The group clustered together in the square booths. Among the girls was Caroline, prim and prissy in a starched, black-and-white striped blouse, neatly buttoned to the collar. She was peppy with close friends, but uptight and reserved with newcomers.

  Sadie noticed a small fracture in her large round glasses. She must have broken them while trying to flee from school, she thought, and for the first time in her life, felt a connection with her.

  “What is she doing here?” asked Caroline, not even bothering to direct the question to Sadie.

  “Sister, she’s already presumed dead,” Jean-Luc interjected. He was Caroline’s older brother and the lone boy sitting with them at the table. He stared at Sadie momentarily, then added matter-of-factly, “She adds the element of surprise, and she has little to live for. Might as well incorporate her into our team.”

  “How generous of you,” Sadie sneered.

  Caroline expressed reserved assent with a brief nod. She leaned forward, a slim cigarette in hand, her projecting eyes studying Sadie’s apathetic expression, trying to decipher her true intent. Sadie widened her amber eyes at her through a haze of smoke. In an effort to break the rising tension, Mirva intervened with a question addressed to Jean-Luc:

  “How did you resist Miss Antonella’s spell, anyway?”

  “Matter of will,” he said curtly.

  Cynthia snorted derisively. “He probably didn’t interest her. He isn’t a man of much use.”

  Mirva and Cynthia bandied about, teasing him. “Or maybe he doesn’t like women…”

  “What does he like, then?”

  Jean-Luc cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “Our friends are likely being tormented by a monster, and you’re heckling the only man on the team?”

  Then Sadie spoke in a neutral tone. “If we know how you resisted her pheromones, it might help free the others.”

  “I have very particular tastes,” Jean-Luc said forcefully, bluntly pounding a closed fist on the table, ending the debate.

  Cynthia smirked. “Useless. I told you.” She spoke with the finality of one who has won an argument.

  “Enough tomfoolery,” voiced Caroline with great import. “Cynthia, how many perfume bottles were you able to bring?”

  “Just about twelve,” answered Cynthia.

  Mirva delicately reached for the small bottle of Chanel No. 5 and spritzed a few drops onto her palm. Then, beneath the steady gaze of Jean-Luc, she began to gently rub her outstretched neck with the fragrant liquid, releasing a soft scent of floral and aldehydic notes as her docile fingers glided toward the start of her cleavage.

  Turning to her companions, a mischievous smile played upon her lips as the sweet smell gracefully wafted through the room. “Shall we bathe together in this exquisite elixir and enchant the boys once more?”

  Caroline, observing the reaction of her brother behind her owl-rimmed glasses, felt nauseous at his captivation with her impishness.

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  “Please maintain some decorum,” scolded Caroline, clearly unamused by Mirva’s antics. She sighed loudly, releasing some pent-up frustration, then proceeded to explain the actual plan.

  “After the Queen’s final nuptial flight on the third of September, she will shed her wings and grow to astronomical proportions. I suggest we exploit this most opportune moment to target her lack of mobility and douse her with the perfumes. Since she controls her henchmen through instinct, covering her scent will trigger confused hostility in her armies, causing them to assault their own queen in their disoriented state.”

  Mirva suppressed a smile. “So your genius plan is to spray her with perfumes instead? As quaint as your words are, Carol, what if that renders her more appealing to her crowd?”

  “I doubt it,” mused Cynthia. “They are pretty disgusting and enjoy grottier things.”

  “We can send Sadie to drizzle her with the perfume,” Jean-Luc said. “No one suspects she ever uses them.”

  Sadie sank low in her chair, overwhelmed by the incredulous and comical turn their conversation had taken. She pressed her left hand against her slumbering face, fingers leaving imprints as they slid down, revealing her clenched jaw and exposing her lower teeth—a look of utter disappointment etched in her features.

  Caroline was brooding opposite her, her pensive eyes hidden behind the white glare of her glasses. “Imbeciles,” she grated between her teeth, as her entourage chortled.

  “Oblivious idiots,” she insisted with a harsher tone. Their giggles faded away when they felt the boiling intensity behind her words. “It is no laughing matter!” she erupted, leaning forward. “Everything and everyone you hold dear will be destroyed. Is there nothing of value in your lives?

  “While you are wasting time frolicking in the field of pleasantries, her armies have ascended to the skies, instilled with nothing but servitude for one cause. Do you not dread seeing your loved ones bound in chrysalis, eaten alive by damned insects? The menace may be inconspicuous now, but make no mistake. They are dead set on claiming the district in her name, and they will descend again to perform her will upon the earth.”

  She extinguished her cigarette on the wrinkled map—precisely where their neighborhood lay. The weight of her words settled upon the group like the pall of the cigarette butt on the map. Jean-Luc tried to calm his sister, but she persisted in her warning.

  “Brother, if you have any love for your sister, then heed my words—before we all come to regret our inaptitude in the face of an imminent threat.”

  Jean-Luc relented, removing his hand from her shoulder. Sadie listened attentively to every word that came from Caroline’s mouth and was impressed with her vehemence.

  “We’ve had our differences, Caroline,” Sadie said firmly, having developed a newfound respect for her. “I agree. It’s time for us to work together. We share the same fate.”

  “What’s the plan then?” inquired Cynthia.

  “Good. There is a fire station nearby—we must acquire their trucks by all means necessary. They’ll need some modding done, but nothing Jake the mechanic cannot handle. He’ll fill you in on the details of what he needs to get them up and running. It’ll be clearer once we get our hands on those red engines.

  “We will also need a chopper to serve as a diversion before we can intercept the killer queen in action. I am no pilot by any means, but I’ve taken a few flying lessons. I’ll be flying it alone so as not to put any of you at risk. Any objections? Jean-Luc, please share your latest findings.”

  “My studies of her movements have led me to conclude that Miss Antonella intends to make an immense display of authority after her final copulation. They have already erected a great sacrificial altar in the middle of the schoolyard and performed mock trials before their ascent.

  “Their flying multitudes will blot out the sun as they occupy our skies. We can only act after the final manifestation is concluded and they crawl on legs again. But we must intercept her convoy before she reaches school grounds, or Chris will be the victim of a parody ritual with some elements of the blood eagle.”

  “What in the bloody eagle is that?” inquired Cynthia.

  Sadie informed her in a low voice, “The blood eagle is an ancient ritual where the victim was placed in a prone position, their sides severed from the ribs down to the loins and separated from the backbone with a sharpened blade. The lungs would then be drawn out to create a pair of ‘wings,’ after which the victim suffers until they asphyxiate.”

  None dared to laugh after her gruesome description of a nearby reality.