The Red Queen

by Meg Xuemei X

  “Who replaced Emmanuel Thorn?” Kian asked, knowing the answer already.

  “Thorn’s only daughter, Bayrose. Rose, the submarine you airborned, was named after her. She’s become the new speaker for the founder.”

  Kian’s eyes hardened. The elder’s daughter tricked Blazek into leading Lucienne to the poisoned Nexus Tear. He’d spill the girl’s guts when he caught her next. “Where is Bayrose Thorn hiding?”

  “No one knows. She’s well protected,” Nickolas said bitterly. “Perhaps she’s the one who stabbed me in the back. She isn’t a fan of mine, and the speaker has eyes and ears everywhere. This trip of mine was supposed to be highly classified.”

  “You can brood on your misfortune on your own time,” said Kian. “Tell me about the cure.”

  “There is no cure,” Nickolas said, “at least not from the reports I read. The ingredients of the poison don’t even exist in this world. You need to find the founder. Maybe you can force the cure out of him, but he’s a ghost in the machine.”

  “Then you’re no use to us,” Hanz said.

  “I’m not useless,” Nickolas said. “I can offer you my insights, profound, useful ones.”

  Hanz and an aide narrowed their eyes on the elder, not appreciating his stalling.

  “You can’t exchange me for the cure,” Nickolas said in a calculating voice. “I’m an elder, but I’m still disposable. Even if there’s cure, you probably won’t get it. The Brotherhood didn’t go through these elaborate schemes to destroy the Siren, just to hand her the antidote. Bringing down the Siren race has been the main goal since the Sealers was founded. Incapacitating the current Siren is our biggest achievement in millennia—”

  The image of Lucienne stretching her hand toward him in blood tears, pleading, “Help me,” flashed before Kian.

  Hanz raised his hand to strike the elder, but Kian had beaten him to it. In a fit of rage and grief, he punched the elder’s face.

  Blood streamed from Nickolas’ nose. “That’s not cool, Kian McQuillen,” the elder said. “I thought you’d appreciate my candor. Isn’t that what your truth serum is for? I understand your rage, but I wasn’t the one who poisoned your Siren. I should not inherit my father’s sins.”

  “Is there a cure?” Kian demanded again.

  “There’s no evident cure for the Siren,” the elder said, “but there is intelligence that will lead to an antidote.”

  “Say it now,” Hanz said, “and you’ll probably save yourself.”

  “I’ll tell you about it in exchange for my freedom,” Nickolas said.

  “You’re in no position to bargain,” Hanz said.

  “I’ll release the liquid bomb in me,” said Nickolas, “and you’ll get nothing.”

  Before one of Kian’s aides could reach him, the elder raised two fingers to stop his advance. “You can’t get it out,” he said. “The bomb is connected to the mind. Only the elders are granted this luxury to protect us from our enemies’ torture.”

  Kian waved his aide to step back.

  “Deal or no deal?” Nickolas asked. “I’m not afraid of death. I volunteered this information because I want vengeance. I won’t be the sitting duck they made me.”

  Kian regarded him. “If your information is useful, your safety will be guaranteed.”

  “And you must free me,” Nickolas said.

  “I’ll consider it,” Kian said. “But what you say next will decide if you get to live or die.”

  “The ancient scroll foretold the poison and the Siren’s fall,” Nickolas said. “I paid tons of money to have that piece of intel. I was curious to know what the founder and Thorns were fussing about.”

  “Tell me the prophecy,” Kian ordered.

  “Samantha deciphered part of the last scroll,” Nickolas said. “Without the other two ancient ones, she couldn’t go further.”

  Kian’s eyes flashed. Lucienne had the other two scrolls. With the third one, they would crack the full prophecy and find the cure for her.

  “Who is this Samantha?” asked Kian.

  “An enigma,” Nickolas said. “Her territory is Russia and North America. She turned on the Brotherhood after the Polynesian war.”

  “Why?” Kian asked.

  “Power struggle,” Nickolas said. “And she took the ancient scroll.”

  Lucienne had mentioned that her mother Jekaterina took the scroll from the Sealers and then disappeared. “What’s Samantha’s last name?” Kian asked.

  “She doesn’t have one,” said Nickolas. “At least not that anyone knew about.”

  “You ever meet her in person?” Kian asked.

  “Once,” Nickolas said. “She’s the most striking woman I’ve ever seen. She looks to be in her early thirties, but I believe she’s older.”

  “Find a sketch artist,” Kian ordered Hanz, who raced to the other side of the warehouse and dialed his encrypted phone. Kian turned back to Nickolas. “You’ll be digging a hole for yourself if you lead us on a grand hunt. We know Samantha disappeared with the scroll.”

  “I’m one step ahead of you, Chief McQuillen.” Nickolas smirked. “No matter how good your spies are, they’re not granted access to the most classified, immediate information. I’m one of the elders after all. Samantha tried to flee, but was caught. The founder put her in Abaddon 5—the most secure, undisclosed prison on earth.”

  The word was that Abaddon 5 was located in a North Korean military center. When the Sealers had first built it, they’d equipped it with a remote-controlled steel door armed with laser beams. A sixteen-foot razor-wire fence was its first line of defense. Over the years, the Sealers kept upgrading Abaddon 5 with all sorts of new technology.

  As a sketch artist came in, escorted by one of the Berlin agents, Kian ordered the elder, “Describe Samantha.”

  “Six feet two-inches tall,” Nickolas started.

  Kian felt his heart skip a beat. The woman stood the same height as Lucienne.

  “Almond-shaped eyes, whiskey-brown color.” Nickolas said. “They say the color of her eyes shifts depending on her mood.”

  Like Ashburn Fury’s.

  “High cheek bones and full lips,” Nickolas continued. “Her eyebrows have a striking arch—”

  As soon as the artist finished the drawing, an aide brought it to Kian. He stared at the image. The woman bore an uncanny remembrance to Lucienne. Then truth struck home. Samantha was Jekaterina! After seventeen years, Kian was going to find Lucienne’s biological mother, a woman who had evaded the world.

  Then a change of plans formed in Kian’s head.

  What was the best way to get to Jekaterina? He was the most wanted, next to the Siren, on the Sealers’ list. Once the Sealers had Sphinxes’ number one commander, they would lock him up in Abaddon 5, where they kept Jekaterina/Samantha.

  “Nickolas Poles, you’ll arrange to have me captured,” Kian said.

  The room went dead silent.

  Nickolas blinked a few times. “You want to get into Abaddon 5?”

  “And you’ll follow my instructions step by step,” Kian said.

  “Once you’re in,” Nickolas said, “you’re as good as dead, Chief McQuillen.”

  The air was thick and gloomy in the warehouse.

  “Send me, Chief,” Hanz offered.

  All the men in the room volunteered themselves without hesitation.

  “Our enemy will send you somewhere else,” Kian said, “or torture you until you’re dead. They won’t kill me. They’ll put me in Abaddon 5.”

  Nickolas nodded. “But there are a few complications. No one gets out of that godforsaken place. They’ll execute you before they let your army storm the prison. If you’re as good as dead, I’ll be too. Second, even if you get to meet Samantha, how will you make her hand over the priceless scroll? She fears no threat or torture, and drugs don’t work on her.”

  “That’s for me to worry about.” Kian gave the elder a cold, tight smile. “You follow my plan, and you’ll have your freedom.”

>   “I’ll do it,” Nickolas said, “but I should mention one last thing: when the founder caught Samantha, he didn’t find the scroll with her. She said she ate it.”

  ~

  Things went exactly as Kian and his men had planned. He’d ended up where he needed to be—Abaddon 5. His team divided into three task forces—the first would come for him as soon as he had the information for the cure, the second went to catch the new elder girl, and the third was already tracking down Vladimir Blazek to use as bait for Bayrose Thorn.

  Now Kian must find Jekaterina in this fortified prison, where his cell didn’t even have a window, and where the prisoners were kept isolated at all times. He surveyed his environment without turning his head as the realization hit him: even unchained, he could never find Jekaterina. He’d have to make his enemies bring her to him.

  So he waited for them like an emotionless rock.

  Time crawled by. Kian had no concern for himself. His concern was for Lucienne. Even the former Siren considered his granddaughter more important than himself. Lucienne was the first female Siren to be born, and she was to shift the world. He didn’t need the ancient prophecies or i-Ching’s oracle to tell him that. He didn’t know the end game. He didn’t know what kind of revolution she was going to start, but he was with her. He would always be with her.

  It didn’t matter that he couldn’t make it out of this dump alive as long as he could deliver Jekaterina and the scroll to Lucienne, followed by the cure. He wouldn’t allow himself to fail.

  So he waited patiently for the new interrogator, the one who mattered in the Sealers’ rank.

  It was hard to tell if it was day or night. They didn’t send him meals every day, but when they did, they slid a slice of bread coated with mold and a paper cup of stale water through a narrow slot in the steel door.

  At least five days had passed, but the interrogator or tormentor hadn’t come. His enemies were playing a new game with him. They weren’t just using sensory deprivation, isolation, and starvation to make him weaker; they were deploying a time element to show him they had plenty of it while he—or rather his beloved Siren—was running out.

  Anxiety and fear came to him like bubbling acid, but Kian contained it. If he opened his mouth first, he lost. So he kept waiting, immutable like hardened steel. No matter what his enemies did to him, they couldn’t break him. The only one that could break him was Lucienne Lam. He repressed a nagging worry—once she found out he was missing, she’d come for him, and no one could stop her. He’d forbidden his men to activate the tracer in him before four weeks’ time, but Lucienne wouldn’t care about his orders.

  Once she came for him, she’d mess up his plan.

  He prayed the men would stall her as long as they could. He must make his enemies bring Jekaterina to him before Lucienne made a move. Before she tore the world apart to get to him.

  So waiting became the hardest things he’d done.

  Time was chewing him, but still, he waited.

  CHAPTER 8

  COLD BATH

  Lucienne bathed in cold water.

  She spent most of her time these days in a bathtub made of Caijou gemstone. The ancients believed this gemstone stored over one hundred million years of healing energy from the earth and the universe.

  Lucienne felt no healing energy—only a shattered spirit.

  The artificial candlelight cast part of her shadow along the gemstone wall. She could see the perky outline of her breasts. She lowered herself into the water, shivering at its low temperature, and stared with dull eyes at the patterns on the ceiling.

  Vladimir used to say that her eyes could reflect the slightest light. He wouldn’t say that if he were here to see her now. Where was he? Where was Ash? Neither even bothered to say goodbye. They kept their whereabouts from her as if she’d chase after their tails and cause more damage.

  She commanded herself not to think about either of them, but their images, in turn, twirled in her mind.

  Even amid Ash’s absence, the Lure loitered. It brought his woody scent and male musk to her nostrils, not sparing her, not wanting her to forget its other victim at the far end of the world. Even submerging herself into the frigid water brought no break. The Lure sent a strong heat wave between her thighs.

  “Stop it,” she whimpered. “Just stop.”

  Aida rapped on the door. The guards wouldn’t dare come in during her bath, but they’d fetch her nanny if Lucienne was inside the bathroom over an hour. They watched her like hawks.

  If she refused to respond, Aida would just enter, despite Lucienne’s protests for privacy. “Get over it,” the nanny had said more than once. “I changed your diapers when you were a baby.”

  Kian had ordered Ziyi to remove Lucienne’s heat signature from the doors, so if there was an emergency, her guards could break in and reach her in time. With the new lock, Lucienne could no longer completely seal herself in.

  “Lucia, you ready to get up?” the nanny asked outside the door.

  “In a minute,” Lucienne said, annoyed at the intrusion.

  Then a knock came again, and Aida called, “It’s been more than five minutes. I’m coming in.”

  Whatever. She decided not to leave this tub. Aida didn’t have the strength to drag her out. Today there’d be a contest of wills. She’d show her nanny who truly called the shots.

  Aida turned the lock and scurried in with a white robe in her hand.

  Lucienne made a point of sinking lower into the water, closing her eyes, and leaving only her nose above the water to take in air.

  Aida sat on the edge of the gemstone tub. “You’re a fighter, my sweet girl,” she said, her voice full of love.

  That was unexpected. She’d waited for her nanny to push on. When Aida gently brushed her hair off her forehead, Lucienne let her face surface and leaned her head against the edge of the tub. “It doesn’t matter if I fight,” she said. “They just keep coming back.”

  “Then you rest,” Aida said, “and fight again, and give them hell.”

  “I am resting, but you keep nagging me.”

  “You’ve been in the water for nearly two hours,” the nanny said. “Your nice skin is wrinkled now, like mine.”

  “Who cares if I have wrinkles? No one will look at me.”

  “Everyone looks at you and looks up to you. You don’t get to live just for yourself. I hated this life for you when you were first brought to the Red Mansion, but now I understand. You’re the Siren, and a queen can never live like a normal girl. You have people who need you.”

  “I can’t even take care of myself,” said Lucienne.

  “Then let me take care of you, and you take care of them.” The nanny started drying Lucienne’s hair with a towel.

  “Oh, Aida.” Lucienne drew her knees up against her chest and rested her head against her nanny’s shoulder.

  Aida ran a hand over her hair. “Men and boys come and go, but we—your people—will always be here.”

  Lucienne felt tears from her lashes. “Has Kian come back?”

  “No. He should be back in a few days.”

  “He hasn’t returned my calls. That never happened before. And the guards don’t know where he is. I’ll check with Ziyi to see if he’s in some sort of covert op. Nowadays, everyone keeps me at arm’s length.”

  “Kian knows how to manage himself,” Aida said. “Now get up and get dressed, or I’ll have to dry your naked body. You hated it when you were a little girl.”

  “I’m too tall for you now, anyway,” said Lucienne.

  “Then you don’t want me to slip and break my old bones.” The nanny kissed the girl’s head, rose, and exited.

  Lucienne put on her robe and came out of the bathroom. She selected a white leather tank top and a pair of jeans from the closet. Her guards looked reassured at her white outfit, but to Lucienne, wearing red or white made no difference when in such a sulky mood.

  Duncan was among her watchers. He hadn’t been around since the day before yes
terday. His dark skin was pale. Was he sick? She had scarcely talked to her guards ever since Vladimir and Ashburn had left. “Have you eaten, Duncan?” She eyed him. “Aida baked a pie in the kitchen.”

  “Not hungry,” he said, looking angry and anxious.

  As Lucienne headed toward the library, he trailed after her with another guard.

  “Where did you come from?” She gestured for him to walk with her, and Duncan fell into step beside her down the hallway.

  “The castle,” he said.

  “Any news there?” she asked casually.

  Duncan didn’t answer.

  Lucienne looked at him sideways, quirking an eyebrow. “Since you came from the castle, you must know where our chief is.”

  “Chief McQuillen is—” A pause that was more like a choke caught in Duncan’ voice.

  Lucienne waved her hand in exasperation. She was sick of it. She wouldn’t put up with this nonsense that she shouldn’t be bothered or burdened with the Sphinxes’ affairs. She was still their Siren. She had the rights to know what was going on under her nose. “What about Chief McQuillen?” she demanded. “He doesn’t pick up my calls anymore, and everyone refuses to tell me where he is. Am I a plague?”

  “Chief—” Duncan’s voice was still choked up.

  Lucienne stopped short. A passage of cold air whirled around her. A foreboding sense speared her guts.

  Duncan wasn’t trying to stall her.

  “What’s wrong, Duncan?” she asked softly, yet with authority.

  “Chief McQuillen was captured,” Duncan finally got his words out.

  Lucienne’s mind went blank for a few seconds. “What?”

  “The Sealers took Chief McQuillen over a week ago,” Duncan said. “The chief’s men didn’t want you to know about it. Ziyi intercepted some intel yesterday.”

  Blood drained from Lucienne’s face.

  The air around her turned colder than ice. Sphinxes’ weather cooled down fast at night. Was it night already? That explained why it was so dark all of a sudden. She rubbed her arm at the chill. No, this cold was unnatural, as unnatural as this sudden darkness. Had her thought manifested itself, like a dreaded nightmare that always came?