A Cerridwen Press Publication
www.cerridwenpress.com
The Last Queen
ISBN 9781419909733
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
The Last Queen Copyright © 2007 Christine McKay
Edited by Jaynie Ritchie & Ann Leveille.
Cover art by Philip Fuller.
Electronic book Publication July 2007
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Cerridwen Press is an imprint of Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.®
The Last Queen
Christine McKay
Dedication
For Kim and Kate, the co-authors of my very first story, written way back in sixth grade. I pray that monstrosity never surfaces.
Trademarks Acknowledgment
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson Corporation
PART ONE
Chapter One
Adrianne Harris hated flying. The long waits at the terminals, the near-strip search at security, the inevitable child who kicked the back of her seat throughout the flight, the fat man who should have booked two seats whose rolls she ended up sharing in her already cramped seat, the woman who believed perfume was meant to be bathed in, the clichéd crying baby; she detested it all. Today’s show happened to be “woman with colicky baby”. Thankfully both mother and child spent much of their time walking the aisle.
Home was too far away yet. Dallas to Minneapolis. Minneapolis to Green Bay. She longed for the last connecting flight where exhausted travelers like herself simply collapsed in sleep. No necessary conversations between seatmates, no networking required.
Closing her laptop, she glanced out the window. Another one of her peeves was being put in the window seat. She preferred the less claustrophobic aisle seat, but the flight was packed with travelers heading home for Thanksgiving. She gritted her teeth. How did other business travelers handle this din? Probably traveled first class or wore earplugs. She had enough frequent flier miles to upgrade to first class, but she wanted to save them for a trip to someplace warm.
One more class to teach, one more bored, bleary-faced group of techies to face, then she’d have a quiet few weeks off to sequester herself from the holiday festivities. She had no family to celebrate with. Her adoptive parents had been in their mid-forties when she came into their lives. Mom died of breast cancer when Adrianne was twenty. Dad pined away after that, leaving her alone at twenty-two. Luckily, she stumbled across Nikki, her current roommate, confidante, sister and sometimes mother. They made the best of it.
And there was Doug and his family. She made a face. It took a lot of wine to make Doug’s family tolerable. Doug was a hotshot in bed. Nikki referred to him as Adrianne’s “boy toy”. Their relationship had waxed hot and cold for two years now. Despite that, she picked up a pricey pair of cowboy boots for him while in Texas. Her lips curved. She couldn’t wait to see him in them, wearing nothing else.
The plane lurched. The flight attendant caught the headrest of the seat beside her, her smile firmly plastered on her face. “Just some turbulence, nothing to worry about. We’re probably heading into a snow squall.”
The baby beside her woke with a start, lifted its head from its mother’s shoulder and began fussing again. Adrianne sighed.
The mother gave her a harried apologetic frown. “Heading home for the holidays?”
Adrianne tapped her notebook. “Business.”
The mother bounced the baby. It made Adrianne nauseous just looking at the motion. “Young single career woman. I envy those days,” the mother muttered. “Karen Anhalt, former associate of Bruins, Baker, and Shimek. I’d give you my hand but it’s covered in baby slime.”
“That’s quite all right.” Adrianne knew she should have kept her face to the window. So many conversations on planes went nowhere. She had a tension headache building at the base of her skull, a sure sign a migraine was on its way. Sighing, she resigned herself to being polite.
“So what do you do?” Karen persisted, waiting while Adrianne worked the tension out of her neck with her fingertips.
“Excuse me?”
Karen gestured to the laptop. “Day trader, travel agent, secretary to some muckety-muck in first class?”
“Nothing nearly so exciting. I teach computer classes.”
“Oh.” A blank stare from Karen as she struggled for common ground.
The plane lurched again.
“Damn it,” both said in unison.
Ah, common ground. They smiled at each other. The headache continued to build. Adrianne switched from kneading her neck to rubbing her temples. “Heading home?” she asked.
“No, the in-laws.” Karen pasted a false smile on her face. “I haven’t seen my husband in two weeks, though, and he’s meeting me there.” She switched the baby to her opposite shoulder. “Sometimes I envy the baby-free single years.”
Adrianne couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She’d seen so many of her coworkers go through the same thing. “I’ll hold your baby if you want to take a moment to wash the cottage cheese out of your hair.”
She put a hand to her hair. “That bad? I wondered if she missed the burp towel.”
Adrianne wrinkled her nose. “Not very appealing. Especially since you haven’t seen your husband in a while.”
“I appreciate the thought.” She carefully handed her child to Adrianne.
Adrianne didn’t have much experience with children but at least she knew how to hold a baby, thanks to all her coworkers’ voyages into motherhood. She hoped the baby slime could be washed out of her wool coat.
Karen rose gracefully on three-inch heels and headed for the plane’s lavatory.
The baby fussed and Adrianne bounced her, trying to keep the drool off her tweed pants. Thankfully her hair was braided, well out of reach of chubby fingers.
She glanced out the window. Snow sliced the sky in jagged popcorn-sized pellets. Sleet. A fair bit of it coated the plane’s wings. The red lights on the wingtips bathed the triangular expanse of silver in blood light. Adrianne bit back a stab of panic, chalked up the nervousness to an overactive imagination and cursed her father for reading her Stephen King novels as bedtime stories. The pilot probably flew in this stuff all the time. There was nothing to worry about.
The plane jiggled again.
Karen returned to her seat, with damp hair and a worried expression on her face. “Thank you. That was disgusting.”
Adrianne smiled politely and handed back the baby. “No problem.” There, she’d done her good deed for the day. Now she just wanted to land safely and get on with the last leg of her flight.
The “Please Fasten your Seat Belts” light flashed. Adrianne tucked the laptop in her carrying case.
“My husband’s meeting me at the airport.” Karen held her baby tighter. “How much farther, do you think?”
The airline stewardess heard the question. “We’re circling the airport now.” She looked unconcerned.
“We’re not the only one circling,” Adrianne said in a low voice. She leaned back in her seat. “Take a look.”
Karen tilted forward as far as her seat belt and baby allowed. Winking lights dotted the sky around them. The baby fussed inches from Adrianne’s face. She prayed she wo
uldn’t be spit up on. Her silk tee cost her sixty dollars and was dry clean only.
“Dear Lord.” Karen sat back, her face pale.
“How many times do we have to circle?” Adrianne whispered.
The fat man behind them grumbled about being late. In front of them, the elderly woman’s rosary beads clattered on the serving tray as she set them down to fasten her seat belt.
The pilot’s voice came over the speaker, loud and too cheerful. “We’ll be descending shortly. The flight attendants will be going through some procedures to ensure a safe landing. These are just precautions due to the weather. The runways are a bit icy.”
“And we don’t have enough fuel to fly to another airport?” Adrianne grumbled. How long would they circle? She just wanted to be home. To have a warm bath in her own bathtub and sleep undisturbed for ten to twelve hours. Was that so much to ask?
“O’Hare could be closed down too.” Karen flipped out her cell phone. “My husband will know what’s going on down there.”
“Sorry, ma’am. No cell phones or laptops may be on at this time,” the stewardess instructed.
“Yes, of course.” Karen cradled the phone between her chest and the baby, but did not put it away.
“You will be assuming a crash position with your feet flat on the ground, head in your lap, hands laced over the back of your neck. You may continue to hold your baby but we’d prefer if she was secured in a car seat. There is an open seat behind you.” The stewardess held out her arms.
“No, you certainly may not take my baby.” She cupped the child closer to her, cradling its head with her hand. “What is wrong with the plane?” Karen demanded.
“Ma’am, please keep your voice down. You’ll distress the other passengers.” The flight attendant gave her a stern look. A bead of sweat ran down the edge of her face, tracing a track through her makeup.
“I’m a damn passenger too.”
Adrianne’s head began to throb. Oh, it was going to be one heck of a headache. She fumbled for the bottle of ibuprofen in her purse and swallowed two pills down dry before a stewardess could remind her to secure her purse.
Beside her, Karen argued with the stewardess. Adrianne glanced over her shoulder. The fat man was having trouble following instructions. A stewardess gave him a pillow instead, something to cover his face with.
Adrianne’s ears popped. The stewardess left them to buckle herself up. Karen pulled free her cell phone and dialed a number. The baby continued to fuss.
“Eric. I’m so glad you picked up. What?” Panic laced the last word. “They can’t be for our plane. Yes. Yes. Oh God. Yes, I love you.” Her voice elevated, high-pitched, frightened. “I love you,” she repeated, then abruptly calmed, the lawyer’s mask settling over her features. “I have to go now. I’ll see you on the ground.” The phone clicked off.
Karen turned to Adrianne. “We’re going to die,” she said calmly.
Chapter Two
Adrianne swallowed back the bile at the base of her throat. It was just the coating on the pills, nothing more. “What do you mean?” Her head rested in her lap, as instructed, but she turned it enough to see the quiet angst on Karen’s face.
“There are fire trucks and ambulances on the runway. Airport personnel cleared out one of the terminals.”
Adrianne sat up so quickly her head spun and she almost vomited. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she glanced out the window. The ground loomed up before them. Red and blue lights gleamed as far as she dared to look. She hastily put her head in her lap.
“What did you see?”
“Hang on!”
The plane lurched, bounced, hit the runway. She had flown enough times to know it was all wrong. The shrill scream of metal meeting pavement filled her ears. Oh lord, no tires, she thought, the plane has no running gear. The plane belly-flopped down the runway, the shriek of metal cutting through her like a knife. Passengers screamed. In front of her, someone quietly recited prayers. It was this voice she heard, over the high-pitched whine of the engines, the hiss of shredding metal. An oasis of peace in the midst of chaos.
“Remember, oh most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, that sought your intercession was left unaided.”
Please, God. Please, God. Adrianne couldn’t help herself. She looked up. They were sliding sideways down the runway, heading straight for the terminal. All she could think about was how bad her head ached.
Karen was quietly sobbing, face pressed to her baby’s neck.
“I fly unto you, oh Virgin of Virgins, my mother, to thee I come, before thee, I stand…oh God.” The voice choked on a sob.
Stop it. Stop it! Adrianne’s vision blurred. The pressure was unbearable. Stop it!
They stopped. Abruptly, as if hitting a wall. Her seat belt cut into her, her body thrusting against it until she thought she’d be cut in two. She raised her head and looked out the window. The terminal loomed before them. They had stopped before striking it.
“Despise not my petitions, but in your mercy, hear and answer me, I pray.” A rhythmic mantra, not unlike what she recited when doing yoga. Adrianne held on to that, forcing herself to breathe calmly despite the screams echoing around her. She would not vomit. She would not!
For the briefest of moments, silence reigned. Her head throbbed. She tasted metal.
Karen raised her head. “Are we dead?”
“I hurt too bad to be dead.”
The smell of smoke assaulted her nostrils. So much for deep calming breaths. She coughed, covering her nose with the sleeve of her coat. The flight attendants were mobile again, instructing people to move. Side doors kicked open with popping noises. She couldn’t see straight. The smoke clogged her vision and her lungs. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass of the window. Rescue vehicles, lights blaring, sped down the runway. Somehow she knew they’d be too late.
Beside her, Karen fought with her seat buckle. The baby was finally silent. Adrianne reached over and freed her.
Flames licked the seats. People collapsed on top of each other in their haste to escape. Flight attendants shouted unheeded instructions.
I’m going to die. Adrianne tugged on her seat buckle. It was stuck tight, button depressed. She jerked on the strap again. The webbing was twisted not once, but twice, the kink jammed in the seatbelt adjuster.
If she was truly going to die, she didn’t want to be found sitting calmly in her seat, like she was waiting for the bus to Purgatory. If Nikki had been with her, she’d have a knife or at the very least, a scissors, something she could use to hack away at her strap.
Behind her, the fat man shrilled. A roll of his own body engulfed the seat buckle, his sausage fingers fumbled, uselessly seeking the strap. Flames crept up his pants legs. Polyester, she noted with a sick sense of detachment, as the pants ignited immediately. Great gobs of flesh blackened and dripped off his thighs. She turned her head away and vomited.
“Come on!” Karen called to her.
The acrid taste burned her throat. “My seat belt’s stuck. Go on. Get out of here!”
To her credit, Karen looked torn.
“Hurry!” Adrianne gave her a shove into the aisle.
“I’ll tell the stewardess,” Karen promised, but both knew the uselessness of those words.
Karen elbowed her way into the throng and was crushed against the seat in front of them. Adrianne saw blood trickle out of her mouth before the smoke hid her from view. Oh lord. She wanted to cry. She really did, but the tears wouldn’t come. Instead, she rested her forehead against the seat in front of her, unable to force herself to watch anything more.
The flames crept over the toes of her sensible running shoes. She should have worn a nice pair of dress boots. Now Nikki’d have to identify her body in a mismatched outfit. She could just hear Nikki clucking in distress. The shoelaces ignited. The plastic and rubber melted around her feet.
She felt nothing.
Was th
is how death felt? An absence of pain? If so, why was the fat man still screaming? Or was she so in shock she felt nothing? On cue, the fat man’s voice died. The cuffs of her pants smoldered.
Pressing her face to the glass, the last remnant of coolness, she closed her eyes and prayed death would be quick.
Chapter Three
In the quiet stillness of a never-changing dusk, in an abyss where nothing dwelt only slept and waited, twenty pairs of brilliant crimson eyes opened, then blinked in unison. The strum of a heartbeat began, faltered, started again and steadied. Several lifetimes away, a mechanical bird came to a screeching halt on an expanse of black-sheened ground.
The Hunter opened his eyes. They shone in the dark light, casting their own beams of light. He flexed each finger, formed a fist and released. His chest rose and fell. Stale air flushed through his system, sent blood pumping to his dormant extremities. The air swirled around him, yet the movement was soundless. As one, everyone listened.
There was another heartbeat. Faint.
Somewhere, a Dragoness lived. How was that possible?
He tipped his head, shifting in his formless gray couch. He had killed them all, had hunted the Dragoon to extinction. His lips curled into a smile at the memories, the taste of hot blood upon his lips, the hiss of breath as a nearly immortal creature died in his grasp.
Twenty pair of crimson eyes watched his every movement.
Impossible. No female of their race survived. Yet, here he was awake and the hounds as well. The hounds lolled around him, still, eyes focused on him for confirmation of what they sensed as well.
Where did she now hide? What planet’s genetics could have possibly given birth to her?
And most importantly, what feat of strength had she performed to rouse him? A single transformation may have gone unnoticed. He had lain asleep for so long this time. What powers did she possess? Each Dragoness was slightly different, some telekinetic, some prophetic. All died the same.
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