Her lips curved upwards but she didn’t answer; how could she? Nodding towards the books in his arms, she asked, “What are those for?”
He rolled his eyes and heaved a put-upon sigh, “The whole place is in an uproar; Apocritae, angels, demons, all of them, are clamoring for information. Everyone in research has been working insane hours trying to keep up with the demand. You know, we could really use your help.”
“I’m sorry,” she smiled sadly, shaking her head. “I have something I need to do.”
She turned to head up the staircase that led to the Queen’s chambers only to have Jon curse at her. Turning, she faced him, “If it makes any difference, what I am about to do should answer all of their questions. You’ll be able to go home and get some sleep.”
He seemed to measure her words before he scowled and shook his head, “Whatever.”
She watched him head off down a different hallway. His regret probably had to do with that game he played all the time. Soon enough he will be able to return home and summon an imp or something.
With a sigh, she began to climb the stairs, surprised that there was no one there to stop her. Where were all of the angels and demons Jon mentioned? Were they all hidden away behind locked doors? It seemed strange that with all of the hostility angels and demons felt towards the Apocritae that they seemed to make themselves comfortable in an Apocritae building.
Adam and Auberon; they were the ones that made it possible.
And Celeste was responsible for ruining everything.
She came to a halt at the beginning of the hallway that led to the Queen’s chambers. Lining the wall on either side were dozens of Apocritae, the tall elegant bodies draped in silk, their cold, harsh faces gazing at her with fathomless black eyes. Were they there to stop her or were they going to let her pass? She saw a familiar face at the end of the line walking towards her, “Ealasayd?”
“We knew you were on the way and so we have barred the building to the Others not of our world,” he said, his strange black and white eyes gazing at her with something akin to devotion. Gesturing with his hand to indicate the Apocritae gathered in the hall, he took her by the arm and began to walk. “We came to bear witness to the final outcome.”
“All of you?” she asked, looking at the unnaturally beautiful men and women with wholly black eyes. Did this mean that Adam was aware of her presence here? Would he even care?
“Well, they have borne witness to the strength of your blood, my Queen.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion; she hadn’t done anything to exhibit her powers, at least nothing publicly. “Please explain.”
He smiled proudly, “I am the only one to whom the Calices respond. The rest of the Apocritae see this and they grow bitter.”
“But I thought,” her words trailed off. If what Ealasayd said was true then Auberon lied about having two or three Calices a night over the past couple of weeks. “Auberon.”
“He hasn’t been around for many months,” he said with an indifferent shrug. “Knowing that he is yours, I assumed he was to be kept as your slave until you tired of him. There are a number of Apocritae who will be willing to take his place… should you survive.”
Celeste almost snorted out loud at the thought of keeping Auberon – or anyone – as a slave but remembered herself in time; the Apocritae had a vastly different outlook on life. It was going to take time for them to adjust to the new rules once she became Queen. If she became Queen. Leaning closer to Ealasayd, she whispered, “Do they wish me victory or failure?”
The air buzzed as the Apocritae moved, but no one said a word. Right, that whole telepathic communication thing they had going on; the Hive mentality. Did she really want to be their Queen? Well, it was either become Queen or die so she didn’t really have a choice. She couldn’t just meekly walk away with her tail between her legs; the Queen would hunt her down and rip her apart, piece by piece. And then she would go after Adam and Auberon and anyone else she had loved.
“Well?” she asked after an appropriate amount of time passed. Pulling the sunglasses off her face, she looked at the Apocritum, pleased by the brief glimpse of surprise on his face, though he was quick to mask it. “What is their decision?”
“Most of them are taking a wait-and-see approach,” he answered diplomatically. Turning to her, he beamed, “Unless you wish to give them a taste of your blood?”
“Uh, no,” she quickly declined the invitation.
“Very well,” he shrugged, accepting her refusal with calm equanimity. “It’s interesting, my Queen, you seem to have even more power than you did three weeks ago. Might I ask how you were able to gain so much power in such a short time?”
“Uh, trade secret,” she mumbled even as the blush stole across her face.
“I see,” he said evenly, releasing her arm and clasping his hands behind his back. Stopping just outside a discreet door, he tilted his head, “She waits for you.”
Celeste looked at him but he did not meet her eyes and she knew that from here on out she was alone. Taking a breath, she reached out and turned the handle, pushing the door open on silent hinges. The Queen sat on her throne, arrogant in her negligent pose as she simply watched Celeste walk into the room. Calmness descended over her, bringing with it peace.
It was almost over.
“You cannot win,” the Queen sneered, her long fingers idly caressing the arms of her chair.
“I can,” Celeste said, feeling the surge of power. Holding her hands out to her sides, she stretched her fingers out, almost feeling the air crackling around her.
The Queen laughed, harsh in its icy splendor, and glared at Celeste. “True, you have caused me endless grief, turning my beautiful Auberon against me, but you are nothing. You stupid, stupid cow; your kind is nothing but nourishment for my children.”
“And yet I am standing before you as your equal,” Celeste said, her voice even and calm. Even her heart was slow, steady. She wasn’t afraid.
“My… equal?" The Queen repeated, incredulous at the girl’s presumptuousness. “You will never be my equal. Look at you; you are pathetic, a pathetic little fool who is destined not for greatness but for death.”
“Then why is there fear in your voice?” Celeste asked boldly, raising her head and looking directly at the Queen with all the glory of her mystical eyes. With a shrewd smile, she added, “Your eyes?”
“It is not fear, child,” the Queen said, flying out of her chair and striking Celeste across the face before Celeste was even aware of the Queen's movement.
Celeste’s hand flew to her cheek, feeling the damp heat of her blood; she hadn’t expected that. Looking around the room, her courage faltered when she couldn’t find the Queen. There wasn’t anywhere to hide, where did the blasted woman go? Slowly, she made her way around the room, her body prepared to attack or be attacked.
Figuring it was best to have something at her back, she made her way over to the edge of the room, pressing her back against the wall. The sun was spilling through the windows now, brightening the room and reminding Celeste of when she was strapped to the table. She had been weak, powerless and there was nothing she could do to save her baby.
Her baby.
Automatically, her hand went to her empty stomach and a tear slid down her cheek as her sorrow returned with a vengeance. How could she forget? She had wanted that child so much, and now…. And now the child’s father had been banished and she would never see him again. There was no reason to go on, unloved, unwanted.
Crumbling to the ground, she felt the breath leaving her body. She was a pathetic excuse for a human; she was an even more pathetic excuse for a Queen. Auberon would be ashamed if he saw how the mother of his child behaved; he would turn his back on her and go slinking back to his Mother and she would welcome him back with open arms. Together, they would laugh at the foolish girl who believed she could take on a Queen….
Celeste froze; Auberon wasn’t the father… Adam was. The Queen’s attack wasn’t coming
from the outside; it was coming from within. Standing, letting the sorrow wash through her, she heard the Queen’s laughter echoing in the room around her, echoing in her head. You cannot win, you stupid cow!
Celeste’s hand went to the wound on her cheek; it was still oozing blood, though that didn’t surprise her; she was going to keep bleeding until an Apocritum healed her. If she was going to win this thing, she had to find the Queen and fight her on equal footing, no more of these surprise attacks. The Queen wouldn’t have to expend any effort at all; she’d simply cut Celeste a few times and lock her in a room where no one would be able to lick her wounds and save her. If an Apocritum was even willing to risk his life to save hers. Judging by the looks she received as she walked down the hall, the possibility of that was negligible. Even Ealasayd would have second thoughts before offering his services.
“I may be a stupid cow but you’re a coward!” Celeste called out. Two could play psychological mind games, though she doubted it would really bother the Queen to be called a coward. In her life, the Queen had probably been called a great number of names. But, it was the only thing Celeste could come up with until she found the Queen. Keeping her voice even, she called out, “A big old chicken.”
The Queen’s laughter filled the air again, “To think, I actually worried for a half a second that you could take my place but you are nothing – NOTHING! You cannot even find me.”
Celeste had to give her that one; there was nothing in the damn area to hide in or behind, just a whole bunch of plush pillows piled in one of the corners. It was just a huge throne room used to intimidate lesser mortals with its size and grandeur and extravagance. She couldn’t fully appreciate the luxury the last time she was in here because she had been strapped to the damn table and… and….
Her mouth fell open as she remembered that when Auberon had walked through the door, the Queen had appeared from the opposite side. Her eyes flew to the other wall, looking for anything that would indicate an entrance, or an opening, or something.
Wherever it was, it was well hidden. Pushing off the wall, she scurried across the room, keeping one eye on the entire room, the other on her destination. The Queen was reckless in her arrogance, believing Celeste wouldn’t be able to find a hidden door that she knew to be there from previous experience. Running her hands over the smooth surface, she pressed and prodded anything that looked like a knob or switch that would open the door.
Finally, finally, a gap appeared and she slipped through, feeling the bump as it immediately closed behind her. Darkness engulfed her and for a moment she thought that perhaps she went into the wrong room. But as her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could make out a dim light at the end of a long hall. At least, she hoped it was a hall.
Putting her hands out to either side, she felt the welcomed solidness of walls. Her relief was quickly laid to rest as the Queen whooshed by in a gust of speed, trailing long talons against Celeste’s arms, her neck, her face. The Queen was using the darkness to her advantage, attacking Celeste with dozens of shallow cuts as she made her way towards the light.
“Is that the best you can do, your Majesty?” Celeste called out in contempt, feeling the blood trickle over her skin.
“Not at all, my dear, pathetic rival,” the Queen’s voice smoothed through the air, moments before a sharp blade slid across Celeste’s ribs. A moment later the blade slid across her upper arm, her cheek.
Celeste gasped as the blade kept biting into her flesh. Clutching her side, her fingers became slick with blood. She could feel the warm wetness from the gash on her cheek trailing down her throat, staining the front of her shirt. She couldn't think about the cut on her arm. Those wounds were going to be a serious problem, even if she had normal healing abilities.
Just ahead, she could see the room and she knew she was close. If only she was as close to coming up with a strategy to deal with the Queen. Apparently, showing up with a surge of power wasn’t enough. She was a fool to believe she was ready, that she would ever be ready.
Good god, the Queen was ancient; she had survived thousands of years on more than wits alone. She had put down any insurrection with the ease of swatting a fly. Did Celeste truly believe that she was destined to become the Queen, she – a mere human? She was a fool and it would be smart to just leave now, find a gullible Apocritum to lick her wounds and fight another day. Or, better yet, throw herself upon the mercy of the Queen. Her Majesty had to have some mercy; surely she wouldn’t rip the arms out of Celeste’s sockets and beat her over the head with them, would she?
“Stop that!” Celeste cried out, covering her ears to shut out the incessant doubts whispering in her head. She winced as she pulled at the torn wound in her side. Her hand quickly returned to her ribs in a futile attempt to hold her flesh together.
Finally, she stumbled into the brightly lit room and blinked as the light blinded her. Her shirt was stained red with blood, her flesh was covered in the hot liquid, and her side was spilling it by the bucketful. As soon as her eyes adjusted, Celeste surveyed the sterile room. The Queen was reclining on a chaise lounge, looking resplendent in all her glory, a victorious smile curling her ruby lips. Celeste turned her head to the side and stumbled back a step. Hundreds, thousands, maybe millions, of wasp wings fluttered against the other side of a glass division.
“Do you give up?” the Queen asked, her voice laden with amusement and triumph.
“No,” Celeste gasped, dragging her hurting body to the wall of wasps. She could feel their anguish; they were heavily stressed. She remembered watching a nature show about bees turning on their Queen when they were agitated. Did wasps do that? Did they have a Queen?
“Give up, child,” the Queen murmured kindly. “And I may allow one of my Apocritum to heal you. Be my slave, child, and I will allow you to live.”
“Never,” Celeste breathed, pulling her shoulders back and ignoring the blinding pain along her side, across her cheek. Closing her eyes, she let the power surge through her, feeling it tingle along her skin from the tips of her fingers to the tips of her toes, from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. Lifting her chin, she brought her arms out to the side. “I will never surrender.”
“What are you doing?” the Queen asked and Celeste heard the panic in her voice. Celeste ignored her as she summoned the energy to cast her spell. “You fool! Do you wish to die?”
“Everybody dies, even Queens,” Celeste said in a hollow voice, her mind gathering the elements. Tilting her chin further, until the top of her head brushed the glass, she asked, "Isn't that right, Azaerlyn?"
The Queen gasped at the ancient name, her black eyes widening in her face as she stared at Celeste in true horror. "How do you know that name?"
Celeste inhaled a shaky breath, weakening for a moment before she regained her strength through sheer determination. Licking her lips, she asked, “Do you yield?”
“Never,” the Queen hissed, bringing her knees up to her chest, trying to make herself as small a target as possible.
“Very well,” Celeste muttered in a monotonous voice as her chin dropped to her chest and she brought her arms together, clapping her hands in front of her. The rush of wasps as they flew past her created a breeze that lifted the strands of hair from her face. She hardly noticed the few stings of wasps too eager in their freedom.
The Queen’s shrieks of pain and outrage filled the room and Celeste raised her head to see the beautiful woman covered in angry wasps. Glimpses of the Queen revealed red and swollen flesh and Celeste knew that she had triumphed. She may have died in the process, but she had triumphed.
With a shaky laugh, she felt her legs give out and she crumpled to the floor. It had to be almost eight, still four hours before Genevieve was expected to hear from her. Adam wasn’t going to make it in time to save her. It didn’t matter anymore, she freed the Apocritae and Adam would be able to regain control of the Council. The world would continue on as it had before.
Her body slumped to the side, unabl
e to remain upright in a sitting position. The scratches would have been annoying but she would have been able to endure them until she could find help. The cuts along her side, her arm, her cheek, were a different matter altogether; they were going to be the death of her. With the last of her strength, she willed the wasps away. It wouldn’t do to have them sting the person who came in to find them, the person delegated to clean up the mess of two bloodied and broken Queens.
"You have not won yet, child," the Queen's broken voice cackled throughout the room. It devolved into a coughing fit and Celeste could see the shudders wracking her thin body. "My children wait on the other side of that door; once you are dead they shall come in and heal me. All of your efforts will have been in vain."
Celeste closed her eyes and took an unsteady breath; it hurt to breathe. It hurt to move but she had to do both. In a moment; first she could do something that hurt a little less: summon her sharp dagger. With her eyes closed, she muttered the words beneath her breath, curling her fingers around the hilt as the weight settled in her hand. On the verge of passing out, her grip loosened for a moment and the blade began to slip before her hands twitched. She clenched her fingers around the handle once more and took another shuddering breath.
Staggering to her feet, she leaned against the wall as the room spun around her. The Queen was all the way on the other side of the room and Celeste had to plunge her dagger into the bitch's chest; how on earth was she going to make it when she was ready to lie down and die?
In detached horror, she watched as the Queen struggled to her feet as well, her once beautiful face a mask of blistered and bloodied welts. Her left eye was little more than a black slit and her right eye was swollen completely shut. Her red mouth was bloated almost to the point of bursting, her lips cracked and bleeding. A dagger appeared in her hand as well as an imitation of a smile curled her fat lips.
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