Okay, the bastard was serious. I extended my fangs—not enough to hinder speech, but I’ve been told I look scary that way. Then I held my open hand up and slowly started to squeeze.
The executive officer returned, stepped over to a console, and pressed a button. Was she sending the missiles?
I almost clenched my fist. That would have been disastrous.
But they weren’t missiles. Instead, the screen split again. In the new window were the faces of the president of the United States and a uniformed officer with five stars on his shoulder.
Mike jumped in first. “Mr. President, Chairman, thank you for contacting us. The CSG commander seems intent on attacking a British warship in international waters.”
This interruption stopped the admiral from taking immediate action. But he still had his finger on the missile launch key.
“There’s a terrorist aboard that ship!” he snapped. “She’s convinced the crew to follow her madness.”
The president looked into the camera. “Lady Birdsong, I presume? We were scheduled to meet in London, but the trip was cancelled at the last minute.”
Lady Birdsong smiled slightly. “How gracious of you to remember my name. Yes, I was so looking forward to meeting you. Unfortunately, that rogue dragon incident dashed all of our plans.”
“You and your MI-13 colleagues provided invaluable assistance during the event,” said the president. “I’m sure we can build on that mutual trust and defuse this tense situation.”
How did he do it? Calm words and smiles seemed to be lowering the tension of our little conference. Diplomacy must be its own kind of magic.
Then the admiral ruined it. “I still have operational control as the commander of this battle group. I can still launch and destroy these terrorists.”
The president looked at the five-star general at his side. “George, is this correct?”
“We give a lot of power to battle group commanders, Mr. President,” the general responded.
“Enough power to start World War Three? Seems like we should have a way to curtail that in the event a commander goes rogue.”
“We do, Mr. President,” he said. Turning to the screen, he said, “Admiral, you are relieved of duty, effective immediately. XO, you have command of the battle group.”
I thought the admiral might do something insane, but the ingrained nature of decades of military service outweighed his anger.
“Admiral, you are restricted to your quarters until we return to shore and an inquiry can be held,” said the general. He continued, “XO—pardon me. Commander, your new orders are to take command of the George Washington battle group, then provide escort and safe conduct to the HMS Defender to her home port.”
“Aye-aye, General,” said the new commander. Did she smile slightly? Hard to tell her mood over a video link.
The new commander turned to her crew and began issuing orders. In seconds, a trio of Marine guards had escorted the admiral from the bridge.
“Lady Birdsong,” I said, “it looks like things have calmed down. Perhaps we should—”
A faint buzzing sound came over the speakers, indecipherable by human ears, but I could hear it. Marcus and Jonathan were whispering entreaties to all, subaudible enticements which they hoped would rekindle the flames of aggression that had caused this confrontation.
“Still at it, you demon scum?” I asked.
Lady Birdsong, as well as the new battle group commander on the other end of the link, looked puzzled by my comments.
I shook my head and changed the subject. “Can we cut those idiots from the feed? The less they know, the better.”
“That’s not possible,” said our captain. “The link is controlled by the distant end. All we can do is turn off our link. But it needs to stay up to maintain communications until we are out of harm’s way.”
“I can make them scatter,” said Mike. Turning to the screen, he said, “Heavenly Father…”
Two clicks and Marcus and Mr. Jonathan had cut themselves off to avoid the pain of hearing a prayer. I breathed a silent sigh when none of the other participants objected as Mike finished blessing our meeting. Sure, we each had ways to identify demons, but it never hurt to double check.
“Captain, Lady Birdsong,” said the communications officer, “I just received a text message that General Marcus and SAC Jonathan had to drop off the line due to communication difficulties.”
“We’re better off without them,” said Manny.
After a few minutes of discussion with the new battle group commander, our attackers were now an honor escort to accompany us to the HMS Defender’s Royal Navy homeport.
No longer driven by demonic forces, the coalition broke up quickly. The Saudis, Iranians, and Israelis gave each other a wide berth as they steamed away. The Israeli fighter jets zipped away without incident.
The president murmured a few words to the general, who excused himself and left.
Then the president addressed the new battle group commander. “Commander, you have your orders. Thank you for your service. A promotion to match your new position is forthcoming. If you would be so kind as to sign off while I continue this meeting with Her Majesty’s representatives?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” she said, then looked at me. “As long as we are assured that we’ll have no more issues with our reactors.”
“Of course not,” I said as I set the useless amulet on the table. Another magician’s trick and misdirection. Everybody knows werewolves can’t handle magic.
“USS George Washington actual, signing off.” Just before the link dropped, I caught the smile on the former XO’s face.
The president turned his attention to us, “Now, Ms. White—or should I call you Princess Luna?”
“Just Luna, please. I married into a royal family, but inside I’m still the cheerleader from Caspar, Wyoming.”
“A cheerleader who seems to have trouble following her wherever she goes.”
“Don’t start none, won’t be none,” Manny spouted off.
“I beg your pardon?”
Mike answered for Manny. “Luna only strikes back when attacked. She came to Saudi Arabia to rescue her friend and his daughter; they tried to stop us, and many died. Once we had sanctuary in the British Embassy with our rescued hostages, we were surrounded and trapped. Then they kidnapped Logan’s daughter a second time, tortured and maimed her, and threw her near lifeless body on our doorstep.
“After that, they circled the embassy with an angry mob to stone the girl to death. We escaped again—with no help from you politicians—and took the injured girl to the US.
“Then the kidnapper gloated that no one could touch him because of his position and the money and resources his country commands. He bragged that he would never be prosecuted for his crimes. Luna, working with her allies, changed the equation. Prince Abdul’s country can no longer count on billions of dollars or oceans of oil.
“In every case, all that needed to be done was to leave Luna alone.”
“And what would it take to get Luna to leave us alone?” mused the president.
Damn, he was ready to negotiate and I had no idea what a good deal would be. I really needed a master dealmaker like Briar Frostroot here to handle this.
Still, there were some things I could ask for. “As Mike mentioned, we want to be left alone. Something along the lines of a non-aggression pact.”
“If I may?” interjected Lady Birdsong. “I believe the best way to assure that would be to provide diplomatic recognition to Princess Luna and her designates. Just as my grandfather did with Her Majesty’s government.”
“But she’s American,” said the president.
“Call her a dual citizen,” said Manny. He chuckled and added, “Like a part-time princess.”
“A secret treaty with the Dark Fae, like your grandfather’s treaty setting up diplomatic relations with the Light Fae?” mused the president. “It’s not without precedent.”
He turned to me.
“Do you have the authority to enter into a treaty with our government?”
Do I? Hell if I know. “I can speak for my husband’s demesne.”
The president frowned and I knew he would reject the deal. One little prince’s domain was not enough to entice him.
“And, of course, those who have vowed obedience to me.”
The president raised an eyebrow, urging me to continue. “That would be my seven sisters-in-law and Princess Perla, my mother-in-law.”
“Princess Perla, the next in line to the throne of Queen Mab?” interjected Lady Birdsong. “She vowed obedience to you?”
“Only after I kicked her ass in combat, the same as I did with her daughters.”
After another hour, we had a framework for a deal we could all live with. Recognition of my status as regent for the cubs, a secret treaty between the areas I controlled and the United States government, and a pledge to not interfere in human affairs unless in an emergency.
By the time the submarine and the carrier had their reactors back online, we broke the meeting up. There were still a million details to work out, but those could be put off as long as we agreed on the major items.
The president signed off and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Lady Birdsong looked at me levelly. “Her Majesty’s government would also be open to a treaty between your country and ours. We can offer enticements that the US government can’t match.”
“We’d be open to the discussion,” I said. “But I don’t know what we can offer that you can’t already obtain through your current treaty with the Light Fae.”
Lady Birdsong turned her hand over languidly. “Well, we have noted a recent downturn in the production of our North Sea wells. It would seem you have access to some techniques that can enhance oil production. Perhaps your experts could take a look?”
“No promises,” I said, “but we would be willing to help in any way we can.”
She smiled brightly. “Splendid!” Then her face darkened as she stared at the amulet on the table. “I know of no device, magical or mundane, that can shut down a nuclear reactor at that distance.”
“A princess needs to keep some secrets,” I said as I picked the piece of junk jewelry up. “But I can assure you that this would never be used against our allies.”
Another bright smile as she came closer, within arm’s length. “If I may?” she asked with her hand raised.
At my nod, she touched my hair and pulled out a strand of seaweed.
“It would appear you were rushed and didn’t have time to rinse out your seaweed conditioner,” she said.
Epilogue
The bar was dark and redolent with the scent of lager, ales, and Guinness, with a hint of fried fish and chips. Just what I expected of a British pub.
The patrons were a mixture of rough military men and the occasional magician. The only women present were staff.
A dive bar. I felt right at home as I glided in behind Mike and Manny in my extra-tight, blood-red, off-the-shoulder, way-above-the-knees dress. Matching red three-inch heels and a tiny bag completed the ensemble.
Heads turned at our—okay, my—entrance. I held back a minute as Mike and Manny approached a slump-shouldered man sitting at a four-top table by himself with his back to the door. He was spinning an empty gin and tonic glass where a lone ice cube was melting away.
“Chief Warrant Officer Cameron?” asked Mike. “Do you mind if we join you?”
An older man at a nearby table snorted derisively.
Cameron quickly said, “I’m not an officer anymore.” He shook his head and added, “But of course, Mike. You and Manny are welcome to join me.”
I slid into the empty seat next to him, took his arm, and squeezed tightly. “How about me, Derrick? Can I join you, too?”
“Princess Luna?” he asked, eyes widening in surprise.
“Oh, Derrick!” I said with a laugh. “I’m just Luna to my good friends.”
Another snort from the adjoining table, followed by a muttered, “That tart is no more a princess than I’m—”
He was shushed by his tablemate, who had seen the five SAS guards who’d followed us in and taken up stations around the room.
That guy was getting on my nerves.
“Princ—” Derrick halted at my glare. “Luna, what are you doing in England?”
“Lady Birdsong asked us to do a survey up in your North Sea oilfields. We finished up yesterday and decided to look up old friends here in London.”
“You came all this way to see me?”
“Well, we had to meet the queen first, of course. Lovely woman; we had quite a nice chat.”
“You met with Her Majesty?”
“Yes. Apparently it was some protocol thing. Couldn’t be avoided. I’m not really an expert on the finer details.”
I waved away the bother of meeting the queen and smiled at Derrick. “Then I insisted that we come find you.”
“You came to find me? Why?”
“That’s a story best told over some drinks, don’t you think?”
I waved to the waitperson and read her name-tag. “Hi, Agnes. Could we get a round of drinks here? I’ve been dying to try a draft Guinness.”
She looked at me with the head-to-toe appraisal women use, pinched her nose up at how close I was sitting to Derrick, and said, “Certainly.”
Mike and Manny joined me by ordering Guinness, while Derrick stuck with a gin and tonic.
I closed my eyes and spent a minute inhaling the aromas from my drink: hops, roasted barley, and malt.
I opened my eyes and saw that my tablemates were frozen. What were they waiting for?
Oh, they were waiting for me to drink first. It was nice to be around polite men.
“Cheers!” I said, then sipped. Damn, that’s good. “This is so much better than the canned version we had in Riyadh.”
Derrick looked shocked. “I’ve been instructed not to discuss that period.”
I scrunched my nose in dismissal. “We won’t talk about the really secret stuff,” I said. “I just wanted to thank you for saving our lives that day.”
“Not to mention saving the ambassador and Lady Birdsong,” said Manny. “Ex-officer, huh? You Brits aren’t big on gratitude, are you?”
“I did my duty,” Derrick said. “Nothing more. I didn’t join because I wanted gratitude.”
“Well, I can show gratitude, Derrick,” I said.
Agnes was hovering behind us with a full tray of drinks for another table. I ignored her as I pulled an item out of my tiny purse and placed it on the table in front of Derrick.
“I got you this to show how grateful I am,” I said as I activated the BITCHCoin.
The tray of drinks fell, splashing an entire table of customers.
Shouts of “Oi! Oi!” were ignored as Agnes grabbed Derrick’s shoulder with a possessive hand. “Is that thing real?”
“What about our drinks—” said the wet man at the next table. He was cut off by a murderous glare from Agnes.
“Would you be offended if I verified this?” asked Derrick.
“Please do.”
“I’ll have to download the app,” he said as he pulled out his phone. “I never expected to see one of these in my life.”
“I got it, luv,” said Agnes as she scanned the coin.
The app dinged with the cash register sound Mason had set up for approved coins. The woman’s breath caught in her throat.
“We’re rich, Derrick!” she exclaimed.
Derrick warmed my heart when he said, “What do you mean, ‘we,’ Agnes?”
“Why, we’re practically engaged!” she said as she stroked Derrick’s shoulder.
“We went on one date. You thanked me for the meal and said you couldn’t see a future with a ‘cashiered grunt who can’t discuss his job.’”
Manny gave a laugh. “Let me guess—you bought her a fancy dinner and didn’t even get a goodnight kiss.”
Derrick’s face was all the an
swer we needed.
I leaned close to Derrick and shot a glance at Agnes as I whispered, just loudly enough for her to hear, “You can do better, Derrick. Much better.”
Then I turned to Agnes. “Would you be a dear and get us another round of drinks, Agnes? I have a lot to discuss with Derrick.”
Agnes stalked away in rage, her steps stiff and angry.
“He’ll never be able to drink in here again without running the risk of being poisoned,” said Mike.
“You know I can’t accept a bounty for doing my duty,” said Derrick. He pushed the coin back my way.
Agnes was returning with our loaded tray. “Leave it as a tip for Agnes,” I said, which almost caused her to drop the tray again.
“No, I still can’t accept a bounty,” he insisted.
“Don’t think of it as a bounty,” I said, then pointedly waited for Agnes to clear away our old glasses before speaking again.
She kept compulsively wiping down the table next to us, until the bartender shouted at her to pick up her next order.
I pushed the coin back over to sit in front of Derrick. “Don’t think of it as a bounty, think of it as a sign-on bonus.”
“Signing on to what?”
“We discussed a new position with Lady Birdsong, a sort of liaison between Her Majesty’s government and my little…” Here I stumbled, searching for the correct word in English. “You can’t call it a kingdom, and I don’t represent Queen Mab directly. Maybe the word is ‘Princessdom’?”
“Fiefdom,” said Derrick, “is what I believe the correct term would be, Princess.”
“That’s not quite the essence, but it’ll do for now,” I said, then waved away the distraction. “In any case, Lady Birdsong has requested a liaison between your government and ours.”
“And what does that have to do with me?” asked Derrick. “Surely there are many men better suited to act in this position.”
“Derrick,” I smiled warmly, “there are not ‘many men’ like you. You have risked your life to save others, you’ve worked well with us, and I trust you. You’re the man for the job.”
“What does this mean? Am I being called back into service?”
“Well, basically. But I think you should come back at a slightly higher rank than warrant officer.”
Lycan Legacy - 4 - 5 - 6: Princess - Progeny - Paladin: Book 4 - 5 - 6 in the Lycan Legacy Series Page 78