The Last Queen

by Christine McKay

  Quince pressed his lips tight, obviously disagreeing with the seriousness of the matter.

  Navarre watched her carefully, as if uncertain how to treat her while she was in this frame of mind. “How about a finger as a souvenir?”

  “Ugh.” She turned away from the pair, and tossed back Nikki’s half finished glass of wine as well. Oh, that was going to be a mistake in a very short while. Nikki didn’t keep cheap wine in the house. Her head buzzed, but she felt deliciously warm.

  She wanted to kill Doug, figuratively, not literally. Although if he got hit by a truck while he was on the way home… She dismissed the fantasy. Right now, she itched for revenge, something to salve her pride. Later, reason would kick in, probably skipping hand in hand with the hangover. She supposed Vespero would be recording this in his blasted history of her as well. Not if she had anything to say about it.

  Nikki was right as usual. She didn’t really love Doug. It didn’t hurt her so much now to know he slept with another woman, that hurt would come later and wine wouldn’t easily wash it away, but to have him stoop low enough to do it in her own bed, that was unforgivable. He didn’t respect her. She was but a convenient toy for him, little more than an unpaid whore. She derailed that miserable train of thought before she burst into tears.

  She finished filling the water pitcher with cooking oil and food coloring. Nikki returned with two pillows. She handed them to Quince. “I’m going out to his car to help myself to his CDs.”

  Adrianne paused. “Nikki, don’t stoop to his level.”

  “Didn’t you buy him some of those? Isn’t he sleeping in your bed with some girl with low morals like myself?”

  “Would you sleep in another woman’s bed?”

  “Depends on how drunk I was.” She turned to Quince. “Slit the pillows.” She eyed Navarre’s stone face. “I think you need to join your brother in the living room.”

  “I will protect my Queen as I see fit,” Navarre retorted stiffly.

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Quince pulled a knife out of his pocket, flicked it open and slit the top of the feather pillows. “A childish prank for a serious crime,” he muttered.

  “No killing,” Adrianne repeated, wondering at how far she’d traveled in just a few days. She never thought she’d be uttering those words.

  Tiptoeing down the hallway, she opened her door again. The creep was actually buck naked and spooning his prize. His sleeping partner was wearing a garter and one stocking yet. Her bright red fluff of hair was tangled, a sign of their frantic lovemaking. What had Doug promised her? Had he whispered the same things in the redhead’s ear as he whispered in hers?

  Childish and immature, huh? She poured the cooking oil mixture over Doug’s form, snatched a pillow from Quince and sprinkled feathers all over a now-sputtering, upright and confused Doug. Immensely satisfying, that was what it was.

  She splashed the rest of the cooking oil in his face. Try getting that out of your precious hair, she thought.

  “What the—? Adri?” His voice changed when he saw her.

  The redhead covered herself up with a bedsheet, eyes wide. Her pale skin had red spots splattered high on her cheeks.

  “You, I gave the benefit of a doubt to.” Adrianne jabbed a finger at the redhead. “Collect your things and get out of my apartment.”

  “Doug!” The woman struck Doug across the back of the head, then made a face as cooking oil dripped from her hand. She drew herself up, head high, gathered her clothing and walked to the door, still mostly naked. She eyed Quince and Navarre. “Looks like you found your own playmates as well,” she said in a purr, licked her lips, then left the room.

  “You!” Adrianne pointed to Doug.

  “Wait a minute. Who are these guys?” Doug’s eyes narrowed.

  “None of your business,” she retorted. “Are you insane? What were you thinking, bringing another woman into my apartment?”

  “I was thinking,” he said icily, “that I hadn’t seen my girlfriend in over three weeks. Reporters have been hounding me since your plane crashed. I needed some sort of relief. She doesn’t mean anything. I just met her at a bar last night. There’s still us.” He glanced at Navarre and Quince. “Or isn’t there?”

  “How many others have there been while I was away?”

  “None,” Doug said sullenly, looking away.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she lied. “And I don’t believe you. Don’t bother getting your stuff, I’ll pack it for you.” She snatched his pants lying on the floor at his feet, crossed the room to the window, opened it and flung them on the sidewalk. “Fetch.”

  “Adri?” He switched tactics and began to cajole. “Do you really want to throw everything we have away?”

  She couldn’t believe his tone had actually worked on her in the past. What a fool she was. She picked up his shirt and tossed it out the window as well.

  “Adri, damn it.” He turned to Navarre and Quince. “Look, I don’t know who you are but my girlfriend and I need some privacy.”

  “They’re staying.” Adrianne threw his shoes out the window.

  Doug crossed room and made a grab for Adrianne’s arm.

  Navarre caught him by the shoulder before Doug could reach her.

  “This is between me and Adri. Back off.” Doug spun in Navarre’s grasp, shoving against Navarre’s chest to free himself.

  Navarre’s eyes sparked green, flared for an instant, then settled to a quiet simmer, a nice somewhat human normal green.

  “What?” Doug backed off, shaking his head. “Who are these guys?”

  Good question. She needed a scientific calculator, a protractor and one of those pointy things she used to draw circles with in geometry before she could figure that one out. A compass. Funny, they banned knives at school, but a stainless steel stake used to draw circles was okay. But she digressed. “Friends.” Heck, she called her mailman a friend.

  “Thugs more like it.” He snagged a shirt from the pile of clothes Adrianne started emptying from the closet. Pulling it on over his greased body with a grimace, he said, “What are you mixed up in, Adri? You know, the FBI was over asking me questions. Just dropped in for a visit while I was at work. How do you think that looks to my clients?”

  “I’m sure they were more discreet than you.” But his words caused her to pause. The FBI? So they really did think she was a terrorist? Visions of being held in a windowless room with a single light bulb sent her breaking out into goose bumps. Thank God for the Dragoon. She doubted the FBI ever had to deal with shapeshifters. She watched with perverse pleasure as Doug struggled into a pair of jeans. “What did you tell them?”

  “That you travel a lot, supposedly for business, teaching.”

  “I am a teacher,” she shouted. She saw Navarre flinch. Quince took a cautious step back, positioning himself closer to the door. She remembered the shattered car windows and took a deep breath. “What else did you tell them?”

  He shrugged, glancing at Navarre. “Obviously I don’t know you as well as I thought I did. I told them that while you were probably smart enough to be a terrorist, you lacked motive.” He rummaged through his growing pile of clothes. “Did you leave me any shoes?”

  “No.”

  “I guess this is it then.” He grabbed a bundle of clothing and walked to the door. “For whatever it’s worth, it didn’t have to end this way.”

  “You did it to yourself.”

  “You ask too much, Adri, you always asked for too much. I’m only human.” He passed between Navarre and Quince. “Good luck.”

  Adrianne stood rock still until she heard the apartment door slam. She didn’t ask too much. She had never asked for enough. Maybe if she had demanded respect from the start. Maybe if she’d listened to that niggling bit of doubt instead of letting lust get in the way of common sense. She shook her head. She couldn’t let herself cry, not in front of Navarre and Quince. She was supposed to be their Queen, their savior. She couldn’t even manage to keep
a boyfriend from cheating on her. How was she supposed to live up to the Dragoon’s expectations?

  Suddenly drained, she sat in her desk chair, and looked around the room.

  What did she really have to pack? The furniture Nikki could keep, especially the bed. She tried not to wonder whether this was the first time he brought someone to her bed or not.

  She loved the room, the soft taupe walls with the suede finish she and Nikki painstakingly painted. The curtains were ivory lace, and matched the bed skirt and table linens. The worn hardwood floor, original to the building, bore the scars of years’ worth of previous owners. She had a story for every blemish the wood bore. It had seen her through years of yoga, of few bouts of rampant sex, and countless times she rearranged the furniture. But they were all things that had no place in her new life. Except maybe the unbridled sex part.

  Her books and photo albums had to come with her. They contained memories of her happy mundane childhood. Jesus, what would have happened if someone had discovered her inability to burn as a child? Would she have been locked up? Examined like the Elephant Man?

  Her car was still presumably at the airport, waiting for her return. Which she would never do, she realized with a start. She glanced at Navarre and read sympathy in his gaze. She looked away.

  “Are you able to pack what you need now? Someone can fetch the remainder of your belongings.” Navarre’s feet moved into her line of sight.

  “Sure.” She wanted to rage at him, to scream, “Are you happy now? I’m severing my ties one by one”, but she kept silent. It would do no good. And it wasn’t his fault.

  Her travel bags were burned along with her good business attire. Another sigh escaped her lips. Where was that happy alcoholic buzz?

  Nikki entered, several flattened boxes in hand, identifiable by her stylish yet sensible shoes, a rugged suede with a heel and grooved soles. “There’s a fancy blue sedan parked across the street and some very well-dressed men inside. Friends of yours?” she asked Navarre.

  He lifted the lace curtain and looked out. “No.”

  Nikki opened the boxes and set them on the floor at her feet. “Clothes first, c’mon.” She began to empty the closet, folding the clothes carefully.

  “Think some reporters are staking out your bar?” Adrianne asked those stylish shoes.

  “It’s the cops,” Nikki said, as if she’d already thought things through before bringing it to their attention. She continued to fold Adrianne’s clothes.

  Altarre joined them, took one look at the soiled bedding and started bundling it up. “Where would you like this placed?”

  “There is a laundry room off the kitchen. Thank you.” Nikki closed one box and started on the next.

  “I’m sorry he used your place,” Adrianne said quietly. She looked up.

  There was no pity in Nikki’s gaze, just sympathy and a smattering of rage. “Our place. He’s a jerk. Forget him.”

  Adrianne smiled weakly. “Not much of a choice there.”

  She stowed her photo albums in a separate box while Nikki started in on her shoes. She chose not to look at Navarre or Quince. She was their Queen. Apparently, their previous Queens’ wrath leaped way past tar and feathering and jumped right to torture and murder. She could no more be an appropriate Queen than Ghandi could be a sniper. What a disappointment she was to them.

  Navarre continued to stand at the window, Quince by the bedroom door. It was quite likely she’d never be truly alone again.

  “I can pack the rest of your books,” Nikki offered.

  Adrianne hesitated, set a book into her box, turned to Nikki and, without warning, burst into tears. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but it didn’t halt the soundless sobs that shook her entire body.

  She had cried more these last couple of days than she had in her entire life.

  Nikki caught her, pulling her to her shoulder while she cried. She heard Altarre’s rushed footsteps in the hallway. Poor man. Being subjected to her emotions had to be like taking a train trip through the Rockies without brakes.

  Navarre briefly touched the back of her neck. His big hand caressed the knot there. Then he bent down, picked up one of her boxes and left with it.

  Nikki rocked her. “It’s been a strange week, gotta admit that,” she said quietly. “But you’re not going through it alone.” When Adrianne remained quiet, she continued, “They could have been homely suckers.”

  Adrianne hiccupped, a laugh bubbling up. Leave it to Nikki to put a practical spin on it all.

  They pulled each other up. “Apparently that wasn’t waterproof mascara I loaned you. Go freshen up.”

  Adrianne emerged from the bathroom to find Navarre in the living room with Agent Haynes and two other men. Navarre wore a scowl. Quince looked ready to draw a weapon.

  “Going someplace, Ms. Harris?” Haynes asked when he saw her.

  “Eloping,” she replied, sliding into the lie with an ease she didn’t think was possible for her. She slipped her arm through Navarre’s.

  For once, she was thankful for mind speech. Police. In our world, one step down from the Hunter, she said to Navarre.

  Navarre’s arm dropped to her waist, tightening imperceptibly.

  “Didn’t I just see your boyfriend leaving?” Haynes asked in a conversational tone.

  One of his partners opened Nikki’s bedroom door and peeked in.

  “Hey, that’s my roommate’s room,” she said to him, breaking free of Navarre long enough to pull the door shut. “And you are?”

  “Agents Lampson and Byers with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

  Adrianne put her hands on her hips. It hid the fact she was trembling. “I don’t recall inviting you here.”

  “We have a warrant, Ms. Harris. And if you recall, I asked to be notified of your activity.” Haynes leaned too close to her, all trace of pleasantness gone.

  Quince, keep Nikki occupied, she thought. She didn’t want Nikki to be involved with them. Really too late for that brilliant brain wave. They were at Nikki’s bar, standing in Nikki’s apartment.

  Adrianne put on a bright smile. “Well, I’m sorry I won’t be able to visit here with you. I’ve a wedding to attend. This is my fiancé, Navarre.”

  Haynes did not fall for it. “We will make an itemized list of all the belongings we take. You could have cooperated with us, Ms. Harris. You forced our hand.”

  “Are you arresting me as well?”

  He coughed politely. “Not at this point.”

  “Well, then, if you excuse me, I have to go.”

  “You will not be allowed to leave the country, Ms. Harris. Your passport has been withdrawn until our review is over.”

  “I have no passport yet.”

  “You recently filed a request for one.”

  “To take a well-deserved trip to the Bahamas…where it’s warm! If you’ve done your homework, you’ll realize I work a lot, enough to justify a vacation once in a while.” Good healthy rage. She welcomed it. It cleared her alcohol and emotion-fuzzed mind.

  “Where were you the last day or so, Ms. Harris?”

  “Resting at my fiancé’s.”

  “Ah yes, Mr…?” Haynes turned to Navarre.

  He wants your last name, Adrianne warned.

  I dislike him.

  Then we finally agree on something.

  “Navarre,” he said.

  Haynes raised an eyebrow. “Navarre Navarre? Interesting name.”

  “You try my patience,” Navarre said evenly.

  “Believe me, your fiancée is trying mine as well. Where is your residence, Mr. Navarre?”

  “When will you be through here?” Navarre asked instead.

  “Your residence, an address?” Haynes persisted. “And where are you from?” He tipped his head. “Your accent is odd.”

  May I handle this? Navarre asked Adrianne.

  No killing.

  I am not Quince.

  She felt pressure, as if a wave washed over her and passed her
by. Haynes straightened as did the other two agents, their expressions abruptly blank.

  She snapped her fingers in front of Haynes’ face. There was no response. “Neat trick. What did you do?”

  “I am removing their memory of you.”

  “Just like that?” She snapped her fingers again. Lords, how much power did the man possess? Nikki was right. They were catering to her. They could have simply wiped away her memory.

  “It is a bit more difficult than that.” The words came out slowly. He wore a look of concentration.

  “Okay, I’ll leave you alone.” She backed away. The sight of three blank-faced men was disturbing enough.

  Nikki burst out of the bedroom, Quince in tow. “I don’t know how you did it, but if you ever ask him to do that again…” She waggled her finger at Adrianne, then noticed the agents. “Who are these people and what’s wrong with them?”

  “They were just leaving. I would hazard a guess they belong to the blue sedan.” Adrianne tugged Nikki away from the agents. “Help me with my stuff.”

  “You aren’t going to distract me that easily. And you…” She turned on Quince, who remained impassive, like one of the great enigmatic statues on Easter Island. “I even bit him. He didn’t budge.”

  “I’m sure it turned you on,” Adrianne said dryly. “C’mon.”

  “Oh God, yes,” she gushed in a low voice when they were out of earshot of the men. “He has an incredible body. I took the liberty of checking everything out in my attempt to escape.”

  Adrianne laughed. “I’m sure your attempted escape was very thorough.” How was she ever going to live without Nikki?

  They crammed two boxes of clothes and one box of her favorite books and photo albums into the car’s trunk. Memorabilia from her parents’ house was in a storage facility, no need to claim it now, especially if they weren’t going anywhere for a while.

  “Now that’s a creepy sight.” Nikki straightened and closed the trunk.

  Haynes and the other two agents filed out of the building, their movements jerky. They climbed stiffly into their blue sedan and waited, staring straight ahead.

  Navarre followed them. “I need a location to send them to.”