“What is that?” I whispered to the Queen.
“That’s a flute,” she said. “Surely you have those on land. Of course that one plays underwater too . . .”
“No, the song, what is that song?”
The Queen cocked an ear. “That is one of my favorites, composed by a man called Pachelbel for the wedding of a member of the famous composing Bach family. It’s simply called Canon in D.”
“That is the sweetest sounding cannon I have ever heard,” I replied with a grin. The Queen laughed, but I wasn’t kidding. If the Queen’s people thought ill of her marrying what was a commoner in their mind, and a vampire to boot, there was no indication of their discontent. All of them, including Lovely, who chose to stand on the deck and not in the water with his people, gave the Queen every bit of deference she deserved. The sun caught Lovely from the side, and I admired again how chiseled his tan features were. With all the fighting, I had forgotten how he did not look at all like the mermen in the water, whose pale features were more round and full, as were the Queen’s. He also was a good bit taller that his countrymen, and a whole lot more muscular. Was Lovely a true merman, or a mix of something else? The Queen caught my eye with a dazzling smile, and my thoughts of one Lovely were exchanged for that of another lovely.
My father had searched his cabin for a religious tome of any kind, but found nothing more than a few well-worn assassins’ manuals. I could see by the look on his face that he was troubled by not having a script. Speaking off the cuff was never his thing. He was a man of action not words.
“Hmm, hmm,” my father said. “Hear ye, hear ye, good people of this fair ship.” He looked to the water at the merfolk. “And listen up good people of this beautiful sea. As the captain of this ship, I am vested with the authority to bind in holy matrimony this man and this woman.” He paused, looking first to me, then the Queen, and finally to the girls for approval. Seeing nothing but happy smiles, he continued. “Who stands up for this man?” he asked.
Lovely stepped forward next to the girls. “I do, sir,” he said, looking a bit uncomfortable, as Mary Grace seized the opportunity to slip her hand in his and clasp it tightly. Not as uncomfortable as I felt, however. I was powerless to admonish her at this moment, which Mary Grace certainly knew as evidenced by the giddy look on her face.
My father seemed troubled for a moment, and I soon knew why. “Who stands up for this woman?” he asked.
“I do,” said Contessa, and all the other girls piped in their assent in unison.
“No, no, this won’t do,” my father said. “I have someone else in mind. Surprise!”
“I shall stand up for the Queen,” a familiar female voice said.
I whirled to see who was walking out of the captain’s quarters, and my mouth dropped open. “Mother!” I exclaimed, seeing her for the first time in centuries. Father was absolutely right. Contessa did favor her, from the heart-shaped face to the warm brown eyes and long black hair. She did not look a day over thirty and moved with the grace and deadly elegance of the master assassin she was—that is until the girls swarmed her.
“My son,” she scolded. “If your father hadn’t gotten word to me urgently via crystals, I would have missed yet another one of your weddings!”
“I can explain,” I said sheepishly.
“Can you?”
I laughed. “Not really, but I am so glad you are here. This is my betrothed, the Queen.”
The Queen and my mother assessed each other with quick glances, finally locking gazes, and I saw my father swaying back and forth from foot to foot, clearly growing more uncomfortable by the second. Then, the two women embraced to the relief of everyone on the boat and in the water. “You have amazing energy, my dear,” my mother said to the Queen. “But I warn you, I can feel that the one you carry inside you will give Sirius a run for his money in terms of impetuousness! If we thought Sirius thought he knew it all, just wait for this one.” She paused for a second, and reached out to touch the Queen’s belly. “Hmm, she actually just might—”
“Mother,” I said. “We are trying to get married over here.”
“Funny you say that, Maria,” the Queen said. “I can feel that too. She is Daddy’s girl already.”
“Hey,” I said, still not sure what impetus-whatever meant, other than it was definitely not a compliment! “Can we get married sometime today?”
And we did, there on the deck of the Maria, with my parents and children by my side. After we kissed, there was a great cheer from the host of merfolk, and they saluted us with many great blasts of their conch shells, and we all toasted with wine from the ship’s hold.
But my joy was short lived for coming into view was the ship that would take us to Immortal Divorce Court.
The Queen turned to me. “Sirius,” she said. “I have been on land for so dreadfully long. I need to get back to the water. Can I take us to the IDC?”
I smiled. “You aren’t going to make me use one of those shells, are you?”
She laughed. “We are married now, I wouldn’t even think of it. Besides, we have to consummate this marriage to make it official.”
“Consum-what?”
“You know,” she blushed. “Like before, on Lundy Island.”
“All right,” I said. “Time to go!” I pretended to jump off the boat, but instead went to my girls and parents to bid them adieu for what might be the final time.
As the Maria sailed away, I tried without success to ignore the pain in my chest. My heart had the deepest pang in it. It was as if part of me had been torn asunder, and in a way, as the Maria disappeared into the horizon, it had.
The Queen put her soft lips to my cheek and kissed away a stray tear. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”
I nodded. I wasn’t, but what choice did I have? I would never forgive myself if I let Garlic languish in Hell. She had never abandoned me. Instead, when I was chained in the dungeon at Peel Castle, she did what I could not—watched over and protected my girls.
“I can swim faster than any ship,” the Queen said. She handed me a satchel made from some sort of black, shiny, slippery material. “It’s made from the sap of the Para tree, interlaced with some rare kelp to bind it. Put all your clothes in it and draw it closed, and everything will still be dry when we get to Greece.”
I looked at the strange sack. “You aren’t using this to try and get me naked, are you?”
“I don’t have to try, my husband.” She reached for my shirt, and pulled it over my head. I was happy to realize we were alone on a deserted beach. But something bothered me. I could not stop looking at the place where the gate to Hell had disappeared.
The Queen, her hands on the way to my breeches, followed my gaze. “Oh, Sirius,” she exclaimed. “That is a bit unnerving, now that I think about it. Let’s get off this godforsaken piece of earth. I know the perfect place to stop along the way.”
I was naked before she stopped talking, and stuffed my clothes into the satchel, which I hung around my waist with a weapon belt from one of the mermen. I turned to see the Queen staring at my manhood.
“We had better get going before you start attracting hungry fish with that pole of yours.”
“Indeed,” I said, pulling her to me. “I have managed to catch you, my Queen. And I know you are quite ravenous.” I kissed her long and deep, reveling in the softness of her lips and the feel of her breasts against my chest. She had changed back into a full mermaid, and curled her tail around my backside. She clasped her hands around my neck, and we shot through Sardinia’s warm, crystal blue waters, heading toward Immortal Divorce Court. We swam for what seemed like two hours, surfacing briefly at the small island of Pantelleria, where I snuck ashore and liberated some grapes, and a bottle of sweet muscat wine from an unwitting seaside village. I wanted to stay and proceed with making this marriage official, but the Queen had other ideas,
shushing my protests with a long kiss and many promises, and pulled me back into the sea to continue our journey.
At last, the Queen’s furious swimming stopped, and if I could have broken her kiss and still breathed, I would have gasped at the incredibly clear waters we had entered. Surfacing in a white sandy cove, my eyes took in a beautiful, rocky coast. I saw a great tower, built on the highest point of the island. “What is this place?” I asked the Queen, squishing my toes into the white sand.
“It is called simply the Blue Lagoon,” she said. “We are on the isle of Comino, off the coast of Malta.”
“Malta?” I said. “I guess there is no more fitting a stop when trying to rescue a Maltese, even a vampire one. It looks deserted. Does anyone live in that tower?”
She shook her head and pulled me close to her in the shallows. “You may find one or two Knights of Malta. But they are more like prisoners than guards, and they never venture very far from their tower, which is why”—there was a flash of light, and those amazing shapely legs appeared—“we will be completely undisturbed in that cavern. Come on.”
I didn’t see a cavern, but I allowed the Queen to lead me cliffside. I presumed it was hidden by the rocks and the lay of the cliff, but as we swam closer and closer, I still saw nothing. The Queen smiled and dove down, and the crystal clear water afforded me an incredible view of her naked body as she swam. I had to remember to hold my breath since I was so distracted by her womanhood. I swam a little faster and caught up to her, reaching playfully to place a hand on one firm cheek.
The Queen spun away, kicking upward and breaking the water’s surface in a hidden grotto. I surfaced right behind her, and what I saw took my breath away. The small cavern of Lundy Island where we had our first interlude was Spartan compared to this chamber. The sun shone through the crystal waters, illuminating the cavern in a warm bluish light, enhancing the light from the same sea plants as on Lundy Island. The Queen walked out of the water and shook the drops from her golden curls as she looked back at me over her shoulder. My eyes followed her fine form from head to toe, lingering on a few choice areas. My wife was simply beautiful. “Come on, husband,” she said. “Do not keep your wife waiting.”
I stepped onto white sand as fine and soft as sugar, and took her hand. We followed a small path, paved in gold, up to a large bedchamber hewn out of the rock, and the Queen slid under a pile of soft furs. Set in the rock were a multitude of diamonds, emeralds, and rubies that sparkled in the half-light in a rainbow of color, like little suns shining down on the furs.
The Queen’s lips were upon mine, soft, warm, and ever so hungry, as her tongue darted and twisted seeking out mine. She sucked my tongue into her mouth and held it gently for a moment before releasing it, moaning slightly as she did so. I could not wait to be with her, but felt some hesitation, which she quickly sensed. “You are going to make me feel like you do not desire me, Sirius,” the Queen said. “What is wrong?”
I had been with the Howler when she was with child—yes. But I did not know it, until I was right about to finish my pleasure. Now, before things had really gotten started, I had time to think. The Queen was with our child. I looked down at my manhood. Would I, could I, hurt the baby inside her? “Is it—you know—safe? I cannot hurt the baby, can I?”
The Queen laughed. “Oh, so that is the problem.” She reached an able hand to my manhood, and stroked it to full fighting shape. “Even one as gifted as you cannot hurt the child. Nature has got it all figured out. There is no danger. Aside from what will happen to you if you do not pleasure me right now!”
As she stroked me, my worries ebbed away, and when she placed those soft lips on me, I was practically carefree. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I moaned, seeing stars, or the jewels on the wall—my pleasure so great I could not tell which nor, frankly, did I care.
“I need you inside me, husband,” the Queen said, rolling onto her back and pulling me on top of her, guiding my manhood into her warmth. Now it was her time to see stars as I thrust rhythmically, bringing pleasure to the Queen again and again. She ran her hands over my chest and around to my back, pulling me down even closer to her. I kissed her neck and licked her shoulders, hearing her exhale heavily, then catch her breath once more. I sank myself as deep as I could into the wetness of her womanhood, thrusting all the while, and she moaned ever louder. “Oh, Sirius,” she gasped. “I can’t take any more.” But she did. And she was ever so happy about it. For the briefest of time, I wondered how long her tail would be twitching this time. By the sound of her pleasure, we might have to wait awhile before we ventured out of the cavern. And that was completely all right with me. She climaxed again, as I did, and I lay inside her, our heads close together. As I drifted into blissful unconsciousness, I sensed the presence of another in the equation—the new essence of our unborn daughter reaching out to me.
When we awoke the next day, the Queen wanted to consummate our marriage again and again. As her husband, I was so very willing, and took her in the water, on the sand, and against the jeweled rocks. The cavern was well stocked with foodstuffs and wine, and we idled in the warm, crystal waters of the grotto between consummations, occasionally peering out to the Blue Lagoon. We did not speak at all of the next leg of our journey, instead pretending the cavern and lagoon were the extent of our world. Finally, a day or so later, we were swimming under the stars and looking up at the full moon and made eye contact of a different sort. I sighed, sensing our blissful luna de miel was over, and that night we silently agreed that the next day we would continue on to Immortal Divorce Court.
Before we started on the last leg of the trip to the coast of Greece and the IDC, the Queen proffered a breathing shell from her pouch, but I declined. I realized that it was more for her than me, as she was trying to get into the mindset of divorcing me, and traveling underwater, locked lip to lip and body to body, was certainly not going to do that. But if these were to be the last times I locked lips with this incredible creature, I wanted it to last as long as possible and insisted we travel underwater as we always had—together. And, just maybe, together was the key word here after all . . .
“Look, I have an idea,” I said. “Why don’t we just get remarried after I go to Hell and rescue Garlic?” I said. “Don’t you want to make this work?”
“I agreed to marry you, and divorce you, and now you want me to marry you again?” the Queen said. “We didn’t talk about that—it’s much more complicated.”
“Complicated, how?” I pressed. “Do you feel this too?”
“Yes, and that is the problem,” she answered.
“Fine,” I said, not feeling fine at all. “Let us see if an underwater kiss is the solution.”
The Queen merely shrugged and put the shell back in the pouch, but either the water was growing colder, or her lips were not as warm and inviting as they had been. Either way, I arrived on the beach in Greece, fairly shuddering, and we both dressed quickly and apart, neither stealing a glance at the other.
The last time I had traveled to Immortal Divorce Court, I had done so hidden in a cask of wine. Maybe it was always this way, but there seemed to be an unusual amount of foot traffic leaving the IDC village as we came closer. Normally, fellow travelers would bid each other welcome and share information, or even sustenance. But it was like the Queen and I were pariahs, as all manner of different immortals shuffled by, afraid to make eye contact with us or even acknowledge we were there. Yes, this was very strange indeed.
Now, as we came ever closer to the gates of the village where the Immortal Divorce Court courthouse lay, I could see the ever-present black cloud that marked the Gates of Hell. Every step was a step closer to saving Garlic I convinced myself, in spite of the rumbles that grew louder as I approached. The Lord of the Underworld was laughing at my folly in bearding the demonic lion in his den of lies. High up on a bluff I spotted a hellhound, then another, and realized a whole pack of them was trail
ing behind us, slowly drawing the noose of the netherworld ever tighter. There would be no turning back. The Queen stood strong and brave—the warrior once again. “You would think those mangy curs would have had enough of you,” she said. “Particularly after the last beating you gave them.”
I nodded. “This close to their master, they have no fear of mortal or immortal beings.” I saw the faerie guards fixated nervously on the hellhounds, wondering if they were going to attack, or what their purpose was for being outside of Hell. The faeries ignored us completely as we walked through the gate, which they slammed shut behind us, their eyes still on the hellhounds who now chose to lie down in front of the gates leading into the IDC. Hell would have quite the fury for those that now dared try to leave the village of Immortal Divorce Court. And court was about to close for business for a little while, courtesy of this demon pack of mutts from the Underworld.
The Queen looked back at the gate and saw the faeries pushing people trying to leave the IDC back into the village. One little elf got through the throng of immortal humanity and made a run for it, and was rewarded by a hellhound chomping down on his head. He ran screaming back to the village, absent his hat, the majority of his long flaxen hair, and with all the contents of his bowels now filling his breeches. “I guess we aren’t going to have to wait very long to do this,” she said. “Once the IDC and this village figure out that we are the reason for this siege, we will become very, very unpopular.”
I felt unfriendly eyes upon us and made sure the Blade of Truth was in full view. I bared my fangs at one all too curious satyr, who backed away collapsing in a heap. “S-s-s-s-irius,” he sputtered, trying to get his wobbly legs underneath him. “What did you do that for?”
My Ex-Wife Said Go to Hell Page 35
