by Lia Black
It was black outside. He glanced up at the clock, seeing that it was only a little after nine. No sense in staying up for the sake of boredom. He grabbed his cigarettes and headed out onto the fire-escape he used as a balcony to have a smoke before bed and tend to his plants.
Greenery was a rarity since the war, at least in the city settlements. There were probably still a few forests left in the open spaces, but anyone crazy enough to venture into them would never be seen again. It was hard to fathom that human beings once covered the entire map, or that the map extended past the lands they occupied now. Now they lived in protected pockets, spared from the environmental nightmare their forefathers had made of the land and the oceans. Derek had never felt the desire to venture outside of Shorebank. It was one of the larger city settlements, with a bigger population of humans, which is why there was an actual human police force. The other settlements, from what he understood, had a Variant military presence to keep things in line—especially if the government was human. Being so far apart, the settlements did not exist under a common set of laws, and the farther outside Clan rules they went, the less protected from the dangers outside their walls they became. As much as he resented the Clan, he’d rather not have to worry about being killed in his sleep by a wandering toxic fog, or some mutated giant insect that would crack open his hastily-built shelter and swallow him whole. Although he entertained thoughts of leaving sometimes, he had no idea where he’d go.
Derek gently tugged free a brown leaf from his tomato vine, crushing it and feeding it back into the soil. His family had always grown some of their own produce. While the rest of the humans were content to eat vegetables from a can, Derek found that nothing made the prefab crap more palatable than having some fresh greens and tomatoes on the side. In a day or two, he’d have some; maybe he would start substituting them for the vending machine crap he ate for lunch. Tending to his little garden soothed him, and soon he felt relaxed enough to head back inside and try to get some sleep.
CHAPTER SIX
Derek sat in his car for a few minutes, finishing his cigarette before getting out and heading into the Bentley Hotel. He hated this place and hoped Perrine found a real apartment soon. Derek had too many bad memories of this place. People died or were killed here all the time. He and Marc had been sent here as part of an official routine: take statements, interview witnesses, and wait for the medical examiner to pronounce the official cause of death.
The deceased were almost always human junkies. Some died of drug overdose, some were killed by their domestic partners during an argument about drugs, and some were suicides. The suicides were always the hardest ones to deal with for Derek, and there were far too many of them. He used to see the victims as being weak, but maybe they just had more insight into their own futures and were tired of suffering towards that end. He’d certainly contemplated taking his own life after Marc was gone.
He was about to fling his cigarette butt into the gutter but stopped and crushed it out against the wall instead, tossing the remains into the trashcan in the hotel lobby. He’d never noticed until Perrine had pointed it out but yeah, the streets were always full of garbage. No sense in adding to the mess.
The clerk was dozing behind the counter with some noise disguised as music blaring from the radio beside his head. Derek offered him a wave as he went by, heading up to Perrine’s room. He hesitated before knocking at the door. It was early— about seven a.m.— so the rest of the inhabitants were fairly quiet save for the occasional loud snore or sound of baby fussing from a room down the hall. He wasn’t certain what was lingering behind Perrine’s door, or if he’d even remembered about their appointment this morning. Derek would have called him, or paged him rather, but Perrine had rushed him out last night before he’d gotten the chance to get his number.
Derek blew out a long breath and knocked on the door, tilting his head to listen for movement from within. Just about the time he was getting ready to knock again, there was a rattling of locks being disengaged and the door opened to the male prostitute—hastily dressed, and a little rumpled from sleep.
“Hey man,” the guy said with a dopey, crooked smile. “What the hell time is it?”
“Seven—in the morning,” Derek clarified, stepping inside the room and quietly closing the door. Derek gave the gigolo a quick once-over. He’d pulled his T-shirt on inside-out, his pants were undone, and his hair was a mess of bed-head. There was no indication that he’d been hurt at all.
The room smelled like sex but there was another fragrance underneath —a little more like vanilla, or something warm and sleepy. A spark of something like envy flared up inside of him. It had been too long since Derek had slept with anybody. One-time hook-ups didn’t appeal to him anymore. Obviously, that wasn’t a problem for his new partner, despite him being a Variant.
He might not have noticed Perrine twisted in the sheets on the bed if the prostitute hadn’t leaned across it to mumble something to him. He heard Perrine mumble something back and he waved his hand towards the night stand. The kid picked up the credit chips lying there and leaned over to kiss Perrine on the cheek, then got up and finished getting dressed, not bothering to right his shirt.
“He’s all yours,” the kid said with a grin as he pulled his jacket on. “You know, if you ever want a two-for-one deal, I can work something out.”
For maybe half a second Derek considered it as his mind stumbled into a fantasy of watching someone unwind the tightly wound Kayle Perrine, but he shook his head. “Thanks, I’ll pass for now.”
“Okay, your loss…or maybe not. You’d better hit that as hard and often as you can or some lucky man is gonna take it from you.” The guy jerked his head towards the lump on the bed, winking at Derek.
“How do you know I haven’t already had it?”
“Because if you had,” the escort said, “you wouldn’t have let me in the door. Laters.” The prostitute put on his shoes and grabbed his bag, combing his fingers through his messy hair as he walked out the door, leaving Derek alone with Perrine.
Derek repeated the breathing exercise he’d done outside the door before removing his shoes and crossing the room to sit in one of the chairs at the table. “Hey, sleeping beauty, get up.” He nudged the edge of the mattress with his foot. The fragrance rising from the sheets made Derek feel drowsy, like the only thing he wanted to do was to snuggle up against Perrine and go to sleep. Yeah, not happening. “Get up or I’ll smoke.”
There was a stream of unintelligible mumbling from the pile of blankets on the bed and Perrine finally sat up. His hair was a tangled mess and he was, not surprisingly, shirtless. Derek could make out a few bruises here and there, the kind left by somebody sucking hard on bare skin. And— something he never would have suspected in a million years— Perrine’s nipples were pierced through with silver barbells. He looked thoroughly sexed and hung-over. Derek nearly wanted to take a picture for posterity’s sake because he doubted Perrine would ever let him see him looking this messed up again.
“Need a shower…” Perrine mumbled, more to himself than to Derek. In fact, it was almost like he didn’t even register that Derek was there. Perrine rose from the bed, completely naked, and stumbled towards the bathroom. So he was a natural platinum blond… and, for as much as Derek saw of it, he did have a good-looking, uncut cock. He also had a huge black tattoo running across his shoulder blades and down his spine that looked like tribal wings with a line of symmetrical arrow-shaped marking, tapering down to his ass. And oh my, what a nice ass it was…
“What the fuck…” Derek said under his breath. He’d always thought himself a good judge of character, but for the life of him, he just could not figure this guy out. Of course, Perrine wasn’t a regular guy. Derek already knew that when he closed his eyes he’d be seeing Perrine naked— a lot.
No, not going to go there— never again. Not after Marc, and certainly not with a Variant. Maybe Perrine had the right idea by hooking up with a prostitute. It made sex into a bus
iness transaction, like some sort of physical therapy, because there was no risk of falling in love.
Derek had been stuck in his own head for so long that he realized he’d lost track of time when Perrine came out of the bathroom. Perrine was looking only slightly more awake. He came out wearing a towel around his slim hips that he held together with one hand as he dug through the top dresser drawer for underwear. His hair hung in silvery wet ribbons and Derek watched a few crystalline beads chase each other down the length of one wavy lock.
“So…long night?” Derek hedged, trying to sound casual but Perrine’s appearance this morning was throwing him off.
“Yes,” Perrine said, not looking in his direction as he went to the next drawer.
“Good night?”
Perrine stopped digging long enough to frown at him. “For a man who didn’t want me as a partner, you seem suddenly very interested in my sex life.”
“I still don’t want you as a partner, but since I have no choice, I figure I might as well make the best of it.” Derek said, feeling smug.
“Lucky me.” Perrine found what he was looking for, then grabbed something from the open closet, and retreated back into the bathroom to get dressed. Derek found that odd considering the fact that he’d just seen him naked. Although maybe he should have been honored that Perrine wanted to keep the fantasy intact— nobody looked particularly sexy struggling to get into a pair of boxers.
He came out of the bathroom wearing black trousers tailored to fit his slim build— and nice ass— perfectly, and he was buttoning up a crisp white shirt over a white tank-top.
“Wait— you wore that yesterday,” Derek said when he realized that Perrine was putting on the same black suit, black tie, and white shirt he’d had on the day before.
“No, I didn’t,” Perrine said, watching himself do up his tie in the mirror over the dresser. He’d already pulled his hair back into the same severe ponytail he’d worn yesterday, once again becoming the cold, sexless doll Derek had met in Gilchrist’s office. Derek wasn’t certain which was better—or worse for that matter.
“You did,” Derek insisted. “How many black suits and white shirts can a man have?”
“I have fifteen with me,” Perrine said, as it if were an expected answer, then he hesitated. “Oh, you meant that to be sarcastic.”
“I thought I had. Fifteen?”
“I couldn’t very well bring them all.” Perrine kept glancing at him through the mirror, but whenever Derek caught his eye, he’d look away. He was dying to know about what went down last night to have Perrine so messed up this morning.
“So that guy…”
“He was a prostitute. I was under the impression that’s not illegal?”
“No. It isn’t. Did he know you were a Variant?”
“He did.” Perrine licked the tip of his ring finger and smoothed out his eyebrows before turning.
Derek stood up. “Does he only service Variants?”
“Why?” Perrine raised one of his freshly groomed eyebrows. “Interested?”
Derek felt an unwelcome flutter in his stomach that he fought to keep from moving to his crotch. “Hardly. Not after I know where he’s been.”
Perrine shrugged, apparently untroubled by the insult as he slipped into his shoes. “Ready?”
The crime scene tape was still up and there was a uniformed officer posted outside the old warehouse where the woman’s body had been found the day before.
Derek flashed his badge and Perrine pulled out his own, surprising the uniform to the point of gawking. The thing was an intricate series of scrollwork and symbols. In the middle it carried the infamous Apex Sigil, something that resembled a triangle made of interlocking branches with a smaller cat’s eye inside. Overlaying the sigil was a gold sword with black wings.
It was possibly the most ornate and pretentious thing Derek had ever seen. The uniform looked at Derek, who sighed and bobbed his head. “He’s okay, he’s a cop too.” He doubted the officer recognized any of the details of Kayle’s badge, but he still eyed him as they passed by.
The officer stepped aside, lifting up the crime scene tape like a velvet rope.
“You’ve gotta’ get a different badge. People find out you’re from Apex and it puts them on guard,” Derek said as they stepped through the rolling door and into the dim interior of the warehouse.
“I don’t understand why. Apex has done nothing to you.”
“Done nothing for us either. People don’t trust Variants around here. Your type were the victors in Armageddon.”
“What? We were not victors in anything— you humans destroyed yourselves. We merely came in to try and save those of you that we could,” Perrine argued, walking ahead of Derek and looking up at the ship.
Hunks of the mast and decking beneath had been cut away and taken to the makeshift lab in the precinct’s basement. There was tech left over from before the war, but nobody knew how to use it, so it and numbered lots of crime scene evidence remained in storage until such a time that somebody might figure it all out. Derek wouldn’t have believed how advanced the human race had become had there not been evidence left behind.
Shorebank was the largest and most technologically advanced of the human colonies. It was the only one that used cellular technology for official communication, though how it all worked was a magic Derek couldn’t understand. It was also one of the few run by a completely Variant government. Instead of enjoying the perks that gave them, the humans blamed the Variants for stealing and hoarding the technology. Doling it out in bits to keep humans dependent on Clan charity.
“Well, it was awful convenient the way you all showed up, and just happened to take over everything. You Variants in your cities of gold and us, down here in the gutters.”
“You talk as if I am to blame for your misfortune.” Perrine was looking around, acting as if they were discussing the case, not the same political rhetoric that had been bandied about for decades.
“Your kind is.”
“My kind, Detective Childress? And just what kind do you think I am?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Derek said. “Clan or not, you’re from Apex, so you’re one of them. The point here is people aren’t going to talk to you. They won’t trust you.”
“But they trust you,” Perrine pointed out. He climbed up the ladder onto the ship, and looked up at what was left of the mast.
Derek came clambering up the ladder behind him. “They’ll have no reason to if they see you’re with me. I don’t even know why you’re going through the motions.”
“What ever do you mean by that?” Perrine glanced over his shoulder, holding Derek’s gaze while Derek formulated a response.
“We both know if it’s Clan killing all of these women, they’ll never come to trial.”
“I assure you, Detective Childress, that is not the case. If, for some unfathomable reason, it is Clan, he’ll stand trial in Apex, subject to our laws and punishment.”
“Huh. What’s that? A slap on the wrist and a nice plot of land someplace?”
“I want you to know that the Gentry takes these sorts of crimes very seriously…”
“Oh yeah? Then how come when some fucking rabid shifter killed my partner, I was the one who felt put on trial?” Derek hadn’t meant to blurt that out, even though it had been on his mind constantly since the day it occurred.
Perrine paused, looking over his shoulder at Derek. “My condolences for your partner.” He turned his head once more, looking up at the top of the mast. “We know how you mundanes are. You can’t even stand to be in the same establishments as us. You solve problems with violence, and specifically violence against my kind.” Perrine never raised his voice and maybe that’s what pissed Derek off so much. Always calm. He opened his mouth, ready to argue some more, but Perrine interrupted his thoughts.
“The only reason it was investigated at all was because the shifter you killed was the son of a political leader from the Goa settlement. It was open and
shut as far as I was concerned, but then I had to go through the motions, as you say.”
Derek hadn’t been expecting that. “Wait—you worked on that case? My partner’s—”
“Murder. Yes. Although I did not realize he worked with you. It was not easy for me to have to tell an alpha shifter that his son deserved what he’d got. The ambassador had been in denial about his middle son’s… proclivities for drugs and violence. The young man was sent away because his actions at home were causing people to doubt the ambassador’s ability to make decisions for his pack. I am very sorry he ended up in your city.” Perrine sounded almost sincere, and Derek understood what it was like to have to conform to some bullshit process even when the answers were already apparent.
Like now, for instance.
“This is my job, Detective Childress,” Perrine continued. “That I am trusted by the ruling seat in Apex is an honor, and I have a duty that I take very seriously. I’ve never had to work with a partner and frankly, I dislike it very much. So I would appreciate it if you kept your rhetoric and accusations to yourself and let me do my job.” Perrine was tugging experimentally on the heavy rigging that was hanging loose on the mast. He looked up at the ceiling then, and specifically the high windows. “That one,” he pointed.
“What?” Derek was still seething from his dressing-down by Mr. Perfect and his fifteen tailored suits.
“Fifth window along the east side. The body was brought in through there.”
Derek squinted up at the window but couldn’t see anything that made it look any different from the others.
