“So she didn’t die?” she said. “Can you stop with the dramatic exits?” Viola followed him and realized he’d walked outside. “Hey, get back here. I’d like to finish what we started.”
He was scanning the sky and not paying her any attention.
“Earth to Sergei?” Viola wanted to see what was so damn important up there, but all she saw was clouds.
“Finish our conversation or finish in bed?” His voice was pleasant, as if they hadn’t just been on the verge of doing the nasty in her bedroom.
“Both.” She could have sworn that was her left head talking, but she was still human. She tapped her left shoulder to make sure.
“What about Merrick? Is he invited, too?” The nonchalance was starting to get to her.
“I don’t think we’d all fit. It’s a Queen-size bed. Hah—get it?” She punched him in the arm, but his focus didn’t waver from the sky.
Viola did her best to follow his gaze, but the sun was too bright.
“If I share your bed tonight, Merrick will expect his turn.” Sergei’s voice was flat.
“Not going to happen.” She shook her head.
“There will come a time when you will have to do a Queen’s duty.”
“Do we have to think about that now?” Viola had enough to worry about. “I think one dragon would be enough for me.” She tried to sound casual, but she scoured his profile for any clue of what he felt about that.
“I’m not willing to share you yet. You’re too human for them. For now anyway.” He cracked his knuckles.
“Given your response to Queens, I think that’s good. I like my neck intact. I like you nibbling on it, too.” Viola put her cheek on his arm. “So why don’t we send Merrick out to the movies for the night and have wild dragon sex?”
“Because Merrick isn’t here.” He tensed and cocked his head, as if he was listening to something.
“What? Where else would they be?” She squinted into the clouds, but still didn’t see them.
“Trouble,” Sergei said.
Viola ran back to the house to check to see if they were inside. A whistling noise caught her attention just as something loud hit and exploded.
Chapter Thirteen
“If one more asshole drops a house on me, I’m going to go all Wicked Witch of the West on him,” Viola said, emerging in her dragon form. She was singed and bruised. As she shook the timber off of her and stepped out of the hissing electrical wires, she realized she smelled gas. Shooting straight in the air, she still felt the heat when the house exploded. The shockwave of the boom fortunately gave her a few hundred feet in altitude.
Hey! She’d shifted without over thinking it. And bonus, she could fly on a whim, too! Wait until the guys saw! They’d be so proud. Maybe she could even coax a smile out of Sergei.
She arched a wing and tilted to fly over what was left of the smoldering house and a terrible thought hit her.
This time they got her knitting.
It was on like Donkey Kong. She was amazed that she could see the tiniest detail on the ground. One car in the valley was on fire. Merrick was swooping in and biting people’s heads off with each of his three heads.
Ew.
Machine guns fired at him until he was wounded and bleeding, but he was still doing more damage than he was taking in.
Where the hell was the police or the National Guard? Were they that remote no one was reporting a mini war going on? They had to be close enough to Canada to at least warrant an investigation from the Border Patrol—right?
Merrick’s trumpeting had no effect on the humans he was fighting. They must have come prepared to meet a Chimera. Paranoia warred with dread. That meant they were coming for her. Grasping one man holding a missile launcher, Merrick took to the sky. The man screamed in Spanish and flailed around to escape Merrick’s deadly clutch. It was no surprise that he dropped the weapon in his attempts.
It was probably the Cult of Humanity. Could she escape them again? She had more firepower this time around, but so did they.
She wondered if Casimiro betrayed them because of her rejection. For all of the “Queens are sacred” nonsense she was hearing, a lot of dragons were conspiring against her.
Merrick dropped the man from a high altitude.
“Take that, you jerk,” she said, anger replacing the fear.
But when she glanced at the ground, she saw another man pick up the missile launcher and aim it at an incoming Merrick.
“Watch out!” she called, diving in to help him.
But she was too late. The missile took off with a jet of smoke. She saw the impact blow Merrick heads over tail. He was down and flailing, a gigantic hole in his chest.
“Snare the Queen,” they said as she barreled into the man with the missile launcher and bowled over a few more like she was in the duck pin lanes.
“Ow,” she cried as she hit the ground rolling.
“Get back in the air, you idiot!” Sergei shouted, stinging the missile-launcher guy who had been crawling to reload.
A huge net shot out from a harpoon mounted on one of the trucks. It caught her as she staggered to her feet. It was weighted with something that dropped her back to the ground.
Electricity sparked over the steel net, stinging her.
There was no way she was going to lose consciousness again. But as her heads endeavored to bite through to freedom, she was shocked into oblivion for a few moments.
This was no ordinary rope.
When her vision cleared, she saw more blue-faced, swollen humans scattered around her. It looked like they died trying to drag her away while she was discombobulated in the stupid net.
“Get ready to roll away,” Merrick said, swooping down and lifting it off her.
She scooted out when Merrick lifted the weighted net off her. Lightning arced over his talons and danced up his flanks. He dropped it a few feet away, and then crashed to the earth, shaking the area.
“Sergei,” she cried, searching for him. He wasn’t in the sky or in the near vicinity. Her nerves were buzzing from the jolt of lightning, and she swayed.
Merrick staggered over to her. The hole in his chest was barely healing. Inside his chest cavity, his ribs were splintered and torn.
“I’ve got to get you out of here. I can’t take another hit.”
“Are you all right?” Viola’s horse head asked, while the goat head dry heaved. Viola centered herself and spoke from her middle dragon head. “We have to help Sergei.”
“My orders are to get you to safety,” Merrick said.
“Where’s safety?” she asked. She wasn’t safe on the open road. She wasn’t safe in a super secret location. At this rate, the moon might be the only place not overrun with studs and cultists.
“Only another Queen would be able to protect you,” he said.
That made some sense into her foggy brain. “Who’s closest?”
“Esmeralda in Mexico.”
Viola shook her head. “No, I don’t trust her. She hurt Carolyn.” She had all her heads scouring for clues of Sergei, which did nothing for her disorientation.
“Cassandra, then, in Ireland.”
That’s where her father was. It was worth a shot.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll get there on my own. You stay and help Sergei.”
The Cult of Humanity was regrouping at the bottom of the hill. Viola didn’t have much time to decide if she wanted to mount a defense, go on attack, or run like hell. Sergei didn’t seem like a “run like hell” sort of guy.
“No way,” Merrick said. “I protect you, not him.”
“Now, just a damn minute. I’m the Queen. Don’t I get to give the orders?” she asked. Her old friend Paranoia creeped up and wondered if Merrick was in on this. How else had the Cult found her?
“Besides, he’ll kill me himself if I leave you vulnerable.”
Viola didn’t want to leave Sergei, but Merrick was in no shape to face another assault. And she was a liability in battle. She had
to start trusting men again—she’d start with these two. “Will he know where to catch up to us?”
Merrick nodded his heads. “We’ll contact him once we’re safely away. Can you fly without my assistance?”
“Yeah,” she said with pride. “I even shifted without thinking about it.”
“Good,” Merrick said. “Because I don’t think I can carry you.”
“Can you even fly?”
“I’ll fly,” he said. “Now, let’s go.”
This time, it was Viola who supported Merrick up until they were well hidden by the clouds. Battered and bloody, they made their way out to sea and across the ocean. Viola was too scared to think about what they were doing or where they were going. She was concentrating too hard not to belly flop into the Atlantic to worry if he knew the way.
As they flew across the miles and the hours, Merrick’s body regenerated. Because she was supporting him, Viola felt the tingle of magic as he called upon the weave to heal his wounds. She memorized the feeling, in case she ever had to do that for herself. It was red and buzzed over her skin like angry fire ants.
They kept out of the airline flight paths as much as they could, but she could see a few jets in the distance and a bunch of other dragons. No one challenged them, though. It seemed everyone was too busy on their own agendas to worry about two wounded dragons winging it to Europe.
“I don’t even have a passport.” Viola allowed herself the hysterical thought as exhaustion sapped away everything but the need to push onward. She kept glancing over her shoulder, hoping Sergei was right behind them.
After hours and hours of gray-and-white capped waves she saw land. She wanted to stop in France for a croissant and some sightseeing. Or maybe England for a scone and some tea. But Merrick was adamant.
“No rest. Keep flying.”
Her wings felt like they were about to fall off as they passed the green grass and rolling mountains of Ireland. Heading toward one of the highest peaks, she saw a castle in the distance and about a hundred dragons circling around the buttresses. The blue weave pulsed around the castle like a force field, but instead of keeping her out, it was drawing her in. The weave wound around the structure like a tight ball of yarn. It felt like she was coming home, which was ridiculous because Viola had never stepped foot in Ireland before. Technically, she still hadn’t.
Five dragons flew out to greet them. In the lead was a white dragon, immense and stately with golden eyes that pierced through her. “Another refugee,” he said.
“We’re seeking sanctuary,” Merrick said. “Our Queen was attacked by the Cult of Humanity.”
The big dragon sneered. “You couldn’t handle a few puny humans?”
Merrick hung his heads.
“Hey, Snow White?” Viola’s red goat head spat. “Take us to Cassandra.”
“As the Queen commands.” His voice iced over in contempt as he turned his back on them. His four wingmen, black Celtics like Reed, followed in his wake. They moved in unison, like a perfectly oiled machine.
“That was the Queen’s Justice you just told off,” Merrick said, his voice unsteady.
“He’s a big dude,” Viola acknowledged. But then again, all the dragons were pretty big compared to what she was used to.
“He’s the oldest of all of us,” he said, awed.
“He should have been a little more polite.” Viola didn’t care how old he was. Niall was old, too, and still treated her with respect.
“He used to eat humans up until recently.”
“How recent?” Viola gasped.
“He was convinced to stop during the Crusades.”
“That’s recent?”
“It is to him. If I can suggest that you might show him more respect the next time we meet up with him…” Merrick said.
Viola knew he was only trying to help, but she didn’t automatically give anyone the power to make her feel inferior. They had to earn that right. Her mother was the Grand Champion of making her feel inferior. Justice was a lamb compared to her.
“I will, if he will,” she said.
“He won’t. But he might not kill me for your affront,” Merrick’s morose tones put a grim pall over her thoughts.
“Well, that’s not fair,” Viola said.
“I’m responsible for you,” he said. “I will take your punishment.”
“That blows.” Justice sounded like a big bully.
“That’s our lot in life,” Merrick said. He reminded Viola of Eeyore.
“Okay, I’ll behave,” Viola said. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” She wanted to be low-key, anyway. And she was trying to build up Merrick’s loyalties, although she didn’t know why. She wasn’t going to sleep with him. Not when the only one she wanted was Sergei and there was a slight possibility he might be interested.
“Justice is old enough that you might have amused him,” he said, a glimmer of hope in his voice. “Although if you were in human guise, we’d probably be toast.”
The castle was a medieval-style fortress built on top of a mountain, near impossible to get up the steep bluff on foot. Coming in from the air, Viola saw dragon sentries on the buttresses and watchtowers. There were a few of the snaky Chinese dragons—darts of green and yellow moving about the castle—but most of the sentries were the big Celtics, like Jack and Reed. Cassandra knew how to pick her guards; Viola wouldn’t want to mess with them.
They followed Justice’s entourage into the courtyard of the castle. Viola was happy to be on the ground and even happier to shift back into her human self. Merrick stayed a dragon and was allowed to rest on the cobblestone floor until the weave completely healed his wounds. A few minutes later Merrick, who seemed about to face plant, transformed and held out his arm, and then escorted her through the wide iron gates.
As they entered the main keep, a man in gleaming plate mail and a long white cloak stopped them. He had piercing gold eyes and she knew she was seeing Justice’s human form.
She held out her hand. “Sorry for being a bitch back there. I’ve had a rough morning. Bygones?”
Justice blinked and stared at her outstretched hand like it was a snake.
Merrick cleared his throat, and Viola put her hand down.
“This way,” he intoned. “Not you,” he said to Merrick. The sneer in his voice put Viola’s back up.
“I-I am the Queen’s escort,” Merrick stammered.
“Are you her consort?” Justice’s voice could have stripped paint off a wall.
Torch lowered his head in deference. “No.”
“Are you her Protector?” Justice continued.
Viola wished her Protector was here. Sergei better be all right. Otherwise, she was going to go kick some Cultist butts.
“No,” Merrick whispered.
“Then, you will remain outside until you are summoned. My Queen, if you would follow me?” Without waiting for an answer, Justice strode away.
Giving Merrick a helpless shrug, she hurried to keep up with Justice’s long strides. Adrenaline spiked through her exhaustion and she realized she looked a fright. Maybe she didn’t have to be a size six, but Casimiro was probably right in that the other Queens would judge her appearance.
“Justice, how formal is Cassandra’s court?”
Justice stopped short. Viola almost plowed into his back. He whirled and considered her with his uncaring raptor’s gaze.
“I’d like to dress more respectfully.” she indicated her jeans and sweater.
His face eased out of his harsh lines when he said, “The Queen favors comfort over formality. However, pants are for men.”
Viola wasn’t sure if that was the Queen’s take or if that was his own opinion. Still, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to err on the side of caution for once. Letting her mind drift over to a pretty maxi dress she saw on QVC, she felt the weave wash over her and, in a swirl of vertigo, she was wearing an emerald dress with a matching silk jacket.
Apparently, the weave filled in where it wanted to. Sh
e wiggled her toes, glad she was in matching ballet slippers and not heels. That was all she needed—to topple over on Justice’s dignity.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Viola.” She refrained from holding out her hand again.
He nodded and opened two ornately carved stone doors. Each of them weighed more than the houses that had dropped on her. He walked inside a large receiving area, where dragons sat along both sides of a large ballroom. Seated up on an awning covered stage, reclined a red-headed woman. She wore a silky black drape of material that hugged her curves and left her shapely legs bare. Viola felt like a big green blimp when Justice announced,
“Queen Viola of America.”
Viola nearly stumbled when she heard her title. Her heartbeat was loud on her ears. Queen? It was now very real. She bit down a nervous giggle and entered the room.
“Welcome, sister.” Cassandra said. “You may leave us, Justice.”
The stone doors closed behind her with barely a whisper, and she found herself the center of attention for a hundred dragons. Most of them men. There was a brightly dressed contingent of ten females sitting on pillows below Cassandra’s settee. Around the room, the blue weave arced and settled at their feet. Blinking, Viola wondered if everyone else could see the dancing pattern. But no one seemed to be tracking it. Maybe it was normal in a Queen’s castle? The threads of power made her fingers itch to knit it all together.
“Come forth and let us see you.”
Viola strained to hear the whispers of the male dragons but she couldn’t decipher the language. Their stares bored into her and her chin rose. She stopped at the steps leading up to the stage.
“What brings you to Ireland?” Cassandra asked. Even though she was in human form, the way she sat reminded Viola of a coiled snake. The question was asked with a sincerity that rang false.
Viola’s mouth opened to ask for sanctuary, but a ping of warning struck her from the weave. Startled, she felt a pull coming from one of the women on the pillows. It seemed to be coming from a Carrie-Ann-Moss-circa-the-Matrix lookalike. Only the woman was contemplating her nails instead of actively participating in the assembly.
The Queen's Flight (Emerging Queens) Page 12