The Water Queens (Keeper of the Water) (31 page)

“Isn’t it kind of late now that you’ve labeled me Spain’s number one criminal? Now that you’ve promised blood to the people?” John asks.

I wish he would shut up already or tell her whatever it is that she wants to hear. Even though I’m faced with the one issue that’s made me most jealous over the years, I want John to agree to her deal, to profess his undying love and affection for her, to swear that I’ve meant nothing to him.

“Don’t worry about the peons. I never had trouble controlling the masses in the past and I won’t now,” she says. I wish the microphone was close enough for that little message to be broadcast to the countless millions that adore her. “The world has grown weak during the centuries since my last reign, squeamish when it comes time for public displays of punishment. I could easily cancel the execution and be praised in the name of peace or mercy or some junk like that. And since nobody’s seen your face, I could imprison some other guy in your place.”

“You could do that?” John asks.

I know when my husband is trying to make nice, trying to placate someone who’s angry. Usually it’s
me
he does this to but I always know what he’s up to. Cassie, however, is too full of herself to realize what he’s doing. If possible, she puffs out her chest even
more
than usual.

“I can do whatever I want now that I have the ultimate power in Spain,” she says. “And that power will only grow greater across the world once I begin to build my army of women soldiers. My first batch of girls will soon be given a
full
dose of water; they’ve turned out quite promising thus far. We can command them
together
, but this is the first – and
only
– time I will ever extend this offer.”

John struggles to lift his face to look into Cassie’s eyes. His long hair covers his eyes but he can’t brush it away with his arms behind his back on the other side of the guillotine’s block. He remains silent for several long seconds. I want to yell for him to accept her offer, to do what he must to survive, if only to have a chance to escape with Janey one day.

“You are in no position to turn me down,” Cassie says, growing impatient. “Just say the word and we’ll hunt down Nia and kill her together. Then, your daughter can have her father back. If you loved me once, you can learn to love me again. Be smart here; there’s no need to lose your head.”

John tries to look up at the guillotine’s blade high above but he can’t turn his head enough.

“Believe me, it’s there, it’s sharp and it’s ready to drop,” she says.

“I
do
believe you,” John says. “In fact, I believe
everything
that’s happened to get us to this point. You’re as smart as you are ruthless – you have been since the day I met you. Without that, we never could’ve gotten here. I have no doubt you’ll become as powerful a queen as you were 500 years ago and probably even more so, exactly as we dreamed about. One thing I know with utmost certainty is that Nia
never
could’ve accomplished what you have.”

I sense how pleased Cassie feels about the way John puts me down; no doubt she’s glad she hasn’t pushed me out of her mind. And though I’m relieved that he’s finally complimenting her, I do feel the
slightest
twinge of jealousy, as ridiculous as I know it is. Maybe it bothers me how much Cassie believes him.

“That’s because Nia is weak and foolish, though it shouldn’t surprise me that Cleopatra chose
her
to become Keeper,” she says with great pleasure. “They were
both
too frightened to do anything but shy away from
real
power and hide from the world. Like I said, weak.”

“Actually, that’s where I have to disagree,” he says calmly. “What you and I wanted the water for – what you
still
want it for – proves that we weren’t strong enough to realize the water shouldn’t be used for selfish purposes. It took me longer to see I was weak, and I’m sure that’s something you will never be able to realize.”

I feel Cassie growing angrier. Though I know John is condemning himself, I can’t help being glad that he’s stood up to her. I don’t bother trying to suppress my feelings; I hope Cassie can sense what I’m feeling.

“Do you have a death wish?” she growls at John.

“Not at all,” he answers. “But I will gladly die right now – totally in love with my wife – than spend one second with the most powerful – and
vile
– person in the world.”

Rage bursts out of Cassie. She punches John squarely in the face, a strike so hard that it would’ve snapped the neck of a normal person. As it is, I see John’s head hang limply and wonder if he’s been knocked unconscious. Cassie laughs until she realizes the cameras are still filming her. She turns around to face the spotlights aimed in her direction.

“This beast refuses to apologize for hurting my husband; he’s also threatened to maim my daughter,” she calls out.

The distant echo of booing fills the night air, booing aimed toward the only hero in the courtyard.

“I will try to let him apologize one more time before handing down my sentence,” Cassie tells the camera. She turns back to John and kneels just in front of his head, which raises slightly. “
Mi amor
, I will make sure your death is swift. But I want you to know that your wife’s death will be
slow
and Princess Cassie will grow up thinking of the two of you as the worst criminals in the history of Spain.”

John only musters a weak groan but I don’t think Cassie cares. I’m fairly certain that warning was meant more for me. She no sooner finishes talking when her eyes shut and she promptly expels me from her mind.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I collapse in front of the window, just beside the queen I killed before. The floor is cold, which I feel once my head lay against it. Blackness fades in and out of my vision, regardless of how I try to stay awake. I barely have the strength to lift my head, even though my brain tells me that John and Janey are both in trouble, that I’m the only one who can help. Connecting with Cassie again was
not
a good idea.

My wrist ends up on the floor in front of my face. I force my eyes open and see the time, which immediately triggers a memory. At least I’m strong enough to remember that this memory is important.

She’s late
, I think to myself.

But as if on cue, my hearing proves that it’s not as tired as my eyes and the rest of my body. Beyond the chanting of the crowds outside Generalife, I pick up the sound of an approaching engine. The plans we made with my recruits are only moments from happening and I know how vital it is that I do my part. Our goal was going to be hard enough to accomplish if all four of us did what we needed; now that John is out of commission, I can’t fail Harriet and Amelia, too.

With little remaining energy, I force myself to stand and pick up my bow. Looking out the window, I ignore the courtyard and Cassie below and focus on the rest of the courtyard’s surrounding walls. It’s tough to see clearly beyond the garden’s tall trees but I spot the outlines of numerous queens atop the walls.

Cassie saunters back to the microphone and cameras, her voice echoing in the distance.

“The killer has stated that he will stop at nothing to kill me and the princess,” she lies. “I’d hoped to show mercy – unlike what my husband’s killers were capable of – but for the good of Spain, I must go through with the punishment. The women of my special security force will help me.”

I doubt the cameras show the few queens leaping to the ground with ease, rushing toward the huge guillotine, which they drag farther away from the courtyard’s back wall. Now that the entire contraption is in the spotlight, I see it’s no ordinary guillotine. The blade’s release consists of a series of ropes connected to the back wall. When Cassie gives the signal, the first queen slices a rope and the blade drops a few inches. The crowd’s gasp fills the night air, growing louder as the next queen takes her turn. The anticipation is palpable, each severed rope making my heart pound faster, leaving me more conflicted how to proceed.

With only a pair of ropes keeping the blade in place, I spot a familiar outline crossing the courtyard to take her turn. Even though
this
queen remains in the shadows, I recognize her smooth gait, hair pulled high atop her head and twin short swords in hand. Though Catherine the Great was apparently responsible for overall security at Generalife, there’s no way she’d miss the opportunity to help murder my husband.

I raise my bow and take aim for her; Cassie may have the protection of being Keeper but
nothing
need stop me from putting an arrow through Catherine’s chest. But just as I’m about release the arrow and start a war that I’m unlikely to win, Catherine suddenly stops – they
all
suddenly stop – and turn toward the sky.

The plane descends quickly from the night, distant warning cries from the crowd nearly as loud as the whining engine. It’s not a large plane but I still see the wide smile on Amelia’s face through the cropduster’s small window. I know nothing whatsoever about piloting – especially compared to
the
Amelia Earhart – but she seems to be coming in too fast. After all, she was only supposed to fly around the sky above Generalife to create a diversion. If I didn’t know better, I could swear she’s trying to –

A shiver runs down my spine as I realize why Amelia gave such a heartfelt goodbye. It wasn’t
me
who she expected might die tonight…

The rest of the Queen Clan not near the guillotine are clustered atop the courtyard’s far wall. They also seem to know what Amelia is about to do. As Catherine and the few queens on the ground rush to surround Cassie, the rest of them hold their position and attack the speeding plane, firing arrows and throwing spears and even launching knives. So many weapons smash through the cropduster’s window that it’s impossible to think Amelia avoided being turned into a human pincushion. The plane stays on its path until the last moment, when it takes a sudden dip. Luckily that area beyond Generalife is too rocky for many civilians to gather but I hope everybody got out of there before it was too late.

For a split second, the plane dips out of my view behind the wall. Just enough time passes for me to pray that Amelia somehow landed or turned out of the way of danger at the last second. But then a thunderous explosion rocks the entire palace and a giant ball of fire swallows most of the Queen Clan, not to mention the woman flying the plane…

My heart aches but there’s no time for mourning. The floor beneath my feet shakes and I’m thrown down, which is probably good since it’s easier to shield myself from the broken glass of the window blown out in front of me. I feel a wave of heat from the massive fireball and look up to see the far wall and other parts of the beautiful courtyard in flames.

Luckily, the guillotine remains intact.
Not
so lucky is that both ropes still holding the sharp blade are now aflame. John frantically squirms to free himself though it’s a fruitless effort. The fountain of special water is still in place – and still shines brightly, not a single drop lost – but the women on the ground haven’t escaped the crash. Two of my former sisters-in-water – the two brave enough to shield Cassie – run around in flames, their cries of agony so shriekingly loud that they drown out noise from the panicked crowd outside the palace walls. If the two engulfed queens could think clearly, they’d run straight for the fountain. But if
I’m
in such a daze from merely being thrown to the floor, I understand how they aren’t exactly capable of common sense. Neither suffers very long. Within seconds they stop running and collapse into some perfectly pruned bushes, which immediately catch on fire; seconds after that, their screaming comes to an end.

The wall of cameras and spotlights filming Cassie now lay scattered about the courtyard. With all lights blown out, the only illumination comes from the bright blue of the fountain and the orange glow of several fires, glowing that becomes brighter as the flames grow higher. It’s plenty of light for me to see Cassie – who huddles protectively near the fountain – as well as several other queens running around the once-scenic gardens. Unfortunately, one of the queens who
did
survive rushes across the grounds with twin short swords in hand. Apparently, Catherine the Great isn’t satisfied to let fire slowly burn out the two ropes holding up the guillotine blade. She slices through the first rope before my mind screams at me to act.

As Catherine twirls gracefully toward the second rope, I exhale deeply and fire an arrow. As I release the bowstring, an explosion in the next hallway sends the floor rocking. It’s just enough movement to push my arrow off course. It zips inches in front of Catherine’s face. She stops on a dime and turns to look up at me. For a moment, our eyes meet and hers narrow in disgust; it’s not unlike the look she gave me so many years ago when I first encountered her and Anne Bonny in the American Northwest. I quickly load another arrow but she doesn’t hang around long enough to give me an easy shot. She sprints across the courtyard, hurtling brush fires along the way, headed toward Cassie.
I’ve hunted serious prey over the years but none has moved with the speed and agility of the former Russian Empress. She reminds me of trying to shoot a graceful doe – a
deadly
doe. But every animal can be brought down with the right shot…

A nearby wailing snaps me out of deep concentration. Instinctively I take a quick step back, which ultimately saves my life. A speeding arrow crashes against the stone wall where my head had just been; it doesn’t miss me by more than the arrow that just missed Catherine. I turn my aim toward the end of the hallway, where an orange glow shows the fire quickly spreading. Mary fires a second shot at me that I barely sidestep. Now that there can be no question about her intentions, I’m able to come to grips with the thought of destroying the first Amazon I ever recruited. But that doesn’t mean I take the shot.

Janey squirms in her arms. Though just an infant, she’s saved my life
twice
in the matter of seconds. Had she not cried when she did, I would’ve remained a stationary target; a stationary target usually ends up a dead target. And if she didn’t try to wriggle her way out of Mary’s arms, there’s no way that second shot would’ve been weak enough for me to dodge, especially not when the shooter was one of my former students.

Under any other circumstances, I would’ve taken this shot and ended Mary’s traitorous life. Even with a baby in her arms, I’m confident I could hit my recruit where I want. But I can’t take that risk and Mary doesn’t give me a chance anyway. She turns and runs the other way, heading toward the section of Generalife where the fire seems to be growing in intensity.

“Bring back my daughter!” I yell.

I glance back outside, wondering how long that last rope will fight effects of the fire. I spot plenty of movement in the courtyard below but there’s no time to focus on one particular thing. My feet feel glued to the floor, the momentary indecision causing more rope to burn while letting Mary take Janey farther away. Either way, I can only help one of my family members in trouble. I know it shouldn’t be an easy choice but there’s not much of a decision to make.

I turn away from the window and run down the hallway. I don’t even reach the turn in the corner when I hear a distinct snap of rope,
whoosh
of rushing steel,
thud
of a blade hitting down. My knees go so weak that I narrowly avoid rushing into a wall of flames. Tears explode behind my eyes but they’re not caused by the heavy smoke immersing me. As much as I want to break down, Janey’s cries at the end of the hallway keep me going. Sadness turns to rage, providing a burst of adrenaline that propels me forward.

Tears rolling down my face evaporate from the blaze’s extreme heat, the flames engulfing everything within the stone walls. A normal person couldn’t survive this amount of smoke, this degree of heat, but being an Amazon makes me stronger and more resistant to flames. But like everything else dangerous, I’m not completely immune. I feel myself growing weaker already; the way I cough makes me feel almost like a regular human again. But Janey’s crying spurs me on and it’s not long before I start catching up.

I’m sure Mary has drunk a lot more water than I have recently but she’s slowing, too. She tries to fire a few more arrows in my direction but her attempts are so weak I don’t have to dodge them. Finally she’s out of ammo and throws the bow back at me.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Mary!” I yell to her. “Just give me back my daughter!”

The chase has slowed considerably from both ends. At this point, I’d be willing to let Mary walk away unscathed as long as long as she doesn’t bring Janey closer to the worst of the inferno. But she refuses to stop and I’m not catching up with her quickly enough.

“I’m sorry, Mentor,” she calls back weakly. “Cassie needs to take over the world;
I
need to be able to rule the land that enslaved me.”

Mary knows she can’t run forever and eventually ducks into a nearby room. It might not be so bad if I didn’t see so many flames inside before she closes the heavy door. I try the handle – which scalds my hand – but it’s locked anyway. Smoke pours out from beneath and when I try to call out for Mary to open up, I receive no response. If it wasn’t for Janey’s continued wailing, I might’ve thought they escaped the palace, which might not be such a bad thing.

“Mary, please,
none
of us can take much more of this!” I plead.

My frustration boils over and I begin to punch the heavy wooden door, unleashing all of my anger and fear. Janey continues to scream, giving me all the strength I need to pound down the door. Though I cough uncontrollably and feel my head growing lighter by the second, I don’t stop smashing the door until it crumbles to splinters. Another wave of smoke hits me in the face; I don’t think Mary could’ve picked a worse room if she wanted.

This is some sort of library, with shelves of books lining the walls, rows upon rows of accelerant to feed the fire. I hear Janey’s cry from across the room and see my tiny wrapped bundle of joy lying on the floor just beneath some long drapes, the tops of which have just caught fire. It won’t be long until those flames reach Janey’s blanket so I rush across the room, singularly focused on saving her from the blaze. Too late, I realize it’s a big mistake to think that Mary simply set her down and disappeared.

She crashes into me from behind, knocking out what little breath I have left. She straddles my back and throws punches to the side and back of my head. My vision flashes in and out to blackness, each blow threatening to plunge me into darkness forever. But over the sound crackling fire and Janey’s screams, I hear Mary’s voice, sobbing.

“I’m sorry, Mentor, I’m sorry,” she cries out. “I don’t want to do this but I must.”

I try to wriggle free but Mary is too strong. The best I manage is to roll over on my back; now instead of being punched in the back of the head, Mary’s fists rain down on my face. Her hands eventually make their way to my throat. I grab her wrists and try to break her vice-like grip but she squeezes harder and harder. When I look into her face, tears stream down, splashing against my head. Her eyes are full of desperation rather than anger but that does nothing to loosen her grip.