Chapter Four

Will settled into one of the side chairs in the conference room. The space was much bigger than Alex’s office, and being in the family building, it was far from prying eyes and ears. It was relentlessly corporate, all leather and dark wood. A projection screen had descended from the ceiling at one end. The family members, minus the boys and Annika, had gathered around the rectangular table, as if a board meeting were about to start. There was even coffee and pastries, courtesy of Emil. The one anomaly was the veteran, Logan, the lone woman. She sat not in one of the comfy chairs that made your ass think it was on top of a cloud, but on the wide windowsill at the opposite end of the room. She had her knees tucked up under her chin and she watched everyone like a hawk.

Alex had asked her to come, so Will assumed she was expected to be of some help as they evaluated how to tackle the problem that was Bran. Will knew from experience that she was a fierce and trusted warrior. This situation seemed to call for more subtly than brute force. Again, what did he know? He remained committed to being the good soldier, following orders. He’d let someone else figure out the strategy.

“Val,” Alex said from where he sat near Logan at the head of the table, “please begin.”

A mosaic of pictures popped up on the screen. “Here’s what we have for images of Bran,” Val said. “They’re all tied to the asshat’s campaign. There are a few photoshopped pictures that Bran obviously used to lay a paper trail for himself. He’s created an interesting persona that uses enough truth about his life to make it all plausible. You have to dig really deep before you realize it’s an illusion.”

“How old is the oldest real image of him?” MacLerie asked.

“About a month after we struck the castle in Wales. He must have come over here directly and started hatching his plan. And who knows what that was originally, but somehow—probably through Cadoc’s boy-whore enterprise—Bran latched on to Congressman Do-What-I-Say-Not-What-I-Do Asshat.”

“You think he’s using this politician’s gay activities to blackmail him into a job?” Harry asked. He was too mature to use Val’s nickname.

Val shrugged. “It’s our working theory.” He changed the onscreen image to show an aerial view of some large compound with a dominant multi-story building surrounded by a few smaller ones. “This is Hope Hills, a gay-conversion camp. I kid you not.”

From her perch, Logan made a rude noise. Val grinned. “Yeah, that.” He clicked onto the next slide, showing a website touting the benefits of attending the away-camp for young adults who wanted to rid themselves of their confused sexuality and find God’s grace again.

Will rolled his eyes and grabbed a donut covered in chocolate icing. “And why are we looking at this bullshit?” The light when on. “Oh, is the asshat involved with it?” He bit into half the pastry and had to hold back a moan. Emil had made a point of saying that Damien had made these. The boy was both sexy and talented. Will was so screwed.

Alex answered him. “Mr. and Mrs. Asshat are, actually. It’s their passion as well as their mission to help those poor lost souls who have been seduced by the ‘gay lifestyle’. Conversion therapy is illegal in Massachusetts for children, but this ‘camp’ is geared toward the newly emancipated.”

“Wow,” Will said around his mouthful. “This guy is balls-to-the-wall in his hypocrisy.”

“Yes,” Alex agreed. “You have to admire the level of his assholery, to some degree. And before you ask, the reason this camp is relevant is because it’s also tied to the campaign. They have a small office front on Boylston Street, but the real guts of the campaign are located here, apparently. It’s in Worcester County, his constituency, and the congressman and his wife have their primary residence right on the campus.”

“And that’s where Bran is, we presume?” Emil chimed in.

“Exactly,” Val confirmed. He ran through more slides showing various aspects of the conversion camp, some of it obviously from a website, the others more aerial shots. “We can’t see much from any of this. To really understand what’s going on and possibly what Bran is up to, we’d need to get inside this camp.”

“I could jump into the new chopper Alex bought and do surveillance,” Will offered. It was a self-serving suggestion, given how itchy he was to get his hands on those controls. Flying helicopters was a new skillset of his. Waiting for humans to develop flight capabilities had been agony—and not much of a challenge once they’d done it. Choppers were a different animal and far more fun.

Alex dashed his hopes. “We’ve already considered that option, Will, but we don’t want to tip our hand too soon or too obviously. Bran would notice that kind of activity, given how remote the camp is.”

Damn. He said nothing more. Trying to get Alex to change his mind purely to amuse Will was not acceptable hive behavior. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few—or the one. Not an original idea, Mr. Spock.

Val continued. “We could have someone volunteer for the campaign to snoop around, but I really think the answer lies here. There seems to be a lot going on, and hopefully, both Bran and the candidate let down their guard in this relaxed setting. More usefully, there are a lot of people there, making it easier for someone to blend in, not get noticed as paying attention to matters that they shouldn’t. Still, an obvious first effort would involve someone working for the campaign in Boston.”

Alex twirled his chair to speak directly to Logan. “We’d thought you might be able to help, work your way into the campaign? The congressman makes veterans’ issues a central part of his platform. And we don’t think Bran would recognize you. You’ve changed since Wales.”

Indeed she had, with her hair grown out and having put on some weight, she looked less waif-like and much healthier. But she was shaking her head as Alex spoke.

“I’d like to help, except the idea of working in an office makes my skin crawl. Sorry. I can’t do that. I’m happy to break into the camp, though. Say the word and I’ll do a B and E, no problem.”

Alex smiled. “I appreciate the offer and I understand about not wanting to play eager volunteer in their small office. If we simply break into the camp, however, we run the substantial risk of alerting Bran. It has the same problems as doing aerial surveillance.”

“Surely he already knows we’re on to him,” Will interjected. “He’s practically waving a flare at us.”

Alex rubbed his finger along his lip. “He does seem to be taunting us. Or perhaps this is merely his way of showing he’s not afraid to make his mark in this world in a blatant way. ‘Look at me. You can’t touch me or stop me. I’m not doing anything illegal.’ It’s hard to say what goes on in his demented mind.”

“So, we kill the fucker, you ken?” Malcolm spoke up. When everyone stared at him, he said, “And why not? He’s right there in plain sight.” He turned to Will. “You’re a more than fare sniper, as I recall.”

Will winced. Yes, that was another of his skills. He preferred flying machines, thank you very much. Being a sniper had ripped out a big emotional piece of him, leaving him feeling sick and cold. He hated killing. Except if this was what the hive required of him, if this was necessary to keep Annika safe…

Alex saved him from saying anything. “An outright execution isn’t an option. We have no way to get close enough to rig an accidental death, and an assassination of the head of a presidential candidate’s security would be too high-profile, especially when the body disintegrates immediately. We can’t risk that kind of scrutiny.”

Will was practically dizzy with relief. And he felt cowardly for it.

Val put up a bunch of pictures of young men. “It wasn’t a bad idea, MacLerie, and one that I proffered already. What we need is someone on the inside. This camp is actually only for boys. The girls, I guess, only have to meet the right guy to turn them straight,” he added with a shake of his head. “If we can get someone in there posing as a convert, he might learn something useful, something we can use to bring Bran down with more subtlety than double pops to the head.”

“Or,” Alex interjected, “we may be able to end the asshat’s presidential hopes, leading to Bran suddenly finding himself without a job. He leaves for greener pastures and we nab him quietly. Either way, we neutralize the threat with the least amount of attention drawn to ourselves.

“Oh, Alex, no,” Harry exclaimed. “Who would you use? Demi is known to Bran and Mackie is out of the question, for obvious reasons. It would be harmful to expect Brenin, Dafydd or even Jase to put themselves into a situation that is one step above prison. Are you sending Quinn?”

At the head of the table, the pucker factor went up substantially, but Alex was a leader, first and foremost. “I worry that Bran saw him in Wales and would recognize him. Still, getting someone inside that hell-hole is the only solution I’ve come up with. It’s either that or we sit and wait until Bran possibly achieves his goal. Once he’s ensconced in D.C., there will be no way to get to him without revealing ourselves to the world.”

“There is another possibility,” Emil mused.

Will stiffened. Don’t say it!

“We could ask Damien.”

Fucking hell!

“The thought had crossed Alex’s and my mind, as well,” Val admitted.

Will opened his mouth to say—he wasn’t sure what—but Harry beat him to it.

“How could we ask him? He knows nothing about us, though. Does he?” he asked Emil.

“I haven’t taken him into my confidence. I wouldn’t do that without authorization,” he added, clearly affronted.

“Then how the hell do we get him to agree to do this without telling him the truth?” Will demanded.

Emil shrugged. “We tell him some of it—that Bran is a wayward family member intent on mischief and we want to see what we can learn about his plans without alerting him to the fact that we’re doing so. It could work.”

Will leaned forward and took them all in with a sweeping glance. “Damien is not stupid. He’ll figure out something weird’s going on. Plus, it’s dangerous. Why not have one of the other hybrids help, from our shipmates who are coming to Boston? I know of two born in the last hundred years, even if their fathers have bowed out of fighting.”

“We considered that, as well,” Alex said. “But a hybrid is still different enough from a full human that Bran is likely to detect him. Other than Annika, does anyone know a shipmate who has fathered a child that doesn’t share our physical appearance? She’s an anomaly, isn’t she? And not only because she’s female?”

Harry spoke again. “I believe Claude’s boy inherited his human father’s darker pigmentation. Here he could identify as African American. Except,” he added with a shake of his head, “from what I know of him, he’s too young to pass as a human adult.”

“Then that leaves us back to using a fully human ally,” Alex said.

No one was able to gainsay Alex, not even him, because fuck it all, his captain was right. Still, Will believed a hybrid was a better choice than a mere human. “Damien can’t protect himself the way a hybrid could. If Bran figures out he’s working for us, he’s as good as dead.” He didn’t really care that his voice had risen or that he’d pounded the table on that last word.

There was silence for a few seconds as everyone stared at him. Then Alex broke it. “You’ve been very discreet, Willem. How long have you and Damien been involved—and have you told him more than you should?”

Will jerked back. “What? No, sir.” He shook his head. “I am not involved with Damien, and I’ve told him nothing.”

“Oh, Will.” Emil tsked. “You should let him know how you feel. He’s interested in you, too, you know?”

Will’s shock rocketed up even more. “No! See? You’re wrong. He isn’t interested in me at all. I’m some guy he barely knows who’s saddled with a child, no less. And that’s my focus, totally, raising Annika. Serving our Queen.”

Emil folded his arms. “He wants you. Trust me. I’ve known the boy for years now. He rarely goes out clubbing anymore and no one asked him to cook for the family. That was his idea.” He scrunched up his face. “And when did he get that idea? Oh yeah, two seconds after you and Annika moved in.” He nodded once for emphasis, as if he’d produced Exhibit A in the case of the Willem versus Reality.

Will was at a loss for words. He sat there with his mouth open and shaking his head until Logan spoke up.

“He’s a good kid. He’ll help if you ask him, and he’s street-smart, can take care of himself.”

Has everyone lost their fucking minds?

He was outvoted, however, not that theirs was a democracy. Somehow the meeting was ending and Alex had given Emil and Will marching orders to seek out Damien and ask this huge favor of him. With his heart in his throat, Will stood to obey his captain. His mind, though, searched for a way out of this crazy scheme—one that put Damien in the middle of an alien war he knew nothing about. He had no choice, though, not at the moment. He’d follow Emil and help make the case to Damien, and yet as he did so, he decided on an alternate plan that would have him undermining his captain for the first time. He hated to do it, but fear and conviction steeled his resolve. Alex’s decisions were no longer the final ones. He was the captain, but Annika was the Queen.

 

* * * *

 

Damien tried to play it cool when Will trailed Emil into the kitchen. Dropping the tray of cookies he’d been taking out of the oven gave him away, however.

“Shit!” He scrambled to catch it, then swore again as he burned his arms on the hot metal and fumbled to keep the whole thing from crashing onto the floor. For a few seconds, he was like that chef on Sesame Street who was always dropping treats after he finished counting. All that was missing was the comical music—One hopelessly crushing twiiink.

“Let me help you.”

Somehow Will had reached his side, like Whoa, the guy was ninja fast. The heat didn’t seem to bother him, either, because he grabbed the side of the tray and helped Damien get it onto the counter. Only two cookies had bitten the dust, and Will scooped up those, as well, popping one into his mouth.

“Three second rule,” the man said around his mouthful.

Damien smiled. “Thanks, dude. Losing them all would have sucked.”

“Do you have a second?” Emil asked. “We’d like to talk to you.”

Despite Emil’s expression staying its usual relaxed state, Damien sensed something serious was going on.

“Sure thing, Chef. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, we have a favor to ask. That’s all.”

Okay, curiouser and curiouser, because Will sure looked unhappy about something. He was chewing the second cookie as if it were his mortal enemy.

“I should finish this first,” he said with a wave at his next batch of baking.

“That’s what the new kitchen staff is for,” Emil replied. “Hey, Penny? Can you take over here for Damien, please?”

“Yes, Chef.” Penny was one of the four new hires. They were all pretty green, but well-trained and eager.

Damien had no trouble relinquishing his task. He didn’t like how whatever was going on bothered Will, that was all. Shooting a grin of thanks at Penny, he put his oven mitts on the counter and followed Emil to the man’s office. Will pulled up the rear, a solid presence at his back.

When they arrived, Damien took one of the visitor chairs and was disappointed when Will elected to stand next to Emil after closing the door. He’d had a fleeting hope that the man would sit and, given the smallness of the office, their knees would be practically touching. Yeah, leg sex… That was where his mind was at. It was practically Victorian in its prissiness, yet nothing more seemed to be in the offing.

You could make the first move, moron, his inner voice reminded him. When did I become so shy? Maybe it was because Will wasn’t some rando in a club. If they hooked up, they’d see each other every day. And what if one night was all Will was interested in? That would suck. Damien was afraid his heart was at risk of being cut to ribbons. That was new…and scary.

He dove right into the reason they were there. It was easier than pondering his attraction and worries. “What’s up, guys? How can I help you?”

The two men shared a glance before Emil spoke. “First, I want to be absolutely clear that you are free to say no. Hell no, in fact—and that refusal will in no way jeopardize your job or how we, the family, appreciate you.”

“Okay, duly noted, Chef.”

Emil huffed. “Good. It’s, ah…weird. See… We recently found out that a member of our family, a cousin, has joined a political campaign.”

Damien furrowed his brows. “Yeah, I know. Bran, right? And the cocksucker, Warren. I was there, remember, when you all collectively shat boiled lobsters in Alex’s office the other day?”

Emil rubbed his forehead. “Yes, of course. I’d forgotten. Sorry. We hustled you out so fast that I’m sure it was bizarre and confusing.”

It had been all of that and more, but Damien merely shrugged. “Not my business. Or I guess it is now?”

“Yes, if you’re willing,” Will interjected. “Which you absolutely don’t have to be.”

Damien smiled at the man’s earnest face. “Voluntary… Got it. No worries. What do you want me to do, seduce the congressman or something? ’Cause from what I know, that’s not hard. A big enough dick and he’s all yours. I, ah, don’t have any trouble meeting that requirement. Although,” he added with wink at Will, “I bet you’d be a significant rival in that department.”

Will’s eyes went wide at the comment, leaving Damien both satisfied and embarrassed. He mentally facepalmed, wondering where that cheekiness had come from.

Emil cleared his throat. “Anyway, the congressman has a gay conversion camp, and—”

Damien sat forward. “No fucking way! Wow, I hate the guy even more. I had a boat-load of that shit with my own family before they realized it was never going to work and booted my gay ass out of the house. It’s torture, in the literal sense of the word.”

He stared at the floor, shaking his head as memories suddenly swamped him. The old feelings of hopelessness and urges for self-harm threatened to overwhelm him for a few seconds before he reminded himself he was not that scared boy anymore.

“Are you all right?”

The question and Will’s closeness startled him. The man had crouched beside Damien, concern marring his lovely face, his violet eyes darker now and staring intently at him.

For a few awesome moments, he got lost in them, imagining they looked at him with something more like passion. He had to work to break the connection and shake off the effect of that focus.

He switched his gaze to Emil. “What do you want me to do, go undercover there or something?” He’d meant it as a kind of joke, real Charlie’s Angels kind of shit. He could see by the man’s expressions that he’d hit on the truth. A quick glance at Will confirmed that he also was on that page.

Damien sat back again. “Okay, wow. Fuck, but okay. I can totally do that.”

“It would only be for a few days,” Emil assured him. “Long enough to maybe learn something useful. Bran is up to no good. That’s all we know, because that’s what he does—causes trouble.”

“And you want me to find dirt on him so you can make him slink back to… Where do you all come from again? Romania?”

“Originally yes,” Will answered. Sadly, he’d stood and moved back. “Although Bran was raised in Wales.”

“Like Brenin and Dafydd. You don’t want them to go because he knows them.” He was proud of being able to connect the dots, instead of getting emotionally mired in wanting Will and tracking his movements.

“Yes,” Emil confirmed. “He knows all of us, but not you. And we need to be clear on this. You aren’t going to do any snooping. All we ask is that you keep your eyes and ears open for a few days. If nothing pops out that is of use, then you leave. It’s purely a voluntary place. They can’t keep you there.”

“We won’t let them do so,” Will clarified, and there was a fierce look in his eyes, as if he were willing to shit, die for him or something.

That had to be a trick of the light. Will barely knew him. Besides, it wasn’t going to be dangerous. Not really. Was it?

“It could be dangerous,” Will said in the next instant, as if reading his mind.

That answers that question.

“In what way?” The first sense of unease was killing his enthusiasm.

“Bran is vicious and wouldn’t hesitate to make you disappear if he thought you were spying on him. I won’t let him do that,” Will said without a pause. “I swear I won’t.”

The ‘I-will-take-a-bullet-for-you’ vibe was back. This time, Damien believed it, wholly, and it sent a warmth through him that settled in his dick. It started to harden and an image of them sharing a night of unbridled passion before Damien went off to his suicide mission invaded his head. Oh boy, am I being ridiculous.

“How would you know if I needed you?” he challenged in an almost-breathless voice.

“I’ll penetrate the compound every night. We’ll set up a rendezvous point in there, and if they lock you in at night, I’ll find a way to get to you.”

Damien had stopped paying attention after the word ‘penetrate’ had been uttered. His hole clenched in juvenile fashion. He could hear Beavis and Butt-Head… “He said penetrate, heh, heh.” He shook his head to get it back in the game.

“I’m sorry. Did you say you’re going to break into the compound every night? You can do that?”

“Yes.” The simple conviction was comforting.

“Why don’t you do that instead?”

“We don’t necessarily want Bran to know we’re after him,” Emil answered. “The idea would be for you to meet Will outside, somewhere relatively secluded to reduce the chance of being caught.”

“Yeah, makes sense.” He eyed Will again. The man looked and carried himself like a soldier. He trusted Will had the skills he claimed. “What about Annika?”

“She understands that there are some things I have to do that take me from her. If she objects strongly, then we may have to rethink the whole thing, of course.”

There was nothing obviously duplicitous about the way Will answered, except Damien thought he detected an undertone. Was it possible Will was hoping she would kick up a fuss? And if she did, wouldn’t that only mean that someone else, like Malcolm, would take over the role of Damien’s protector? The man might wear a skirt most of the time, but he was like a warrior of old. He was no one to fuck with, that was for sure.

He also wasn’t Will. Damien wanted Will. He said nothing about that, however. It wouldn’t be fair of him to put pressure on Will. His kid came first. Damien understood that about the man and it was one of the things he admired about him. And there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Emil, the man who had been more of a father to him than the asshole who’d raised him, the guy who’d looked at him with such disgust as he’d literally tossed him out of his home. The pain of that rejection still cut deep. And while there was nothing Damien could do about his past, this spying scheme was a way to pay Emil back that was more than baking cookies.

“Okay. I’m in, guys. Tell me what to do.”

Emil smiled. “Thank you, Damien. I can’t tell you how much this means to the family. We’ll go see Val after dinner is finished and he’ll go over everything you need to know. We hope you can infiltrate as early as tomorrow.”

Damien nodded then glanced up at Will. He wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked like every commanding officer in every movie Damien had ever seen as he gave the order for the suicide mission. Maybe there’d be a goodbye fuck for him after all.

A boy could dream.

 

* * * *

 

Annika peered around the doorjamb, shushing Babette, who wiggled in her arms. Dafydd was on the floor playing with Idris. They were stacking wooden blocks. Well, Dafydd was stacking them. Idris seemed more intent on knocking them down. They appeared to be content, and Annika sensed no tension in the changed human. She was confident in disturbing them. The two of them were part of her hive, and although there was no one to tell her so, she knew instinctively that it was her duty to ensure that they were well. She simply wasn’t sure of her welcome. It was hard to get a read on the Welshman. Although, again, no one had told her as much, she knew that he’d suffered greatly from Dracul. It was up to her to try to mend that damage.

Squaring her shoulders, she knocked on the jamb and stepped inside the room before Dafydd responded. It was harder to deny her entrance that way. She smiled brightly. “May I join you, Mr. Dafydd?” Politeness was ingrained in her as well. She never assumed familiarity, not yet. She might be Queen, but she was also young, and those more mature than she were owed certain courtesies.

Dafydd’s gaze shifted from his son to Annika with obvious startlement. He started to stand, and not wanting to inconvenience him, she bent to set Babette free. Her dog raced over to Idris, who squealed with delight. The baby loved Babette, and the feeling was mutual. She attacked him by covering his face with licks. As usual, he grabbed for her fur with both hands.

His father intervened, keeping those chubby fingers from taking too great a hold on the dog. “Gentle, Idris,” he said in English, then repeated the warning in Welsh. He flicked his gaze to her long enough to say, “Come in and join us.”

Pleased with the reception, Annika skipped over and plopped down on the floor, careful to sweep the long skirt of her dress under her bottom. “Thank you. How is Idris coming in learning his letters?” She’d had similar blocks to learn Dutch. English had come later, as had other languages. She now knew seven, although she used computer programs to master new ones. She rather missed the blocks, though.

She picked one up and turned it around to its various sides. There was a capital C and a lowercase one, along with pictures of a cat and carrot, as well as the whole words themselves. It was all in English. “Are you teaching him Welsh?”

With his hands still hovering around Idris to keep him from playing too roughly with Babette, he answered. “Yes, but only the spoken word, as you just heard. Ric is adding in Spanish. Idris seems to be absorbing it all.”

“Oh yes, I expect that as a hybrid, he will be able to easily master quite a few languages like I have and continue to.”

Dafydd frowned. “He’s not a Queen.”

She giggled. “He doesn’t have to be.” She cocked her head as she considered the import of his words. “Do you think being male makes him less intelligent than I am?”

Before he could answer, Idris piped up with a series of, “Ba, ba, ba.”

Annika clapped her hands. “Yes, that’s it, Baby Idris. Her name is Babette. She’s a dog.”

“Dog!” Idris repeated and clapped his own hands.

“Very good,” she praised and beamed at Dafydd. “You see, Mr. Dafydd? He’s very smart. Soon he’ll be speaking in full sentences, I shouldn’t wonder.”

Dafydd looked skeptical. “If you say so. It hasn’t been my experience that hybrid sons are particularly clever.”

Annika turned serious. This was why she’d come, after all. “You are thinking of your other sons.”

“Yes.” Dafydd’s voice was very quiet. His sadness radiated off him. She felt it keenly.

“I am sorry about the older one. Father Willem has told me about him. He has been catching me up on everything that has happened since the ship crashed. I need to know these things, you understand, if I’m to lead my hive.”

Dafydd gave up hovering over his son as Babette had lain down across Idris’ legs and he’d mastered petting her. He looked at her straight in the eye. “If you say so. I know little about your culture. Dracul told me nothing and I didn’t want to know, in any event. I don’t ask about any of it. If you want to know the truth, I don’t care.”

“I understand. You want to live a human life again.”

“Yes.” The man was back to not looking at her.

“Dr. Ric will make that possible. He spends most every night here with you—and days when he isn’t working. You have welcomed him into your life, so he is also welcome in the hive.”

“We are…feeling our way on all things. He wants to marry me,” he added, although his tone implied skepticism and Annika sensed his conflicting emotions.

“It is hard for you to adjust to a new life after so many years with Dracul.”

Dafydd’s gaze flicked at her, surprise clear in his expression. “Yes, it is. Ric is very patient, however.”

Pleased with the open exchange, she let silence fall for a little while. They sat watching Idris alternating between his toys—the living one and the others. Babette was amazingly patient with the boy.

Annika didn’t quite share that trait with her dog. “Does my presence make you uncomfortable?” She knew the answer already. It radiated off the man in such an obvious way, she figured that even a human would detect it.

“Yes.”

Such an honest reply. “I understand—and I think you are very brave for saying so.” When he shrugged in response, she added, “It is not my intention to bother you…or anyone. It’s simply a matter of my following my destiny. I am Queen, and that means I can’t do as I’d like and stay in the nursery, playing with dolls and blocks.”

She turned the one in her hand over and over, still enjoying the bright colors and the cute expression on the cat’s face. “I came here to see how you were doing.” She paused and licked her lips. This wasn’t easy, and she rather expected that much of what she’d have to do for the rest of her life would be hard. “You have heard about your son Bran?”

Dafydd closed his eyes briefly and a terrible pain showed on his face. “Yes. I know he’s here, up to something that isn’t good.”

Putting down the block, she scooted closer to him and put her hand on his knee. She wasn’t sure how to accomplish it exactly, but she was trying to give him comfort. “I promise to do whatever I can to bring him into the hive.”

She thought some tension left his body, although she couldn’t be sure. Reading the emotions of those around her was something she hadn’t yet mastered.

“You are kind,” he said. “I think perhaps that will prove impossible. To a large degree, Dracul ensured their doom the moment those boys came into the world.”

“It’s important not to lose hope.” She removed her hand and said, “Would you like me to leave? Babette can remain and play with Idris, of course.”

Dafydd shook his head. “No, stay. Please. Idris likes your being here. Can you tell?” The baby was staring at her with a sloppy grin. “He recognizes you for who and what you are, I think. And, I want to become accustomed to you too, because I’m not going anywhere. I’m part of the hive, like, by default. Unlike Bran, I was never coopted by Dracul’s world view. And Ric has made it clear that he will do whatever’s necessary to stay in my life, including living this alien one.”

“I would that you’d be with us by choice.”

Dafydd didn’t respond directly, his emotions a jumble and impossible to get a read on. Instead he asked, “Do you like Legos?”

“Oh, yes indeed!” It was all right if he wanted to change the subject. She’d come to reassure him about his son, but she understood now that nothing she said was going to help. He wasn’t ready to trust again and perhaps he never would be. She had to prove herself with actions, not promises.

“Idris loves his Duplo blocks. Let’s get them out and see what we can build, heh?”

“A most excellent suggestion.” Annika beamed back at him and happily waited for him to fetch the basket of blocks. Being Queen wasn’t all serious business, after all.

She spent close to an hour of carefree fun building silly things out of the plastic blocks. Idris proved to be very adept at construction. In her mind, Annika was already assigning him a civil engineering job for the hive. It was impossible for her not to think in those terms. The planning and maneuvering were instinctive in her, and the urge to do so had grown greatly in the last few months. Resistant at first, as she’d been with most of her obligations, she’d stopped fighting it and there was peace of mind in doing so.

A knock on the door caught all of their attentions. Looking over her shoulder, she saw her father coming in. “Oh, Father Willem.” She smiled brightly, happy to see him, as always. Sometimes she wished she could be less formal with him. She longed to simply call him at least ‘Willem’, as she’d used to. He’d said humans would find that strange and that adding ‘father’ to it would be more acceptable. Back on the home-world, she would have had lots of males that were mated to her mother, all of whom would be her father legally, if not biologically. Distinguishing them by name was the norm.

It was interesting, in an academic way, how her mind insisted on following rules that didn’t apply on Earth. Except she really wanted to call him ‘papa’, but it never sat right on her tongue. Papa had always been Luuk, the human who’d made her conception and birth possible. She missed him with an ache that merely lessened occasionally in intensity, yet never truly went away. Although he didn’t burden her with his problems, she knew Willem also missed Luuk, to a degree that she worried he was shutting off the potential to find happiness again.

With his hands jammed into his front pockets, her father walked over to them and peered at their efforts. “That looks like a formidable structure.” Babette rose from where she’d been sleeping and pranced around his feet.

“It is mostly due to Baby Idris’ imagination. I only follow his commands.” Which was entirely made up of his finger-pointing and babbling.

“He can be quite demanding,” Dafydd agreed. “You’re very patient with him.”

“It’s easy to do so.” She smiled at him before focusing on her father. “Is it time for dinner?”

“Not quite yet. I was hoping to speak with you.”

Alone. He didn’t say as much, but she could tell that was what he meant.

“Certainly.” She stood and straightened her dress. “I’ll see you later.” She waved bye-bye to Idris and scooped Babette against her chest.

Seeing his playmate leaving sent Idris into a fretful state, his face screwing up and his arms waving. His mouth opened to wail. Dafydd grabbed him much the way Annika had her dog. “None of that now. You be nice, like.” Idris’ lips quivered, but he complied.

Good. It was lovely to see Mr. Dafydd being a true father to his son.

Shooting another wave, Annika left the room. Her own father followed in her wake, saying nothing until they’d reached their suite of rooms. The sitting area had been decorated to her tastes, as much as her bedroom had. She had tried not to make it too feminine, understanding that her father used this room, too. In the end, she couldn’t resist turning her private environment into a place of pretty colors, tufted furniture and lacy curtains. This was quintessentially female among humans and she’d found that part of her ran strong in her instincts. It was the same reason she couldn’t quite bring herself to dress in jeans and T-shirts. She was most comfortable clad in flowing dresses with fancy trim and wearing shiny shoes on her feet.

She sat on the edge of the settee with Babette on her lap. “Is something the matter?”

Her father didn’t answer right away. His tension was easy to detect. He was disturbed about something and obviously reluctant, yet determined, to discuss it with her. He sat heavily on a chair and leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs.

“I am coming to you because you are the Queen,” he began. “I have a favor to ask that I shouldn’t, but I can’t quite help myself, regardless.” He looked at her with troubled eyes. “I am being disloyal in this. I freely admit it. My concern is outweighing my sense of duty, though.” Running his fingers through his hair and staring at the floor, he added, “My brain is reeling from the conflict.”

“Speak plainly, Father Willem. Papa,” she made herself say.

His gaze snapped to her face. “I don’t ask this as your father but as your subject. I want your advice and intervention as a hive matter.”

“Understood.” She sat straighter and schooled her expression to a neutral one, letting none of her affection for the man show in her face.

“Alex called a meeting this morning to discuss the Bran situation. This human politician that he works for has a camp to try to convince young men who are gay that they are really straight. It also serves as the homestead for the guy and his wife, as well as headquarters for his campaign. We think it may be where we can learn something useful to stop Bran without, you know, killing him outright. We try to keep a low profile on this world.”

“Yes, a very sensible idea.” For now.

She didn’t say that last part out loud. While she understood and applauded how her father and the others had tried to keep their existence on Earth a secret, in order to survive more easily, as Queen, her mandate was quite different. Eventually, humans would learn of them, once the hive was big enough to not only survive but potentially dominate. She was concerned that none of the men understood that in his twisted way Dracul had been right. As a more evolved species, their kind was destined to rule over humans. Her way of going about it quite simply had a better chance of succeeding. And, of course, it wasn’t to hurt the humans. There would be no subjugation. All would become clear, eventually. But not now. It was too early for that revelation.

“Anyway,” her father continued, “we decided to insert a human boy into the camp to see what he can learn. I think we should try using one of our hybrids, who are arriving shortly. One of them may be grown enough to pass for a human adult and be someone that can take care of himself. Bran wouldn’t recognize him, either, unlike anyone who was involved with the assault on Dracul’s castle. But I was overruled. The others don’t believe that even a hybrid could avoid detection by Bran, that only a human will do.”

Understanding came quickly. “They want to use Mr. Damien.”

Her father didn’t show any surprise. “Yes, I guess that’s obvious, isn’t it? He’s the only human of the right age that we’d be sure Bran didn’t know, because he wasn’t with us in Wales.”

“It’s also obvious because he’s the one you like, so naturally this plan bothers you.” She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. The idea of her father being smitten by the human was too marvelous. So romantic. It was the perfect solution to her worry that he might mourn Luuk for the rest of his life.

He reared back at her observation. “No, it’s not… I don’t… He and I aren’t—”

“You should be.” Putting Babette on the sofa, she slid off and over to her father. She plopped onto his lap, much the way Babette had on hers. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her and hold her close as he’d done for her entire life. There had been no lack of affection in her childhood, and her rapid approach to maturity didn’t change how much she loved being cuddled.

They sat there for long seconds, hugging, her father kissing the top of her head. “I love you so much that it’s almost a physical hurt. You are the center of my life, and that would be true even if you weren’t Queen.” He sighed. “It’s been hard since losing your papa. I wish you’d had more time with him, so that you could have known him better.”

Annika had very clear and wonderful memories of her human parent. He’d died when she’d been young, yet they’d spent a great deal of time together as he’d prepared for his end. ‘Take care of Willem. He’s going to need you when I’m gone, and eventually, he’ll rely on you to make hard decisions.’ “I have many memories of him and others that are yours that you’ve been kind enough to share with me.” She laid her head against his chest, so solid and secure. “And I believe he wouldn’t want you to be alone for the rest of your life.”

“You are my focus,” he said with a little squeeze for emphasis.

She leaned back to look him in the eyes. “I’m hardly Baby Idris. I don’t need constant care, and look at how Mr. Dafydd is with Dr. Ric. They love each other and find time to be together.”

But her father was shaking his head. “It’s different. They’re building a life together, and Ric knows about us and what Dafydd went through. There are no secrets between them. It’s still going to be long and difficult road for them, with no guarantees for success.”

She realized she had to be firmer with him. “And yet with all that to face, they are still trying. You are looking for excuses, reasons to deny yourself. You’ve always done that.” She grimaced. “I don’t like it. It doesn’t help me if you are unhappy.”

“I’m not!”

“All right,” she conceded. “It doesn’t help me if you are less happy than you could be.” She pressed forward. “I see the way you look at him, and I also see how he looks at you. You want each other.”

Her father ran his hand gently down the back of her head. “It’s not like in the movies you watch, sweetheart. Damien and I aren’t in love.”

“Oh, but it’s exactly like in the movies!” she exclaimed. Really, males could be ridiculous sometimes. “Remember in Frozen how Anna falls in love with the evil prince that she just met at the ball and everyone is telling her that it’s crazy? You need to get to know someone before you decide if it’s love and if you want to get married. You and Mr. Damien need to spend time together. That’s all.”

Now her father had a pained expression on his face. “My darling girl, it’s not the same…at all. Damien and I are, um, attracted to one another, yes. We both have certain physical needs that might be satisfied by engaging in…” He closed his eyes briefly. “How did our conversation end up here?”

“Oh, Father Willem, you are talking about sex.”

He winced. “God…”

“Why are you distressed? You’re the one who said I should come to you for explanations when I was ready.”

“Yeah, as an academic exercise. I am not going to discuss that with you in the context of my life.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because it’s embarrassing?”

“Huh.” Annika folded her arms, irritated at the way the discussion was going. “Does that mean that when I have questions about my eventual desire for males that I can’t talk to you?”

“No! I doesn’t mean that at all. I want you to always feel free to come to me with any questions or problems. Although, in this case, you might be better talking to a woman…like Kitty. She would understand better than I and she knows our secret—which is a really important point. Damien knows nothing of our true nature. I shouldn’t become personally involved with him because it risks exposing us.”

“The others have taken the humans into their confidences, like Ms. Kitty—and like you did with Papa.”

“It’s hard to do. You never know if they will be accepting or out you to the world.”

“And yet you did it once and it was worth the risk, wasn’t it?”

Her father’s eyes clouded with emotion. “Yes. Yes, it was.”

Clasping his face with her hands, she said. “Isn’t it time to take that risk again? We wouldn’t be here talking about your fears for Alex’s plan if you didn’t care for this boy.”

“You’re right, of course.” He took her hands in his and kissed both palms. “Going behind Alex’s back feels wrong, but I couldn’t resist the urge. That says something right there about how much in denial I am about Damien.”

“This isn’t a betrayal. I’m Queen. Talking to me is always the right thing to do. In this case, however, I defer to Alex. He knows far better than I what the proper course of action is in matters of conflict and aggression. I will learn, eventually. Not yet, though. I want to side with you because you are my father, but Alex has done a remarkable job of containing Dracul and his followers. He knows what he is doing.”

She got off his lap and stood before him. “You should go to him, tonight. Mr. Damien, I mean, not Alex.” She inwardly shook her head at the image of Alex’s hearing about Will’s concerns and his hopes that she would intervene. As honorable a drone as he was, he was going to have trouble accepting her supremacy. It was inevitable that they would clash, although she had no doubt that she would prevail. A thousand years on Earth wasn’t going to have altered far more millennia of evolution.

This wasn’t the time to focus on that problem, however. “Once I’m tucked into my pretty bed with Babette curled up beside me and I don’t need you anymore, go tell Mr. Damien how you feel, including your worries for him. I bet he will be extra careful to please you, because I am certain you matter to him.”

Father Willem took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You are a wise Queen.” He stood and held out his hand. “Shall we go down to dinner?”

She took it. “Yes, indeed. Come, Babette.”

There was more that she wanted to say but she decided to hold her tongue instead. She didn’t think her father was ready to hear the whole of the truth. He didn’t merely want the human. He was falling in love with him—and that was fine with her.