The Queen's Flight (Emerging Queens) Page 6

  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 be
fore 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.

  If these were truly going to be his last few days of freedom before Kira told her successor who murdered her, he was going to enjoy the small things. The feel of the wind as he dove through the clouds reminded him of the fresh bite of victory after a battle. He would go out on his terms.

  He’d find Viola, kiss her senseless, fuck her, and then once that was off his mind, the Cult of Humanity could be dealt with to make sure they never cursed dragons again.

  If he died trying to eliminate them, well maybe someone would remember him fondly when the truth came out.

  Chapter Eight

  After a dismal night’s sleep, Viola used the dregs of her energy to power a last-ditch attempt to pick up the motorcycle from where she’d dropped it. With her back to the bike, she crouched down and held on to the handlebar with one hand and the back seat with the other. Pushing herself to her feet, she used the momentum to lift it upright. It was slow going. Both she and the Harley almost ended up back on the ground. Tears streamed down her face, but eventually it was upright, and she and the screaming pain in her back were on the road again. No one was coming for her, and as much as she wanted to see Sergei’s sexy, scowling face again, wishing wasn’t going to make that happen.

  Viola stayed off the highways and took the local roads. When she was far enough from the dugout, she found an ATM and emptied her bank account. She knew that she could be traced by using her credit cards, but she was out of money and options.

  Maybe the bad guys wouldn’t be watching and the good guys would. Viola would have to be able to run away at a moment’s notice, depending on what showed up. She gazed into the clouds. No dragons on the horizon. She kicked herself for hoping she’d see Sergei flying toward her. The roads were equally clear. So Viola deemed it safe enough and drove around, searching for breakfast.

  What she found next to the bakery was like the heavens decided she deserved a break. Knit Wits was a homey yarn store with a cheerful logo and a cat curled up asleep in the window. All her stuff was with Carolyn, hopefully at the safe house, wherever that was, but that was no good to her now. After scarfing down a chocolate croissant and a café mocha, Viola went into the shop. Angels sang a requiem when she entered—or maybe that was all in her head. She hadn’t slept much last night.

  The yarn shop even smelled like home—the way home should smell, not like her mother’s house did, which always smelled a little like Pine Sol and desperation.

  “Are you okay?” the man behind the counter asked. He was in his mid-thirties and wore a stunning Fair Isle vest. Perched up on a stool, he was knitting a blue cabled sweater.

  Viola refused to cry again, even though it was all she wanted to do. Not trusting her voice, she gave him a tight-lipped smile and pointed to the sock yarn. Putting her head down, she made her way there, wiping her hands on her jeans to make sure they weren’t dirty or sticky. Viola fondled the skeins, feeling a little bit of her soul slip back into place with each one she examined and caressed.

  “As long as you’re not wearing makeup, you can rub them on your cheek,” he said.

  At her surprise, he shrugged. “You look like you need to connect.”

  “You don’t think I’m a lunatic?” Viola asked.

  “I think you could use a cup of tea.”

  And that’s when she decided to make him her second husband. But by the time she’d bought needles, a new pattern, and some outrageously priced—but well worth it—yarn, his husband walked in. Viola resolved herself to getting a bunch of cats and swearing off romance.

  “Rick designed that pattern,” he told her, giving his significant other a squeeze.

  “I’ve wanted to learn the magic loop method for a while”—she leaned in confidentially—“I hate double-pointed needles.”

  “Then you’re going to love this. Let me show you the best way to cast on. And since you’re going to be knitting both socks at once, you’ll have the project done in no time.”

  She sat between the men on the couch and listened to them bicker and chat. She got the hang of the pattern and using the two circular needles within a few minutes. It was always easier when someone showed you and then stuck around to make sure you really got it.

  Viola was surrounded by her favorite things—a cup of tea, a bunch of yarn, and a new pattern to figure out. She relaxed for the first time in…well she couldn’t remember how long. Even before she shifted into a dragon, she’d worried about her mother, her job, or her dismal love life. Now that she had all of that taken away from her, there was a certain relief in hitting rock bottom. Her eyelids started to droop, even as her fingers knit and he
r brain recited the lace pattern as she did the stitches.

  As she knit away, customers came and went. Either man would get up and chat with them. Every time she started to lull off to sleep, the shop’s bell would wake her, so she concentrated on her pattern. That’s why she didn’t glance up until the shopkeeper’s quick intake of breath made her aware that the energy in the room was now dancing along her arms, giving her goose bumps.

  The newcomer filled the room, wearing black leather and oozing attitude. Viola’s mouth twitched in a relieved grin.

  “This is the third shop I’ve been to.”

  “Sergei,” she breathed, not sure if she was thrilled to see the scowling muscle head or not. “You’re all right. Wait.” She blinked. “There are two more yarn stores around here?”

  “They’re not as nice as this one,” the shopkeeper said.

  “Of course I’m all right,” Sergei huffed. “Let’s go. We need to fly.”

  Shame crushed over her. “I can’t.”

  “You have to try.”

  “It’ll attract attention and then we’ll be in trouble.”

  “Trouble?” the shopkeeper asked. “Do you want me to call the police?” He held up a size-thirty knitting needle and waved it threateningly at Sergei.

  “No, that wouldn’t help,” Viola said, putting her knitting down.

  “What does he mean, fly?” the shopkeeper’s husband asked, looking at her. “You can take the bus or a train.”

  Sergei snorted in derision.

  “I’m a dragon,” she said, at the same time Sergei said, “Don’t.”

  The shopkeepers exchanged a glance and she saw one of them hide a smile behind his hand. “Of course you are, dear.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to fly because I don’t have a car.” Sergei started to gather up her things.

  “Be careful with that.” Viola snatched the needles out of his hands and folded up the work so the stitches wouldn’t slide off the needles. “I’ve got an idea. We can take my bike. You can ride bitch.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

  He darted his hand out to grab her tongue, and she fell back on the sofa in shock. “No,” he said, grinning at her expression. “You saw how well riding worked the last time.”