by L M Adams
Jack, the real one, takes my arm, “We’d better hurry… Lucien you can’t kill anyone.”
Lucien huffs, “I do not plan on killing anyone.”
“You can’t hurt them either.”
“Why not?”
“Because I fucking said so.”
Lucien huffs again.
“I mean it,” Jack says sharply.
Lucien growls.
Jack sighs, “I will punish you – you know I will, and you know how I will do it.”
“Fine! Fine!” Lucien growls and turns on his heel, pissed off because he can’t hurt the mean people, not even a little.
I give my father and mother a final nod and let Jack take me to the back of the building into a storage like area stacked with staging furniture, wedding decorations... other bits and bobs. Izza guides us through… apologizing over and over again.
“I will find out who broke your trust and I will deal with them in a Kindred way,” she vows viciously.
“The Kindred way is what landed us here in the first place,” I sigh, “let it go, I know some people don’t care for me.”
Izza stops in her steps and turns to me, “Having a difference in opinion gives no one any right to attack you like this. I promise all of my clients a level of privacy and discretion and I have failed you, please consider our fee fully refunded and I will see the person who broke trust punished appropriately.”
The fire in her eyes reminds me that she is something more, she may not be a powerful daemon, but she is one of us.
I nod, “Thank you.”
“My queen,” she bows her head and turns back around to guide us to the backdoor.
She pushes open the door without a thought… not realizing the protestors have made their way to the back of the building.
In the split second before Izza pulls the door closed I see absolute rage spread over the woman’s face as she bumrushes the door armed with a picket sign… There’s not enough time to read what the sign says, but I see that the end of the wooden stick has been sharpened into a spike.
Sigh… more bad information on the internet. A stake to the heart won’t kill me anymore than holy water. At this point we can’t be sure decapitation would work on me; I doubt Luey will let me give it a try just to see.
The fire door slams shut with a definite bang. Izza looks back over her shoulder with surprise in her eyes.
“We’ll have to find another way,” Jack says pulling his tablet out of his pocket, he punches Lucien’s name and puts it on speaker.
“Aye!” Lucien yells, picking up the phone on the first ring.
I can hear the crowd in the background roaring at him. No one word is clear enough to make out – but the anger in the voices is plain to hear.
“Where are you?”
“I made it to the truck, but the people have swarmed all of the cars and since I cannot harm them – I am stuck.”
Jack looks at me, the plan only worked if the people went after my parents (disguised as me and Jack) and left Lucien to leave and didn’t think to cover the back door.
“How many are there?” I ask.
“Enough, and more are coming. This was organized, Wench. Harper and the Captain have made it to your car, but they cannot go anywhere either.”
“Fuck,” I hiss.
I look to Jack, but he doesn’t seem like he has any ideas on how to get out of this without a fight either.
“I could use my power.”
“To do what?” He asks raising an eyebrow.
I shrug, “They’re not going to be concerned with us if they’re fucking one another silly.”
“You can do that?” Izza asks wide eyed.
“I specialize in orgies,” I grin.
She licks her lips… hmm, maybe I should put my bid back in.
“We don’t need that kind of publicity,” Jack says shooting down my idea with a logic torpedo.
I cross my arms over my chest, “Party pooper.”
“Well…” Izza starts, “someone more than likely has called the CNAE by now.”
“Oh, just great.”
27
Jaevia
I wish that Izza wasn’t right… but she is. The CNAE shows up in armored vehicles, dressed in riot gear and begin clearing the street.
Now that the CNAE are here we have to wait to give a statement. Because it is a ‘paranormal matter’ we have to wait for the CNAE’s Paranormal Raid Response Intervention Team or PRRIT – ‘prit’ – the idea I came up with along with Peter and even got him appointed as the head of it.
And all I wanted to do was buy a cake.
I’m in the little mock living room area with my mother. Jack and Lucien are talking to a couple of the CNAE officers.
My mother is sitting beside me, her glamour now gone, she’s talking to my father about what happened outside and not understanding how it had gotten so bad. How many of the supernaturals they visited support me and my cause, but we must find a way to reach the humans.
Perhaps I’m supposed to be participating in the conversation, but I don’t try because just in that moment my shitty day gets a lot shittier.
Time seems to slow as I watch Peter walk into the building. He’s dressed in dark blue BDU’s with black combat boots, the look is completed with a utility belt and a 9mm berretta – I’m sure equipped with silver bullets. Because Peter is actually good at what he does… I’ve trusted him with my life more times than I can count.
For a moment I wonder why he’s in D.C. – and then I remind myself that I don’t care.
He stops and says something to one of the other CNAE officers, the man nods quickly, “Yes, sir.”
Sir… respect, Peter has it; and all it cost was betraying his Queen.
He walks into the living room area, avoiding eye contact with me. Yet our magic knows one another. Like old friends and older lovers. I have channeled the moon mother. I have run with the pack under the wild heart of Luna and howled in glory to her.
My life narrows to all of those moments… those times long ago and far away when he was my closest friend. When we looked out for one another at a moment’s notice and without hesitation.
I remember why I love him.
I can’t forget why I hate him.
Lucien, Jack, and my Da move towards me, positioning themselves to attack. They’re ready to rip Peter to shreds with their bare hands and, right now, I can’t say I’d stop them.
My mother shifts beside me, crossing her legs. But I feel the prickling of her own magic – I feel the power of Lilith moving within her… I’m sure she also has a knife on her somewhere… she is after all wife to Kendon Knightley.
Frank and Harper have moved closer as well, taking up positions behind Peter but still far away enough to not feel like an immediate threat. Fool is any that thinks they couldn’t commit a bloody murder between one breath and the next.
He’s aged, Peter has – his brown hair now has a few grays, brown greenish eyes seem haggard, his skin once sun-kissed and smooth is crinkling at the corners… that should be hard to do with the sheer amount of power he has at his beck and call. I made him the most powerful werewolf in the world and then I married him to the goddess of the werewolves reborn.
I gave Peter more than I ever took – but that wasn’t good enough for him… it wasn’t enough for him to look beyond all the ways I was a shitty person.
He released the recordings of my evil doings to the world, he showed them all what was behind the veil and now… they hate me, and they attack us in the streets… and their world is damned; because when Azazael comes to end mankind I’ll make popcorn and watch it with glee all the while thinking ‘I told you so.’
Fuck him and fuck them.
He clears his throat, “We’ll get you all out of here in a few minutes.”
No one responds.
He finally gathers the courage to look directly at me, “Ms. Knightley…”
I stand up suddenly, the power of the moon running from m
y flesh cold and aching. His nose flares knowing exactly what I am and what I’m capable of. He is pressing the grace I once gave him by not taking his head.
“I told you I’d kill you if I ever saw you again,” I whisper low.
“Then do so if you must, but this is my job – I’m here because this is the job you gave me.”
“And what job is that?”
“Be the enforcement of the law and the protection of all supernaturals.”
“And what part of that job description led you to betray me?”
He sighs, “I’d beg you for forgiveness if I thought it would make a difference.”
“It wouldn’t,” I whisper, a lump of pain or rage in my throat – I can’t tell. I’m feeling so many different things I don’t know exactly what to feel.
His eyes fill with something like sorrow, “Jae… I… I didn’t mean for this to happen…”
“What did you mean then?! What on earth did you think would become of your betrayal?”
He exhales slowly, “A government, a real government – where everyone has a say…”
“That is what I have always offered.”
“Yes, but for how long? How long before you really wanted to be queen and made laws and rules because you thought it was best?” He looks at me, the belief that he was right is plain to see, even now… he’s sorry for how it happened – but in his mind and heart – he was right. “People had a right to know both the risk and the reward…”
“And now they do, and now I don’t want to have shit to do with any of them and they still hunt me in the streets!” I gesture towards the crowd outside, “They do not come for the care and services we could have offered them. They are not being prepared for the return of the gods or to live with supernaturals… so tell me Peter – what the fuck are you doing about any of that?!”
“Waiting for you to put their needs above your own.”
“What?” I ask confused.
“I’m waiting for you to work with us – with me and Bishop without needing to be queen.”
“Maybe I could have done that, before…”
“If you really cared it wouldn’t matter!” His first show of anger… angry that I don’t see things his way.
“Well I guess you’re right, because I don’t give a fuck anymore.”
He exhales over a look of disappointment and turns to Lucien, “I am happy to offer an escort to…”
“The only reason I do not murder you where you stand is because I have promised my husband to behave… but you may be worth the price of disobedience!” Lucien’s eyes flare with fire. “You hurt her feelings!”
I’m not sure why, but that makes me smile. Because Lucien isn’t mad about me not being queen, or being unable to save mankind, or the fact that everyone hates me – all he cares about is my feelings and that Peter hurt them and that’s enough to make Lucien want to kill someone for me. Luey is a sweetheart if you know the ways to look for it.
That feeling of love as I look at him calms me, grounds me… reminds me that the entire world can hate me as long as they love me – him and Jack. They will be all I need; they are my anchors in a world of chaos and I know they’ll never let me go… they’ll never betray me.
Another CNAE officer comes into the mock living room, his eyes dart around – probably picking up on the energy in the area, “Major, the street is clear for them to get out.”
Peter nods and the man scurries away as fast as possible.
“Major?” I raise an eyebrow, “You get a promotion for being a disloyal piece of shit? I guess that makes it worth it then.”
He looks me square in the eye, “I’ve never cared about power.”
His implied accusation makes my hate fire burn anew.
I step close to him, only a few inches away… I let the power of the moon flow from me, igniting that power he carries within him – that power that is mine, that lust tuned to wolf – I remind him that he is still beholden to me. I may not be the queen of the world, but I am still his queen.
He may not care about power, but the world belongs to those that hold it.
I watch his flesh tremble and pucker with small goosebumps, I look up into his eyes and know that he is beneath me.
“Beg,” I whisper, and he whimpers in the back of his throat like a good dog.
“Please,” he whines low.
“Don’t forget who the fuck I am, Peter.”
I brush past him flanked by my men enjoying the pain I’d seen in Peter’s eyes yet knowing it will never be enough.
What hurts the worse is the fact that I can never forgive him… or forget what he meant to me… because once upon a time, it was he who was my anchor in the storm.
28
Jaevia
“We can go another day,” Jack whispers.
“No, I’m fine,” I say not turning from the window as I watch the rivulets of water run down the window of Lucien’s hummer… crying the tears I refuse to.
It wasn’t supposed to rain today… clear and sunny skies was the forecast – and now the world reflects what’s in my heart. A slow weeping of pain and sorrow.
The picketers were still outside when we went to the cars, still screaming, faces still filled with rage. All of it directed at me. They may have been behind the little wooden barricades, but the emotion was still there.
Why can’t they just leave me alone? Just let me be.
Do as they wish with their world. I don’t care anymore.
I don’t need their understanding, or their forgiveness… I just need them to move on; like I did.
Why can’t the world just move on?
We ride back to Baltimore in mostly silence. I don’t want to talk about anything. The problem is, I was having too good of a day. Even with our arguing about everything, my parent’s heavy handedness… I was enjoying the day with my future husbands and my family… that’s the problem – I was enjoying myself too much. Of course the world had to right its axis, Jaevia Knightley isn’t allowed to enjoy life. Not one bit – not even a single day. My life has always been shit.
My parents are going back to the warehouse – they need to make calls. I’m not sure to who or for what. Frank and Harper are still tailing us, they pull around the back alley, keeping an eye on things as Lucien pulls us in front of the jeweler’s shop. He doesn’t move to get out and do his sweep.
I can feel him trying to decide what to feel – needing to say something but not knowing what.
“It’s okay, Luey,” I whisper gently.
“It is not…”
“It has to be, otherwise – what can we do?”
Jack sighs, “We just have to keep working at gaining back the human’s trust.”
“I just want to them all to die,” Lucien gets out of the truck.
Anger I could deal with, but this emotion he’s feeling… it’s more like despair, or heartache – it’s more like what I feel.
“He’s picking up my emotion,” I whisper.
Jack nods, “We both are… the more you internalize, the deeper it runs into our shared energy.”
I don’t want them to bear this with me but… “Would it be okay if I just had hurt feelings for a little while?”
He looks back at me in shock, “Of course, my love.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Because sometimes it’s okay to be sad, and pretending you aren’t doesn’t really help. Manufactured happiness is nothing but a lie covering a truth and truth will out… sooner or later the truth always comes out.
The jeweler is someone Jack knows from his life before with the vampires. She lives in the Baltimore City Proper, and she’s a witch which I’m surprised by. Witches usually work with plant-based materials. But she is an oddity in that she has great talents with metals and gems but isn’t a daemon magi.
The shop isn’t what you’d think it would be. No large expanse of glass, no glitz or glam, we have to walk down four stubby outside stairs to a basement shop and
the buildings on either side of the place don’t look much better.
There’s no sign, just numbers marking the building address and a bell that rings as Jack opens the door and steps in.
My eyes strain to adjust to the dark lighting in the shop. My nose flares by instinct, when one sense is compromised my others try to compensate.
The place smells nice. I always expect the place to smell like a dank basement, instead there is the scent of deep spice and the barest whisper of magic. It’s an unusual blend.
Much like the last time I was here – there’s a glamour of a small convenience store. There are only a few shelves stocked with potato chips and toothpaste, some gum and crap you could get anywhere. Doesn’t look like anything anyone would really want. Most of the shelves are bare – but that’s exactly what Margo wants people to think.
There’s a counter and cash register in back. A small woman is in a motorized wheelchair. Her eyes light up as she spots us… although her eyes are always warmest when they land on Jack.
She uses the little knob controller on her motorized wheelchair to back away from the counter, there’s a quiet hum as she steers her chair around the counter. She may be a dwarf, but she has the bearing of an Amazon Goddess. She’s aged well into the back end of her lifespan, whatever that number is for whatever she technically is. Graying dark hair and wrinkled olive skin. I get the hint of magic from her, but it is a strange magic. She’s wearing a pretty pink blouse and a string of delicate pearls, with black slacks and little black dress shoes that have probably never been walked in. Glasses hang around her neck on a chain… not something you see often – a supernatural that needs glasses. She is an odd thing, and talented beyond belief.
Her chair stops an inch before running into me… I think she does that as an intimidation tactic, I just smile.
“Margo,” I greet her bowing my head.
“My Dark Queen,” she bows her head in return.
I give respect and sometimes I get it, and sometimes I get picket signs shaved down into stakes to drive through my heart – it’s all a flip of the coin really.