the hive queen

  The Veils Universe

  demonic messes (and other annoyances)

  book four

  L. L. Frost

  THE HIVE QUEEN

  Copyright © 2023 by L.L. Frost

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the writer, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by L.L. Frost

  Book design by L.L. Frost

  Printed in the United States of America.

  First Printing, 2023

  contents

  Mending Bridges

  Gold Stars

  Directing the Directionless

  Just Like Old Times

  Water & Fire

  Treasure Hunting

  Honey Not Home

  Nourish the Grumpy Bird

  Powerful & Mine

  Full and Bouncy

  Ticking

  Kick in the Ass

  The Trouble With Kids These Days

  The Beauty in Gray

  Monstrous Lady

  Home, But Not Home

  Squelch and Slurp

  Welcome Home

  Planning for the Future

  Lavoro Cane

  Falling Apart

  Night Rides

  Honey Seekers

  Thermos Full of Love

  Short Tempers

  The Honey Trap

  Team Up

  The Tower Ascent

  Walk it Off

  Reconciliations

  Change In Plans

  A Bargain for Darius of Fumontis

  Bottle and Boon

  War Party

  The Nest

  Evening News

  Coming Home

  Meaningful Sacrifice

  The Bone Man

  Also by L. L. Frost

  About the Author

  mending bridges

  - Pen -

  I stare hard at the man sitting on the other side of my desk.

  For several weeks, I avoided this meeting. But when I arrived at the office today, he’d been waiting in his sleek, black car and caught me before I could escape. Mr. Berdherst isn’t one to take no for an answer, it would seem.

  At forty-five, he holds himself with a sense of authority groomed into him from birth. He still has a full head of thick, chestnut hair, with more silver at his temples than he had before he began his campaign to run for mayor of Clearhelm. Whether it comes from stress or an expensive dye job, it only adds to his image of trustworthiness.

  Or so the headlines say.

  I keep my hands loosely clasped on top of my desk. “If you have issues with our findings, Mr. Berdherst, you are welcome to hire a different company to investigate your daughter’s death.”

  His lips tighten. “I’m aware that most groups who offer your specific skill set have links to your organization, Ms. Cay. I would only be hiring them to back up your claims.”

  “We’re all independent contractors,” I murmur. “Don’t make it sound like I’m some kind of mafia don.”

  “Aren’t you, though?” He studies me intently. “You’ve even worked your way in with the Joint Task Force of Paranormal Investigations, and you’ve taken over the Conservatory.”

  “Are you going somewhere with all these accusations, Mr. Berdherst?” I ask in a calm tone.

  “I’m going to be mayor, soon, and I can take Clearhelm in one of two directions, Ms. Cay.” He leans forward. “As ground zero for the revelation of the others, our city is on the cusp of change. I’m the perfect figurehead for advocacy for higher restrictions against Others. Demons kidnapped my daughter and killed her, after all.”

  A smug smile curls his lips. “What bigger sign is there that these creatures are dangerous and should not be given the same rights as humans? Or, one of these dangerous creatures can miraculously save my daughter, and Clearhelm can become a bastion for Others. A shelter against the storm. Neutral ground.”

  My stomach tightens. I don’t want a return to the time right after magic returned to the human plane, when Others were open game and killed before laws were put in place to protect them. We worked hard to get to where we are now in as short a time as possible in human history.

  “I’m a simple woman, Mr. Berdherst,” I murmur. “I need things said plainly.”

  He leans back in his chair. “I want my daughter returned to me.”

  Six months ago, Mrs. Berdherst sat in the same chair her husband sits in now and hired us to exorcize the demon DNA out of her half-demon daughter, knowing full well that doing so would kill the child. She preferred to be a grieving mother over having it discovered that she cheated on her husband, making their pre-martial agreement null and void.

  We did the job and got the kid to a safe place, covering up her disappearance by claiming she died in a demon raid.

  At the time, it was the easiest solution to remove the child from a dangerous situation. Since tears started opening in the veil, demon-raiding parties aren’t unheard of. Children aren’t a part of demon evolution, but they’re possible with the addition of witchblood.

  Groups of demons sometimes sneak over to the human plane and kidnap women they think have witchblood. Sometimes they take children, too, either because the long-lived races have a hard time understanding age or because they want to experience what it’s like to be parents.

  But pinning the death of a child on a random group of demons may have been a bad call on our part.

  I lean back in my chair. “Why?”

  He frowns. “What do you mean?”

  “Why do you want your daughter back so much?” I elaborate. “By all accounts, you were a neglectful father, and your wife only pulled your daughter out to dress her up for photo ops.”

  “Soon to be ex-wife,” he says tightly.

  I dip my head in acknowledgment. “Nevertheless, you didn’t care about your daughter before. What’s changed?”

  “I care about her.” Anger flushes his cheeks. “I might have gotten too involved in politics, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love my child.”

  “You’re diving even deeper into politics,” I point out. “Nothing has changed there.”

  “I know she’s not mine,” he says tightly. “Not biologically. Not on the DNA level. But I raised her, I read her stories at night, I kissed her skinned knees. She’s my daughter.”

  “Nannies raised her, and your wife isn’t the only one who had affairs.” I open a drawer in my desk and leaf through the file before pulling one out. “We do thorough investigations on everyone involved in cases we run, especially when there’s a child involved. Would you like to see our findings?”

  “I don’t need to be a perfect husband to love my daughter.” He pushes to his feet and stares down at me. “Think about what I said. Elections are in a few months.”

  As he strides toward the door, I call after him, “Why do you think your daughter is still alive?”

  He pauses at the door. “I received an anonymous tip.”

  “Those are notoriously unreliable.” I drum my fingers on the Berdherst folder. “One might question what the gain is for reuniting a non-biological father with a half-demon child before a big political election. If your daughter was still alive.”

  “You have my demand, Ms. Cay.” He strides out of my office.

  I wait a few seconds before standing and walking out to the main room, stopping at Meredith’s desk. Our secretary keeps her eyes on the monitor that covers the hall back to the fortuneteller’s shop that we use as a public front for our business.

  She used to run the front until we hired a few new people to pretend to tell fortunes, freeing up her precious time for the tasks we need her to focus on. She’s a whiz with computers and can hunt down pretty much anything we need. If technomancy was a real thing, I’d think she had computer chips in her blood.

  At last, she lifts blue eyes to meet mine, her expression grim. “Want me to put a hit out on him?”

  She had been listening in on my conversation with Mr. Berdherst and doesn’t take his threat any more kindly than I do.

  “No, not yet.” If I wanted him dead, I’d have already done it, then had Flint turn him into a zombie and drive his car off the nearest bridge. I lean against her desk. “But put a tap on his phone and dig into this anonymous source. I’d like to know who’s blabbing our secrets. And start looking for a new house for Lin and the kids. I don’t like the idea that they’ve been compromised.”

  “Already on it.” She grabs a notepad from her desk. “New case offers.”

  I skim the printout and groan. “Exploded dick girl again?”

  “She’s persistent.” Meredith grins. “She raised her offer, too.”

  “She must be having it rough in jail.” I skim down the rest of the list. “Why are we only getting ghost requests latel
y?”

  “Because you keep turning down the big cases to avoid a conflict with the JTFPI.” Her heavily lined eyes narrow. “If you’re not careful, Trent’s team will become the new go-to for all the good jobs.”

  Would that be such a bad thing? It’s not like we need the money, and I trust Trent’s team to keep protecting those who need protection. It’s been so long since we took a break from cleaning up other people’s messes.

  Maybe it’s time for the Cleaners to retire.

  “Send me the latest info on the dick explosion case, and I’ll take a look.” I turn to head back toward my office. “If it’s interesting, I’ll consider it.”

  “Ignite’s coming back for another tour and wants Marc on his detail again,” Meredith calls after me.

  A pang goes through me. “Talk to Marc about that.”

  “When?” Meredith demands. “He never picks up his phone.”

  “I’ll tell him to call you.” I stop at my office door and glance down the hall at Marc and Flint’s closed doors.

  They haven’t been coming to the office much, and when they do, it’s only to pick up gear before leaving again. In the wake of Darius’s death, we’ve become ghosts of our former selves.

  Flint has lost his spark to tease, and his temper snaps out like a hurt animal. He spends most of his days at the Conservatory now, and if he comes home, it’s when we’re either away from the cabin or already asleep.

  Marc, on the other hand, keeps taking long jobs that keep him out of Clearhelm, and when he’s home, he barely gets out of bed. He was always quiet before, preferring to allow his actions to speak for him, but now he almost never talks.

  Only Sharpe remains unchanged by Darius’s death. He doesn’t remember the ignis demon well enough to be affected by his absence, but he has problems of his own. His superiors didn’t like learning that Dr. Gillion, a person they vetted themselves, and Langley, a new recruit at the Woo Woo Squad, turned out to be shapeshifting imposters who slipped by undetected right under everyone’s noses.

  While Langley has been dealt with, Gillion—or Syl’vyn as she’s really known—snuck right out of what should have been an impregnable jail cell.

  It feels like every time we put out one fire, another flares to life, and Sharpe is left to take the heat as the Captain of the JTFPI.

  Sometimes I wonder if we should have left him alone to live this lifetime without us.

  We only make things worse for him.

  With a shake of my head, I return to my desk. I don’t really believe Sharpe’s life would be better if we had left him in the dark. Without the knowledge we’ve given him, he could very well have died a dozen ways by now.

  I wake my computer up and open my email, only to see a new message from my sire.

  Hesitating, I click to open it.

  To my dearest daughter, Merripen,

  I returned to that spot I last wrote to you about, and the flower was still there, along with three more. Is it not wonderful to see life returning to our world?

  I hope this bright spot will bring joy to your day.

  Yours eternally,

  Marius

  Below is an out-of-focus picture of a tiny cluster of golden flowers.

  A snort escapes me. He sent me the first email nearly a month ago, and two others after that, each time mourning that he hadn’t been able to get back to the Wasteland yet to check on the flower.

  Slowly, I move my cursor to the reply button and type out a response.

  It’s lovely.

  I hit send before I can second-guess myself.

  Losing Darius had been a wake-up call that even the long-lived races won’t always be around. I spent so many centuries being angry at my sire, while thinking there would always be time to reach out if I ever wanted to forgive him.

  But always isn’t a guarantee. Darius had proven that when he sacrificed himself to spare us. He went to his death thinking himself hated, and that’s something I can never undo.

  It’s time to set hate aside.

  The first step is to respond to my sire’s overtures. Then, we can see if there’s still a chance for us to be father and daughter again.

  The file I requested from Meredith pops up on my screen at the same time that my cell phone rings.

  I click to open the file as I answer my phone. “Pen speaking.”

  The muffled sound of sirens drifts through the speaker, almost drowning out Sharpe’s voice. “Hey, are you free? I’d like your opinion on a body we just found.”

  “Sure.” Glad for something worthwhile to do, I shut down my computer and grab my jacket. “Send me the location, and I’ll be right there.”

  “Get here fast.” He hangs up without waiting for a response.

  A moment later, my phone pings with an incoming text.

  It must be a bad scene for Sharpe to be so short on the phone. My thumb moves to dial Flint’s number before I turn off my phone instead and shove it into my pocket.

  There’s no reason to pull Flint away from the Conservatory unless someone is on the verge of dying. He can’t do anything for the dead after their souls are gone.

  “I have a case,” I tell Meredith as I pass her desk.

  She stands from her desk in surprise. “You’re taking on the dick exploder?”

  “No, Sharpe called me in on one of his.” I pull on my jacket and head toward the front door.

  “You’re only digging the hole deeper by playing the good guy!” she yells after me. “We’re going to lose all our business at this rate!”

  I lift a hand in acknowledgment but keep walking.

  Maybe what I need right now is to be a good guy.

  Maybe that will stop this ache in my heart from consuming me.

  gold stars

  - Sharpe -

  “I’m telling you to move your men out,” Captain Bailey barks in my face. “This is my jurisdiction, Sharpe. Don’t think that just because you weaseled your way into a new position that I don’t remember the snot-nosed kid you were in the academy!”

  I’ve known him since I first enrolled to become a police officer, then rose through the ranks to become a detective. I was an orphan with no memory of my life before age eighteen, and he felt it was his mission to toughen me up.

  Unfortunately for him, his tough love made me immune to his blustering.

  When I got transferred and worked directly under Captain Bailey, I lost all respect for him after I noticed unexplainable crimes being “solved”. I questioned it one too many times, which landed me in the basement, where he sent detectives to rot or quit.

  I did neither. Instead, I kept digging and kept taking on the shit cases no one else would touch.

  When I had my chance to be at the forefront of a case that would expose the paranormal element that hid among us, I brought together others like me who were immune to magic. We stood at the forefront of Others’ exposing themselves, and when the time came, I took the lead in the newly formed Joint Task Force of Paranormal Investigation.

  Captain Bailey has been grinding his teeth and getting in my way ever since.

  Ignoring him, I lift a hand to wave Detective Johannsson over. “Make sure no one gets any pictures. The last thing we need is this splashed all over the front page.”

  Captain Bailey steps into my line of sight, blocking my view of the bustle of activity going on in the parking garage. “I already have people on it.”

  This place is a PR nightmare. There are too many exposed sides and, while barricades are going up fast, the people who reported the body probably leaked it to the media before calling it in. Who knows how many photos were taken before we came onto the scene and started pushing people back?