Their Precious Own

by Lia Black

  With a sigh, Kayle got up and arranged the blankets over Derek, then he went to the dresser to borrow some clothes. Pulling open the top drawer, a conspicuous shoe box inside captured his attention. Snooping was not in his nature, but investigation was. He carefully lifted the lid of the box.

  Inside was a badge, wrapped in plastic, and underneath, a photograph that he recognized as being Detective Marc Allen, Derek’s former partner. He recognized it from his case files, when he’d been investigating Marc’s death. It was odd that Derek would have these personal effects. Clearly, there had to be a reason that Derek had them and not Marc’s next of kin. But it was not his place to ask. Kayle set everything back the way he’d found it. He pulled on some loose, drawstring pants and a T-shirt. Derek had a lot of them, and feeling how soft they were against his skin, Kayle couldn’t blame him. Incubi were very tactile by nature, something else Kayle had tried to suppress.

  With Derek sleeping, Kayle focused more on healing and less on his glamour. The only reason he’d fed from Derek was because he was desperate and he assumed they wouldn’t be working together much longer, but it was surprisingly... nice. Derek had a nice flavor, despite his habits, and sex must not be very regular for him; his orgasm had been particularly intense. Afterward, Derek had touched Kayle’s face gently, though it could have been involuntary as he was drifting off to sleep. It still was a tenderness he’d not expected from the rough detective. Humans did odd things during and after sex. Their hormones often triggered an instinctive bonding mechanism that could be troublesome. That was part of the reason why Kayle avoided full sexual union with Derek. While he didn’t think Derek would be the type to become possessive or overly invested with someone like him, the man had already challenged his impressions and expectations.

  The apartment was a rectangle separated only by walls for the bedroom and bathroom. The living room and kitchen were divided by a bar counter and some cupboards hanging over it.

  Derek’s cell phone was resting on the counter. Kayle picked it up, deciding to get into the relevant case files and try to put a few more things together. Even if he was pulled off the case, he wanted to feel like he had contributed something. Maybe there were small things that had been overlooked. There had to be some reason the victims were exsanguinated that didn’t involve Clan in any way.

  Despite the lore created by humans regarding what they called vampires, Clan did not sire offspring by drinking all of their blood. When a human being had no blood, they were dead. Clan killing humans was like stealing from oneself. Humans were paid for donating blood, and that blood was mixed and decontaminated to feed Clan. None of them could take that much blood in one feeding. It had to be purified before ingestion. Taking blood from the human pets some of them kept was more like having a glass of wine—fine in moderation, but toxic if too much was ingested at once.

  Kayle heard Derek stirring just in time to apply his glamour.

  “Hey there,” Derek said, shuffling and bleary-eyed from the bathroom. He had on a pair of jeans that he hadn’t bothered to zip up and Kayle’s gaze followed the dark trail of hair down from his navel, seeing it spread just before disappearing behind the vee of his open fly. Derek stifled a yawn as he dropped down onto the other end of the sofa.

  “What time is it?”

  Kayle consulted Derek’s cell phone, now sitting on the arm of the sofa. “A bit after six o’clock in the evening.” He knew he’d better offer something so that Derek could reorient himself. Once he was done feeding, his pheromones became sedating, and humans slept so hard, their bodies lost a sense of time. One hour of sleep could feel like an entire day. It was used to keep an incubi’s prey calm and compliant, as one feeding wasn’t normally enough to kill them. It allowed the human to build up more of the chemicals an incubus needed for survival before they drained their prey of life.

  “Mmph,” Derek grunted, staring towards the window. The sky was a darker shade of its usual gray, with muted, brick red hues; what remained of the sun was setting in the west. The sky was the one thing all humans shared. Kayle wondered, had the humans’ ancestors known what would become of it, would they have stopped fighting over their differences?

  “You look like you’re feeling much better,” Derek said, his gaze finally shifting to Kayle.

  “I am. Thank you.”

  Derek heaved himself off the couch. “Well I feel seriously wiped out. Is it always like this with you guys?”

  “You guys?”

  “Yeah, you incubi…incubusses…whatever.” Derek waved his hand as he entered the kitchen.

  “No. Another incubus would have killed you.”

  Derek stopped banging pans around for a moment, his face slack as he processed the information. “Right,” he said as if reminded of a fact, then continued to make noise as he grabbed a frying pan and slammed it onto the stove.

  Kayle grimaced, holding his hands over his ears. “Must you be so loud?”

  “Yes,” Derek grumbled, “I don’t know what you did there but I’m so foggy it feels like you sucked half of my brains out through my dick.”

  “Perhaps if your brains did not reside solely in your penis…” Kayle caught himself in mid-insult.

  Derek paused, cocking his head. “What’s the matter? That sounded like it was going to be scathing,” he said.

  Kayle hunched his shoulders looking at his lap. “I don’t want to keep fighting with you.”

  “Pity,” Derek sighed, “I thought we were just getting good at it.” He cracked an egg into the pan, starting it sizzling and popping from the high heat.

  Kayle’s grimace twisted into a more determined frown. This man made no sense. He enjoyed the verbal sparring? Or was he being sardonic? Something else? “You like being insulted?”

  “I like the fact that you’re feeling good enough to insult me, I guess. I was kind of worried about you.”

  Kayle stumbled over his words. “R-rea—what?”

  “Look, Kayle. You may have noticed that I can be kind of opinionated. Hell, some might even call me an asshole. I’m not fond of Variants. I’m not excited about having one as a partner. But you’re not bad. And what happened to you…well, that was wrong. I may resent your form of government, but I don’t want to be associated with zealots.”

  “Oh. I…” He had no idea how exactly to respond. He was relieved that Derek seemed to be taking this all in stride, and maybe even somewhat disappointed. Derek was the first person he’d met who wasn’t afraid to show his feelings and express his opinions— regardless of how unpopular they might be. He treated Kayle like a peer, and didn’t cow to his face but snicker behind his back like most people he knew.

  “So, we’re good. Okay?” Derek said over his shoulder as he turned down the heat on the stove.

  “Okay,” Kayle decided.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Derek told Kayle to sleep anywhere, implying he was willing to share his bed, which wasn’t a surprise. Having an incubus or succubus around provided a constant outlet for sex, at least, that was the effect they seemed to have on humans. Most, if not all, succubae were prostitutes. It was a necessity and not just for feeding as most humans assumed. It was for safety. They lived in bordellos that had guards, rules, and provided shelter and security. Except, children were not allowed there. Instead of aborting him or simply turning him out onto the street like most did, Kayle’s mother left the safety of the bordello to raise him. It was this knowledge that often overshadowed her love for him with his own guilt over her violent and untimely death.

  Kayle chose the couch.

  The irony of being a creature that needed sex to survive was that they spent their lives alone.

  It had been kind of Derek to offer a feeding, but Kayle would take no more from him. It was not him Derek wanted, but the sex, and knowing this, Kayle would only end up feeling resentful. Like Ramon, Derek would say the words to him that he thought Kayle wanted to hear— it was instinct; a sort of pseudo-courting mechanism. Among most animals, the
goal was to deposit seed through orgasm then move on to the next in an attempt to assure the longevity of their species. Monogamy among humans and their primate ancestors was predominately behavioral. Humans had always struggled with it, and since the breakdown of their society and religions, it was no longer one of their expected mores. That was all well and good, but Kayle did not wish to be treated as more than a receptacle if that’s all he was. Especially by someone with whom he had to share a working relationship.

  The couch was comfortable enough, but Kayle’s mind kept him awake most of the night. He was dreading the discussion with the Envoy, and could see no reason that would be compelling enough to allow him to stay here and finish the case. Derek hadn’t been happy about partnering with him in the first place, so in a way, he’d get his wish— he wouldn’t have to work alongside a Variant anymore. If working with Kayle had been so uncomfortable for him before, knowing Kayle was a potential liability now could only make things worse between them.

  Unfortunately, the most likely outcome would be that the case would be handed to someone else in the Sovereign guards and Derek would be pulled off completely. Perhaps it was wrong of Kayle not to tell him this, but it was only a suspicion, and Kayle didn’t want Derek fighting to keep him there if it was only so he could continue with his investigation.

  Kayle barely slept that night, and soon the haze of morning was lightening the room. “Hey,” Derek’s sleepy voice called from the kitchen when Kayle struggled to sit up. “Hope you weren’t too uncomfortable.”

  “No. It was fine, thank you.”

  “Not looking forward to this today,” Derek said. He was carefully measuring a spoonful of coffee into a pot on the stove. “You drink coffee? All I have is instant.”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Derek took another mug down from his cupboard and spooned in some of the dark, brown flakes that had become coffee for the working class. The Gentry kept certain substances rationed, believing that they’d contributed to the downfall of mankind. Kayle felt it was naive to think that humans were not resourceful enough to get certain pleasures through other means.

  “Have you been through something like this Envoy thing before? What should I wear? What kinds of questions will they be asking?”

  “No, I haven’t been through this before, though I have recommended Envoys to be dispatched in past investigations. A suit, if you have one. As far as questions, they will probably all be directed towards, or about, me.”

  Derek looked thoughtful for a moment, rubbing at the corner of his mouth with his thumb as he waited for the pot on the stove to heat up. A moment later, his expression had changed to something that looked a lot more anxious. He turned off the stove.

  “Shit— suit. I forgot that Peterson grabbed some of your things. I’ll be right back.” Derek handed Kayle a steaming mug of coffee as he rushed by him to the door. He was only wearing his jeans and he pulled his coat on over his bare chest, stepping into his boots. “Don’t open the door for anybody,” he said snatching up his keys. He was gone before Kayle could even process what he’d said. Kayle heard the sound of the door being locked from outside and he watched the many deadbolts turn, one at a time.

  “Ten minutes!” he heard a faint shout from the hallway and then Derek’s receding footsteps.

  Derek was almost glad that he had to leave the apartment. Maybe it had been a mistake to have anything resembling sex with Kayle because he couldn’t keep his mind off of it. Every time he looked at Kayle, he was reminded of the sheen of his eyes when he looked up at him from between his legs. Derek must be twisted, because he could think of nothing hotter than a demon with a mouth full of his dick. He let out a small groan as he palmed himself through his jeans while he drove. It was a damn good thing that only a few people had vehicles these days because he was all over the road. Mostly, people got around with public transit like busses, most of it limited to settlement boundaries. Except, of course, for the Clan Gentry. They went where they wanted, when they wanted, and were always accompanied by a small, or not so small, army. They were the ruling class, and people didn’t like them, but they were terrified of what they were capable of doing. That’s why Derek didn’t understand why Kayle hadn’t just wasted those guys when they attacked him. He didn’t understand a lot of the dynamics involved there, or why he was still thinking about Kayle when he was well beyond the range of his pheromone effect. Yeah, maybe sex had been a bad idea. He hadn’t been with anyone since Marc died, and it had been years before Marc that his last relationship ended. Now he was sharing space with what was literally a gay sex demon, with whom arguing was becoming something like foreplay.

  The dead-drop behind the church was an old donation bin for used clothing— really just a dumpster painted pastel yellow, and pockmarked with rust. The church it had once belonged to was now a burned out husk; the heavy steeple bell lay half-embedded in the dirt from its fall. It was no surprise that this place, and every temple, mosque, and synagogue, had been packed to the rafters with people praying for salvation when the war was at its peak. Many, like this one, had burned from the inside out. Some said it was sabotage; others, a mass-suicide when it was discovered that the beings whom they thought were angels, coming to save the faithful, were Clan— the farthest things from it.

  This whole section of the city was mostly abandoned, which made it the perfect location for stashing contraband or, in this case, the remaining belongings of a displaced incubus. Peterson had put everything into a duffle bag, which he’d then wrapped in plastic and placed in the false bottom of the bin. Incredibly, nobody had found this hiding spot so far, but that was likely because the top was welded shut with no visible way to access the contents. Maybe there had once been a key to the lock on the front; now there was just a rusty screwdriver jammed inside of it, too corroded to pull out. It had been Marc who knew about this from records kept by someone in his own family— some great-grand uncle who used to work on the city’s narcotics squad, back before the war. Marc had shared the details with only Derek, and they’d used it to communicate things they didn’t want crossing police channels, which were monitored and maintained by Clan. It was hard for Derek to believe that once, nearly everybody had a cell phone, and the towers like the one behind the police station cluttered the landscape from shore to shore.

  Nobody alive now understood enough to know whether what Clan did to keep things running was technology or magic, or maybe a little of both. The stories of human ingenuity he’d heard passed down from his grandfather sounded like fairytales.

  Derek lit up a cigarette as he headed to his car. Hopefully he could keep his mind off of sex long enough to do his job.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Derek suggested to Kayle that they have their meeting with the Envoy at the medical examiner’s office. His rationale was that the morgue was the most neutral territory that he could think of without making it obvious that he was avoiding disclosing Kayle’s current location to Gilchrist. Plus, he was shit at being political, and the opulence of the City Director’s office would remind him of what he hated about the Variants. His inability to keep his mouth shut would not make a good first impression on someone now holding the reins to this investigation. He was hoping Dr. Ray’s influence could keep him from looking like too much of an ass.

  For his part, Kayle didn’t seem very eager to be there when the Envoy met with the Director either. Derek wondered if it had to do with how other Variants treated incubi. Probably. It was uncomfortable enough to be confronted by it on the street, and would probably be something close to hell to be surrounded by walls that bled with hatred. Derek felt badly for Kayle. At first he’d just assumed he was a Variant just like the rest of them. But learning that Kayle was despised by other Variants as well as most humans went a long way towards explaining his often less than polite responses to social cues and situations.

  “Hey,” Derek called over to Kayle as he slouched in the passenger seat of the car. “You doin’ all right?” He seeme
d preoccupied and lost in thought.

  Kayle sighed. “Honestly? No. I assume I’ll be pulled from this investigation now that I’m seen as a liability.”

  “What happened wasn’t your fault— it could have happened to any other Variant.”

  “No. It couldn’t. Another Variant wouldn’t have paid a prostitute. Another Variant wouldn’t have been oozing pheromones that nearly got him…got me…”

  “Ew. I hate that word. Oozing. Always sounds like something slimy and wet,” Derek interrupted. He saw Kayle open his mouth, then snap it shut and look back out the window. Derek had heard him, and knew what he was saying, but he didn’t want to think about that now and he certainly didn’t want Kayle going down that road. He wasn’t sure if it was the recent blowjob he’d received or something else, but he was starting to feel a little more protective of Kayle, specifically his emotional state.

  “You do that a lot.” Kayle said softly, his gaze fixed in his lap. “You jump into the middle of my monologues. I know why you do it, and I suppose I appreciate it.”

  “I suppose you’re welcome, then; and I’m sorry. Look, neither one of us has the luxury of time for a pity party right now. Maybe later, I’ll throw a big one for both of us.”

  “Will there be cake?” Kayle asked so softly that Derek nearly missed the quip.

  He smiled. “Yeah. I’ll even hire a clown if that’s what you want.”

  “You’ll be enough.” Kayle’s lips curled into a smirk, and Derek could almost feel the heaviness lifting. It was a subtle and fragile thing, kind of like an umbrella holding back a waterfall, but it was something.

  When they arrived at the medical examiner’s office, it was pretty obvious that the Envoy’s entourage had already arrived. Subtle, they were not. There was a large, black hover bird, crouched like predator in the parking lot. The Sovereign’s gold insignia, lined in red, stood out against the shiny surface. Standing outside the building were what appeared, at first glance, to be men wearing black suits and sunglasses. There were four of them, armed with large capacity automatic weapons. They looked like they’d been built out of refrigerators, or just carved out from slabs of granite. All were at least seven feet tall, with black hair, tapered black eyes under a sloping brow, and large pointed ears. Their skin was tinted grayish-green as were all the troll Variants.