The Queen's Flight (Emerging Queens) (2 page)

Squeaky wheels had her opening up an eye. A large cask of wine was being rolled in.

“Three straws, please,” Goat said.

“Breaking News,” the mechanical announcement said over the PA system, followed by an annoying xylophone ring of tones. “Dragon ritual ends in tragedy and hope.”

“Is there anything else I can get you, my Queen?” the night janitor asked. His head was downcast and she bet if he had one, he would have tugged on his forelock in reverence.

“Bob, it’s me. Viola. Sorry about the mess.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Well that was a switch.
She used to get her ass chewed out for throwing gum in her trashcan.

She closed her eyes on one head. It was like winking. She glanced behind her, in front, and to the side and almost threw up from the wave of vertigo.

“What would you like for dinner? We have a side of beef I can have the chefs warm up. Or there are some chickens we can deep fry.”

“That’s probably not a good idea.”

“As my Queen commands.”

But what if she got hungry later? It wasn’t as if she could call out for Chinese delivery. She didn’t have fingers anymore. Flexing her fingers, her claws contracted. Maybe having something more than a diet shake in her stomach would settle her blood sugar and help her get a handle on what was going on.

“On second thought, Bob, the beef sounds great.”

She winced, expecting him to go off on a tirade, like he always did when asked to do something, but he merely bowed.

“Don’t freak out,” Horse told her.

“I dunno,” Goat chimed in. “It seems like the thing to do.”

The PA system continued to broadcast the breaking news while she gnawed on the beef Bob and two others brought her. She was able to eat with all three heads.

As she pieced together what happened, Viola asked for another cask of wine. Trying to talk while one of the heads was chewing was almost impossible. She felt like a ventriloquist. Or its dummy.

Apparently Lerisse, the dragon Queen, had sacrificed her life during a magic ritual and had broken the curse plaguing the dragons for centuries. Her life force empowered female dragons to finally shift, like they should have once they reached puberty.

Viola would have shifted into a dragon Queen sometime around her fifteenth birthday, if this crazy Cult hadn’t cursed the dragon female line a thousand years ago.

“Swell.” Viola swigged back the second cask. At least she hadn’t been at her mom’s house and squished the cat. If she had to wreck the joint, she couldn’t have picked a nicer place than good old Talon Industries.

Unfortunately, instead of firing her, Smythe seemed to think he’d won the lottery and assumed she was destined to be his Queen.

“Not going to happen,” Goat said.

“You’re telling me?” Viola burped, shaking the few cubicle walls that were still standing. “’Scuse me.”

“He was kind enough to give you a promotion when your supervisor quit,” Horse said, sounding like the voice of reason.

“It’s not like he had the choice. He didn’t have time to train anyone new,” Goat quibbled.

“Shaddap,” Viola slurred and drained the cask. “Maybe this is all a weird, hallucinogenic trip. Someone put happy gas in the ventilation system.” She yawned and a few more windows cracked. “I’m going to sleep, and tomorrow, I’ll be back to normal.”

Viola sank her dragon head on her chest. Her left and right heads rolled their eyes before tucking in and following suit.

Chapter Two

Sergei enjoyed the heat of the sun on the top of his head and neck as he idled the Hayabusa in the parking lot. He could have flown in, but Smythe told him to stay under the television reporters’ radars, although the emerging Queens around the globe would keep them otherwise occupied for a while.

Just what the world needed—more of those sadistic bitches.

Putting the kickstand down, Sergei swung his leg off the racing bike. It felt good to have his boots on the pavement. He parked next to a Fat Bob Harley, the chrome shining off the big engine and pipes. Circling it once, Sergei nodded in approval. That sucker would be loud.

Too bad the color marked it a chick bike.

He shook his head at the sparkly purple paint job. At least it wasn’t pink. Walking into the building past security, Sergei wiped the sneer off his face when the human security guards blanched. He smelled her before he was two steps in.

Queen.

Damn Smythe for not warning him. Well, if she wanted to negotiate a kingdom in New Jersey, she wasn’t going to find it as easy as she thought. Rage filtered into every pore of his body. He had roots here and Queens were definitely not welcome.

“Sergei, you made good time,” Smythe said, coming down the corridor. He was alone.

“Where is she?”

Smythe smiled. “Trapped.”

Sergei raised an eyebrow and followed him deeper into the building. Human workers were busy sweeping up debris from the ceiling and walls. “What happened?”

“My admin shifted when Queen Lerisse died and broke the Cult’s curse.”

Sergei almost stumbled into the man’s back when he stopped suddenly. Smythe gestured with his arm for Sergei to lead the way. His office was trashed. Then he smelled her fear and her desperation as they got closer. It felt familiar enough that it grated him raw. “Is she chained?” he asked. He wouldn’t go a step farther if she was chained.

Smythe glanced back at him with a gleeful twinkle in his eye. “No need,” he said. “She doesn’t know how to shift into a human guise.”

Sergei paused, but forced himself forward until he was in the same room with a Queen for the first time in four hundred years. Two of her heads were drooping, but a third head with goat-slitted eyes glared at him.

“You can’t keep me here,” it said.

“Viola,” Smythe said. “I keep telling you. You’re free to go. Just shift into your human form.”

The white horse head rose up. “You know I don’t know how.”

“You’re not trying hard enough,” Smythe said in a sing-song voice that had Sergei flashing back to another Queen’s lair. Only, he had been the one trapped and in peril. He blew out a harsh breath and pushed the memories back.

“I’m visualizing my tail off and it’s still here.” She banged it twice on the floor for emphasis.

“It will come to you. Now, I want to introduce you to my friend Sergei. We’ll be your mates.”

Mate?

Sergei whipped his head around. “I don’t need a mate.”

“We both need sons. You helped me escape that hellhole. I’m willing to share her with you. We deserve it.”

The middle head rose and spoke. “You made me eat all that lovely wool.”

Sergei locked eyes with the Queen. The middle head had wide, clear brown eyes with a trace of sadness. The rest of her head was draconic, a soft lavender color with fine shimmering scales that were dull in the light.

He braced for the emotions, but instead of loathing and hate, there was a compelling attraction that horrified him almost as much as the thought of taking a mate did. He forced his eyes down to her plate, where a few splinters of bone and fiber littered the floor.

“I hope her mind isn’t broken,” Smythe said. “Viola, I didn’t make you eat anything. It was a sheep.”

“It was about three-hundred dollars’ worth of wool.”

“Was it tasty?” Smythe said.

“That’s beside the point,” the middle head growled. “I could have made two sweaters out of that.”

“I’ll make sure there’s no more mutton on the menu, my Queen,” Smythe said.

“I want to go home.”

Sergei flinched. Because he couldn’t look at her with the alarming emotions rioting inside him; it was easy to hear the human plea in her voice. She sounded human, not dragon Queen.

“You are home. This is your lair now. I apologize for the lack of decor, but you were pretty hard on the surroundings.”

Sergei shifted uncomfortably. This wasn’t right. Two days ago, Viola had been human. Now, she was a dragon Queen and had no idea that her sole purpose in life was going to be breeding. He knew enough about human women that this wasn’t going to be an idea she’d embrace without question.

Even if it meant any dragon stud would give her the world to get her in his lair—or kidnap her and keep her prisoner.

Suddenly, she lunged forward, talons reaching out for both of them. Sergei tumbled back and Smythe managed to get cover over a smashed desk.

“Let me out!” the goat head shouted.

She pushed past them, and Sergei leapt to avoid her flailing tail. She hit the hallway. Workers scattered, plaster flew. Backing up, she threw herself at it. Ripping the door with her claws, she tried to push herself through.

“Watch her tail,” Smythe said, laughing. “She’s damn accurate with it.”

As if on cue, it swung over their heads and lodged into the wall.

“Now, Viola, see what you’ve done. You’re stuck.” Smythe spoke to her as if she were a naughty child and his condescending smirk mocked her efforts to free herself.

Sergei resisted the impulse to punch him in the jaw.

“Come on,” Smythe said. “Let’s go upstairs. She’ll work herself free and go back and sulk in her lair. There’s no way she can squeeze all the way down the hallway and escape.”

Sergei allowed him to guide him back to the lobby and into the elevator to take them to the penthouse.

“Bring a few more casks of wine to the Queen,” Smythe said into his cell phone, then put it in his pocket with a smug smile. “So what do you think of her? Personally, I’m glad she’s not a Chinese dragon. I don’t think I could have stopped myself from eviscerating her.”

Sergei swallowed past his dry throat. Cassandra had been a Chinese dragon. He still bore the scars from her teeth and nails. Smythe had scars as well. Together they had been her harem boys. The ones who could take the most pain. Her favorites.

Smythe stepped out into the penthouse. It was open air and Sergei gulped in a few cleansing breaths to rid himself of the female stink. Still, he congratulated himself on managing to be in the presence of a Queen and not killing her. That was progress. He stretched, feeling his vertebrae align. Now, more than ever, he wanted to shift and fly far away. He’d been thinking of setting up a lair in Vermont. Somewhere remote where he could hide during leaf-peeping seasons, but still venture out to the bar for a drink when he was feeling social. Maybe it was time to become a hermit—at least until this Queen thing settled down.

“I would have liked a Western dragon. The horns give you something to hold on to.” Smythe’s laughter made Sergei want to take a shower.

“You can’t keep her against her will,” Sergei said. “It’s not right.” A bunch of squad cars and media vans were pulling into the parking lot and he wondered what had tipped them off. Did they know Smythe had a Queen?

“Of course I can. We’re doing her a favor. There are thousands of studs that would claim her for themselves. Thousands who might kill her in their lust. I’m willing to wait for her to accept her fate. I’ve had enough of fighting Queens.”

Sergei nodded. He could understand that. “What is she? Some kind of fucked up chimera?”

“Who knows? The media is going crazy trying to classify them all. There’ve been over two hundred Queens who’ve shifted. About half of them have gone missing already, captured by greedy studs, no doubt. Aren’t you glad I called you?”

Sergei rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, you could have warned me.”

“I couldn’t risk the phones being tapped. We’ve got to keep this quiet.”

“I think it’s a little late for that.” Sergei pointed to the protesters pouring out of vans with signs that said “Free the Humans.”

Sergei smiled down at the humans. He was cool with them. As long as they didn’t touch his bike. Maybe there was hope for…what was her name? Viola? If those were her people down there, her family, they’d fight for her. Get her out of this place. Maybe she’d be all right.

But then, who would protect her?

Not his problem. After what that bitch Cassandra had forced him to endure, there was no way he could help her. His dragon instincts would rear up and he’d probably kill her before he got her away from the building.

But the thought niggled. It annoyed him that he cared.

Chapter Three

“This is worse than being in a hospital,” Viola grumbled. It had been a few days since her transformation. She had handlers who washed her, cleaned up after her, and made sure she ate all of her dinner. She drew the line at having her talons polished. It quickly became annoying that they adored slaving over her every whim.

Each day, she attempted to push farther down the hallway, but no dice. She wanted to change into a human and never become a dragon again.

“Viola Pierce?” Two men and a woman walked in. It was late, almost nine. Most of the employees usually punched out around six p.m. The man who spoke was GQ sexy, dressed in a classic black suit that screamed
Fed
!

“Seriously, Reed,” the woman said. She was dressed more casually in jeans and a sweater. She had long brown hair upswept into a bun with two chopsticks holding it in place. “Who the heck else would it be? Hi, I’m Carolyn. I’m here to teach you to shift back to human.”

Viola stood up, her heads swirling in excitement.

“We haven’t had very much success,” Horse said politely.

“Who’s the hottie?” Goat leered at the third guy. He was built like he pumped Volkswagens instead of iron. Long, flowing red locks fell mid-shoulder, and he had a killer grin. Stretched tight across an impressive chest was a T-shirt that said “Back off. I’m taken.”

Of course he was.

“I’m Jack,” he said. “I’m here in case things get ugly.”

“Why are you helping me?” Viola looked at each of them in turn. “Who are you people?”

“We’re secret agents—” Carolyn started to say.

“Special agents,” Reed interrupted. “And
she’s
not. Jack and I”—he gestured to the hottie—“are with the government, ma’am. We’re part of a dragon task force to protect the emerging Queens in the United States.”

“Protect them from what?”

“People like Smythe,” Jack said.

“And worse,” Carolyn added. “Yeah, Reed’s right. I’m a librarian. I used to be a research assistant to a Great Wyrm, but then things got complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Viola asked. Each of her heads was focused on one of them. It was giving her a headache.

“I shifted into a Queen,” Carolyn said, smiling at Reed.

“So you’re a dragon?” Viola’s middle head squinted at her. Carolyn did have a blue haze around her, but she wasn’t as stunning as dragons usually portrayed themselves.

“We all are,” Carolyn said. “And it’s pretty dangerous out there for a Queen right now. There were only five of them before Lerisse kicked the bucket, and they’d cornered the market on mean.”

“And breeding,” Jack pointed out. He was scanning the room, as if he was expecting a fight.

Carolyn nodded. “Now that all these Queens are shifting for the first time, everyone wants a baby mama for his very own.”

“No one has to know,” Viola said. “I mean once I go back to being human, I can just pretend, right?”

Reed shook his head. “Male dragons can smell you.”

“And some will attempt to keep you prisoner, like Smythe is doing.” Carolyn frowned as she looked around the lair.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Your mother reported you missing, and an informant came forward and gave us a tip,” Reed said.

Viola winced. “Did my mother sound pissed or worried?” She was not looking forward to telling her mother where she’d been. At least she hadn’t run off with a biker and gotten hitched—this time.

“She’s probably sick with worry about you.” Carolyn touched Viola’s flank in sympathy.

“Once you teach me how to shift, I’ll be fine. The only reason I’m still here is I can’t fit down the hall or out the windows.”

“You’ll be chained,” Carolyn said. “Or locked in the bottom of an Aztec temple without any books to read, with no company except for spiders the size of your head.”

“Carolyn,” Reed murmured.

“Sorry, I’m projecting,” Carolyn said. “That’s what happened to me.”

“That’s awful,” Viola said.

Carolyn nodded. “But there’s safety in numbers now. I’m hoping to put together a New Queen’s Council. That will help keep the bad guys at bay.”

Viola didn’t want to be trapped in an office building ever again. “It’s not as if I’m not grateful for the rescue, but what am I going to do once I’m out, if male dragons can find me?”

“Studs.”

“Excuse me?” Viola wasn’t sure she heard that correctly.

“Male dragons in heat are called studs,” Carolyn said.

“Of course they are.” Viola tried to stop Goat from waggling her eyebrows at Jack.

“We’re going to take you to a safe house, under guard, until we can set you up with your own Queendom,” Reed said.

“Sounds like another prison, only this time it will be for my own good?” Two male dragons—studs—and only one Queen.
Could she trust them?

“If you’ve got a better idea, ma’am, I’d be willing to consider it.”

Jack snorted. “No, he won’t.”

“I want to go home,” Viola said. Her mother was a fruitcake, but at least she didn’t keep her captive in the basement. Viola needed some quiet time with a ball of yarn and some needles to think this over.

“I know.” Carolyn moved in closer when Reed tensed and shifted his weight forward. “Back off, Reed, you’re making her nervous.” Carolyn waved her off.

Viola asked, “So you’re going to teach me to be human again?”

Carolyn bit her lip. “You’ll never be
only
human again. But I can teach you to come back to your human form.”

“So what do I do?” Viola asked Carolyn. “Click my heels together three times and say ‘There’s no place like home?’”

“That only works if you’re wearing ruby slippers. No. I want you to close your eyes and concentrate.”

“I’ve done this,” Viola said, thumping her tail in agitation.

“Shhh,” Carolyn said. “This is a jail break. Don’t get us caught.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jack said. “Let Smythe come on down here. I’ll tie him in a knot so tight, he’ll resemble a pretzel.”

Viola closed all six of her eyes.

“Think happy thoughts,” Carolyn said.

“You’re shitting me, right? I’m not Peter freaking Pan. I’m a schizophrenic dragon.”

“Actually, the three heads are versions of you. Not separate personalities,” Jack said. “You know, angel on one shoulder, devil on the other.”

“Not just a pretty face,” Goat said.

“Oh God,” Viola said, opening up an eye. “Do you mean that was me?”

“Please,” Carolyn said. “Think about good things. Things you are passionate about. Things that make you feel calm and centered. What do you do to relax?”

“I knit, watch TV, listen to music.”

“Are you working on a project now?”

“Sort of. I go through stages. I went through a scarf phase where all I did was knit long rectangles. Then I went to hats and I knit all circles. I’ve moved on to triangles now. Shawls.”

“What color?”

“Oh,” Viola said. “I got this gorgeous alpaca in purple and it’s spun together with silk made out of recycled saris. Somewhere in the mix, they also threw in some sequins on a thin line of wool. It’s going to be gorgeous.”

“Look at yourself,” Carolyn said softly.

Viola opened her eyes and blinked down at her human fingers. “Oh, I’m me again.” She glanced down at her naked body and then up at the two men in alarm. But they had their backs turned to her.

Jack shrugged out of his T-shirt and tossed it back. “This should fit down over your knees.”

“Not likely,” Viola thought. One-size-fits-all was always one-size-fits-most. But she was surprised that it did cover her ass, if not much else.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Carolyn said, helping her to her feet.

“Wait, I’ve got to get my purse.” Viola shuffled through the debris until she found the dented remains of her old desk. It was a shame that she didn’t have a gym bag where she could change into pants and put on sneakers. But she and the gym had an agreement—she wouldn’t step on the elliptical and it wouldn’t blow out her knees. “Hmmm,” she said as she pulled the handle. “And I thought the drawer stuck before.”

Jack leaned over and tore the steel of the desk apart as if it were paper.

“Thanks,” she said. She looked around to see if her shoes had survived, but she didn’t see even a scrap of them. They had been expensive, too. She wiggled her bare feet. Hope all the glass had been picked up or she was going to do her
Die Hard
impersonation.

Yippie Ki Yay Mother…

Reed cleared his throat from the hallway. Viola maneuvered over the wreckage toward him. Taking up point position, Reed led them down the hallways to the gates of freedom.

The guards at the front desk were slumped over their station, unconscious. It appeared they were going to get outside without incident. But once they crossed the threshold into the parking lot, a mob of people began to shout.

“Where are her clothes?” someone from the crowd shouted. “Is that a Queen in human form?”

The air shimmered and an enormous black dragon blocked the stars. Easily the size of a city bus, Reed was all muscle and sinew. He lifted his horn-rimmed head and bellowed out a challenge. The noise set off car alarms in the parking lot, but it did the job of distracting the reporters from coming after them.

Smythe launched himself off the roof, screeching loud enough to drown out the alarms.

“Let’s get you two into the car,” Jack said, hustling the women toward a non-descript Ford parked next to two motorcycles.

“Holy crap, is that a Suzuki Hayabusa? It’s the fastest motorcycle in the world.”

Reed caught Smythe out of his dive and the two were biting and clawing at each other in midair.

“Get in the car, Viola,” Jack said.

A man running up to them pointed a camera and started taking pictures. The flashes blinded Viola and she had to close her eyes. She heard the Ford’s door slam and a
crunch
as the camera hit the pavement. Squinting down at the ground, she saw a black boot crush it to oblivion as her vision recovered.

“Too late. It automatically uploaded to my blog,” a whiny voice said.

“Don’t hit him, Sergei,” Jack said, opening the car door and maneuvering to push Viola in.

Sergei?

Viola’s head whipped up. That’s what Smythe had called his friend. Sure enough, he was the same guy standing by the Ford. He wore a black leather jacket that had seen better days, ripped blue jeans, and leather chaps. Inside, she had barely noticed how large he was, but he easily towered over Jack. Bald as a cue ball, tribal tattoos covered his skull, and he had draconic words tattooed on his knuckles. Intense green eyes bored into hers.

“That’s him,” she said, putting her foot on the car’s frame to block being shoved in the car.

“Fuck off,” Sergei growled at the photographer. The man took a gander at his menacing face and beat a hasty retreat back toward Talon Industries’ security guards, who were in damage-control mode, chasing around other fence jumpers and paparazzi.

“He’s with us,” Carolyn said.

“But…” Viola sputtered. “He was with Smythe.”

“Who do you think called in the cavalry, sister?” Sergei nodded his head at Jack and Carolyn. “You’re welcome. Now get in the car before the reporters mob us and someone gets hurt.”

“I can’t leave my bike,” Viola said, resisting as Jack tried to cram her in the car.

“Oh, for crying out loud.”

“Sergei, go easy. She doesn’t know the danger she’s in,” Carolyn said.

Sergei sneered. “She caught a taste of it this week.”

“I cashed in my 401K to buy that motorcycle.” Viola put her hands on her hips.

“You overpaid.” He flashed his teeth at her in a smile that was more feral than friendly.

“Viola, you can’t ride the motorcycle without any pants,” Carolyn said.

Viola looked down and realized that while Jack’s shirt adequately covered her while she was walking, her ass would be flapping in the breeze if she straddled the Harley. She ducked her head and got into the car.

“Not out of the woods yet, ladies. In you go,” Jack pushed Carolyn in the front and closed the doors.

“I’ll take her bike,” Sergei said, tossing him the car keys.

Jack got in and started the car as Smythe squirmed free of Reed and darted in their direction.

“Punch it,” Sergei snarled.

“Is he hotwiring my bike?”

Jack peeled off. The car fishtailed out of the parking lot. Media people seemed torn whether to follow the car or film the dragon fight in front of them. Reed’s roar of rage as he hauled Smythe back and flung him into the side of the building riveted them in place.

“Is Reed going to be all right?” Carolyn asked.

“He gets to have all the fun,” Jack grumbled and sped onto the side streets, taking curves wild and tight.

Viola sprawled from one side of the car to the other. Sergei followed almost on their bumper and the roar of her Harley made her feel a little better.

“I need you to take me home,” she said.

“No chance,” Jack said. “Reed’s buying us some time with the distraction. But it’s only a matter of time before a stud catches the evening news and starts to track us down.”

“I haven’t seen my mom in over a week. She’s going to be worried about me.”

Jack and Carolyn exchanged a glance.

“I need underwear. My own clothes. I’m a hard size to fit. Plus, my mother will put all my yarn in a tag sale. Please.”

“She needs her hoard,” Carolyn said.

“I don’t have a hoard,” Viola said. “I’ve only been a dragon a week.”

“No, you’ve been a dragon all your life. You were stopped from shifting at puberty by an ancient spell.”

Viola rubbed her forehead. “Yeah, I heard that all on the radio. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“What loss?” Carolyn said. “My humanity? I wanted to be a dragon all my life.”

“Huh? No, the other Queen. The one that sacrificed her life to break the spell.”

Carolyn made a raspberry sound.

“That was an accident,” Jack said. “Lerisse wouldn’t do anything so altruistic. She gambled on a spell component that backfired, and it consumed her soul instead of the innocent one she’d planned on using.”