Blood Rebellion

"Beliphar is ripe for a takeover," Felix smiled. "You’ll get your money."

"Tell me what I am transporting, for curiosity’s sake," Gart feigned indifference.

"A new race. A little faster, a little better than your average humanoid," Felix replied. He didn’t add that they were capable of reproducing themselves by sharing a bit of DNA—all it took was a simple kiss or a bite and the victim was immediately infected. One of the unexpected but useful advantages of the Ra’Ak DNA that had been spliced into cast-off Elemaiya. They’d purposely bred quarter and eighth blood children, just to achieve these results.

The Elemaiyan races were no more, but these children had been hidden away at the suggestion of the Khos’Mirai. The Bright Elemaiyan Queen regretted her decision regarding the Khos’Mirai, but that could not be changed, now. She no longer existed, either. Not in her former capacity, anyway. Felix, a quarter-blood and enhanced like the others, was quite happy with this turn of events. The gates had been closed against them, but there were other ways of getting from one place to another.

* * *

"Stand still, love. They’ll think you’re a servant." Garde was teasing me about my clothing—I was wearing jeans and a silk top—not the outfit one might expect a Queen to wear as the first tourists and gamblers came through the Alliance-required customs stations. No weapons were allowed—coming or going. Vampires manned those stations; they were trained to pick up any scent of gunpowder, but those weapons would be archaic. Laser tasers were now the weapon of choice and could kill if aimed at the proper part of the body. A zap to the heart was all it took for most humanoids. Vampires operated the machines that would detect those and any other weapons visitors thought to bring with them.

Shadow had also come to see this for himself and was giving me his best grin as we watched the new arrivals drag their luggage toward waiting public transportation. Some—the wealthy or those who’d purchased an upgraded package, had vampire chauffeurs waiting with private transportation. Their bags were carried by vampire valets, too. I’d hate to be some of those tourists if they tried to treat the vampires carrying their luggage in a less than respectful manner.

"Can you help me?" A woman walked right up to me with a brochure in her hands. "How do I sign up for the tour to the palace? It says here that it only happens once a week and I don’t want to miss it." Shadow almost bent double, trying to hold back his laughter. I kicked him unobtrusively.

"You can sign up for the tour at the hotel desk when you check in," I answered her question. "Be sure to fill out the form completely. You’ll be notified if your application to go on the tour is approved."

"But why does it have to be approved? Shouldn’t it be open to the public?" The woman demanded. She looked to be in her late forties and wore a bright fuchsia top and cream slacks.

"Because the Queen is a reclusive bitch who enjoys her privacy," I replied, causing Shadow to guffaw. Garde snickered.

"Should you be speaking of your Queen that way?" The woman asked. "From the moment I read that she was taking over and rebuilding the vampire planet, I’ve wanted to meet her." She seemed a little annoyed.

"I can speak about the Queen any way I want," I said. The woman frowned at me. "What’s your name?" I asked.

"Galene," she replied huffily.

"And the hotel you’re visiting?"

"The Chessman." Well, she was uptown, then. Adam had lent his family name to his premier hotel and casino.

"I believe that Mr. Chessman is actually there today, to greet some of his guests." I took the brochure from her hands and Pulled in a pen. "Tell him I approved your application personally for the tour." I was busily writing the same message on her brochure for Adam—he’d know it was authentic—and then signed my name. Galene stared in fascination as the pen materialized in my hand and then watched as I signed my name.

"See, I really can talk about the Queen any way I want," I smiled and handed her brochure back.

"Should I bow or curtsy?" Galene got her voice back after a few seconds.

"Please don’t. I don’t require it of anyone else," I said. "You should go before you miss your bus. Do you need help with your luggage?" She had a roller bag sitting next to her.

"Maybe," she said.

"I’ll get it." I lifted the bag easily and walked toward one of the waiting buses.

"Lissa, what the hell are you doing?" Flavio demanded. He’d come to make sure everything was flowing smoothly.

"Helping Galene with her bag," I replied, handing said bag off to a vampire, who was loading things into the luggage compartment. "This is Galene," I introduced Flavio to the woman. "Flavio is Head of the Vampire Council from Earth and one of my trusted advisors. Also the third most beautiful man I’ve ever met."

Galene thought so, too—she was staring at Flavio with an expression of complete worship on her face.

"You," I motioned a vampire over; he was making sure the passengers were loaded safely.

"Yes, my Queen?" he smiled at me.

"Will you see that Galene gets a good seat?" I pointed the woman toward the vampire.

"Are you a vampire, too?"

"Yes, Madame. Most certainly a vampire. Eight hundred years a vampire, from Refizan." He led her away.

"That poor woman is so stunned she is nearly immobile," Flavio commented dryly.

"Well, she got her wish, right off the bat. It’s all downhill from here," I said. Flavio winked at me. I could hear Shadow and Garde still laughing where I’d left them.

* * *

We were getting the newsfeeds; Alliance news crews were everywhere and there was Galene, talking to one of the reporters. "Oh, no," I slapped a hand over my face. A vid screen had been brought in so we could all watch during dinner.

"The Queen approved my application to visit the palace personally and then helped me with my bag." Galene was still in heaven.

"What did you think of the Queen?" The reporter asked.

"Quite lovely. The photographs don’t do her justice—her skin is beautiful. She was shorter than I imagined, but you can never tell from those magazine pictures anyway."

"She approved your application personally, you say?"

"She wrote a note to the owner of the Chessman, telling him so. A lovely man," Galene gushed.

"And there you have the truth," the reporter took over. "A guest gets the royal treatment while the news crews are held at arm’s length. This is Rowan Alder, for News Nine."