The Lost Queen- Mercury's Heir Read online

  The Lost Queen

  Mercury’s Heir

  Copyright © 2019 by Delizhia D. Jenkins

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination and experiences or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  A Word From the Author

  There are not enough thank you’s for every person who has come along and joined me on this journey. This book was incredibly difficult for me to write, not because of the challenge of piecing together the overall conception of the story, but because this story is every bit and part of me. What you are reading is me. And what made this particular novel both a pain and pleasure to write, is I included the very old soul of my daughter, Summer. I hoped to share with you my greatest joy and my greatest creation…

  I want for you to see me.

  I wrote the Lost Queen towards the end of a cycle- a painful cycle I never thought I would recover from. And to be honest, I did not think that I would not only be unable to complete the story, I teetered on retiring my pen. However, as I continued to weave together this story founded on my undying belief in magic, the reminders from the readers (you guys) forced me out of that dark place and right where I need to be: in front of my laptop, losing myself in the worlds that I create and to the characters that call out to me.

  Thank you to everyone who has had read and continues to support my work. This journey has not been easy. Some of you have been with me during my extreme highs and there are those of you who still stuck it out during my lowest of lows. I appreciate each and every one of you… Kevin, Deb, Tracey, Jessica C., Jessica W., Lasasha… your friendship and your support is priceless. The universe always sends its best angels to help those struggling to earn their wings and because of you, I can fly.

  The Lost Queen was inspired by a dream I had one night. Shadowy entities of royal blue hues, speaking a tongue only my spirit knew. One of them had come forward, again speaking to me in a tongue foreign to my ears but familiar to my soul and he touched my forehead- between my eyebrows, directly upon my Third Eye – and in his language said something that forced me out of my sleep. To this day I cannot remember what he said to me, but I remember feeling a sense of purpose... I felt grounded. Connected. But connected to what? There is a fragment of memory encoded in my DNA that my spirit is struggling to remember and perhaps as I began the first few pages of The Lost Queen, just maybe it would all become clear.

  I hope you enjoy The Lost Queen. I hope that you lose yourself in this journey of becoming, awakening and discovery. I hope that you too will uncover that sense of self that had been buried by those that came before you. But I also hope that once you have reached the final page of this journey, that you leave a review.

  I’ve always said, “Find me in my books,” so go ahead and turn that page… I will see you in Chapter One.

  For the single mother who still believes in Magic…

  I see you sis…

  Magic. Melanin. Books.

  missjenkinsbooks.com

  The Lost Queen

  Prologue

  They say Mercury goes into retrograde four times a year. Four times a year there is panic, anxiety and chaos because according to astrologers, the god Mercury has some messages that a lot of us miss. So, despite all of this confusion, we are supposed to just look back at our lives, gain some perspective and then move forward.

  I have been missing his messages all my life. He tried to warn me that I was in danger. Visions. Impressions. Clues. And all that time I thought I was just losing my grip on reality, when in all actuality, I had been on the run and didn’t know it. How could one woman possess the power of a kingdom in her blood?

  I am a descendant of Mercury. As a matter of fact, my daughter and I are his only descendants-his heirs actually. Mercury now rules from the spirit realm, influencing the world in which we see and the worlds we do not see. His world, which is now my world, is dying. It needs his magic in order to sustain itself and to give power to its people. And that is where I come in.

  ****

  Ducking behind the protective covering of a red brick building, I shove my daughter behind me as our protector rounds the corner, unloading an entire clip at our attackers. Her silent tears remind me that our life would have been much better had I never discovered what I am.

  What my daughter is.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  I cup her mouth with my hand while trying to stifle my own scream. This has been our life for the last three days. Running. Hiding. Near misses. According to our guardian, we just have to make it out of the city, and then that should put enough space between us and “them” that will allow us time to gather resources and to push forward. That’s all he told me.

  Pop! Pop!

  My daughter covers her ears, and I silently pray that all of this will end soon. I wish I could go back to my life as a regular thirty-two-year-old mother who listened to Justin Bieber in the car as she drove her eleven-year-old to school every morning. Three days ago, everything was fine in my world until I received the results from 123DNA. The moment I opened the package, unsure of what to make of the results, something told me not to answer the phone, but I did. And that’s when all that I knew about myself and my world came to a screeching halt.

  I’m shaken from my thoughts when our Guardian yanks me by the arm and forces us to move forward. We race through the underground parking lot, bypassing and knocking over metal trash cans, my child nearly losing her footing along the way, only to slide into the backseat of a silver Mustang. The driver, a gorgeous dark-skinned woman turns to face us, offering a strained but reassuring smile. She nods at our Guardian, who grunts something in a language I have never heard before but sounds like an interesting combination of Spanish and French, and we skirt off.

  “Sit back and fasten your seatbelts,” she growls, her eyes glued to the road ahead of her.

  Summer and I do what we’re told, but she leans in closer to me and lays her head on my shoulder. I kiss the top of her head. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her, even though in this moment, I am not sure I believe it myself.

  “Okay,” she whimpers as she closes her eyes.

  At this point, I have no idea where we are going, or if we are going to survive long enough to make it to our destination. What I do know is that anything you want to know about someone is hidden in their blood. Everything. And never ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers to. Because right now, as I sit in the back of this fully loaded Mustang, I really wish that I had never asked, “Who am I?”

  I never thought I would truly find out.

  Chapter One

  Destiny

  “Moooooooooooooooommmmmm!” Summer calls out from the couch that has become her throne for the last three hours with Disney programmed on repeat.

  “What Summer?” I shout from the bathroom. Armed with a toilet brush and my hair tied back in a messy bun, wrapped in a scarf, I am ready to scrub every nook and cranny in my first-floor bathroom.

  “I can’t find the remote!” She yells back.

  Lord help me. I sigh and drop the toilet brush on the floor near the side of the tub and move swiftly to the living room to address the issue. I swear this child irks my soul sometimes. I love her to the moon and back, but dammit. I survey the mess that surrounds my very unorganized child. Dolls and their accessories litter the floor. The comb and brush that is supposed to be for OUR hair is stuck in between the couch pillows; empty Capri Suns sit on top of the glass table that I’d scrimped and saved to buy.

  I think I am about to lose it.
>
  “First of all,” I say, summoning calm. “You need to clean this mess up. I told you to stop leaving your crap all over the house! That’s why you can never find nothing! You’ve been in here for how long now?”

  Summer lowers her large brown eyes to the ground and mumbles, “Sorry mom. I will clean it up.”

  I sigh. “Good. The remote should be around where you are sitting. I’m sure it didn’t sprout legs and walk away.”

  Summer searches around where she is seated while I turn to head back into the bathroom to complete my mission. Being a single mother is no walk in the park. I walked away from her father shortly after she entered the third grade. Between his gambling, the lies, and constant excuses for why he couldn’t or better yet wouldn’t be the man that I needed him to be, I just had enough. The last I’d heard of him; he had moved into a two-story flat with his new wife and infant son. Summer hardly ever hears from him except for the occasional holiday. As terrible as all of this is, everything has worked out for us. I work for a law firm that not only trained me to be a legal assistant, but also pays me well and provides amazing benefits. Next spring, I plan to enroll at Cal State Los Angeles to finish my degree in Psychology.

  Progress. That is all I care about at this point.

  I step back into our spacious bathroom and start rummaging under the sink for the Pine-sol when I sense the presence of my child looming behind me. I quickly straighten my spine and look down at her. In her hand she is holding a piece of paper while wearing a sly grin.

  “I forgot to tell you I have a report to do,” she says quickly.

  I sigh again. “When is it due?”

  “In six weeks,” She tells me. “It’s Cultural Month at school, and I am supposed to do a genealogy report on my family.”

  I frown as I accept the paper that details the instructions and expectations of the report. “But you’re only in the fifth grade!” I protest.

  Summer shrugs. “That’s what I’m supposed to do…”

  “Summer, unfortunately there isn’t much info on our family…most of us African Americans have lost our history sweetheart. There isn’t much I can tell you about either side of your family.”

  Summer’s eyes widen and I notice the panic seeping in, but she says nothing.

  I exhale sharply. “We can do some digging. I will call your grandmother and see what she has to say. There is also this gene testing kit I heard about. It’s like three hundred bucks but I suppose we can use that to give us a starting point. I’ve been pretty curious myself to see what we have lying dormant in our gene pool. Who knows? We could be direct descendants of famous rulers or explorers.”

  “That would be cool…” Summer says, her smile returning to her honey brown face. “What if we find out that we are related to Cleopatra?”

  “Or Nefertiti,” I add. “Then you have bragging rights at school. You could say you are the descendant of a Queen.”

  Summer giggled and disappeared back into the living room, her ponytails bouncing along as she skipped.

  I shake my head and turn to face the toilet that faced me. “Alright,” I announce snapping on a pair of thick yellow rubber gloves. “Let’s do this.”

  ****

  Six Weeks Earlier…

  Peering out over the balcony that overlooked the city streets, way above the skyline, an entity with more scars from battles won than he could ever count, wiped his sword clean. Time would not be merciful, and neither would he. He’d already been through enough just to make it into the states, slipping passed the overzealous detailed security and blending in with the normal human populations. He could sense his target’s energy. Here in the city of Los Angeles, her signature was strong and after several months of trying to pinpoint her exact location, he was relieved that the search was almost over. His partners were out trolling the streets in search of rebel loyalists who sought the current Queen’s favor. They were scheduled to return shortly and by sunset they would be out of this less than habitable two-bedroom, 2500 square foot hell hole – also known as an apartment – that faced the hills in an area that humans considered high class.

  This was by no means luxury.

  Plain white walls, beige carpeting made from materials Demetrius found questionable, a hard wood floor kitchen with stainless steel appliances were nothing. In his world, this would be considered poverty. And here he was—a decorated soldier and leading male of a founding family from one of the five original bloodlines—sent on a mission in a world vastly different from his own, to find what was once considered lost in a sea of filth, decadency and depravity. How fitting.

  He pushed back his thick jet black locs and cursed. His people would surely thank him for this. Once they knew that the rightful heir had been located and restored to power, he could return to his own tribe and live the life of a respected king- that is if everything went according to plan. But if he failed…the consequences would be dire, and for him, lethal. Quickly, he returned his sword to its sheath that rested against the wall near the glass sliding door and then slipped inside the apartment. His stomach rumbled, demanding that he refocus his attention on the low-grade freezer, A.K.A the refrigerator and find something to eat.

  Scowling, he stalked over to the fridge, dreading the food options and wondering how humans survived on such awful choices. Most of their food was processed, bioengineered or chemically manipulated in some way. Did humans even eat what grew from the earth? Staring at the scarce remains of last night’s dinner which included: baked chicken, a mixture of cooked vegetables, and bread rolls, he closed the door of the fridge, deciding he will eat later when the options were better.

  He should have never fired that human cook.

  “Greetings Demetrius!” Agatha announced as the front door swung open. His mother Tani’ya’s most prized strategist for their region sauntered in with the rest of the members of this ragtag team. Her silvery blonde hair was swept into a long thick braid she kept pulled over one shoulder, with a shoulder cannon resting proudly against the other.

  “How many times have I told you that you cannot roam the human streets with your weapons on display? You are going to draw unwanted attention on us Agatha!” Demetrius scolded with a frown.

  “Relax,” She said quickly, gingerly setting the weapon in a corner by the door like it was just a regular house plant. “No one saw us. I made sure of that.”

  Demetrius cursed. “You know who I am talking about.”

  Agatha shrugged as she carelessly plopped on the black sectional and crossed her legs. “We are ahead of them. Besides, I think we will locate her before Karrine’s minions cross the light border.”

  “While we were out, I managed to intercept some human technology,” Cecilia, Demetrius’ younger sister and weapons expert added as she rounded the sectional where Agatha sat. “Karrine is only one of many who are looking for genetic markers. A heavily guarded lab in an area north and about six hundred miles outside of the California border is researching human DNA.” She shared a concerned glance with Demetrius. “What are we going to do if the humans discover the gene?”

  “She’s remained hidden in this realm for this long,” Thaddeus added, crossing his arms over his thick chest. “Think about it: she lived her life as a human which means she has been to countless doctor visits where vials upon vials of blood have been drawn. If they haven’t picked up anything by now, I don’t see them discovering anything before we get to her.”

  “That’s because they wouldn’t know what to look for,” Cecilia pressed. “But there are those who do…”

  “Her energy is thick in this city,” Demetrius announced. “She is close. We just have to keep looking.”

  “Stop worrying Demetrius,” Agatha said holding his gaze. “We promised our people that we will not fail; and fail we shall not.”

  “Karrine has grown to powerful. But as a result, Mercuria may not last much longer,” Demetrius said shaking his head. “If we don’t find this woman-”

  “Don’t even say
it,” Cecilia interrupted. “Balance will be restored. All will be well.”

  “Hope you are right dear sister,” Demetrius sighed. “I really hope that you are right.”

  Chapter Two

  Destiny

  The headaches have returned.

  Dropping my daughter off at school and maneuvering through two hours of traffic did not help either. But for a while, the headaches had disappeared. I was off meds. I changed my diet, and made a complete three sixty, following the doctor’s orders to the tee. For six months I had a handle on the nausea, vomiting; blurred vision, and pain that would leave me bedridden and weak for days on end. I pop two Tylenol codeines after successfully parallel parking in front of the agency in which I work. I already know I am going to pull a half-day – if that. I wince as another wave of pain slices through my frontal lobe.

  And then, there are the nightmares. Visions.

  Seated high above the mountainous caverns I am surrounded by a bright white light overlooking a majestic city. In my right hand, I carry a staff made from the wood of an ancient tree, the head sharpened with the accuracy of a blade. In my left palm rests a blue flame that feels as familiar to me as the very sound of my name. The wind carries with it in the breeze the chants of a language spoken from a time of long ago, and just as I begin to understand with clarity, the ground opens beneath me and I plummet.

  I lose my staff, as the blue flame that had burned brightly in my palm disappears. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound escapes. And then I see her face… creamy café au lait skin, dark brown eyes burning with rage…with hatred-for me. On her head, she wears a silver crown, adorned with seven gems. Seven gems. Seven clans. Seven...

  I snap out of the vision as the pain begins to subside. Beads of sweat formed on my brow, threatening to ruin the forty-five minutes of dedicated foundation, mascara, and eye liner. Suddenly my mouth feels dry and my palms tingle with an unfamiliar sensation. Should I even go to work today?