by R Phoenix
“I don’t give a shit.” Kolt hissed, pushing the drink back at him. “I’m sure someone needs to have their face bashed in for something harmless. Go be there, not here.”
“Watch it,” Gideon warned, ignoring the drink. “I’m trying to help you.” Even to the point of dealing with that asshole Ackerman, which was not exactly fun.
“Watch what?” Kolt challenged, immediately hot and angry. “What the fuck have you done for me that wasn’t just for your own fucking benefit to cozy up with Leandro?” the incubus asked, staring him straight in the eye.
Gideon laughed, but it was a harsh sound. “Oh, I don’t know. Lately? Maybe arranging a certain meeting. Maybe going to another. Maybe trying to get a copy of your contract. Take your pick,” he snapped, finding himself pissed off that all his care over the years — and especially of late — had apparently gone completely unnoticed.
“Yeah, you sent some guy to the toilet with me, and you fucking sucked at it too. What do you want? Your cock sucked, like everyone else?” Kolt scowled, tucking the short hair behind his ear. He looked practically feral when he met Gideon’s eyes. “Fuck. Off. Gideon,”
The words, surprisingly, hurt, and he snapped back against better judgment, “If I wanted you to suck my cock, you’d have done it by now.”
“Spoken like a class act rapist,” Kolt said. As hot and angry as he’d sounded before, now he was cold and hard edged again, and he even sat up a little straighter.
Gideon recoiled as though Kolt had slapped him. “When have I ever touched you against your will?” he asked, forcing his voice to remain even despite the fact that he wanted to throw something.
“Plenty!” Kolt responded, bristling and getting up from his seat, leaving the drink untouched.
“Kolt. Please stop.” His voice was ragged as he spoke, and though he took a step toward him, he didn’t try to grab him. “Talk to me.”
Kolt stopped, practically dead in his tracks, looking up at him. He’d expected the usual defiance even as he complied, which was such a signature for Kolt. What he got was something between wild and murderous instead.
“As if you didn’t drag me to Leandro, or to the next asshole that wanted a spin on Leandro’s incubus, as if you never ordered me around like a dog. Just because you didn’t try to fuck me, you think you’re so different,” Kolt said in a deadly quiet voice. “Why care now, hmm?” The question sounded practically sweet, sending a chill down his spine.
Something was very, very fucking wrong. He had been angry before, but Kolt had never been this erratic, or this hostile and confrontational.
“Because I thought you wanted it before. I was wrong,” Gideon said. “Is this what you want? Finally get someone to listen to you and realize what’s really going on, try to help you, and then refuse to let them?” He took a step toward Kolt, careful and still keeping some distance, but not so much that he couldn’t speak in more hushed tones.
Kolt recoiled from him far more dramatically than the situation called for. Gideon cast a quick glance around, not wanting to draw too much attention even though things seemed to be getting out of hand.
“You weren’t there!” Kolt snarled — loudly, no conspiring tones at all. “I needed you, and you weren’t fucking there!” He stepped forward, shoving him hard.
Something inside of him threatened to crack. He didn’t even know what he’d failed at, didn’t even know what had happened beyond the fact that Leandro had gotten pissed the fuck off. Again!
Gideon gently but firmly grasped Kolt’s wrists, and he felt the bracelet beneath his fingertips. He might’ve been a little slow sometimes, but…
He had a terrible, sinking suspicion in the pit of his stomach. Kolt’s hands flexed strangely, but he didn’t really pull away as Gideon had thought he might. He steadied the incubus then released his wrists just as gently.
“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to convey just how sincere he was. Oh, God, he didn’t want to believe Leandro would do something like this. “Let’s talk,” he went on, as quietly, as soothingly as he could manage — which wasn’t very good, for all that the attempt was genuine enough. He searched through visions of what could happen, trying to find a future that didn’t lead to the situation getting worse. There weren’t many, but he had to at least try. “When was the last time you were able to feed?” he asked, his voice flat to his own ears.
Kolt laughed, but it wasn’t funny at all. None of it was. “He doesn’t care. Why are you so concerned? Don’t you know he’s fae, better than any god?” Kolt asked sardonically, turning to leave once more.
“I’m. Not. Him,” Gideon hissed through clenched teeth. But wasn’t he? He didn’t exactly try to stop the fae… but then, it wasn’t like Leandro often violated the basic principles the nephilim personally lived by, the few rules he didn’t stray from…
In the end, he didn’t try to stop Kolt either, left with a bitter taste and an even worse feeling in the pit of his stomach. Kolt was not well, and he wasn’t sure if Leandro even wanted to see it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Maybe he’d lied a little bit when he’d finally invited Emma for that drink he’d mentioned. She’d agreed, probably only because it was already after dark and they were both still pathetically at the office while everyone else had fucked off to their respective social lives.
“Nice job,” Emma said in the silence that stretched between her agreeing to go for a drink with him and getting to the car. “You know, on finding that jinn out by the docks,” she clarified. It was high praise from her, even if he hadn’t really done much.
He’d nudged the investigation a little and gotten more hands on than most of the field agents had wanted to be for fear of exposing the fae world. Bryce, on the other hand, didn’t give a fuck. If people complained about his weird questions, he would just say he had been drunk.
“It was all right,” he said absently as he drove to the casino. This was a bad fucking idea.
“What… are we doing?” Emma asked slowly, clueing in faster than he’d hoped about where they’re going.
“I just—” He drew in a breath. “I want a fresh pair of eyes. Basically,” he said and frowned. “If we can’t help then… okay, but I need to try. I made him a promise, and you’ve been at this longer than I have. Maybe you can see something. Like probable cause, basically,” he said, glancing at her. “Don’t be mad.”
Emma gave him the look she normally reserved for the people who interrupted her coffee break. “You’re a hell of a romantic, Ackerman,” she said. “Here I was, expecting a nice drink and a dance.” A sardonic smile quirked at the corner of her lips. “We’ll see, but you owe me for this. Big.”
“What? I’ll still get you that drink.” he promised as if that wasn’t going to be a work write-off, and it totally was the romantic gesture both of them knew it wasn’t.
He turned into the parking lot, where the lights of the casino shone bright enough that the whole lot didn’t need additional street lights.
“Speaking of romantic,” Bryce said, pulling into an empty spot near the door. “You know I fucked him, right? I mean, before all of this, and before I even knew about wood-nymphs and dire wolves.” So obviously, it didn’t count. He just wanted it out in the open.
“This is all sorts of fucked up,” Emma muttered, glancing at the entrance. “You know this is a terrible idea, right?” She fidgeted, though she tried to cover it up, pulling at the hem of her shirt.
“I’m aware,” he said. “But that’s kind of my thing. You don’t have to. I could drive you home,” he offered, even though he knew it was weak, and too little too late now that they were already in front of the casino.
“Let’s get it over with.” She opened the car door, getting out and shutting it a little too hard.
Bryce was pleased, and he smirked slightly at her sudden change in attitude. Maybe she should get out in the field more. It would be good for her confidence as a cop, rather than only an analyst.
He follo
wed her, catching up quickly as she moved inside. It wasn’t terribly busy, not even on the slots, which might make this an even worse idea. They should’ve gone on a Saturday, not early on a Sunday.
“It’s quiet,” he noted.
“It’s a glamour,” Emma said matter of-factly and gestured at the lounge. “That mind-blowing timey-wimey thing you mentioned?” she added. “It starts there.”
Bryce glanced at her, not sure how she knew this, but happy to accept it. Without giving her too much time to think this plan all the way through, he escorted her into the lounge. It was busier there than it had looked — not packed, but definitely crowded.
Emma had been right about all of this being hidden to make the place look more like a normal casino, early on a Sunday. In the lounge, there was the humdrum of several dozen people, the music playing, and the sounds of the roulette table, of dice clattering, of people cheering at wins, and bemoaning losses, the slide of chips as bets were placed.
Through it all — probably just the placebo effect of knowing he was inside a glamour spell — he could hear a sort of buzzing. It was like static electricity in the air, which Bryce assumed had to be some sort of magic, even though he’d been told it wasn’t in his scope of perception. He didn’t like the idea of that, and this suited him better, placebo or not.
He took Emma straight to one of the couches to the right of the bar. He didn’t like being cornered, but he didn’t want to draw attention to them. Leandro would undoubtedly find out he’d been there, but Bryce wanted to be gone before he did.
“Okay. Drink?” Bryce offered Emma as he slid onto the couch, looking up at the room at large.
Emma paused, her eyes scanning the room. She sat down on the couch next to him but not near him. “Yeah. I don’t care what, as long as it isn’t fruity.” She kept looking around, like she was searching for something.
“Okay.” He hit the button for service on the table. “What are you looking for?” he continued without missing a beat, following her gaze, or trying to.
“Who,” Emma corrected him. “I have a few connections who are regulars here.” The answer was a little too smooth, but she didn’t seem keen on elaborating — which was exactly why he would need to know now.
He was interrupted by the waitress before he could badger her for answers. The waitress was skinny, dark-haired, and pale as hell, reminding him of Snow White somehow.
“Ehm… Gin and tonic, for her, and I’ll have a… cranberry juice,” he decided slowly, somehow not finding it a wise idea to booze up in this particular casino. Not again. He smiled at her as she took down the order and left them.
“At least you learned something,” Emma remarked tartly.
He didn’t care for the reminder of not only what had happened, but of the fact that news traveled fucking fast at the Organization. “So who are you looking for then?” he asked instead to get the attention off of him.
Emma shook her head. “That’s not why we’re here,” she replied. “What do you want me to do here?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted, as he drew in a deep breath and held it. “But I think you’ll know when you find it,” he said dryly, offering her a small smile. “Flex those field work muscles, find that gut feeling of a detective,” he added, waxing a little too poetic, perhaps.
“Right,” Emma said. She didn’t sound convinced, but as long as she stuck around, it didn’t really matter.
“Not the kind of gut feeling you normally get here, is it?” someone said, while their drinks were placed on the table before them.
Bryce looked up, a little taken aback, only to do a double take when he realized it was Kolt holding the waitress’ tray. The incubus’ hip was cocked out as he slammed the cranberry juice down in front of him with more force than was necessary, sloshing the drink over the edge.
“Kolt,” Bryce said, and cast an immediate look around the room for the fae that had threatened his balls.
“He’s in a meeting, so you don’t need to worry about him,” Kolt said sharply, and he sounded very offensive somehow.
“Kolt, this is Emma. Emma, this is Kolt,” he introduced, even though he wasn’t sure why. It felt like the thing to do, he supposed.
“Kolt is the—”
“Fucktoy,” Kolt cut in shortly, “that he fucked, and then wanted so badly that he tried to steal me away right from under my master’s fucking nose.”
Now Bryce was really starting to wonder what the incubus was trying to accomplish. Was he just trying to make him look bad?
“That’s not quite—” Bryce started, but Kolt’s laugh made him pause.
“Right, because you’re fucking impotent,” the incubus said sharply. “Not so much in bed, but everywhere else, you can’t fucking do it, for all your little fucking promises, and getting my goddamn hopes up.” The last words came out in a sharp hiss as Kolt leaned closer, placing the tray on the table as he did.
“It’s not for lack of trying,” Emma remarked, her voice almost mild despite Kolt’s hostility and how taken aback Bryce was. Kolt’s attention shifted to her. She took her own glass and sipped from it, looking between them. “You know how the fae are, Kolt. Bryce was — is — too green to understand how much time these things take. I’m sorry he misled you, but we are looking into it.”
“I’m not that green,” Bryce said. “Nor did I mislead you. I mean… not intentionally.”
“Just more Organization bullshit,” Kolt said shortly. “You were in here. There was a raid, you could’ve just—” he snapped hotly, but broke off. “Doesn’t matter though,” he said with a bitter, brittle smirk. “I can take care of myself.”
“Of course you can,” Bryce said with an understanding nod. “What happened since we last spoke, Kolt?” he asked, making eye contact with the incubus and not letting him escape it.
“Nothing.” Kolt said.
Bryce smirked. “Why did you cut your hair?” he continued to ask. The beautiful blond hair was only barely sticking in the ponytail now, where before it had been in a braid down to the middle of the incubus’ back.
“I wanted to,” Kolt lied again.
Bryce’s smirk softened a little.
Emma sat up straighter, her eyes keen on the incubus. “Your energy levels are dangerously low,” she said, her voice almost inaudible over the din. She held out her hand, gesturing to the bracelet on the incubus’ wrist. “May I?”
Kolt yanked his hand away as if she’d burnt him, and he scowled.
Bryce shot her a look. What the fuck was she doing?
“Fuck off, cunt,” the incubus hissed darkly.
“Kolt, what the fuck,” Bryce snapped. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m working as fast as I can here, but without—”
“Just shut up. You’ve done enough damage here as it is.” Kolt’s eyes darted back to Emma, and Bryce ground his teeth.
“I never meant to cause you trouble,” he tried to amend.
“Of course not.” Kolt laughed. “But you’re too fucking self-centered to realize when you’re causing shit for other people, pushing Leandro like you do. Just fuck off. I don’t want your help anymore.”
“I can take that off of you,” Emma cut in. Her face was a little paler than usual, her voice cracking partway through the words. “If you want me to. If you’ll let me.”
Bryce wasn’t sure what was going on, but he sat up a little straighter as the tension in the space between them seemed to rise more. Kolt glared at her, moving the hand she’d been trying to get to behind his back.
“Let her see it, Kolt,” Bryce urged calmly. “Please?”
Kolt continued to glare, even going so far as to bare his teeth at the both of them — though mostly at Emma. “It’s mine,” he said, his voice quiet but intense, before he took a step back and away from the table.
“I won’t take it,” Emma said, her voice remaining calm.
“I’ll tell him you’re here,” Kolt said. “I’m sure he’ll love being interrupted by the likes of Organizati
on agents in his casino,” the incubus’ glare shifted to him, “and his favorite detective, making eyes at his pet incubus. Again.”
“You really want him to provoke a fae?” Emma asked.
“If it gets rid of the two of you,” Kolt said grimly.
“We’ll go,” Bryce said, pulling his wallet out of his pocket, and putting a note down on the table for the drinks. “Just relax, okay?” he tried to ease the incubus while getting up, but it only made Kolt jerk backwards, away from the both of them.
Emma followed Bryce’s lead, slowly. “Just remember,” she said, easing back around and putting as much distance between herself and Kolt as she could. “You aren’t alone. If you change your mind, I’m easy to find.”
Kolt glared at them, but Bryce acted casual, gesturing for Emma to follow him, and heading out the door without looking back at Kolt. It seemed unwise.
They walked in silence until they got outside, and Emma shook her head once the door closed. “There are reasons I opted out of specializing in hostage negotiation,” she muttered. She glanced aside at Bryce. “What the fuck happened?” she demanded. “I thought he wanted help. I thought he wanted out.”
“He did,” Bryce said. “I don’t know what’s up. He’s not usually like this. I think, I don’t know, the twat mentioned something,” he muttered. “About something happening with Leandro, but it doesn't make sense. Why doesn’t he just—” Leave.
Emma stalked toward the car, looking like a cat that had just been doused in water. “About what happening with Leandro?” she asked as she rested her hand on the car handle.
“I don’t know,” he repeated irritably. “No one wants to fucking talk because I work for a fucking totalitarian agency that wants to fuck up the lives of otherkin.” He angrily hit the unlock button on the car key. “So I’m left knowing something isn’t fucking right, and not able to sort out what.”
Emma opened the door and slid into the car. “That bracelet is bad news, Bryce,” she said slowly once both car doors slammed shut behind them. “I recognize the handiwork.”
