Underworld Queen Read online

  “Excuse me. Can we join you?” A fresh-faced coed leaned toward him, her arm entwined with a young man’s. He was laughing, conversing with a couple at an adjoining table, oblivious to what his companion was trying to negotiate.

  “Yes,” Carl said despite the fact that he felt like his private life had been intruded upon. When she looked down at what he was reading, he covered it with his right hand. The young woman pulled her companion down next to her, across the table from Carl and his book.

  “I’m Robert. Thanks.” The kid held his hand out as he snuggled close to the girl.

  Carl shook his hand and then pulled the book into his chest a bit, checking the surrounding area to make sure no one else could read over his shoulder. The couple began to make out furiously. Even though Carl was trying to find his place, he couldn’t help but notice the young man’s hand slipping under her shirt. When he looked at her face, she was smiling at him, over the top of her friend’s head as he kissed her neck and upper chest.

  It reminded Carl of how long it had been since he’d made love to a woman. He quickly found his place and soon forgot about the room and the randy young couple.

  In short order, the Queen’s pregnancy became known. Anxious to return to his home in York and the arms of his young betrothed, he was disappointed to learn the Queen had no intention of releasing him. In fact, she believed he was good luck to her, and rewarded loyalty by allowing childless ladies in her court to lay with him in exchange for favors. He threatened to escape many times, but was warned that he held the fortunes, if not the lives, of his father and his soon to be father-in-law, in the palm of his hand.

  The scandal of his real purpose at the Court broke just as the King died, leaving the country in disarray. As a male heir had not yet been born, an uprising ensued. Jonas refused to join the cause. Before he could get home, armies slaughtered all of the Mackenzies, including Anne. Jonas’ father and his two brothers were hanged in the public square as traitors. Jonas fled to the Caribbean.

  Though he was rightful heir to the family’s interests in the Virgin Islands, he was thwarted by numerous slave uprisings. A huge infusion of capital was needed to help stabilize the disrupted operations. Hindered by a lack of funds, the plantations were taken over by several managers and agents who had been previously loyal to the elder Starling.

  Carl heard her moan. She was straddling him, and it appeared they were doing it right there. In spite of himself, Carl blushed. He no longer felt it was his table.

  “Excuse me,” he whispered as he stood and left them to their lovemaking. He didn’t even get a look from them as he parted his way through the crowd and into the night air. It frustrated him he had to be so close to so many people.

  Three doors down was a much quieter place, a coffee house with tons of vacant tables. He chose one in the corner and ordered a cappuccino.

  Jonas turned to the seas and joined what he thought was a salvage operation, in order to raise funds to defend his claim. Through mutiny and demise of the captain on one voyage, he was pressed into service as a pirate, or face death.

  Jonas excelled at being a corsair or pirate. He soon rose through the ranks and became known as the Blackbird, using a black starling symbol on his ship’s colors. He brought great wealth to his crew and investors who hired him. But he tried to spare human life whenever possible, and had a reputation for protecting women, especially beautiful women. This made little difference to the authorities, and he became a wanted man, unable to have a permanent home without fear of being arrested. One day, his luck ran out.

  The barista brought him a large-handled brown ceramic cup and saucer. He inhaled the frothy foam at the top and savored the warm elixir he loved on Sunday mornings while reading his newspaper. Had the world gone crazy? Kids having sex in front of him at his favorite tavern? Promising students with perhaps a dark agenda? Lovely Molly who haunted him and made his groin lurch whenever he thought of her? A mysterious lady wanting information about a 17th century man who turned to a life of piracy after losing his entire fortune and his family?

  I’m merely a professor. Am I a magnet for these things? He didn’t have an answer.

  He read on:

  Having lost all he held dear, and now a wanted criminal, he perished in a prison somewhere on Antigua in his early twenties.

  Stories are still told in dark places in some of the shantytowns dotted throughout the Caribbean, that Jonas lived, and was found leading a quiet life in several places around the islands. Rumor has it that each time he was found, he would disappear again.

  Carl wondered why he had never run across this compelling story before.

  Why is she interested in him? He considered the sultry dark-haired young woman who asked for his help, who had agreed to advance him a month’s wages to give her a dossier on this intriguing character from history. He was to meet up with her on Saturday at this very coffee shop.

  He thumbed through the book, looking for other references to Jonas Starling, but could find none. He finished off his coffee, declining a second cup and tipped the girl generously. He cradled the book under his left arm and made a path to the front door.

  Grateful for the cool night air, he decided to walk the few blocks to an all-night copy store, instead of taking his car. There, he duplicated the short chapter.

  “You have permission to copy this? Ever hear about copyright laws?” The clerk had greasy hair and pink skin, dotted with red blemishes. His dark eyes studied him.

  Carl opened the cover of the book and flipped to the publication date. “You ever heard of Shastra Publishing? Do you think anyone is still alive who cares?” The clerk looked down at his finger tapping on the 1860 notation.

  “Never can tell.”

  Carl looked at his watch. “Look, man, I’ll just go somewhere else. I come in here all the time and make copies of manuscripts. I’m a history professor.”

  “I know who you are.”

  Does he have a smile on his face? Who the hell is this kid? Carl felt a chill tingle down his spine.

  “Ah, probably nothing to worry about, right?” The kid broke into an evil smirk. “I mean, who could possibly care after a hundred and fifty years?” He rang up the fee and Carl paid with his campus credit card.

  He felt the clerk’s eyes on his back as he left the store. Carl raised his hand to adjust his bowtie and then discovered he had already removed it. He undid one more button on his shirt and rolled his shoulders.

  Maybe I should have stayed for the second beer. Walking back to his car relaxed him.

  The cottage Carl lived in was part of the campus housing for single staff. But he would have chosen it on his own. He loved the cobblestoned entryway and random brick patterns on the outside walls covered with vines of ivy. The windows were small-paned in a crisscross pattern, like some of the thatched cottages in the Cotswold district he loved to visit in England. He could almost live the history he studied, as if, once stepping into the little dwelling, he was transported back in time.

  The mailbox at his front door was nearly empty. He unlocked the heavy oak door and entered his domain, setting the book down on a steamer trunk that was his coffee table. The house was in need of a fire. He stoked it quickly and sat down on the brown leather couch, watching the flames take hold.

  When he removed his tweed jacket he remembered his bowtie, which he carefully extricated, along with the folded index card with Molly’s number on it.

  Molly, what would you look like here, on this couch by the fire? Would you let me unbutton your…

  “Oh, God help me,” he muttered. Perhaps it’s been too long since I’ve had a woman. He wondered if he would even know what to do.

  He stood up, kicked off his shoes and walked in his Argyle socks to the kitchen and poured himself a Scotch.

  Now this is what I really wanted. He poured himself another and took it over to the couch, setting the short glass next to the heavy book. The light of the fire danced on the dull dark green paint of the trunk, o
n the wooden stays and brass studs holding it together, and on the curled index card. He saw the numbers flickering as he leaned over and picked up the paper.

  Without thinking, he retrieved his cell phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and dialed her number. He leaned back into the soft leather and sighed, listening to the rings. He licked his lips and tasted the warm liquor residue there.

  On the third ring, she picked up.

  “Well, hello.”

  Had she expected me really to call?

  “I’ve read the book, and I…” What was it he really wanted to say? “I have something to do in the morning, and thought perhaps your suggestion of returning it to you tonight might work out better.” His exhale drew static on the line, but Molly was patient with her response.

  “Okay.”

  “Well, I don’t want to get you into trouble, you know, with the book and all.”

  “No. We definitely don’t want me to get into trouble.”

  Carl’s face flushed again. He’d always envisioned doing things to her in the stacks, but now he saw other possibilities.

  “Well, I could…”

  “Why don’t I come over?”

  He had been holding his breath and released a sigh she no doubt heard. “That would be good. I think I will be up for a bit.”

  There was a pause. Molly whispered into the phone, “Oh, I hope you’ll be up for more than a bit. I won’t make you wait long.” The phone went dead.

  Should I call her back and cancel? Does she know where I live? He looked at his cell phone keypad and almost hit redial to cancel. Was this sound judgment on his part?

  But as he stood to hang up his jacket and put another log on the fire, the growing bulge in his pants was beginning to call all the shots.

  Mollie’s bug rattled up the driveway and abruptly stopped mid-sputter. Carl had brushed his teeth, reapplied aftershave, and changed his shirt. He opened the heavy front door and tried to stand casually in the doorframe. He could feel the warmth of the fireplace at his back. Molly’s red hair shone in the blue light of the streetlamp at the bottom of the driveway. As she walked to him, he could see her soft white cheeks, her moist red lips, and the hint of cleavage, covered demurely by her nylon jacket.

  In one fluid motion she touched his chest with the mounds of her breasts, and even through their clothes he felt the heat of her body. He lowered his head and she met his lips with hers, parting them, giving him a tiny moan which melted deliciously in his mouth.

  He pulled away to look into her eyes, which sparkled green. He held her cheeks with the palms of his hands and rubbed his thumbs over her lips, devouring the feel of her flawless pink skin, the look of her red hair and the beautiful emerald green hue of her eyes. “Beautiful. You are so beautiful, Molly.”

  She smiled, and guided one of his hands to her breast. His thumb traced the bulge created above her pink satin bra, and, as he unbuttoned her shirt, saw there was a clasp in the front, which he quickly undid.

  His groin lurched at the sight of the two pink orbs waiting for him to touch with his tongue.

  A car drove by, and Carl was reminded of where they were. He pulled her inside his bachelor cottage by encircling one arm around her waist and closing the door with the other. Her scent enveloped him.

  I’ve captured you.

  It had been a long time, for he suddenly didn’t know what to do next. She removed her jacket and let it drop to the floor at her feet. She finished unbuttoning her shirt and let it drop. Then she removed the gaping bra by letting the straps slip down her arms as she squeezed her breasts together, distorting them, pushing up the rose-colored nipples.

  She unzipped her jeans and slipped them down her hips, her eyes still nailing him. She wore no panties, and the light red fuzz of her sex called him to explore.

  Her body was perfect in every way, the body that would adorn a porcelain plate as Venus herself. She could have posed for a large nude portrait that would hang in a gentlemen’s club to be lusted after for generations. She could have been the mistress to kings. He imagined being alone with her in a tent in the desert or kissing her body amongst vines and lush dark leaves in a rainforest jungle like in the adventure books he read as a youth.

  She turned, showing him her backside, the rounded perfectly formed cheeks of her heart-shaped ass, as she pulled out several pins and her hair fell down her back.

  Carl felt his knees buckle for just a second. He knew he was thoroughly entranced. His fantasy woman had come to life, just as if she had risen from the pages of history to claim his soul.

  I’ll take my time. I will savor every square inch of your perfect body.

  He would make her moan under him and beg for more. He wanted her body to consume him in the fire of her red hair.

  All night long.

  Chapter 6

  Jonas flipped open his sat phone.

  “Hi there. It’s so good to hear your voice.” Audray answered.

  “Same here. You okay?”

  He heard the hesitation in her voice.

  “Audray, tell me. What’s happened?”

  Again she hesitated, but she took a deep breath and then began, “I found my mother, Jonas.”

  “Good. And? Is she what you thought she was?”

  “Worse. But there’s more. Jonas, I have a sister. Not only that, but she died trying to protect me when I was still in diapers.”

  “How does your mother know all this?” he asked.

  “I saw her picture. And I saw a picture of my father too. She is Claire, the Guardian, remember? She’s Daniel’s Claire. The one Joshua was trying to turn, remember?”

  “Claire is your sister, was your sister?” He couldn’t believe this to be true. He’d helped Joshua in his attempts to snag the little Guardian.

  “Well, since she’s alive she’s my sister still.”

  “Are you going to try to meet with her?”

  “Not yet. I’d like you with me when I do.”

  “Sounds fair enough. What’s next then?”

  “My mother told me where their bodies are buried and I’m going to go visit tomorrow, before—before I run one more errand and then I’ll meet you.”

  “We still on for San Francisco on Saturday?”

  “Can’t wait. I need to get out of the Central Valley as soon as I can. This place is sucking me down into a pit of despair. I hate it here.”

  He paused.

  “Jonas, is anything wrong?”

  “No. Not unless you didn’t get the bridal suite at the St. Francis.”

  Audray laughed. “Oh, ye of little faith. If it’s truly your favorite, I’ll buy it for you as a wedding present.”

  “Wedding?” Jonas wasn’t sure he was hearing things properly. “I said bridal suite, as in the nice room with the view of the city and the big jetted tub?”

  “Yes, love. And I want something more. I want to make you my legal tender.”

  We haven’t discussed this. With any other woman it would have made Jonas panic, but he didn’t mind the liberties Audray took when it came to claiming him. He smiled.

  “Oh, I can be tender.”

  “Yes, I know. The problem is with the legal part. Jonas, can you be legal?”

  “No. I’ve always been told I am over the legal limit.”

  It was Audray’s turn to laugh. “I’ve noticed.”

  He remembered what he had to do in the next twenty-four hours. “Audray, I want you to be careful.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “There’s another one just like the one you had executed. He’s been down here a month or more.”

  “So, find him. You have my permission to kill him.”

  “Well, there’s something else.”

  “Yes? You are beginning to worry me, Jonas. Or is this just a way for you to stall parading your luscious ass down a red carpet to say ‘I do’?”

  “Funny.”

  “Or maybe you don’t want the tailor measuring you all over for a tux…”
/>   “I’ve cut men’s arms off for less.”

  “There you go. But I’m not going to give up until you are mine. Truly mine in every sense of the word.”

  In the old days, this would have been his cue to disappear again. But now, there was the smell of danger all about. Tides are changing. War is brewing. People are going to die.

  “Audray, I don’t want to lose you.”

  “The only way I want to lose myself is in your arms and in your bed. You probably couldn’t be rid of me if you tried with all your immortal might.”

  Wish that were true. He didn’t like thinking Audray could become someone’s target because of her relationship with him.

  “I mean it, Audray. There are things going on that are not good. Not good at all.”

  “What things?”

  “Peter sponsored both of them.”

  “Well, he was supposed to troll for souls, in addition to running the Underworld. I don’t find that odd at all.”

  “They were both related to him, blood related.”

  “I never thought family was important to that bastard. He seemed so consumed with himself. I didn’t think he had any family. Odd he never told me.”

  Jonas never liked to think about how close Audray had gotten to Peter, and what she had to perform to be given the ability to vaporize, which was usually something only the most powerful dark angel possessed. Even past Directors failed to have the skill.

  “So you can see how this changes things,” Jonas continued.

  “I misjudged him. That could be dangerous in my current occupation,” she said. Her voice was strained, a little hoarse. Her internal chatter seemed purposely jammed so he couldn’t tell what she was feeling. But he knew she was getting nervous.

  “That’s why you have me here, my Queen. Remember? I am the keeper of your soul.”

  He heard the satisfying exhale and then came a flood of images he liked much better.

  “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  “I guess I’m just missing you, Jonas. It’s getting harder and harder to be away from you.”