenched him in a cold sweat and made him want to reduce the conference table to splinters.

“Jack, you and Arianna go to Ireland and see if you can waylay any Queens headed to Cassandra’s mountain,” Reed said. “I’ll have some trusted studs head into Choyo and Hui Zhong’s territories to do damage control. Persuade the emerging Queens to seek refuge in the Embassy instead.”

“What about us?” Carolyn asked Reed.

“We’re going to go see my mother.”

“Oh joy,” Carolyn clasped her hands in mock excitement. “Maybe she can trap me in her dungeon again.”

“See if you can get my tiara back from Mama,” Arianna said to her, before she and Jack left the room.

Sergei breathed easier when her stench dissipated. “The broken curse is a game changer, isn’t it?”

“My sister is not like the other Queens,” Reed said quietly.

Tamping down his hate, Sergei shrugged. “She hasn’t been tested with power yet.” He was telegraphing his feelings too much and if one of the old Queens had been here, they would have called him out on it, and he’d have been punished. “There are a few who believe the only good Queen is a dead Queen.”

“I get that they were real bitches. But don’t forget it’s a death sentence to harm a Queen.” She shook her finger at him.

Sergei flashed his teeth at her, just on the side of aggression. “If the stud is caught.”

“We never found out who murdered Kira,” Reed said.

“And you never will.” Sergei stared Reed down.

“Who’s Kira?” Carolyn said.

“Centuries before you were born,” Reed told her and moved so he was between Sergei and Carolyn. “There were six Queens. Kira was a Blue Celtic dragon who ruled over Greenland. She was found poisoned and slaughtered. A dragon killed her.”

“Did she go into the weave?” Carolyn said, referring to the universal dragon energy that gave the dragons their magic.

“We buried her body in sacred ground.”

“So why didn’t someone ask her who killed her?” Carolyn said.

Reed and Sergei gaped at her. “What?”

“Female dragons can sense each other in the weave. All it would take was one of them to go to Kira’s death site and talk to her spirit.” Carolyn got up from the table, obviously unaware that she had dropped a bomb in Sergei’s little world.

Four centuries of a murder cover-up would be exposed by the first Queen willing enough to step foot in Greenland and claim it as hers. He sank back into his seat at the conference table. They would kill him—it didn’t matter that he’d been under Cassandra’s orders to execute Kira. He’d stung Kira and then ripped her to shreds before the paralysis wore off.

She’d deserved it.

Kira’s mind had become unhinged, and she was eating children instead of livestock. But to harm a Queen was death. He agreed to execute Kira on the condition that Cassandra dropped all claim on him and stopped hunting him. He did it for his freedom and to pay back a debt he owed to the humans who’d helped him escape Cassandra in the first place.

“I think we should call Casimiro,” Carolyn said, breaking Sergei out of his brooding thoughts.

“Why call that peacock of a dragon pop star? Do you think we need to be serenaded?” Reed asked, folding his arms in front of him. Aggression poured off him in waves.

Sergei listened with a half an ear while they bickered about the singer. Cassandra would have already struck Reed for his impertinence and perhaps had him punished. Either Carolyn didn’t understand her power or she truly was human, even though her scent was pure Queen—but not the type that made him want to kill. Carolyn smelled like leather-bound books and fresh cotton linen. He could sense papyrus and an Egyptian sensuality around her. He watched her with hooded eyes and wondered if her innocence was a trick.

“He asked me out for dinner,” Carolyn said. “But I told him no. Maybe I could tell him I changed my mind, and he can help us with Viola?”

“When were you going to mention that?” Reed bent low so he was in her face.

Carolyn tilted her head. “When did you last talk to Mei Hua?”

“What?” He reared back as she caught him off-guard. Sergei felt like he was watching a tennis match. If things with Viola weren’t so serious, he would have leaned back and enjoyed watching Reed get served.

“When did she last text you?” Carolyn prodded him with a finger.

Reed turned to Sergei, puzzlement in every line of his body. “Carolyn has this ridiculous idea that Mei Hua has her sights set on me to be her consort. I told her that I would only be
her
consort.”

“Are you insane? If you refuse another Queen’s request, she’ll be in her rights to kill you,” Sergei said. That’s why he stayed far away from the Queens. They were corrupt and unreasonable. A stud would wind up dead or punished.

Reed’s phone beeped and he glanced at it. “We got a hit on Viola’s credit card.” He texted it to Sergei. “Find her. Bring her back safe.”

“Needle in a haystack,” Sergei grumbled, but he couldn’t wait to be out of this madhouse and actually doing something productive. He’d find her. Or he’d make enough noise that she’d find him.

“Look on the bright side—if she shifts, you’ll be close enough to follow her scent, along with any other stud in a five-mile radius.” Reed smirked.

“Horseshoes and hand grenades,” Sergei mumbled, and walked out of the safe house.

Carolyn was waiting for him by the door. She was a squat, formidable thing, with a face like a triceratops. She was hovering above the ground, her wings buzzing like an enraged bumblebee.

“Are you going to find Viola?”

“I’m going to try.”

“I was thinking about her hoard. She loves yarn, right? Check out the local yarn stores where you’re going. Not the big box stores, but a little intimate place where chicks gather to knit.”

“They’re going to love me,” he said and burst into his dragon form and shot into the sky. The sky cleansed his soul after being inside with Arianna and Carolyn.