The Queen's Dance (Emerging Queens)

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  Oof.

  “Some of us don’t have rock star salaries coming in,” Remy said to salvage his pride, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t have the means.” He hadn’t been expecting to finance the Queen, but then again, he hadn’t expected any of this.

  “If you change your mind…” Casimiro trailed off.

  “The dragon embassy also has funds set up you can apply for,” Reed said.

  “I can handle it,” Remy snapped. He might have to sell off some of the finer golf clubs from his hoard, but he’d do it. He’d be damned if these studs would consider him lacking in yet another area.

  Or he could take the easy way out. Petition Margery to rescind her offer of protector. His reputation would take a hit, but who gave a shit what the dragons thought. He was happy on his land. Everything was just fine until the Queens started emerging.

  Remy let out a long sigh. They needed the Queens, he knew that. Now that there were more, they would need more territories, and giving up his protectorship was no guarantee that another Queen wouldn’t take up residence and order him around.

  No, it was safer to go with the devil you knew. At least in this case, the devil was a redhead with a hot body. Things could be worse.

  Chapter Eight

  Margery liked the rustic little kitchen. It was enormous—her entire apartment could fit inside it. Maybe moving out of the city wasn’t the end of the world after all.

  “I appreciate you allowing me to stay in your territory,” Viola said.

  “Well, you were here first.” Margery blinked at her in surprise. “Not to mention you saved my life.”

  “Sergei was worried you would have Champ throw us out.”

  “No, I’d never do that. I know what it’s like to be tossed out of your home.” Territory, schmeritory—she wasn’t going to make anyone homeless.

  A vision of her stepfather haunted her for a moment. He was throwing her belongings into the street while her mother held her little sister back from following Margery. She swallowed and shook off the dark thoughts.

  “Don’t worry,” Carolyn said, snapping her out of her memories. “Arianna will make it up to you.”

  It took Margery a minute to realize Carolyn thought she was referring to being kicked out of her New York apartment. That stung, of course, but it didn’t have the emotional baggage of being kicked out because your mother was too high to believe her husband’s brother had hurt her children.

  Viola gestured them inside the kitchen. When they were all seated, she put on a kettle to boil and then got down several teas from a handmade cabinet. Margery picked out a green tea. Carolyn went for a black tea, and Viola picked a white. Seriously, these chicks could be her new best friends.

  “Arianna’s starting to act a lot like her mother.” Carolyn shuddered and helped herself to a scone. She passed one to Viola, who slathered butter and jam all over it.

  “Who’s her mother?” Margery asked, trying not to scatter crumbs all over the table. The scone was flaky perfection and she was starving. Luckily, the other Queens didn’t seem like dainty eaters and they all were soon on their second scones.

  “Esmeralda, the Cuélebre of the Americas.” Carolyn wiggled her fingers as if this was a big deal. “Arianna is old-school dragon royalty and has decided to let everyone know that. I’m sorry she kicked you out of your apartment. I think she’s just really insecure under two tons of emerald scales and MAC lipstick.”

  “What did she do to you?”

  “She told me I couldn’t go to the New York Public Library without a diplomatic escort,” Carolyn sniffed.

  Viola paused, her tea half to her mouth. “Isn’t Reed her brother?”

  Carolyn nodded.

  “You can’t get any more diplomatic than that,” Viola said.

  “Diplomacy and Western dragons don’t really belong in the same sentence,” Margery said, remembering a few from her days when she was scrounging for an interview. “Unlike Chinese dragons. They seem to have charm to spare.” Casimiro, of course, was a Chinese dragon.

  Viola made a face. “‘Charming’ wouldn’t be the word I use.”

  “Smythe’s a Chinese dragon, right?”

  “Yeah, he’s an oily scumbag, but I can’t see him smuggling drugs. Carolyn filled me in on the Smooshie details. Although he did pretty much lock me up and try to force me to become his mate when I first shifted. So he’s got an evil streak.” Viola tapped her fingers on the table and tilted her head in thought.

  “That’s awful,” Margery said, remembering her time in the pirates’ ship.

  “It wasn’t as deliberate or as traumatic as yours,” Viola said. “Sergei called Reed and Carolyn and they rescued me.”

  “Reed bounced Smythe’s head against the wall a few times.” Carolyn poured herself another cup of tea.

  “Is this status quo in the dragon world, that a stud will kidnap a Queen if given half a chance?” Margery’s fingers itched for a pen. She needed to write. She needed to turn in a story or her editor would give all the important assignments to someone else. This would make good reading, especially if she could interview some studs. Of course, she’d need Remy there. Well, maybe that wasn’t such a great idea. With the mood he was in today, he might bite them in half.

  A sunbeam drifted into the kitchen through the window over the sink, and Margery angled her chair so it hit her on the shoulder. The sweet smells of the teas added to the calm that settled into her. She took a deep breath and relaxed for the first time since she’d shifted into a dragon Queen. Even though they were talking about life and death, Margery felt at home in the lovely cottage. If only she had her laptop and an internet connection, life would be complete.

  “It’s not unexpected,” Viola said, rubbing her stomach protectively. “After all, the majority of them have never had sex with their own species. But there are good studs, too. The three out there would never kidnap a Queen.”

  “I’d watch out for the established Queens,” Carolyn said murkily. “I got shanghaied by Esmeralda to be a stand-in breeder.”

  “Did Reed bounce her head off the wall a few times?” Margery asked.

  “Ha!” Carolyn made a raspberry sound with her tongue. “She got sanctioned. They hit her in her purse.”

  “So there isn’t a lot of protection for these newer Queens?” While close to her heart, this was another story for another time. Right now, they needed to stop the human women from dying.

  “That’s what our protectors are for,” Viola said.

  “And consorts,” Carolyn added.

  “Does Smythe have a Queen?” Margery asked. If no Queen would have him, she could nail him on the motive for making and distributing this drug. Still, no judge in the land would issue a search warrant on a dragon’s property, even if she could get the police interested enough.

  Viola shook her head. “Nope. Which is why when I shifted and dropped into his lap, he had a hard time letting me go.”

  “Do you know if he has warehouses in Quebec?” Margery tried another tactic. If she could link the warehouse where she’d been taken to Smythe, that would make her claims against him harder to ignore.

  “He’s got distribution points all over the world,” Viola said, then a glazed look came into her eyes and her voice became a little harsher. “Why don’t we fly to the warehouse in Quebec and bust some heads?” Viola shook her head and then rubbed her temple. “Sorry about that. Sometimes I get a little overzealous. I’m a three-headed dragon, and each head has an opinion.”

  “I remember the three heads,” Margery said, thinking back to her rescue. “They seemed to be in accord that day.”

  “Yeah, I’m not schizophrenic, I’m possessed. One head is an ancient Queen. The other is a murderous Queen. I’m fun at parties.” Viola gave a rueful smile. “I also hunt the missing Queens down because I can sense them in the weave, which was how I found you. Do you want to help me hunt down any clues?”

  “I think that’s a great idea. Let’s go,” Margery said,
pushing back from the table.

  The three Queens made it to the door before being blocked by Reed, who walked into the house. Casimiro, Sergei, and Remy were right behind him.

  Damn. Outnumbered.

  Viola waved her hand in the air. “Oh, look, a fresh batch of testosterone. All we’re missing is Justice. Luckily, he’s in Ireland settling Cassandra’s affairs.”

  “We have agents in Quebec right now searching the warehouse for clues,” Reed said, making no apologies for eavesdropping. “There’s no need for you ladies to exert yourselves.”

  “What Reed is trying to say is if you go all Charlie’s Angels on the site, you’re going to distract the studs and evidence might get missed,” Carolyn said.

  “You have agents to do your bidding now.” Casimiro bowed to each Queen.

  “Besides”—Remy nudged Margery—“you’re still too weak to fly.” He held her hand as she bristled at his remark and pretended not to see Viola’s sympathetic glance.

  The men took seats next to their Queens, with Casimiro being the odd one out. They all stared at each other in uncomfortable silence.

  Margery was getting fidgety just doing nothing, and she needed answers, but as much as she hated to admit it, Remy was right—she still wasn’t 100 percent. She angled her chair so the sunbeam coming through the window hit the back of her neck. Fighting to keep her eyes from closing, she gathered her thoughts while more food was put out. Casimiro actually helped out in the kitchen. She was impressed, in spite of herself.

  Once the food was on the table, Viola made Casimiro hold his hands out and put a hank of yarn over them. He stifled a long-suffering sigh as Viola began to wind a ball of yarn. Margery’s lips twitched at how domestic he looked. It was a far cry from the glamorous rock star that sold out stadiums, and it was interesting to see this side of him. She glanced over at Remy, who was the epitome of what you see is what you get. He caught her looking and winked at her. Feeling an embarrassed warmth flood her, she turned her attention back to the matter at hand. She wasn’t sure what had knocked him out of his foul mood, but she was grateful for it.

  “What exactly are these Smooshies supposed to be?” Margery asked. “There were boxes of them on the yacht. Are they just stuffed dragons?”

  “The stuffing is what makes them so special. They’re stuffed with dragon feathers, and in some higher-end models, dragon scales.” Viola wound the yarn into a ball while they talked.

  “Yuck.” Carolyn made a face.

  Viola shrugged. “They sold like hotcakes.”

  “Was there any talk about stuffing them with other substances?”

  Viola shook her head.

  “Where were they made?”

  “India—Choyo’s territory.”

  “Do you think Choyo is in on this?” Carolyn said.

  Margery said, “If the Queens were looking for a break in being incubators, it would be a great help if human women could share the burden.”

  Reed shook his head. “They would never allow that much power to leave their hands. We’re dealing with a stud, or more likely a group of them.”

  He was quick to come to that conclusion—she was also sure a stud was doing the dirty work, but as for the brains of the operation, she wasn’t ready to say it wasn’t one of the elder Queens.

  “How do we know Casimiro isn’t in on the drugs?” Remy asked.

  Casimiro opened his mouth to say something, but Carolyn cut him off. “He wouldn’t do that,” she said.

  Viola shrugged. “He’s a bit of a prick.”

  “He is,” Margery said. “But this isn’t his style.”

  “I’m sitting right here.” Casimiro looked affronted.

  “How did you get involved in all this anyway, Margery?” Viola asked, finishing up the skein.

  Casimiro tucked his hands into his armpits and sulked.

  “I got a tip that there was a new street drug. They called it BabyDragon. It was being sold as an aphrodisiac for dragon wannabes. You know, make you irresistible and have dragon-type orgasms.” Margery rolled her eyes. “A prostitute I’d helped phoned me up when she heard I had feelers out and let me know what was really going on. She said it allowed her to get pregnant by a dragon—she’d found a dragon daddy and was going to live like a princess. It was the last I heard of her.”

  “I have a list of the dead women affected by the drug. I can tell you if your friend was on it.”

  “Her name was Bella.”

  Reed checked his phone. “I don’t have a Bella.”

  “I doubt that was her real name,” Margery said. Then she took a deep breath. It was all or nothing. She turned to Reed, choosing her words carefully. “I require a copy of all your files. I would appreciate it if I could have them electronically by the morning. My laptop is probably gone from the hotel I was staying at in Quebec, but my desktop unit should be shipping with the rest of my things.”

  Reed chose to address the second part of her little speech. “Your things will be delivered to Champ’s house by the end of the day, and as a token of goodwill, I will provide a laptop for you.”

  “And your files?”

  “I need some time to compile them.” He paused. “The pictures are unsettling. The women’s bodies were savaged, and autopsies had to be done. I also have to make sure they are unable to be shared. The victims deserve their privacy, and we can’t tip our hand to the perpetrators about how much we know.”

  “Understood.” She could do the story without the pictures. “I’ll come back with you to your office, then. I can look them over and decide what I can use. At the very least, I can identify Bella if she was going by a different name. I’d also like to—” Margery looked down at the table; she had to word this like a Queen. She looked back up at Reed. “I wish to speak to the pirates that you have in custody and the drakes once you’ve detained them.”

  Viola whistled.

  Carolyn clapped slowly.

  All eyes were on Reed. Reed looked at Remy, who shrugged. “I’ll be going with her.”

  “Can you fly?” Casimiro asked her.

  “I tried this morning. It didn’t go well.” Margery’s spirits sank a bit. She’d only had a few weeks of flying, but a part of her longed for the sky.

  “My offer to carry you still stands.”

  “No way,” Remy said.

  “My offer to be your consort still stands.”

  “You never offered,” Margery said. “You told me. Besides, I’ve named Remy my consort.”

  All eyes turned to him.

  “He can’t be your consort,” Casimiro said. “You’re a sky dragon.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It has everything to do it. He can’t dance.”

  “How would you know?” Margery stiffened. “We can take lessons.” She looked over at Remy, who was back to doing his gargoyle impression.

  Casimiro closed his eyes. “Sky dance. I told you, sky dragons can’t mate without it.”

  “Oh,” Margery said, letting the word trail. “So, like, what happens if they try without it? They pass out?”

  “Why do you ask?” Casimiro said, slitting his eyes.

  Margery hid her red face with a coughing attack that ended up with her slurping the rest of her tea and changing the subject. “Where’s your office, Reed?”

  “Paisley, New York. It will take about five hours to drive. About an hour to fly with clearance, assuming Arianna will grant it. I don’t foresee it being a problem, because she tends not to think of anything upstate as her territory.”

  Clearance? Margery just flew up and faded into the clouds. No one could even see her. Maybe she’d sneak in to Manhattan one day to take in a show.

  “What’s the penalty for getting caught in another Queen’s territory without the proper clearance or escorts?” she asked.

  “Why?” Reed narrowed his eyes at her.

  Margery shrugged. “Just wondering how the Queens got along.”

  “Well, since
there were only a few of them, it was a major deal when one of them moved. They almost never left their territory.”

  “How about now?”

  “Depends on the Queen.”

  “Stay away from Mexico,” Carolyn said, ignoring a glare from Reed.

  “Hui Zhong will execute you on sight. I hope you weren’t planning on going to China or Russia and the surrounding areas,” Carolyn continued.

  “So death is the penalty?” Margery thought that was a pretty harsh punishment for wanting to see Spamalot again.

  “Or indentured servitude,” Carolyn said. “Which is a polite way of saying you’ll be on your back servicing studs faster than you can say ‘BabyDragon.’”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Remy growled.

  “So how would they kill me?” Margery asked. “Do they send out assassins? Or does the Queen do her own dirty work? Is it like a girl fight, where we pull hair and scratch, or does she order her studs to cut off my head?”

  “No Queen gets blood under her own fingernails,” Casimiro said.

  “Why are we having this conversation?” Remy said. “No other Queens are going to die.”

  “Choyo and Hui Zhong have minions to do the deed for them,” Casimiro said. He was now supporting his hand on his cheek and staring at Margery as if she was a puzzle he needed to solve.

  “We’ve housed fifty Queens in the United States and Canada,” Reed continued as if Casimiro hadn’t said anything. “The other new Queens have accepted sanctuary in the original Queens’ lands. While it’s not the most ideal place for them, at least they are safe from studs.”

  “You sure about that, ace?” Carolyn said.

  “But we still have about one hundred Queens unaccounted for.” Viola got a faraway look in her eyes.

  “Stop searching for them,” Sergei said, shaking her lightly.

  “Never.”

  “They’ll come to you. You need to rest and heal.”

  “Something you should think about, too, chérie.” Remy pointed at her. “You need to gain back your dragon.”

  “I know what it’s like not to be able to shift.” Carolyn held her hand in sympathy.