by Amy Sumida
Raza chuckled as he escorted me to the doors. He produced the invitation from his inner pocket with an elegant flick of his hand. The doorman scanned it, nodded to us, and waved us inside. We stepped into a huge room full of round tables and mingling people who were doing a damn good job of not looking as if they were on a job. The huge window I'd noted overlooked the party, bringing the night sky into the space.
Raza led me across the room casually, our heels clicking on the polished cement floor. He stopped only briefly, to snag two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and hand one to me. Then he wrapped my arm around his once more and we strolled amid the fake guests, scanning their faces for Verisande. We both had little comm units in our ears and microphones hidden in our garments. As soon as someone spotted Verisande, everyone would know it.
We moved out of the main room and further into the museum. A hall opened before us, its ceiling covered in hanging wooden poles with spider plants clinging to their ends. I sipped my champagne and stared up into the delicate greenery, unsure as to how I felt about it. The artist was probably trying to convey something profound like the juxtaposition between nature and civilization but I didn't get it. I love art but mainly the pretty stuff or even the surreal stuff. But the ugly, contemporary variety didn't do it for me. I especially didn't understand the installation pieces like this one, that could be anything from a chair and a potted palm to a floor covered in balled up aluminum foil. Raza frowned at the ceiling but said nothing. I don't think he understood it either.
On we went, past the hanging plants and into another exhibit, this one more of the traditional type with paintings and sculptures on display. Better, but still, it wasn't the pretty stuff. I'm fine with art that evokes certain emotions or has a deeper meaning to it but I'd prefer it to be pleasant to look at. If I didn't enjoy it, I wouldn't want to hang it in my home. Raza and I did that slow, leisurely, I'm-appreciating-art walk around the room, pausing here and there in front of paintings that mostly made me go, “Huh?”
“I don't think I like contemporary art,” Raza murmured.
“You and me both, babe.” I nodded my head at a sculpture on a pedestal. “What do you think that's supposed to be?”
The sculpture was white, ceramic, bulbous, and opened like a spiky flower to display a gaping hole inside. It reminded me of an episode of Stranger Things.
“I think it's a member of the Sluagh,” Raza noted dryly.
“Should I put my hand inside and see if it bites me?”
“Please don't,” he drawled and drew me away in case I tried to make good on my threat.
Killian stepped into the room and ambled over to us. He'd gone with a slimmer physique as well but his skin was a rich umber-brown and his facial features were more sturdy. A beautiful pair of hazel eyes gleamed from his borrowed face, so striking against the dark skin. I smiled appreciatively at him. There's nothing like an African-American man with light eyes.
“What's this, then?” Kill waved at the same sculpture we'd been pondering. “A monster flower?”
“That's the consensus,” Raza said and steered me around to face Kill.
“Huh,” Killian said before taking a swig of champagne. He made a face at his glass. “And what the hell is this?”
“That's what good champagne tastes like,” I teased him.
“I think I'd rather have bad beer than good champagne,” Killian decided.
Raza made a snorting, condescending sound.
Before Killian could respond, Extinguisher Lance Sloane's voice came through our comm units, “She's here. Just walked in.”
“Where's Drostan?” I asked.
“The main room. He's seen her. She's heading straight to him. We're locking the doors now. Moving in.”
“Wait,” I hissed as Raza, Killian, and I hurried back into the main room. “Give Drostan a moment to speak with her. He deserves that much at least.”
A pause and then, “He's got five minutes.”
We slowed our steps when we entered the main room. I quickly located Drostan and angled us toward him casually. Verisande was indeed there and in her true form, no less, but she'd added a blonde wig so pale that it nearly matched Drostan's hair. Drostan had his hair braided back so that his face was in stark relief. His expression was mixed—a smidgen of relief with a hefty dose of pain.
We wandered close enough to listen in on their conversation.
“Don't worry, I have it all under control,” Verisande said as she brushed her fingertips across Drostan's cheek.
“Veri—”
“Shh.” She moved a finger to his lips. “It will all be over soon.”
Drostan frowned and slid a worried glance my way as Verisande turned away from him and looked around the room.
“Everyone, stand at attention if you please!” Verisande shouted.
Champagne glasses crashed to the floor as most of the people in the room dropped their arms to their sides and jerked their bodies into straight lines—Killian and me included. Raza stared at us in bafflement.
“I can't move,” I whispered to Raza.
“Ditto,” Killian growled.
“What the fuck?” Sloane exclaimed in my ear. “What's wrong with you guys?”
“I don't know what's affected them,” Raza murmured. “But I suspect it has something to do with Verisande.”
“You suspect right!” Verisande pointed at Raza as she sidled over to us. “Now, who might you be?” She looked at me and Kill, then back at Raza. “Two of you are at least part human but you”—she trailed her fingers down Raza's chest—“are all Fey.”
Raza grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back. “What have you done to my wife?”
“Ah, so it's the Unseelie King himself!” Verisande cried in delight. “Then they must be the Prince and Princess of Twilight! Oh, this is perfect.” She looked at me. “Free me from your husband's grip, won't you, Princess?”
My body jerked forward, my eyes going wide as I grabbed Raza's wrist and twisted it away from Verisande. Raza jerked back, unwilling to hurt me in return. His horrified stare went from me to Verisande.
“Raza, I can't control myself,” I said, just as horrified.
“You shouldn't have drunk the champagne,” Verisande chided smugly.
“What have you done!” Raza roared, his eyes blazing molten gold.
Those who were unaffected—the hunters likely—drew in around us, menace filling their eyes.
“Uh-uh-uh.” Verisande waved a finger at them. “One word and you'll be fighting each other. Is that what you want?”
They went still.
“To answer your question, King Raza,” Verisande purred. “I drugged the humans. You're all high on newt—the latest version of it, that is.”
“The stuff that turned those humans into zombie fairies?” Killian growled.
“Oh, you sweet simpleton,” Verisande said in faux pity. “I didn't make them into fairies; I made them mine.”
Drostan gaped at his girlfriend.
“What does that mean?” Nightblade stepped out of the crowd to confront Verisande.
“It doesn't work on fairies, unfortunately.” Verisande sighed. “But it does something to the humans. Something very surprising. When I tweaked the Alp Luachra secretions, I tried adding more of my magic to it and, lo and behold, it worked. No more dead humans. Instead, it went the opposite route and gave the humans a bit of fey immortality—at least while the drug was active. But that magic was mine and it gave me control of them. You met my test subjects.” She winked at me. “I had to try several versions until I found one that worked perfectly. Some of the earlier ones had unfortunate side effects and I was forced to eliminate the test subjects. But then you showed up, just as I was leaving one of the groups, and they started to come back to life.” She laughed brightly. “You should have seen your faces!”
“You gave them some of your soul,” Raza whispered.
“Perhaps, but I don't think they got to keep it.” Verisande
shrugged. “I don't really care, to tell you the truth. All I care about is that I've found a way to control large numbers of humans at one time without having to fairy-strike them individually. Isn't that brilliant? I could have armies in seconds. And, even better, it seems to work on partial humans too.” She waved a hand at Killian and me.
“That's impossible,” Nightblade declared.
“Apparently not.” Verisande looked around pointedly. “So, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to walk out of here with Drostan and all of you will stay where you are until we are gone. And then, you will leave us the fuck alone. Do you understand me?” She snarled the last bit. “You will not interfere with anything we do.”
“The hell we won't,” Nightblade growled. “If I have to fight extinguishers and vexes to bring you down, I will. We have an extinguishment order for you, Verisande Osag, one given to both the Wild Hunt and the Extinguishers.”
I blinked. That hadn't been done since my evil Uncle Uisdean and his even more evil wife, Rue had fled to Earth.
Verisande faltered a second but then lifted her chin. “If anyone tries to harm me, all of you humans will kill them,” she commanded.
I felt my body jerk into readiness.
Nightblade growled and started to move forward.
“Don't!” I shouted at him as my hand lifted, filling with a burning ball of thorns. “Please, don't!”
“Yes, please don't,” Verisande purred at Nightblade, then laughed cruelly.
Nightblade paled. It was one thing to fight extinguishers and vexes but quite another to go against a fellow fairy and a queen at that. My magic could kill him faster than iron poisoning. Speaking of which, the extinguishers around the room pulled their iron weapons and brandished them with shaking hands. Above those weapons, their expressions filled with panic.
“Stand down!” Sloane shouted in my ear.
“We can't!” I hissed back. “She's controlling us.”
“Fuck! Hold on, all of you. We're on our way.”
Verisande looked over at Drostan. “Come here, baby.”
Drostan stepped over to her, his shoulders a rigid line. She took his hand, not even noticing his reluctance. As she did, a swarm of extinguishers rushed into the room, all of them holding iron swords.
“You didn't drug all of us,” Extinguisher Lance Sloane announced as he stepped forward.
“But I didn't come alone either,” she said smugly.
More humans came striding through the now-open front doors and formed a line at the back of Sloane's team. They had automatic rifles and the blank looks of hardened killers. The rifles lifted, though aim hardly mattered at that range.
“Drop your swords,” Verisande ordered the newly-arrived extinguishers.
The extinguishers and Councilman Williams looked at Sloane. Sloane grimaced and threw down his sword. The rest of them followed his lead.
“Good little extinguishers,” Verisande said snidely.
The sound of propellers drifted into the room softly at first and then grew louder. Verisande looked up as if she could see the approaching helicopter.
“Ah, there's our ride,” Verisande declared. “Now, if anyone tries to stop me, you will kill them.” She looked around at all of us who were under her control. Then she looked over at her mercenaries. “You may shoot anyone who approaches you. Keep them here until we leave.”
The men nodded.
“Queen Seren, you will come with us.” Verisande crooked a finger at me.
Raza snarled and grabbed my wrist, holding me back.
“I will have them kill you, King Raza,” Verisande said smoothly. “Or at least attempt to. You'll have to shift into a dragon, I imagine, and then kill all of these innocent people. Are you willing to do that to save your wife?”
“If you have to ask, you know nothing of love,” Raza growled. “I would burn the whole fucking world to ash to save Seren.”
Verisande blinked, her face going slack.
“Leave her,” Drostan urged. “You have me.”
“But we need a hostage.” Verisande pouted. “And I want to play with her.”
“Take me,” Killian offered.
“I don't want to play with you!” Verisande snapped. “King Raza, you will release your wife or I will force her to kill herself.” She flicked her fingers and a knife lifted off the buffet table and flew over to me. “Take the blade and point it upward, beneath your chin, Seren.”
“Seren!” Raza roared as I obeyed the order.
“Do I understand love now, Your Majesty?” Verisande sneered.
Blood trickled down my throat. Raza faltered; the hand that held me trembled.
“Stand down, Raza,” I said gently, despite the way speaking made the knife cut me more. “I'll be okay.”
“No,” he growled, his hand tightening on my wrist.
“Let me go, baby,” I softened my voice even more. “I've got Anu on my side. Have some faith.”
“Mo shíorghrá,” Raza's voice broke.
“Oh, how sweet,” Verisande said scornfully. “The Dragon King is going to cry.”
Raza ignored her, his stare fastened on me.
“I love you,” I whispered. “It will be okay.”
Raza let go of my hand, his jaw clenching and his eyes shivering as he did.
I went to stand before Verisande and she smirked, looking me up and down.
“You may release the knife,” she said.
I cast aside the blade and felt the sting of my wound lessen immediately. Blood had dripped down to my cleavage but I refused to give her the pleasure of wiping it away.
“Release your glamour, Your Majesty. I want to confirm that it's you.”
My glamour vanished, rippling away silk pulled over my body. The dress seemed to expand with my real form and became a bit more scandalous, what with my curves pushing the material out in ways that my glamoured image hadn't. My cleavage looked ready to spring free of the low neckline.
Verisande chuckled. “Trying to look more Sidhe, were we? Poor, fat thing. All those curves have nowhere to go but out.”
“My wife isn't fat,” Killian snarled.
“Kill, she's just trying to get a rise out of you,” I said.
“Am I?” Verisande asked conversationally. “Do you think that I like your body? That I'm jealous of it or something?” She sneered into my face. “A woman should be slender and graceful. Her breasts should just fill a man's hands, not be these”—she made a disgusted face at my cleavage—“bulging bags of fat. You're an embarrassment to your regal ancestors. Your poor father.” She shook her head. “Having to crown you and acknowledge you as his heir. He must be so disappointed.”
“That's enough, Verisande!” Drostan snapped.
Verisande looked at him sharply. “I will say when it's enough.”
“The helicopter is here. Let's go,” Drostan said firmly.
Verisande grimaced but nodded. “Come along, Ugly Princess.” She started walking but I didn't follow. She stopped and looked over her shoulder with irritation. “That means you, Seren!”
I snorted a laugh and followed her.
“We'll be right behind you, Twilight,” Killian whispered through the comm unit in my ear.
I glanced back and winked at him, faking the confidence I didn't feel. I couldn't look at Raza; I knew his expression would break my composure. Instead, I focused on the back of Verisande's head and remembered my promise to myself. I was going to watch this bitch burn.
The crowd moved restlessly behind me but no one came after us. I heard Sloane cursing in my earpiece as Verisande led Drostan and me through the museum and into a stairwell. We went up the metal stairs, our steps echoing loudly in the confined space. My heart and mind raced as I tried to come up with an escape plan. I had to be ready in case an opportunity presented itself.
We stepped out onto the roof, where a helicopter was waiting, its propellers still moving. Verisande led the way, dragging Drostan by the hand. My hair blew back from my f
ace and I squinted against the blast, crouching automatically as you're supposed to do when approaching a helicopter. Verisande and Drostan did the same, hunching down as they drew closer to the rotating blades. But as Drostan bent, he looked back at me and then at the edge of the roof pointedly. It was close, maybe four feet away. If I made it there, I could jump and use my air beag to float to the ground.
I grabbed my skirts and ran.
Behind me, Verisande snarled, “Stop, Seren!”
My body jerked to a halt a mere foot from the edge but my momentum sent me tumbling to the ground. I rolled as I hit, tearing my dress. One strap broke, beads tinkling away, and the bodice gaped. Part of my strapless bra came into view.
