The Last Queen

by Christine McKay

  Was this how his Dragoness lived? He inwardly cringed. Clothes draped nearly every surface. There was an unsavory odor to the shelter which made him wrinkle his nose. One man’s body was collapsed by the door, pants half done. The other two were slumped over a table, pieces of paper strewn around their bodies, stacks of metal cylinders beside them.

  He picked up one of the metal cylinders, sniffed at the contents and smiled. Some sort of fermented ale. Ah, the others would be pleased to know the humans favored that as they did.

  But he was not here to assess their eating and drinking habits. He needed their language. He poked around in one of the sleeper’s minds until he found his center of speech, then stole the knowledge. Mind speech would get them only so far. They needed the language to blend in and to communicate properly with their Queen.

  He rummaged through the cabin, snatching a cache of garments and a stack of printed material. Perhaps Vespero, their historian, could extract some measure of their culture from the literature.

  The building was warm. It pleased him to know she would require warmth as well as they did. He found its source. As he suspected, they burned the woody plants.

  Back outside he took a deep breath of clear air, pleased to be free of the sweat-stenched and greasy food-laden air. Death clung to the air. He turned his head. A large furred animal hung from a set of posts behind the cabin. He touched it, felt its stiff brown body and knew it had been dead for some time. That the planet supplied animals large enough to satisfy the Dragoon’s appetites was good to know too.

  The humans would ease out of their sleep no worse for wear. He pushed the sleeping man into the cabin just far enough so he could close the door. He started to follow his footprints back to their ship, then froze. If he could find his way back, so could others. Bending down, he blew lightly across his tracks. His hot breath melted the footprints, blurring them seamlessly into the snow around him.

  Snow. He now knew the word for the crusty white stuff he stepped in. It meant the ground and air were cold and moisture-laden, a good warning sign. The Dragoon preferred a warmer, more desert-like climate. Armed with the words of his Queen, he took his time returning to the ship, pausing to hide his tracks, marvel at lichen on a tree, and watch the industrious habits of a woodpecker. Such miniature flying creatures fascinated him. By the time the ship came into view, darkness shrouded the landscape. The ship had already burrowed about a foot into the earth. Several large rocks scattered the area, apparently indigestible.

  When he entered the main chamber, he heard the rest of his comrades shaking off their travel-induced slumber. He dumped the contents of his scouting onto a table the ship formed out of the wall for him. Altarre was waiting, leaning in the frame of the open panel. He stood as tall as his brother, but was a darker shade, hazel eyes, rust-streaked chocolate hair, a bit leaner as well in the chest. Navarre was a master swordsman. Altarre, a healer, had no need to develop the muscles necessary to play with steel.

  “You should have woken me,” Altarre scolded. “The others will be irate.” His brother radiated worry, his brow furrowed, eyes flashing. Unspoken was how the others already resented Navarre for being the first to detect and contact their Queen. Now he’d just made himself the first to speak her language as well.

  “I am safe. I have been productive.” Navarre indicated, with a sweep of his hand, the stolen objects.

  “At what cost?” Altarre asked, a sharpness in his tone.

  Navarre glared at him. He didn’t need praise, but a little appreciation would be nice.

  Altarre relented, dropping his gaze. “I know you take care but you worried me.” He raised his eyes. “You are the only one who has touched her. We cannot lose you.”

  His brother was right. It was a point he had overlooked. Navarre kept silent. His pride might have stolen the Dragoon’s only chance. He had taken an unnecessary risk, not that he’d admit it to anyone, even his brother.

  Altarre held up a garment between thumb and forefinger. “It smells.”

  “Aye.” Navarre paused. “I captured their language too.” He waited for the backlash, but there was none.

  Altarre merely raised an eyebrow. “You will share that.” An order, not a question. When Navarre did not rise to the challenge, he added, “The others will be pleased. My thanks as well.”

  The others be damned. He needed the language to entice his Queen. His genetics would not die with him and Altarre. Their family was already disgraced. If he wooed and mated the Queen, it would be his line that resurrected the Dragoon. His family line would no longer be known as a failure. His sister, Mirium, could finally be forgiven for her inability to fly and mate.

  That he found the Queen intriguing was a pleasant benefit. Already he felt the stirrings of possession. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to share her with the Dragoon. Damned difficult, as he fashioned an image of her within his mind. But necessary if he wanted to keep himself from getting murdered by the rest of them for even thinking of stealing their Queen away.

  Benito, the eldest member of the Dragoon, entered the side chamber. His jet black hair was generously sprinkled with gray. Fine lines wove a tapestry at the edges of his eyes. His eyes, themselves, were a tired gold, as bronzed as his skin. There would be no redemption for Benito’s bloodline. Age now made him impotent.

  Benito scowled when he saw the objects. Reaching for one of the printed books, he opened it, then dropped it immediately. “They display their females nude?” he choked, shocked.

  “Where?” Altarre reached for the fallen book.

  Benito put his boot-clad foot over it. “Which of you brought this into our midst?”

  Altarre looked pointedly at Navarre.

  “Knowing their culture is necessary to integrate into their society,” Navarre protested against Benito’s accusing stare, all the while wondering if all humans were as comfortable with their nudity as the female half-hidden by Benito’s boot was. What a tempting thought.

  “If we fail to find her before the Hunter does, it is moot. Have you tried to contact her here?”

  “No.”

  “That should be our first priority. Have you the strength to do so yet?”

  Benito did not mean to insult him even though it sounded as such.

  Navarre swallowed his pride. “She is not accustomed to sharing her mind, even when trapped within the confines of sleep. How do you propose I contact her if she is awake?”

  “I do not know, but you must try,” Benito replied.

  Altarre shot him a warning glance. Her discovery is both a blessing and a curse to him, he said quietly in his brother’s mind. Speaking mind to mind was the only way one could safely be assured that no one was overhearing a private conversation in the somewhat tight quarters of the ship.

  A blessing in that Benito would not witness the Dragoon’s extinction. A curse in that his genetics would die with him while the others continued on.

  Navarre merely nodded. “I will attempt to contact her immediately.” He wanted no strife with Benito.

  The ship, anticipating his need, extended a portion of itself into the room, forming a couch of sorts. Navarre settled himself into its warming folds, letting the ship envelop him and warm his chilled body. He felt the thrum of the ship’s heartbeat within the material covering him. If their ship mourned over its inability to pass along its own genetic material, it never let Navarre know.

  With a sigh of resignation, Navarre closed his eyes and let his mind spin free.

  Benito was right. He had to try. She was all they had left.

  Chapter Seven

  Adrianne dozed on and off throughout the ride home. Highway 29 had that lulling effect, a mostly flat strip of road that wove its way through trees and half-abandoned towns. The car’s headlights reflected off the sparkling snow banks. Hard rock music pulsed through the car. That she could sleep through its bass rumble was a testament to how much her body had adapted since moving into the apartment about Nikki’s bar.

&nb
sp; Yawning, she rubbed sleep from her eyes. “Do you need me to drive?”

  “Not a chance.” Nikki glanced her way and turned down the radio station. “Feel any better?”

  Adrianne caught the gleam of eyes in the ditch and straightened. “Watch out!”

  A large black body bounded across their lane.

  “Shit!” Nikki slammed on the brakes and swerved, sliding onto the road’s shoulder.

  The vehicle narrowly missed the creature as it vaulted into the snow-covered strip separating the lanes of traffic.

  An oncoming car swerved as well, coming to an abrupt halt sideways in his lane. The headlights of both vehicles glared balefully at each other.

  “What was that?” The car’s seat belt cut into her already bruised shoulder. Adrianne unfastened it.

  “A dog,” Nikki said. “I almost hit someone’s dog.” She was shaking.

  “Couldn’t have been. There are no houses around.” Her mind failed to process what she saw. It moved like a dog, with a long, loping stride, but it was too big to be any sort of dog. And she could have sworn those eyes glowed red in the headlights. She shook her head, clearing the last shreds of sleep. “We better see if the other driver’s okay.”

  “I don’t want to see someone’s pet squished on the road.” Nikki kept her hands on the steering wheel.

  “I’ll check.” She leaned across Nikki and turned on the car’s hazard lights before getting out. She heard another car door slam.

  “Are you all right?” she called, crossing in front of the car. The snow in the median strip was deep with a crusty top layer. She took only a few steps before her foot broke through and she sank up to her knee.

  “Yeah!” a man yelled backed. “I think I hit a wolf.”

  The loose snow beneath the crust slid up beneath her scrubs’ pants legs. She shivered, pulled her foot back out, and paused. A wolf? In this area? That made sense. “Be careful. Is it dead?” She could see the shadow of the big dog or wolf’s form in the car’s headlights. The length of its body was as long as the car’s width.

  The car’s driver approached the body, then nudged it with the end of a tire iron he held in one hand.

  It didn’t move.

  He crept closer, dropping to one knee to get a better look. “Holy shit, it’s huge!” he called back, excitement in his voice.

  At the sound of the shout, the wolf-dog leaped up, its movements a blur of black and crimson. The man screamed but once. Adrianne heard the tire iron clank as it struck the pavement.

  She scrambled backward, her feet breaking through the brittle snow. Nikki opened her car door and poked her head out. “Is something wrong?”

  “Get back in the car,” Adrianne hissed, keeping her eyes on the creature’s movements. It had the man’s neck in its mouth. It lifted up its head, shook the limp body, then turned toward her. Its eyes gleamed crimson.

  Adrianne’s thighs bumped against the car. She froze.

  “What’s wrong? Does he need help?” Nikki spotted the wolf. “Omigod. Should I call 9-1-1?”

  “Get back in the car,” Adrianne repeated. She took her eyes away long enough to scoot around the vehicle and slam the door behind her. The sound caused the wolf to drop the man. It padded through the median strip, cruising on top of the snow with a long, lanky stride. Something that big should have broken through the crusty snow. But it didn’t.

  “Straighten us out,” Adrianne demanded.

  Nikki didn’t have to be told twice. She backed up, pointed the nose of the car forward and began to inch along the road. Headlights from another car reflected in their rearview mirror. Thank God someone was coming.

  “Shouldn’t we help him?” Nikki asked.

  “He’s dead.”

  The wolf-dog padded onto the road and faced them, tongue lolling.

  Nikki cursed softly. “What is that?”

  “It killed the other driver.” Adrianne held as still as she could, hoping it couldn’t see her within the car’s interior.

  It looked like a black greyhound, the body long and wiry, but its chest was twice as wide as its head. White teeth gleamed against its hide. Its muzzle was matted and dripped. Blood, Adrianne thought, shivering. It sat. Tongue lolling, its eyes glowed crimson in the car’s headlights.

  “Umm, Adri?” Nikki’s voice seemed very small. “Why are its eyes red?”

  “Don’t look at it. Floor it.”

  “I can’t. It could be someone’s pet. It’s wearing a collar.”

  Adrianne didn’t bother to look. “That’s nobody’s pet.” She covered Nikki’s foot with her own and slammed down the gas pedal. The little car lurched forward. The wolf-dog never moved out of their way.

  Nikki blinked and regained some semblance of self-control. She jerked the steering wheel to miss it. The wolf-dog rose and leaped. Its body slammed into Nikki’s door, face smashing against the glass. Adrianne saw teeth and bloody jaws.

  Both women screamed.

  A streak of blood smeared the window. Flecks spattered across the windshield like an abstract painting.

  Nikki’s foot pressed down the accelerator. Adrianne sat back. The car shot forward, headlights bouncing down the highway. Nikki kept her foot on the gas pedal until the needle crept to eighty.

  “Easy, leadfoot.” Adrianne put a hand on Nikki’s arm.

  Nikki turned on the windshield wipers and washed away the blood specks. The car slowed. “What the hell was that?”

  Adrianne prided herself on keeping her voice steady. “Probably someone’s wolf hybrid.”

  “With red eyes?’ Her hands clenched the steering wheel.

  “An illusion.” But a creepily effective one at that. She could have sworn it was looking right at her. Nikki was stiff beside her. “For God’s sake, Nikki, breathe.”

  Nikki kept her eyes on the road. “We should call the police.”

  “It’s a busy road and there was a car right behind us.” She glanced in the side mirror. The car she had seen was either stopped or they simply outpaced it. She peeked at the speedometer. It was back down to sixty-five.

  “There’s a person bleeding out…”

  “He’s dead. That car already stopped for him.” Deep breath, deep unbroken breath. Adri slumped in her seat, aching all over. “I know what dead people look like,” she muttered.

  Nikki did not reply.

  “Thank you for coming to get me,” she said when the silence continued.

  Nikki let out an exasperated snort.

  “I’ll make it up to you. The very next time your plane crashes, I’ll be there.”

  Nikki gave her a sidelong glance. “This isn’t funny.”

  “I’m not disagreeing with you.” She fiddled with the radio dial, then turned on Nikki’s favorite station.

  The car slowed.

  “What are you doing?” Adrianne sat upright.

  “Checking to see if someone stopped.” Nikki made a U-turn directly in front of the “No U-Turns Allowed” sign.

  Adrianne couldn’t put a name to the fear that sparked through her. “Don’t!”

  “I don’t plan on getting out of the car.” She drove back at a steady pace, obeying the speed limit.

  “Nikki.”

  Nikki turned up the radio and deliberately began to sing along with the song.

  Adrianne was well accustomed to her friend’s stubbornness. “You’re pissing me off,” she yelled over the blare of the radio.

  “And you’re not acting like the person I know,” Nikki retorted.

  Nikki was right. If they didn’t go back, she’d regret it later. Something inside her, though, sounded warning bells. If she was driving, it would have been physically impossible for her to head back to the scene. Call it shell-shock. Post traumatic stress syndrome. Whatever it was, she felt the hair stand up at the nape of her neck.

  Adrianne drummed her fingers against the dashboard. The closer they came, the faster she drummed. She squirmed in her seat and sent a pleading look in Nikki’s direction.
Nikki ignored her.

  Two cars had already stopped by the time they reached the scene. Someone had draped the man’s head and shoulders with a coat.

  “See!” Adrianne exclaimed with an explosive breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

  Nikki sighed and drove by slowly. “Maybe we should get a hotel room. I need a drink.” She ran her hand through her short dark hair, spiking it. “I need a couple of drinks.”

  “Can we get a room with a whirlpool tub?”

  “This isn’t a vacation.” She caught the look in Adrianne’s eye. A relaxing bubble bath and a bottle of wine might be the best remedy for both of them.

  “My treat,” Adrianne persisted, seeing Nikki’s resistance crumble.

  “Did you happen to hide a credit card in a body cavity?”

  Oops. No purse, no credit card. She smiled sweetly at Nikki. “I’ll pay you back.”

  Nikki glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “My treat. Just don’t go and try to die on me again.”

  “That’s an easy promise to keep.”

  * * * * *

  Adrianne poured herself a glass of wine, actually a coffee cup since the room they rented only carried paper cups and thick unbreakable ugly ceramic coffee cups, but that didn’t really matter. She took a tentative taste. It probably wasn’t wise to mix alcohol with painkillers, but judging by how she felt, her medication wore off. And they hadn’t taken the time to fill the prescription the doctor wrote for her. Alcohol was a cheap and easier-to-be-had substitute right now, although with Nikki’s choice of wine, the medication just might be the more affordable of the two.

  Nikki ordered a pizza, then dashed out to find Adrianne some clothes other than scrubs.

  The whirlpool bath was about half full. She tested the water, impatient to indulge herself. Emptying her coffee cup full of wine, she poured herself another cupful, and propped it on the edge of the tub. Shucking her scrubs, she stepped in.

  Heaven on earth. She slid deeper, the water lapping her neck. The alarm clock radio played quietly in the background. The hotel was nearly empty on a Tuesday. The few occupied rooms held business travelers nearly as weary as herself.