34
CHET
Her Highness and Dr. O’Rourke embrace again, and the four of us leave the room, locking the door upon our departure, leaving His Majesty’s body behind. I assume they will come and collect him later.
I don’t give a fig either way.
“How did you get here, Chet?” Her Highness asks.
I blink several times. “I got a ride.”
“So you’ll need to come in my car,” she says, her voice quivering slightly.
“I suppose I shall.”
“I’ll drive,” Dr. O’Rourke says. “You can sit in the back with Vanya.”
“My legs are quite long, like rivers,” I say.
“I don’t give a fuck. I’m not putting you in the back with my girlfriend.” Dr. O’Rourke glares at me. “Take it or leave it.”
I grin. “Take it.”
They are always so unpleasant to me, despite the fact that I hold their fates in the palm of my hand.
But I won’t provoke them. I will allow them to think they wield their own wheel of fortune.
The three of them go to Her Highness’s car, a silver vehicle with headlights resembling cat eyes. They set my soul at ease. It is as if they are the eyes of the Egyptian goddess Bast, beckoning me toward Paradise.
“One moment,” I say. “I need to tie my shoe.”
They ignore me.
They always ignore me.
I reach into my pocket, remove my cellular telephone. It’s a newer model, the main one I use when I’m in contact with Her Majesty.
I don’t like text messaging—it is so informal—but this will have to do.
I type in Her Majesty’s number, and then a short message.
My Queen—they are on their way.
35
BIANCA
“Should we call Alissa and Maddox?” I ask once we’re all piled up inside my car. “They’ll want to be updated. This is their fight as much as it is ours.”
I’m in the passenger seat of my Lexus, and Harrison is driving. Poor Jack is in the back with Chet, whose neck is bent at an awkward angle to fit.
I suppose I should have offered him the passenger seat for his long legs, but I still don’t trust the guy. The prolonged diatribe he offered us after killing the King of Hearts didn’t completely subdue my concerns.
Even if he’s truly, one hundred percent on our side, he’s still a creep. Nothing will change that. I’ve known him for five years and he’s never failed to put my nerves on edge.
“I’d rather surprise them with good news than keep them on edge,” Harrison answers after a pause. “They both need several more days of rest before they can exert themselves—Maddox especially—and I don’t want to stress them out.”
“That makes sense,” I say. “I just feel like this is their story, too.”
