Mona Lisa Eclipsing Page 18

  Three-way cuddling, Mona Lisa found, was nice.

  Very, incredibly nice indeed.

  TWENTY-TWO

  THE DAY OUR world irrevocably changed began as a typical evening, breaking fast together with a main meal and then dispersing to our varied duties and chores, which for me was my two-hour practice session with the Morells.

  Thaddeus was the one who brought it to our attention when we returned back to the house. “Hey, guys,” Thaddeus called out from the living room. “Come here. You have to see this.”

  I stepped inside to see my brother glued to the television. The scene playing on it was indeed riveting: a news report of a tall apartment complex going up in flames. The caption Breaking News flashed along the bottom of the screen.

  “It looks like a fire,” I said, wondering what all the fuss was. “Is it local?”

  “No. In Washington, DC, in one of the slum neighborhoods,” Thaddeus said, raptly watching the news. “Wait, this is what I wanted you to see.”

  And the reason for his interest suddenly became clear as a man came crashing through a window near the top floor. No, not a man, I realized as wings spread out in magnificent display. A Monère. Caught on film!

  His arms—only his arms—were shifted into feathered wings. Wings that were burning, caught on fire. Clinging to the male was a teenage girl wearing pajamas, coughing but otherwise seeming unharmed.

  The reporter gave a startled cry. “What in the world . . . are you getting this?”

  The cameraman’s excited affirmative was heard.

  They flew for a moment, gracefully suspended in the air, an incredibly dramatic picture as the flames spread rapidly to the Monère’s shirt, burning along his back, highlighting the man, his beating wings sharply outlined against the darkening night sky.

  You could hear a faint cry as the flames reached his neck, and the girl let go, dropping away from him, falling, plummeting, her sleeves caught on fire.

  There were gasps, cries of dismay from the news crew, from the crowd below. Then even more startled cries as the winged man rushed down after her in a hard swoop. The girl plummeted a sickening distance before the male caught her, shifting his wings in midflight back to arms. Burning feathers disappeared and became seared skin, his clothes licked bright with orange flames. Holding her tight against him, they dropped in freefall the last fifty feet.

  He hit the ground hard, feetfirst, and rolled with his precious burden, taking the heavy brunt of the fall. Both of them were immediately sprayed with fire extinguishers by the waiting firemen before they even came to a stop. The footage ended with the male lifting the girl and staggering to his feet. He managed a few lurching steps before collapsing to his knees and slumping over the girl. The footage stopped there and switched back to the news anchor at the studio.

  Thaddeus hit the mute button and flipped to other channels. All of them were running the same film segment. One channel had even clearer footage, a close-in zoom shot after the male burst out the window and first spread his wings. They froze it there, showing the burning feathers in clear, undeniable detail.

  “I don’t know how long they’ve been running this. I’ve just been watching the last ten minutes.” Thaddeus turned to me. “Is it bad?”

  “Yes,” I said, dumbstruck. “It’s awful. They have a zoom shot of him!” I turned to Nolan, the oldest Monère in the room. “Has anything like this ever happened before?”

  Nolan shook his head. “We’ve never been caught on film like this before.”

  “What are the reporters saying?” Quentin asked Thaddeus.

  “Everything but the truth. No mention of Monères so far.” Thaddeus rubbed his face. “Some are calling it a hoax, claiming what we saw was just clever film editing and special effects. Although with three different news stations showing different live recordings, not much credence is being given to that. The most popular assumption is that he strapped winglike contraptions on his arms and that they burned off.” An ironic smile crossed Thaddeus’s face. “One station is actually calling him an angel.”

  Dante snorted. “An angel?”

  “Well, you have to admit, he sort of does look like one,” Thaddeus said, shrugging. “A man with wings, flying. Hey, don’t look at me like that; I’m just reporting back what I heard. But even without all that real-wings-versus-fake-wings argument going on, there’s no getting around the fact that this guy jumped out of the nineteenth floor of a twenty-story burning apartment building and half flew, half fell down over two hundred feet without going splat. Hell, he was even able to stand up and walk afterward! Not something most humans can do. They’re calling him a hero, whoever-whatever he is. So far, no one’s come up with an identity for him or the girl.”

  “Do we know who they are?” I wondered.

  “Luckily not our problem, though High Court must be going crazy,” Nolan said. “Though I wonder if they even know this is being played on television yet.”

  I flipped open my cell phone, something my men had forced on me shortly after I became Queen, and now was grateful to have. “I’ll give them a call.”

  I indentified myself to the person answering and asked, “Has the Queen Mother seen the news playing on TV?”

  “Oh, yes, milady,” the man said with feeling. “We’ve most definitely seen it.”

  “Good, just wanted to make sure she knew about it.”

  “Wait, please,” he said before I could hang up. “The Queen Mother wishes to speak to you.” He pronounced her title with careful reverence, as well he should for the sovereign of the Monère people here in the United States.

  The Queen Mother’s voice came on the line. “Mona Lisa, I was just about to call you myself. Have you seen the news?”

  “Yes, I just saw it.”

  “Are you able to speak privately where no one can hear you?”

  I looked at the others, all of them listening in on the conversation. “Uh . . .” Dante saved the day by removing the gold chain that hung around his neck, and holding it out to me. At the end of the chain hung a small gray stone the size of a robin’s egg: the privacy charm I’d seen him use in the past. “. . . not yet. Give me a second.”

  “You can use my study,” Aquila offered. He had drifted in, along with Rosemary, drawn by the commotion.

  Dante and I hastened down the hallway to the study. Dante slipped his necklace over my head as soon as I sat down behind the desk, and activated the privacy charm with a small pulse of power. A ring of energy expanded, encircling us.

  “Touch it with a small thrum of power to deactivate it,” Dante instructed, and stepped out of the invisible circle, leaving only the sound of my own breath and heartbeat in that cone of silence. I couldn’t hear anyone else, nor could they hear me.

  “All right, I’ve got privacy now,” I said, wondering what she had to say to me that could be so important in the midst of what had to be a critical situation.

  “I’ve spoken to Halcyon. He’s told me that you seem to be stable now,” the Queen Mother said.

  I glanced at the phone, then put it back to my ear. Whatever I’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this chatty comment. “Yeah, it’s been quiet. No one snatching me away or anything.”

  She gave a soft snort. “Yes. It’s seems to have been one crisis after another for you ever since you’ve taken up the mantle of Queen. But what I meant was the demon blood you ingested secondhand through Mona Louisa. You no longer seem to be becoming Damanôen.”

  “Oh, that,” I said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “I, ah, didn’t realize Halcyon had made you aware of that.”

  “Do you know how old I am, my dear?”

  My brows scrunched together. Instead of saying, What the hell does that have to do with what’s going on? I answered politely, “No, Queen Mother. I have no idea how old you are. No one does, was my impression.”

  “I am seven hundred and thirteen years old.”

  “Oh.” I know, pretty lame, but what was I supposed to say? “I tho
ught Monères only had a three-hundred-year life span.”

  “They do. Did you know that our original Monère society was clan based?” the Queen Mother continued. “Wolf clan, dragon, phoenix, tiger, and others, all maintaining separate courts based around their pure-blood clans and Queens.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “A little over six hundred and fifty years ago, the clans unfortunately began to destabilize as fewer and fewer children were born among these separate groups. The few offspring who came were from those who had chosen a mate outside their own clan lineage, as Blaec did, Halcyon’s father, when he married a woman from the phoenix clan, not his own dragon clan. We were a dying people, not only growing infertile but also killing off our numbers with a growing number of skirmishes and wars between clans. It was during this critical period in our history, as the old ways were falling apart and our people were in grave danger of dying out through their own foolish actions, that Blaec, the new young Demon Ruler of Hell, approached a young Queen and made a pact with her. He opened a vein in my arm and mixed one drop of his demon dead blood with my own.”

  For a moment, there was only the sound of my sharp, indrawn breath.

  “With that one drop of blood,” the Queen Mother said, “Blaec took a strong Queen and made her even stronger. With the High Lord of Hell’s powerful backing, I changed and reordered things to what they are now, forming courts out of mixed-clan individuals. I created High Court and the High Queen’s Council and established stable rule, putting a stop to all the squabbling. It was a secret Blaec and I have long kept. A secret shared only by his children, Halcyon, his son, who lends his support to High Court in Blaec’s place now, Lucinda, his daughter . . . and now you.”

  “If no one else knows,” I asked carefully, “why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I’m old, my dear, old beyond my natural years.” The Queen Mother was the only Monère who looked old among us, the only one who had wrinkles. White hair was common after hitting your second century, but not wrinkles; Monère skin remained relatively unlined, leaving you looking thirty-five until you died. The Queen Mother had been the exception to this rule. Now I knew why.

  “I hoped you would be my successor,” the Queen Mother said, astounding me even further. Before I could say anything . . . even think of anything to say, she continued speaking. “But then you began developing demon traits and my hopes were dashed. But now, my dear, it seems we both have a second chance.”

  “Queen Mother,” I began with a calm that quickly evaporated, “there’s no way in hell I can take your place.”

  She chuckled. “No way in hell . . . Ah, but you are wrong. It is because of your connection to Hell and its current ruler, Halcyon, that makes you the natural choice as my successor. What I accomplished would have been impossible without Blaec’s strong backing.”

  “I don’t want to be the next Queen Mother.” It wasn’t quite a wail, but it was real close. “You’re not going to die soon or anything like that, are you?”

  “Child,” the Queen Mother said with gentle amusement, “I have been dying for many years now, but it is a slow, ongoing process, not imminent, if that’s what you’re asking. As to being the next Queen Mother . . . what if I gave you another choice? A choice to make your own path?”

  “What choice?” I asked cautiously.

  “What I chose for our people was the best solution for that time. But, alas, time has moved on, and the world around us has changed while we have not. We’ve been stable, but stagnant. Tell me, Mona Lisa. If you could change the rules, would you choose to do so?”

  I cursed not being able to see her face. How honest could I be here? “Queen Mother . . .” I said, pausing.

  “You may speak frankly with me,” she encouraged.

  “The rogues . . . how the Queens kill off their strongest men—that I wish most to see changed.”

  “And how would you change this?”

  That was the kicker. “I don’t know. If I could, I would offer them all shelter, but Lord Thorane warned me about—”

  “Building up an army out of proportion to your territory. Yes, I asked him to warn you thus before you collected any more powerful men, as you seemed inclined to do, at quite a rapid pace. What, however, if the breadth of your territory suddenly expanded?”

  “Beyond Louisiana? Did any of the neighboring Queens die?” I asked, alarmed.

  “No, all the current territories and Queens are quite stable and in good health, at the moment. I am confusing you with this roundabout talk,” she said, chiding herself, and paused a moment to gather her thoughts and words. “We always knew that one day we would be discovered. It was simply a matter of time with all this new technology. The choice we are faced with now is whether to use this opportunity to make ourselves known to the world or to sweep it under the rug once again, as we have always done, and continue on with our secret existence. I leave the choice up to you.”

  “Me?” My voice squeaked.

  “Yes. We’ve determined the male to be a rogue by the name of Jarvis, who fled his Queen three years ago. The girl, however, appears to be human. I’ve asked the DC territory Queen to hold off taking any action for the moment, but that situation cannot hold for long. Both Jarvis and the girl are being taken to a hospital, accompanied, or rather surrounded, should I say, by human law enforcement. What I need to know is if you are willing to serve as our Monère ambassador.”

  “Wait . . . wait. You want me to introduce the Monères to the rest of the world? Why me?”

  “Can you think of any other Queen able to do so?” Her tone was quite dry.

  Okay, put that way, I could see her point. “All right, I agree most of the other Queens are too arrogant.” Beyond arrogant, actually. “But what about the more reasonable ones, like Mona Carlisse?”

  “Not as disastrous as the others,” the Queen Mother granted, “but aside from the fact that she is still recovering from the ordeal of being raped and enslaved for over ten years by outlaw rogues, Mona Carlisse’s contact with humans is too limited. She has only the most basic concept of human law.”

  “What about my mother, Mona Sera?” She was the territory Queen of Manhattan. “From what Gryphon told me, she has plenty of business dealings with humans. Some politicians, too, I gather.”

  “Mona Sera, who abandoned you at birth because of your mixed blood? Who drugs her people with aphrodisiacs and prostitutes them out for monetary gain and economic influence? To have her represent us? I think not,” said the Queen Mother coldly. “I’d sooner trust our peoples’ welfare to a rabid mongoose than to her.”

  That put paid to that suggestion plainly enough. “Why does it have to be a Queen? What about the Morells? They spent almost twenty years living among humans.”

  “As rogues. They’d be swatted down like flies, assassinated by the first Queen who didn’t like our secrets being made public.”

  My voice thinned, became a little bit shrill. “And I won’t?”

  “You are the High Prince of Hell’s chosen mate; his mantle of protection over you is more substantial than you realize. The threat of possibly endless torture and punishment during afterlife is a potent deterrent for even your most hateful enemy.”

  “That might cover the Monères, but what about the threat from humans themselves?”

  “You will have to charm them.”

  I huffed out an exasperated breath. “That’s not even close to being funny.” It was ridiculous what she was asking me to do. To risk. “I have absolutely no training for this.”

  “You have the best training among us. You have lived among humans all your life, are familiar with their byways and laws, and—what no other Queen or Council member can claim—you are part human. Part human and part Monère. No one else can bridge our two worlds better, Mona Lisa.” Her voice grew softer, though no less urgent. “No one else has a more valiant and generous heart. Trust me on this, when I say there is no other among us that can serve as a more fitting or more idea
l representative.”

  “And if I don’t? If I select the other option of sweeping this all under the rug?”

  “Then the rogue and the girl will be discreetly killed, and a concentrated effort of eliminating other troublesome rogues will follow.”

  She gave me a moment to process this before continuing. “You have an opportunity to change things, my dear—our rules and laws and very way of living. Under the current individual court and territory system, there is no room for males who become too powerful for their Queens, other than to desert and become outlaw rogues, or risk being killed. A great waste of talent and strength, not to mention Monère lives. The problem before was there was no useful purpose for them to serve. But that can all change if the Monère come out publicly.”

  “How?”

  “That is for you and I to decide and negotiate.” The canny Queen Mother knew she had a hard-and-fast grip on my interest now. “I cannot risk the other Queens.”

  “Only me,” I said, smiling wryly.

  “I value you more than any other Queen,” she said, her voice clipped. “That is the hardest part for me, to give you this choice. I am only willing to allow this risk for the greatest possible gain. Plus, you have proven to be a survivor. I am trusting in that. But enough. For practical matters, I can send only you and those of your people who are willing to tread this path with you out into the public eye. If none are willing, I will send some of my own men.”

  “So it’s only going to be a handful of us.”

  “Not if you can entice others to join you,” she offered ingeniously. “There are hundreds, maybe even thousands of outcast Monère living among the humans, outside of our society.”

  “You’re talking about rogues,” I breathed, suddenly seeing where she was going with this. “And how would I go about enticing these rogues to put their necks alongside mine on this chopping block of a public outing?”

  “By granting them full pardon and allowing them to become part of an official court once again.”