The Eldritch Conspiracy

18

I went to see my aunt to ask her to be merciful. After all, the queen knew Okalani. The kid had been helpful during the whole situation with King Dahlmar a couple of years ago. Hiwahiwa, the queen’s personal assistant, was close to Laka and Okalani as well. I hoped that Queen Lopaka would take all of that into consideration and be lenient. My mistake.

“High treason is a capital offense.”

I was in my aunt’s hospital room, sitting in the chair beside her bed. It was a small room filled with lots of equipment and I was feeling a little claustrophobic, especially since equipment was hardly the only thing in the room. Flowers covered nearly every flat surface, towering arrangements from heads of state around the world. A saltwater aquarium burbled beside me, colorful fish swimming in lazy circles. The sound and sight were soothing. I needed to be soothed. Her Royal Majesty was not feeling the love right now. There was no mercy in her for a subject who’d conspired with terrorists.

Normally I would’ve agreed, which made me less than effective at arguing on Okalani’s behalf. But I was doing my best, playing up the young woman’s past service. “She saved your life, if you remember, and kept Dahlmar on his throne. Adriana wouldn’t have met him if not for Okalani. She ferried mages back and forth when the rift was chewing up the world. All while knowing she could die at any time. Really, she’s done a lot of good for the sirens.”

The queen sat rigidly straight—she would’ve been upright even if the bed hadn’t been adjusted to the sitting position. She was wearing a lovely peignoir the shade of pink you find inside the bend of a conch shell. Her color was good. Apparently her recovery was progressing rapidly now that the doctors had consulted with physicians from Serenity who were, naturally, more familiar with siren biology. “You act as though Okalani is still a child. Perhaps in your world she is. But in our world, she is not. I, myself, had been on my throne for three years by the time I was her age.”

“But you are … extraordinary. Most people are not.”

“I admire your compassion.” Her tone of voice contradicted her words. She heard that thought, or else she read my body language, because she said, more gently, “Truly. I do.”

One of these days I was going to have to learn to shield.

Yes, you will. In truth, you have much to learn. I understand your feelings. I even admire them. But I am queen. I have been so for hundreds of years. My first duty is to my people. Okalani betrayed us. That betrayal cost lives—siren lives and human lives. She worked willingly with people whose goal is to exterminate us like vermin. Even sincere contrition is simply not enough. She must pay for her crimes, and the law established by my people is clear. The punishment is death. But if she cooperates, shares everything she knows, I will allow her an … honorable death.

What the heck was that? I don’t understand.

Her actions have dishonored her entire family. Her mother, any siblings, the family for three generations in either direction will bear that shame in the eyes of my people. It is our tradition. But if she truly helps us to stop this madness, I will allow her to commit Akkana—ritual suicide. Nothing can save her, but it will at least spare her family the taint of her shame.

Ritual suicide? That was the good option?

I am sorry, Celia, truly.

I couldn’t tell if she was or not. I was just hoping something would change to make any action unnecessary. So am I.

The queen spoke her next words aloud, giving me at least the illusion of mental privacy. “Go. Think about what we’ve discussed.” She reached over, patting my hand. I’m not really the patting type, and neither is she. It seemed an odd gesture. Then again, she was in an odd mood—angry, regal, but also extremely tired and very worried. “Pack everything you will need for several days. My jets are busy today ferrying most of my sister queens home, but I will have Hiwahiwa arrange a flight for you tomorrow. I would that it were sooner, but we will simply have to trust the Secret Service a bit longer.”

“I could fly commercial.”

She smiled more broadly, her eyes lighting up a bit. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you for offering. Frankly, security would have a fit, and rightly so. No, tomorrow will be fine.”

I surprised myself by saying, “I wish you were coming, too.”

“As do I. I hate this more than you know. Chiyoko has kindly offered to stay and to advise Adriana.” The bitterness in the queen’s words was palpable.

“Oh, hell.”

“Indeed. I had hoped that using the video conference idea you had given me, showing her that I am recovering, would dissuade her from this unseemly grab for power…” She let the sentence trail off unfinished.

There was nothing I could say. From what I’d seen nothing, ever, would dissuade Chiyoko from anything. I had never spent more than a few minutes with her, but they’d been memorable. Besides, power-hungry people are never satisfied. It’s an addiction. Any addict always wants more.

I looked at my aunt. She was wearing out. Sirens might be tough, but they weren’t invincible, and the terrorists had very nearly succeeded in killing her, thanks to the information Okalani had provided.

Perhaps the queen was right. Or not. I just didn’t know. I did know there was nothing more for me to do here. “I’ll let you get some rest. Try not to worry any more than you have to.”

She gave a snort of amusement, then nodded, a silent gesture giving me permission to leave.

Taking my cue I rose, bowed, and walked away.

Baker led me down one of the back stairwells after notifying Griffiths that we were leaving and telling him where to meet us. I’d turned off my cell phone to meet with the queen and switched it back on as we went down the stairs. There were five missed calls, all from Laka.

I knew I should call her back. Maybe Okalani had come back. More likely, she hadn’t and her mother just wanted updates. Whatever, I didn’t want to deal with it. Not now, with my conversation with the queen so fresh in my mind. Later. I’d crush Laka’s hopes for her daughter later.

The car pulled to the curb, Griffiths at the wheel. Baker led. She was cautious, spraying Griffiths with holy water from both a general purpose container bottle and from one that looked to be part of her own private stash, to make sure it was truly him and not a shape-shifted spawn, before letting me get into the backseat.

“Where to?” Griffiths half turned, looking at me over the top of the front seat as Baker climbed in on the passenger side.

“Home,” I answered. “Take me home.”

“Princ … Ms. Graves, we’re here.”

I blinked in surprise, waking. Griffiths seemed to be a quick learner, or perhaps Baker had clued him in on the “no princess” policy. I reached into my bag and pulled out the remote that granted me entry to my home. It’s not just one where you push a button, like a garage-door opener. I have to enter a code and press my fingerprint to a pad. Magical biometrics. Good stuff.

Cooper Manor is a large estate with elaborate security, for which I’m grateful every day. There’s a long, winding drive through manicured lawns that leads to the mansion. A small branch off of that drive leads to my parking lot.

“How long was I asleep?” I was shocked. It wasn’t even ten in the morning and I’d dozed off?

“You’ve had a rough couple of days,” Baker said. “And there are more of them on the way. Rest when you can.”

She was right, of course. My life had been rough, and for longer than a few days. But the fact that I’d fallen asleep was a good sign—I’d chosen well. With Helen Baker as my “partner,” I felt secure. And Griffiths must have proven himself to my subconscious, too. Trust is a wonderful thing. As Griffiths pulled the car into the little parking lot near the guest cottage, I made up my mind. I needed more than rest. I needed peace. Until I got things straight in my head and my emotions under control, I was going to be useless. “I’m going to the beach.”

They didn’t say a word. Of course, they were sirens, so they’d know all about the call of the ocean. I pulled my house key from my pocket and tossed it to Baker. “My bedroom is the yellow one. Feel free to take either the blue or the white.”

I climbed from the car, grabbed a beach umbrella from the storage box on the back deck, and went looking for peace. My private bit of beach is a little strip of sand and rocks that edge onto the ocean. It’s too rough and rocky for good boating or surfing, but it’s beautiful. I found a sandy spot next to my favorite rock, pitched my umbrella, and sat staring at the ocean and watching the gulls play.

Within ten minutes I reached an unpleasant conclusion. Two hours later, I hadn’t changed my mind.

I couldn’t help Okalani, no matter how much I wanted to.

I’d given my information to the police via Alex and to Rizzoli via voice mail. Alex was good at her job. If she found the kid, Okalani would be arrested and probably turned over to the feds. If the feds found her, or got her from the police, she might be able to make a deal—information in exchange for witness protection. I’d seen it happen before.

But if the sirens found her, she’d be killed. Honorably or dishonorably, she’d be just as dead.

The best thing I could do for Okalani was stay the hell away from her and pray that the good guys who didn’t want her dead found her before the ones who did; and that either set found her before the villains.

It sucked.

Staring at the ocean didn’t make it suck any less. I was hurt, sad, and angry. I wished … Not that it mattered what I wished. As my mom used to say, “If wishes were horses, we’d be up to our eyeballs in shit.” In fact, I might be anyway.