by Sunny
“It was witnessed by Mona Lisa, Lord Amber, and myself,” Chami confirmed, “along with six others.”
“Have you Basked since that time?” she asked.
“No, milady. At that time, we decided it would be safest if I hid that ability. I got the impression that the other Queens wouldn’t be happy to learn a male was able to do what, up till now, had solely been a Queen’s gift.”
“And now?”
“Now,” Thaddeus said, grinning widely, “it’ll be only a small shock compared to what Mona Lisa, Amber, and the others here will be unleashing on everyone shortly.”
“A much smaller threat, indeed,” the Queen Mother said, smiling slightly.
“Plus,” he shrugged, “the people here need me. It’s no big deal for me to take my sister’s place.”
I added, “Thaddeus and Aquila have been pretty much overseeing all the business affairs without any input from me. As you saw from our tithe, we’ve been doing pretty well. He might as well have the official title to go along with the job he’s been doing.”
The Queen Mother smiled. “Ah, yes, the title. What shall it be, for the first Basking male in our history?”
“Well, you can’t call me a Queen, that’s for sure,” Thaddeus said, grimacing.
I grinned. “What, you don’t like Mona Thaddeus? It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
My brother shot me a quelling look.
The Queen Mother raised a hand to her lips, hiding her amusement. “I think in this matter we shall stay within tradition, nontraditional though it may be.” At her nod, Lord Thorane drew a small case from the overhead compartment. Inside was a gold medallion chain similar to the one Amber wore.
At Lord Thorane’s command to kneel, Thaddeus dropped to his knees before the Queen Mother. With graceful economy of movement, she took the heavy medallion chain from the case and slipped it over his head. “By the power of the moon, our ancestral planet, I hereby bestow upon you the title of Lord Thaddeus and assign you ruler of the territories of Louisiana and West Mississippi, recombined back into one whole land. Hereon, thereafter, all courtesy and respect are to be granted to you in accordance to your status by the laws of our High Council. May our Mother Moon always shine upon you. May her light always be your guide.”
Thaddeus rose, dazzled by the brief ceremony despite himself.
It would take a little while before he started to feel not just the physical but the nonphysical weight of that medallion necklace, and all it represented.
Lord Thorane, then Amber, embraced their new brother, the only three living Monère males with that rare elevated status.
“If you have any questions, call me,” Lord Thorane offered generously. “For now, we must hasten to depart.”
“That reminds me—my gifts before I leave you guys,” Thaddeus said, grabbing the three shopping bags Chami passed to him. Opening one, he handed three boxes to Lord Thorane. “Here, my lord, these are for the Queen Mother: I bought three disposable cell phones with prepaid minutes, which will expire in sixty days. Here’s yours, sis,” he said, passing the second bag to me. Inside were six boxes exactly like the ones he had handed Lord Thorane.
“This last bag is for the rest of you guys: Amber, Dontaine, and the Morells. Everything’s labeled with your names. I bought this stuff while you guys were packing. Thought it’d be safer if you swapped your old cell phones for these new ones. I paid for everything in cash, that way no one can trace your accounts back to Louisiana. The phones already out of their boxes are for your daily regular use; each has a hundred prepaid minutes on them.”
“I didn’t think of that,” I said, handing him my old phone.
“It’s amazing you guys were ready to fly out to DC less than three hours after deciding to radically change your lives, and everyone else’s in the world. You’re not alone, sis. Don’t forget that.”
After collecting all the old phones, he handed everyone a sheet of paper with all the new numbers, including the three new cell phones he had bought for himself.
“I used initials for everyone,” Thaddeus said. The Queen Mother was QM. I was ML. “For the disposable phones, and I really do mean that—they’re only meant for onetime use—I labeled each phone respectively as number one, two, three, four, five, and six. You should use the phones numbered one, two, and three in that order. For example, Lisa, if you need to call the Queen Mother, you use the cell phone labeled number one, place your call, then deactivate your phone after you’ve finished talking to her. Same with her.”
He demonstrated by removing the battery and the small SIM memory disc from his own cell phone. “Throw away the phone and battery, and crush the SIM card. They won’t be able to trace the call or pinpoint the Queen Mother’s location that way. The next time—let’s say the Queen Mother needs to call you this time, Lisa—she uses phone number two, and both of you destroy your SIM cards and throw away your second deactivated phones as soon as you’re done talking. Use numbers four, five, and six to call me. And here’s the name and address of the hospital where they took Jarvis and the girl,” Thaddeus said, stuffing more sheets of paper into my hands, “along with a listing of hotels and motels nearby. Also some lawyers in the area specializing in criminal law. You’ll probably need a lawyer to get Jarvis out of the cops’ hands if he’s still at the hospital, if you decide to go about it the legal way.”
“Cops? Why would cops be there?” I asked. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Other than fly out of a nineteenth-story window using wings, which he then transformed back into arms. All captured nicely on late-night news. Cops will be the least of it, sis,” Thaddeus said. “You’ll probably have FBI, maybe even Homeland Security swarming around, wanting to take him into custody.”
I felt a sudden urgent need to be off, instead of being grounded here on the runway.
“Almost done,” Thaddeus said, reading my tense expression. “There’s a list of three large law firms I found in DC specializing in public law and policy, and American Indian law—the closest thing I could think of to our situation. I don’t know if these firms are the best, just what I could find quickly on the Internet.”
“My smart and brilliant brother,” I said, impressed by his foresight. “I think all the brains went to you.”
“Then you must have gotten all the guts. Go rock the world, sis,” Thaddeus murmured, hugging me good-bye.
Over his shoulder, I exchanged a nod with Chami, passing my brother’s care into his hands.
“My thanks as well, Lord Thaddeus,” said the Queen Mother, wearing a pleased smile. “One of the most practical gifts I have ever received.”
My brother ducked his head with embarrassed pleasure.
The Queen Mother handed Thaddeus a small business card. “Call this number and speak with my man, Raiden. He’ll help you transfer things over into your name.”
With a final wave of thanks and farewell, Thaddeus and Chami departed the plane.
Less than ten minutes later, we were airborne.
TWENTY-FOUR
“ A MOST UNUSUALLY intelligent and gifted young man,” the Queen Mother observed as our small jet lifted into the air.
“Yeah, Thaddeus is special. And he has good people watching him but . . . can you do what you can to keep him safe?” I asked.
“You have my word. Next to you, he is perhaps the most well suited to helping us bridge our two worlds.”
“I’ll be using my real name, Lisa Hamilton. Will they be able to trace that back to him and Belle Vista?”
“I do not know. Raiden will work quickly to eradicate your name from all records and scrub as many memories as possible before you bring the news of our existence to the public. By the way, when do you plan to make your announcement?”
“Today, after I secure Jarvis.”
“What about on your end? Any acquaintances you made that will lead back to your brother?”
I shook my head. “No, only a few people at the new high school in
Louisiana, when I registered Thaddeus there, but they may not remember me; my hair’s a different style and color now. And Thaddeus has a different last name than mine.”
“Any credit cards or checking accounts that you opened up yourself?”
“Nothing but what you established for me.”
“Then we should hopefully be able to keep Thaddeus sheltered from the public arena for now. But what about the Morells? Do you intend to use their real names?”
“If it pleases you, Queen Mother,” Nolan answered “that would be preferable. My sons, Dante and Quentin, have birth certificates, Social Security numbers, and school records in their name. Legal citizens of the United States. The rest of us are, in their eyes, apart from Mona Lisa, illegal aliens.”
Quentin grinned. “They may not consider me and Dante American citizens, not with us being Monère. Only you, Mona Lisa. You’re part human.”
“A quarter. Does that mean I only have a quarter of their rights? Never mind. That’ll be a matter for whatever lawyer we hire. But the Queen Mother has a good point. Are there any records leading back to Louisiana, to Thaddeus?”
“Our cell phone records,” Dante answered. “And my family’s been out in the community—the supermarket, the mall. Someone might remember seeing us.”
“Me as well,” said Dontaine. “There are many people who will recognize me from New Orleans.”
“Crap. I forgot your friends who did my makeover,” I said, rubbing my temples. “Okay, so once they start digging, they’ll likely be able to track us to New Orleans.”
“But not to Belle Vista. Not to Thaddeus,” Dontaine said, squeezing my arm in comfort.
“The threads are there,” I said. “It just depends on how deep they dig into our pasts—and I have a feeling they’re going to be willing to dig as far as China.” I blew out a breath. “Thaddeus knows the risk, that he might be pulled into this. But I’d like to keep him out of it for as long as I can.” I looked at the Queen Mother and Lord Thorane. “The location of High Court must remain secret as well. But in all other things, I wish to speak plainly about ourselves.”
That launched us all into heated discussion for the next three hours of our flight as we ironed out the parameters of our mission and what we would and would not be revealing to the rest of the world.
“You wish to expose our weakness?” Lord Thorane exclaimed, his brows beetling together. “How to capture us, kill us?”
“Our weaknesses as well as our strengths. The truth,” I insisted. “We cannot lie to them.”
“How much of the truth?” asked the Queen Mother.
“Everything about us. But we leave out mention of other realms. No demon dead, no Hell, no NetherHell. Oh, and no mention of reincarnation or curses, either. We’ll introduce those concepts to them later,” I said, and refrained from glancing at Dante. “For now, it will be enough for people to swallow down what a normal Monère is capable of. But everything else is fair game. We tell them all the good and bad about us, and how we are trying to change. I know—I’m pushing the boundaries. But if we fail, I want to fail big. Not from lack of trying. And definitely not from misinformation.”
The Queen Mother considered it for a long, quiet moment, then finally nodded. “Very well, tell them the truth about us. I agreed to try and let you carve out your own path. We shall see where it leads us. I only request that you keep our weaknesses secret for now. You can reveal them if and when you are questioned before their legislative courts or government—when you have a serious chance of gaining us rights. Not before. No need to make it easier for them to kill you before then.”
It was far more than I had expected. A part of me was euphoric. Another part was terrified now. We would either win . . . or mess up big-time.
“Your brother provided you with much of what you will need,” the Queen Mother said, smiling fondly in remembrance of my brother’s gifts. “This is our contribution.”
Lord Thorane retrieved another briefcase from the overhead bin. “The combination is three-six-seven,” he said, setting it on my lap. He opened the briefcase, revealing more money than I’d ever seen in my entire life. There were stacks of twenties, one bundle of fifties, and another of one hundreds. The bottom row were all in much higher currency denominations—five-hundred-, one-thousand-, and five-thousand-dollar bills. I fanned through the last stack and found several ten-thousand-dollar bills. “I didn’t even know they made these. Is this money real?” I asked.
The Queen Mother chuckled. “They are not counterfeit, if that is what you are asking.”
“My God, how much is this?”
“A million dollars,” was her answer. “I am sorry I could not give you more seed money to start with. It was all we had available—all that we can give you for now, and probably even after you gain our people rights.”
It was nice how she stated that as a foregone conclusion: that I would succeed in gaining us those rights.
“I understand,” I said. “You’ll have to limit your contact with us to keep the location of High Court secret. Don’t worry, this is more than enough—much more than I expected, actually.”
“It will help fund the legal fight you have ahead of you. But money, you will find, goes rather quickly. Use it well. It will not be enough to establish your first District Court.”
“It may go further than you expected, Queen Mother,” Quentin said, examining the higher currency bills. “Some of these are dated from the early 1900s. They may be worth more than double their printed value to currency dealers and collectors.”
“Part of the money was from a reserve we kept for emergency use,” Lord Thorane said. “Money that has been sitting in our vault for a long time.”
“Are you saying this is the Monère’s first real emergency?” I asked. The plane began to descend, setting off a flutter of nerves—both a physical response and in emotional anticipation of our imminent arrival.
“Not so much emergency as a chosen strike,” corrected the Queen Mother. “A deliberate move on a chessboard, grasping an ideal opportunity that has presented itself.”
“Well, let’s hope all our pieces don’t get knocked over,” I muttered, gripping the armrest.
“Especially the Queen,” rumbled Amber.
I glanced at my watch. “It’s almost eight in the morning. Quentin, can you turn on the screen and see what the news is saying?”
The morning news was saying plenty. Every one of those channels was featuring updates on Jarvis, who was listed in critical condition.
“It’s been ten hours,” Hannah, our healer, observed. “He should have healed his most severe burns by now.”
“That’s probably how they admitted him,” I said. “I bet the hospital isn’t talking to reporters yet, and they’re just going with his last known status.”
“I’m surprised he hasn’t flown the coop by now,” Quentin murmured.
“And go where?” asked Dante. “He knows there’ll be Monère warriors waiting for him as soon as he steps out of the hospital, after all the public attention he’s drawn. He broke our number one rule: to keep our existence secret from humans. The poor bastard’s probably wondering why someone hasn’t already come to kill him.”
The busy reporters had finally managed to dig up some names. Kelly Rawlings for the girl. Eighteen years old. An orphan who was adopted but ran away from home at fifteen to live on the streets. For the winged wonder, they had the name Jarvis Condorizi.
“He was a quiet guy. Never said a word,” said a neighbor, glancing away from the reporter into the camera. “The two of them kept to themselves.”
“She’s a waitress at my restaurant,” said another nervous, bald man they interviewed. “Jarvis bused tables and washed dishes. They work part-time, during the day; wouldn’t stay once it got dark.”
Quentin flipped to another channel where a reporter was speaking to a fireman who remembered seeing Jarvis coming on the scene. “He just dropped this bag and then was suddenly gone. Must have ra
n past me up into the building, but I didn’t see him or I woulda stopped him.” The camera zoomed in on an old burlap bag opened to reveal two dead mallards inside.
The poor guy had probably dropped off the girl at home, then gone out hunting, returning to see his building up in flames. It was easy visualizing the rest. After determining Kelly wasn’t among the crowd outside, he must have run inside the burning building and made his way up to the nineteenth floor only to find the girl trapped, with the fire blocking their way back down, though not for him. Jarvis could have survived the fire, the lack of oxygen, had he zipped back down through the flames, but not a human. A human would not have been able to survive.
“I wonder what the girl is to him,” I said thoughtfully.
“Not lovers,” Dontaine said with certainty. “She’s human.”
“Not necessarily true,” I said, shaking my head. “She might be a Mixed Blood. They said she was an orphan, remember.” Like I myself had been. Left on the doorsteps of an orphanage. “The other Monère watching him wouldn’t be able to sense that unless they got in close to her. If she’s a Mixed Blood, it wouldn’t be unpleasant for him to mate with her.”
“Whatever they are, lovers or friends, he risked a hell of a lot for her,” said Dante grimly.
It seemed like forever before we finally touched down. And then, once we did, it suddenly seemed as if time had flown by much too quickly, and much too soon we were bidding farewell to the Queen Mother and Lord Thorane—my last physical contact with them in who knew how long.
“May the Goddess bless you, keep you, and guide you,” said the Queen Mother in warm benediction. One last quick embrace, and then we were on our own, armed with disposable cell phones, a list of names, and a million dollars in cash.
Our first expenditure was renting a passenger van with a portable GPS navigation system, the type you stick on the front windshield via suction cup.
Quentin punched in the address for the Residence Inn that we decided would be the best place to stay. It was two miles away from the hospital, and less crowded than a hotel, easier for us to exit. I flipped open my new cell phone while he drove, and dialed the first number my brother had printed out on his list.
