Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I open the door. “Rouge?”
She waltzes in without invitation. “Chet, darling. Put on a pot of tea.”
I bow my head. “Of course, my Queen.” I quickly fill a kettle with water and set it on my gas stove. “It will just be a moment.”
“Excellent. I won’t be long.” She sits at my kitchen table and crosses her legs. “I’m afraid I have some troubling news to share.”
“Troubling?” The kettle whistles—it always seems to heat up faster in Her Majesty’s presence—and I pour it over a few teabags into a plain teapot.
“Yes,” she says. “You know Mr. Sinclair, my King of Hearts?”
“Of course.”
“He telephoned me late last night saying that he spotted two silhouetted figures leaving Dam Number Four in the Forest Park reserve in the wee hours of the morning.”
For once I hold back a smile. Mr. Hathaway and Miss Wonder must have figured it out.
“Really?” I pour the tea into two delicate antique cups—housewarming gifts from Her Majesty herself.
“Indeed. Mr. Sinclair then investigated and discovered some of the soil in our rose garden had been disturbed.”
“Could His Majesty be mistaken? After all, Seven’s crown was placed there fairly recently, was it not?”
“Seven’s appendages were placed there the night before, yes,” she continues. “But it doesn’t take long for the topsoil to dry after it has been exposed to the air. No more than a few hours. But the soil below Seven’s rosebush was still quite dark, quite moist. Earthworms all about. Someone had clearly been digging there.”
“Could it have been another King?” I place one of the teacups in front of her.
Her Majesty shakes her head. “It was someone unauthorized.” She stands, paces my small kitchen. “Upon further investigation, Mr. Sinclair realized that Seven’s head had indeed been exhumed.”
I place a hand over my heart. “Great Jupiter.”
It is a faux gesture. Inside my head, I am giggling like a rabid hyena. Finally a change of pace. Finally one of Her Majesty’s meticulously laid plans has a kink in it.
Something to break up the monotony.
Her Majesty approaches me, traces a finger across my jaw. “Do you know anything about this?”
I swallow. “Of course not, my Queen.”
She widens her eyes, looks me up and down. Her lips curl gently. “You know, Chet. Two of Seven’s organs have been claimed. An elderly couple over at St. Charles General. They were going to give up completely on their search for new organs, but then her heart and lungs matched their profiles perfectly.”
I cock my head.
“One person died so that two people could live,” she says. “Two lives are more important than one life, as I’m sure you understand. Justice is mathematic.”
“I’m not—”
“Of course you’re not, love.” She draws her hand down my chest, up my shirt, pinches my right nipple. “But if you do happen to come across any information that might be helpful in determining the identities of the people who took Seven’s head, I assume you’ll let me know immediately. And who knows”—she leans her head toward mine, running her tongue along my ear as she whispers—“maybe I’ll find myself grateful to you. Maybe I’ll let you do that thing you liked so much that evening in my chambers.”
That thing I liked?
But then the memory comes searing back.
Before the head of the Three came off, when Her Majesty allowed me to—
All the blood in my body rushes toward my bits, and already I’m engorging.
I haven’t enjoyed the physical manifestation of love since that night in Her Majesty’s chambers. Not once. After you have a Queen, you can’t cavort with the peasantry.
She smirks as she looks down between my legs, and then slinks out of the room, leaving me holding myself in my apartment.
What to do now?
It was not my intention for Her Majesty to be this upset, or even for her darkest secrets to be spilled.
I merely wanted to stir things up a bit, rock the boat. Give Her Majesty a challenge to overcome.
But the ripples have expanded wider than my original intent.
Perhaps the time has come to reel things in, control the damage.
All without upsetting Her Majesty, without letting her realize it was I who set this all in motion to begin with.
But if things backfire, I want to make sure Miss Wonder is safe.
So that night, while she is sleeping, I slip into her apartment—foolish of her to leave a key under her mat; I’ll have to have a word with her about her safety—and plant a small trinket. The small shampoo bottle I’ve kept in my pocket ever since I left the Caterpillar and struck out on my own.
If things go south, this will be the one small piece of evidence that might lead the authorities to Her Majesty.
Only a few days pass before I get my chance. It’s Valentine’s Day, one of Aces Underground’s biggest nights. Nearly everyone who is a member shows up and brings a guest. Some of the higher-up patrons can bring more than one guest. I’ve dyed my eyebrows in a vivid shade of pink and am wearing a pinstriped suit in a matching color.