by Lia Black
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Cal was coming down the hall with a bundle of folded sheets and Derek could smell the bleach wafting from them as he got closer.
“Hey Cal, is the Doc expected back today?” Derek asked, trying to maintain his usual informal and friendly tone.
Cal stopped, shaking his head. “She had to travel to the other side of town to record a death from natural causes. She’s left me to hold down the fort here. Is there something I can help you with?” His eyes kept darting to Kayle and hung on him longer with his last words.
“Nah, just wanted to chat. I’ll come by to pester her when she’s back at work. Thanks again for your help.”
“Of course, Detective.” Cal smiled.
Derek turned and began heading towards the exit when he heard Cal say to Kayle: “My offer still stands.”
“Yes,” Kayle said, “Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind.”
Derek waited at the door until he felt Kayle come up behind him, then he pushed it open and headed through.
“What was that about?” He asked, just as casually as he’d inquired about the doctor.
Kayle blew out a long breath. “He offered to stand in for my supplements when I was injured.”
“What?” There was roughly ten years between Derek and Cal; he couldn’t help but see him as a kid. He was one of those guys with a very boyish appearance, probably only had to shave once a month. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and perpetually reddened cheeks, as though he’d just come in from the cold. All of that contributed to Derek’s perception of him being so young. “You didn’t take him up on it, did you?”
Kayle glared up at him. “Are you seriously asking me this question?”
Oh. Right. Derek had been the one to feed him because Kayle was too weak to keep going like he’d been. This was getting crazy. They weren’t dating, and calling them friends was even a stretch. It had to be that damn incubus chemistry making him feel possessive and protective of Kayle. That and the trust Kayle’s father had left him with.
“Derek,” Kayle stopped a few feet from the car. “What’s gotten into you?”
“You,” Derek blurted before his brain could shut off the words.
“What?”
“Just— let’s get into the car.” Derek popped Kayle’s door open and walked around to his own side without waiting for Kayle to get in.
He put in the key and started the engine, moving mechanically until they pulled out of the lot and started on their way.
“Are you going to talk to me?” Kayle asked after they’d been driving for a few minutes.
Derek sighed, his eyes pinned to the road. “This thing between us— me. There is no us.” Derek’s head was a mess. He wasn’t even certain how much of what he was saying was actually making it to his mouth.
“Derek, what are you muttering about?”
He couldn’t talk like this and keep driving so he turned off the road onto the dirt shoulder under an old train-trestle. Putting the car into park, he closed his eyes, gripping the steering wheel as hard as he could before releasing it and turning his face towards Kayle.
“I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I don’t know if I can just go on like we’re just roommates or co-workers.” Derek sighed, raking his fingers across his scalp. “Kayle, I get fucking jealous of a dead man because I know he’s touched you…been touched by you. I can’t be in the same room as you for too long because I want you so badly, and it’s a thousand times worse because I know I’m not the only one.”
“You want me to leave?” Kayle asked, his tone steady.
“No. No…I don’t… I just…I want to throw you down on the bed and be the best sex you’ve ever had. I want to kiss you and wake up beside you. I want all of the things that you can’t give me, just like Marc couldn’t give them to me.” Ugh. Had he really just said all of that? Well, it was out now, as ugly and pathetic as a dead slug melted into the sidewalk.
“But I’m not Marc.”
“No, you’re not. I had sex with Marc every day for several months before I started feeling this way. I don’t want you being with anybody else, and I don’t like the idea of you taking supplements to avoid me. It’s not fair to you, I know. I just…needed to say something.” Derek put one hand on the wheel, staring out the window that was starting to fog up. “And now I really need to stop talking. I’m not helping anything.” He wiped at the condensation with the cuff of his sleeve, then leaned back and rolled down the window a crack.
“Are you going to smoke?” Kayle asked.
“No. Trying to quit. I’ve used too many crutches in my life recently. Every time things happen that I would rather not think about, I turn to alcohol or nicotine.” Derek’s own voice sounded like that of a man who had lived a lot longer and harder than he had.
Kayle didn’t reply, and that was okay. He’d probably give Derek some kind of lecture about incubus pheromones, or how they really had nothing in common, or a million other things that Derek had already heard from his own conscience. Damn, he wanted a cigarette, but the pain of wanting and resisting would be miles better than the pain of wanting something he couldn’t have.
Just about the time Derek had resigned himself to a silent ride home, Kayle began speaking again.
“The other day when you kissed me. Why didn’t you pursue?”
“I guess I felt that you weren’t really in your right mind. Is that why you asked that I never kiss you on the mouth? It does something to you?”
Kayle sighed. “Yes, it does. Something about the chemistry of human saliva works with our own like a light sedative of some kind…somewhat like alcohol.”
“I was right then.” Derek could feel the cigarettes in the breast pocket of his jacket. They weighed a thousand pounds and seemed to be beating along with his heart. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned wanting to quit. “And I didn’t want you to kiss me because it means more to me than just sex. I guess I really screwed things up.” Derek forced a bitter laugh. He could feel Kayle staring at him from the other side of the car. Derek sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that when he reopened them, all of this would be gone and he’d be back home, in bed, alone. Unfortunately, there was still work to be done today.
“We should get back to the case,” Derek said. “Let’s head back home and see what we’ve got so far.”
They drove back to Derek’s apartment, and Kayle listened to Derek lay out the facts: All but the last victim were killed in the wee hours of the morning. None were killed at the scene, and there was no physical evidence on the bodies or at the scene of them being transported by more than one person, or by using any mechanical means. All were exsanguinated post-mortem, but only two of them had any noticeable or documented marks and the marks were largely inconclusive. It implied that something mechanical might have been utilized to remove the blood, which would have made sense because it had been drained after death. All of the victims were involved in the sex industry and had histories of prostitution. Only the last victim was male, and it was someone Kayle had been with the night before. It could have been coincidence, or it could mean that someone was aware of Kayle and had been watching him. Judging by his attack later that same day, it seemed to point to the latter.
Derek’s body shivered and he leaned back against the sofa as his brain conjured up the memory of seeing Kayle, in full-incubus form, naked and broken on the hotel room bed.
“Did your wing heal okay?” Derek asked as if Kayle had been viewing the same scene.
“What? Wing? Oh. Yes. It’s fine.”
He saw Kayle’s cheeks pink-up and Kayle turned his head, leaning forward to look at the scribbles and hastily drawn diagrams they had sketched out on paper laid across the coffee table.
“Are they visible when you’re on Apex?”
“My wings? Not typically, no.”
“Is that what that tattoo is for? To hide them somehow?”
“Yes.” Kayle hadn’t turned his head to speak. “I can picture myself in
a certain way and the neural impulses traveling through my spine generate some kind of frequency that displaces the atoms temporarily.”
Derek was tired of looking dumb around Kayle, so he decided to ask a question that hopefully didn’t show his ignorance any more than was already apparent. “Is it uncomfortable?”
“It’s a bit strange at first, and it takes some level of energy to get a lock on the electrochemical impulses, but I’m adept and quite used to it.”
He decided to interpret that as a “no” as his eyes drifted over the tension woven thorough Kayle’s back. He wanted to touch him, to rub out some of that tightness, but ultimately he couldn’t follow through.
Kayle tested the pen he was holding on the edge of a sheet of paper, scribbling a few zigzag lines.
“So; we have what is likely a single killer, who has nocturnal habits, or works an evening shift. Human.” He put a check under the line they designated as the killers identity. The number of checks would hopefully be more numerous on one side than the other, and that might help them to focus a little more on who they were after.
“Why human?” Derek asked.
“The prostitutes were all human. I know you have been to the areas from where they were taken, and interviewed people. Other humans would remember a Variant.” Kayle glanced over his shoulder and Derek saw that flawless, porcelain complexion, the corner of an eye that was just a little too wide, and its tilt a bit too exotic.
“Right, but the person moved the bodies by themselves. Variant.” Derek said and watched Kayle reluctantly put a check in the other column.
“Victims were all exsanguinated—post mortem. Human.” Kayle began to put a check on the human side, but Derek held up his hand.
“Not so fast. Doesn’t rule out a Variant.” Derek didn’t have to see Kayle’s face to know that he’d rolled his eyes.
“Fine. We’ll put it in the middle then.”
Derek’s phone buzzed and he saw it was Gilchrist. His stomach dropped. “Yeah chief?” He answered.
“Derek, I’ve got news. You ready for this? Director Toussant has put a settlement-wide curfew in place. Anybody caught out after midnight that doesn’t have employment clearance or a clear emergency situation will be detained.”
“Shit,” Derek rubbed his eyes with one hand, leaning forward across his knees.
“It gets better. He wants sweeps of the red-light zone..“
“Sweeps? Doesn’t he realize we’re already understaffed?”
“I have a feeling it’s more of a threat than anything else, but it is going to drive our killer into hiding.”
“And will probably catch the interest of any vigilante groups out there. Most of those neighborhood watch groups are full of prejudiced bigots, just looking for an excuse to go after Variants.” When the police were spread too thin to be everywhere at once, people began taking justice into their own hands. Unfortunately, the type of people who organized these neighborhood watch groups were those who liked being in charge, and saw a conspiracy around every corner. Anytime a Variant was suspected in any kind of criminal activity, the crimes against them went up. A suspicious number of human attacks on shifters just after Marc’s death had been claimed as self-defense. There were a lot of shifters and hobs in those neighborhoods. Most of them—especially the hobs—were pretty peaceful and unassuming. While on the surface, the Director’s ideas might make sense, as they would keep most people off the streets at night, they would most definitely reap some unintended consequences.
“And there’s something else.” Gilchrist took one of those long pauses that he often did before delivering some particularly bad news. Derek’s hand was cramping from the tension through his joints, locked in a claw shape to cradle the phone. “Meyers, Sapetti, and McAulif got out today.”
Derek felt his mouth go dry and he looked at Kayle. “What do you mean got out?”
“I mean the judge didn’t see a need for a trial. He thought that their actions, while ill conceived, were justifiable. You can imagine how well that’s all going over among the Variants, and rumblings are that Toussant will recall the judge.”
“And that puts the police right back in the cross-hairs,” Derek surmised. He pinched the bridge of his nose. What a mess this was all turning out to be.
“Have you been in touch with Perrine lately?” Gilchrist asked.
Derek raised his eyes towards Kayle, who had turned his head and was watching him, concern darkening his features.
“A little, why?”
“I just… thought he might have left with the Envoy.”
“Probably would have been the safest thing to do,” Derek said under his breath.
“Well, you might want to suggest that he rethink his decision to stay. Things could be getting rougher for all of us soon.” Gilchrist disconnected. Derek kept the phone pressed to his ear, listening to the silence that followed.
“Derek?” Kayle’s voice came softly to him and he finally set the phone down and raised his head.
“Shit is going to get ugly soon, Kayle, and it’s going to be you and me trying to track a killer in the midst of it.”
“What do you mean? What’s happening?”
“Well, for starters, Director Toussant has put a curfew into effect and wants patrols sweeping the red-light zone.”
“That’s not a completely terrible idea is it? It will help protect the sex workers, yes?”
“Also, Meyers and his accomplices have been released.”
Kayle took in a staggering breath. “Okay. That’s getting a little worse.”
“They’re cops. Who hate Variants. Who are not the only ones. Who do you think will be targeted in any sweeps or breaking of curfew? Whether he’s intended this or not, the killer has thrown fuel on top of the fire; it’s going to start another war right here.”
The cell phone buzzed again in Derek’s hand and both he and Kayle stared at it for several rings until Derek saw it was Peterson and reluctantly answered the call. “Childress.”
“Hey Derek, looks like we found the fourth accomplice in Perrine’s attack. And Perrine’s missing syringes.”
Derek closed his eyes, sending up a silent prayer that all nineteen of them were accounted for. “Great we’ll be right there. Where are you?”
“I’ll send you the location. See you in a few.”
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
The location was at the southeast end of the settlement, at the docks where the Mud Sea routinely washed up the stinking remains of irradiated animal and plant life. Perhaps no place suffered the lingering effects of the war between humans quite as much as what had once been vast blue oceans, and wide, life-infused lakes. Most of the lakes on the mainland had dried into poisonous craters filled with a muddy chemical soup. If the fall didn’t kill you, then the puddle at the bottom certainly would. The Mud Sea had been a dumping ground for chemical waste. It was further ruined by the nuclear bombs that had fallen short of their targets, obliterating most of the islands. Apparently, even with all of the technology at man’s disposal back then, human error was still a major problem. At night, the sea lit up with an unearthly green glow, and when it rained, a rust-colored fog would concentrate itself just offshore, sometimes making eerie columns and shapes before it dispersed.
This was the place where the poorest settlers lived. Those who didn’t work for one reason or another, bottom-rung Variants... they huddled in shadows, invisible and forgotten. The criminal activity here was low because few people had more than the clothing on their backs. Old factories had been re-purposed as squatter’s housing, and it wasn’t uncommon to see a blue tarpaulin stretched across the walls of an abandoned building as a makeshift roof.
The body was in an old construction trailer that had somehow made its way to the top of an abandoned metal processing plant. Kayle squinted against the too-bright bulbs of the portable construction lamp that the police were using to cast some light into the dark trailer. Peterson nodded towards Kayle who responded with a polite t
ip of his head.
“The place is pretty cramped,” Peterson said. “Maybe only enough room for one standing and one squatting.” He stepped back to let Kayle and Derek inside.
The interior smelled like burnt wax and body odor beneath the stench of two-day-old death. Their shadows stretched over the walls, eclipsing the meager trickle of white light and giving the darkness a reddish hue. Kayle covered the lower half of his face with the corner of his jacket and Derek shook out a bandanna he must have kept in his coat for just such an occasion. He pressed it against his face and he crouched to look at the bloating, rigid body, lying on a stained mattress. The first very obvious thing was that the victim was naked from the waist down and covered in a flaky crust of what was likely his own semen. His flaccid cock lay crooked across his hip. One half-empty syringe was stuck in the bend of his elbow and two others lay shattered and empty beside him. Likely, his heart had burst and brain had hemorrhaged with the force and intensity of hormone-induced orgasm, enhancing his own.
“Guess he died happy at least,” Derek muttered and began moving around a bit, carefully lifting items close to the body. Another three syringes clattered out from under the dead man’s leather jacket that lay beside him on the mattress.
“That makes six,” Kayle said, his eyes shifting across to the other side of the hovel to see if he could detect any more nearby.
Derek remained in a crouch as he went a few feet over to the front of the trailer. There was an old upholstered chair there, draped with a stained floral sheet and an upside-down milk crate being used as a table. Derek picked up something off the table. “Ah, damn it.”
“What? What did you find?” Kayle’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He hoped that Derek hadn’t accidentally jabbed himself with one of the needles and gotten a dose of the chemicals inside.
