Their Precious Own

by Lia Black

  “Fine,” Cal said finally. “But you do it.” He jerked his chin towards Derek.

  Derek and Kayle exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

  Everyone who knew Derek—and Cal certainly did—knew that politics were not his strong suit. Derek had a feeling that Cal was counting on Derek’s reputation to fuck this up. Toussant would say no, and Derek would be left making the decision. Either he’d have an innocent woman’s blood on his hands and a riot in the station, or he and Kayle—a Variant—would let a killer keep his hostage and go free. Either way, the tensions between Variants and humans would continue to escalate in Shorebank.

  Once Cal left the settlement, he was as good as gone. There were no active lines of open communication between the Sovereign guard and the human police, and every settlement had too many of their own problems to deal with to be looking for one more. Unless Cal continued his killing spree elsewhere, he could literally disappear among the population. Maybe he was planning to distribute the new drug Kayle’s supplements had produced— setting up shop, and making a small fortune. Who needed a coroner’s license when he was profiting off every junkie he sent to the morgue?

  “Okay,” Derek said, struggling inside to keep his expression stolid.

  Satisfied that the crowd was maintaining a safe distance from the hostage negotiations, Derek headed to the troop’s commanding officer. Inek was standing outside the ticket booth, his sharp features drawn tight as he watched the scene unfolding.

  “Lieutenant, what’s going on?” He asked as Derek approached.

  “Captain Inek, I need some help. The suspect is demanding to speak with Director Toussant.”

  “What?” Inek gasped, leaning around Derek to try to get a better look at Cal. He sighed and stepped back, his height preventing him from seeing over the crowd.

  “What for?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s what we’ve got to work with right now,” Derek said.

  “So what’s to be done?” Inek asked, looking up at Derek.

  “I need Toussant to come down here. I think getting to see Toussant face-to-face may be enough to convince our suspect to let the young woman go.”

  Even from this distance, Derek could hear Cal saying something that was beginning to stir up some of the people in the crowd. The man who had been sitting near Cal on the bench earlier was on his feet. His previous expression of resignation was slowly changing to anger, and he looked around at the guards.

  People were getting fidgety, and more were gathering to listen to whatever bullshit Cal had to say.

  Watching the crowd, Inek’s wide mouth hardened into a tight, straight line.

  “It’s too dangerous. Current tensions between the human citizens and Clan government are too high.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Derek kept his voice low, but he couldn’t keep his tone level. This was such a total mess. He could see no way this could possibly turn out without kicking off a race war, starting right here in the train station.

  “Just shoot the woman. Shoot them both. Problem solved,” Inek said with a shrug.

  Derek felt bile burning up his throat. It was the only thing keeping him from yelling in the hob’s yellow face. “These people are already angry and blaming the Sovereign Guard for keeping them from leaving. There is a desperate man offering them conspiracy theories that many of them are ready to believe. Think about how that could turn out. Think about it very clearly.”

  Inek’s eyes slanted to match the slash of his mouth as he glanced around.

  Derek knew this wouldn’t end with only two deaths. If the guards shot either Cal or the hostage, they would be Variants killing humans, the why wouldn’t matter. The humans here outnumbered the guards roughly five-to-one, but with the trolls’ strength and firepower, that tipped the balance. If a riot started, it would end in a bloodbath.

  Inek reached into his breast pocket and took out some small device, bringing it towards his ear.

  Derek held up his hand to stop him. “Is that a communicator of some kind?”

  “How else do you expect me to reach Toussant, Lieutenant?”

  Derek looked back over his shoulder and saw Cal watching him. His gaze traveled lower, catching the glazed look of fear in the young woman’s eyes.

  “Give it to me. The suspect wants me to negotiate with the Director.” Derek took the bean-shaped earphone— putting aside any squeamishness of Variant earwax—and turned, holding it up for Cal to see before he put it into his ear.

  He had no doubt that someone down here had a way of getting the news out to the underground wires, and pretty soon the landscape above them would be covered by angry protesters and a large Variant military presence trying to keep the peace. It wouldn’t have been the first time something like this had happened. Human-run settlements had tried to rise up before and destroy the Variant scourge among them. Those settlements had been turned into Variant havens when the Gentry decided humans were the scourge. People remembered that, twisted it and blew it out of proportion, forgetting that the entire reason the Variants showed up was to keep humankind from destroying itself. It was fine to be bitter, but humans forgot that anger was no match for the Clan’s raw intellect and power.

  “Just tap it, “ Inek said. “The channel is already open.”

  Derek tapped the device and flinched as a voice responded.

  “Robesfoy here. How can I help you, Captain Inek?” The voice seemed to be coming from inside his head and not through the small speaker in his ear.

  “This is Lieutenant Derek Childress of the Shorebank Police,” Derek said, hoping that he could be heard. The voice on the other end stammered, making ready with what would no doubt be a barrage of questions but Derek went on before that could happen.

  “Look, I am in the middle of a hostage negotiation. It is imperative that I speak to Director Toussant.” He heard some indistinct murmuring as the operator spoke to someone off-mike. From the punctuated hisses of the conversation, Derek guessed his chances of reaching the director were slim.

  Finally, Robesfoy came back on the line. “Lt. Childress,” his voice was a heavy sigh, blunt with exasperation. “I will attempt to reach Director Toussant. Please hold.” The line went silent, Derek’s only indication that he was still connected was a slight vibration in his ear.

  Derek looked across the station and caught Kayle’s dark eyes over his shoulder. He looked more nervous than Derek had ever seen him and people were starting to cast looks his way, based on whatever Cal was saying.

  Goddamn it. This was so much worse than Marc. At least with Marc, he had no clue what was going to happen before tragedy struck. Here and now, the stakes were clear. If he couldn’t reach Toussant, couldn’t convince him at least to speak to Cal, there was the potential that he could be condemning everyone in here—Kayle included—to a violent death. He closed his eyes and dropped his head as he felt tears threatening. In his imagination, he saw Kayle dying. He knew just what it looked like because he’d already seen it once.

  The line on the other end went live once more. “Lieutenant Childress, is it?”

  “Y-yes,” Derek stammered, jerking his head up.

  “This is Director Toussant.”

  Derek could have guessed that much. Clan had a weird way of speaking and a particular tone to their voices that made his guts turn in on themselves. He hadn’t noticed it as much with Kayle’s father, but then Fourie was an outlier.

  “You have a situation there,” Toussant said, leaving Derek to wonder if it was meant as a question or if he was merely stating the obvious.

  “Yes, Director. We have a suspect here whom we are certain is the killer we’ve been hunting. He has a hostage.”

  “And you think I can be of some assistance? How?”

  “Well, Director, he also claims to be your son.”

  The silence on the line stretched on for so long, Derek wondered if he’d lost the connection.

  “I have no children,” Toussant finally said, weariness in
his voice.

  “It doesn’t really matter, sir. He’s convinced you are his father and that you’re to blame for what he’s become.”

  “That sounds…”

  “Yes, Director. It sounds unstable. I can assure you, he is mentally unstable but also very intelligent. If he dies in view of all of these people, he’ll become a political martyr. I don’t need to tell you how bad that could be for your office.” Or your kind, Derek thought but kept the obvious unspoken.

  Toussant’s sigh filled Derek’s head, making him stifle a sympathetic yawn.

  “Let me think on it.”

  “With all due respect, Director, this man is going to demand to board the train with his hostage at any moment. Nobody here wants that to happen.”

  There was a click in his ear and Derek knew the line of communication had been shut down. He felt dizzy and too hot. This was like some fucking nightmare that kept recurring every time he closed his eyes. In his head, a scenario played over-and-over. Cal backing towards the train with his hostage, because he’d be a fool to let her go until they were well outside of Shorebank. A Sovereign guard would shoot one or both of them before they could board, and then—pandemonium. Derek and Kayle would be swept up by the violence, too far away from each other even to say goodbye.

  He couldn’t look at Kayle, because Kayle would know that he’d failed. They’d arrived at a stalemate. Hopefully Derek could stall Cal long enough to figure out what the hell else to do.

  When Derek returned to the crowd, worming his way through to get back to Kayle, he caught the tail end of Cal’s attempt to further screw up the situation.

  “...and this man is fucking this Variant infiltrator.” Cal looked pleased with himself as the crowd’s murmuring became more indignant. He could hear the hissing of angry whispers rolling around them like a wave. They were being held now against their will, but instead of blaming the man with the knife, Derek knew their anger would be focused on the Variants. It was a volatile mix, and wouldn’t to take much to make this crowd ignite.

  Derek didn’t dare move and he willed Kayle not to turn around. He didn’t want the crowd to get a good look at him, to see the patterns in his skin, and those red-moon eyes. A jostling started on the far side of the group; shoving against the barrier made by the troll soldiers. One raised his gun to strike or to fire, and Derek opened his mouth to cry out—to tell them to fucking stop, but somebody beat him to it.

  A voice broke through from behind the crowd; loud, deep, and blood-chillingly dark.

  “Stop.”

  The weight of the word settled over the group like molten lead.

  How Clan moved so quickly, Derek would never fathom. Voices went silent, arms dropped, and all eyes turned slowly towards Director Toussant.

  Derek had seen pictures of him—propaganda portraits that were hung in all of the civic buildings. Most had been defaced. The one in the police station sported shaggy black eyebrows and a handlebar mustache. Even unaltered, the portraits did not do him justice.

  Toussant was tall, at least as tall as his troll guards, and narrow, made more so by the straight lines of the dark robes he wore. His face was white porcelain, his hair was as black as ink. When he moved, he seemed weightless and somehow oppressively dense. Yellow eyes, like a tiger’s, focused hard on Cal whose bravado withered before him.

  “Director,” Kayle tipped his head in something that much more resembled a bow.

  “Inspector Perrine.” Toussant’s voice slithered over the words. “I have been told there is someone here who wishes to meet me.”

  “F-father…” Cal stammered. “I-it’s me… Calvin...” His voice was like a child’s, high and nervous. Cal took a small step forward, but not far enough to let his hostage go. “I’m Calvin. I’m your son…”

  Toussant’s seamless features pulled upwards, giving him a look of surprise that his eyes did not reveal.

  “My…son?” he murmured.

  “Yes!” Tears were running down Cal’s face. “You know me! Why father? Why did you leave?”

  “My son.” Toussant chewed on the word, as though he were struggling to comprehend the meaning. For a moment, it seemed that he would turn around, but he stilled, his eyes sliding closed. “My child, I had not known of your existence…” Toussant appeared genuinely pained by the realization that his child had felt so abandoned.

  “Please… can you forgive me?” Toussant stepped into the circle that had parted for him and he held out a long, trembling arm. The hand stretching from the sleeve of his garment was as white and bloodless as bone. He spread his arms palms up; wide open, and waiting for an embrace.

  As soon as Cal loosened his hold on his hostage, Derek yanked her into his body, turning his back towards Cal to protect her in case he realized and lashed out. But he was sobbing now, mesmerized by the man before him who asked to be forgiven, and accepted with open arms. The crowd let out a collective sigh and applause broke out among them as the two men embraced, father and son, reunited after so many years.

  “All right, back on the trains, you’re all free to go!” Inek called out. “Five minutes!”

  Satisfied that a peaceful resolution had been attained, the people remembered their previous appointments and impending journeys to loved ones of their own. Within five minutes, everyone, including the hostage, were on the trains, and in another five, the long cylindrical worm was pulling out of the station and into the tunnel to the desert surface. The moment the station was clear, Toussant let go of Cal.

  Cal’s body crumpled to the ground, folding impossibly. His widened eyes stared skyward glazed and red, but empty.

  Derek dropped to his knees as the realization hit him like a fist. Cal was dead, his spine snapped in half.

  “You…was he? Was he your son?”

  “It’s possible,” Toussant said, his voice returning to the steady cool thrum.

  “But this is politics. Fine work, gentlemen.” He jerked his head towards one of the guards. “Dispose of that discreetly.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Politics. Life and death was all a political gamble. Derek stared at the fogging windshield of his car. Reaching out to wipe off a speck of dirt, he realized it was a piece of charred metal embedded on the other side. He sighed, and slumped back against his seat.

  Kayle was watching him silently from the passenger’s side, but Derek knew Kayle had to be getting bored of watching him stew. They’d driven home without words and now they’d been sitting in Derek’s parked car for about five minutes.

  “All right,” Derek grunted as he forced himself out of the car. He walked around to Kayle’s side, grimacing at the damage to the paint.

  The car was never showroom quality, but now the faded blue had turned to ugly mustard brown where the finish had burned. There were dimples from the metal being pelted by hunks of building from the explosion. It was amazing that the car had gotten them this far, and probably past-due time to let her rest.

  “Derek?” Kayle said as Derek opened his door. He hadn’t stepped back, and when Kayle stood up, they were inches apart.

  “Sorry,” Derek apologized. “Thinking too much.”

  Kayle slipped his arms around Derek’s waist, his expression sliding into a half-smirk. “That’s never been a problem for you before.”

  “That’s the biggest problem I have. I think too much; don’t act enough. I could have finished this thing without anybody having to die. I could have stopped it before it had even come to this point.”

  “Derek.” Kayle pressed his hand to Derek’s cheek. “Stop it. You’re beginning to sound as self-deprecating as me.”

  He struggled out of his dark mood, wrapping his arms around Kayle. He put on a little smile. “I could never be that good.”

  Derek pulled Kayle into a hug, closing his eyes and breathing in everything around him. The scent of burnt oil and paint, a whiff of gasoline, smoke from his coat that Kayle wore and Kayle. Spice, sex, and comfort. He buried his face in Kayle’s long
hair. A little smoky, but sweet and warm; familiar like home.

  Home. The word struck him with sudden clarity. Kayle would be leaving soon, going back home to Apex. Now that the case was over, there was no reason for him to stick around, and Derek knew better than to think he could go with him.

  “Oh,” Derek said, snapping up his head as he remembered that Kayle had been injured from the explosion. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No.” Kayle smiled, his arms loosening around Derek’s waist. “But we should probably go inside before you help me heal up.”

  “Good idea.” Yes, what he needed right now was mind-blowing life-affirming sex. Later, after he’d recovered from post-coital bliss, he could let all the darkness and bullshit back into his brain.

  In the shower, Derek was careful while washing the blood off of Kayle’s skin, in case he should come across a wound that had not yet healed. His fingers glided over smooth, warm flesh, some of it still pink from mending itself. It stood out against his patterned skin, and Derek kissed as many of these places as he could reach. Kayle’s hands touched him as well; light, sharp strokes of claws following the silky flow of water.

  Soft lips found his own, and they held and kissed until the water dwindled down.

  When they got out of the shower, Derek gently toweled Kayle off. His long hair was wet from washing out the dirt and grime, so he wore the towel across his head and shoulders like a cowl. He followed Derek, straddling his hips as he lay back on his bed. The towel dropped when Kayle leaned down to kiss him, creating a dark, humid cave. Their breath became echoes, drawing Derek into a fantasy of finding a place together, where they could hide from the rest of the world.

  Right about the time it was getting more difficult to breathe, Kayle sat back, flinging the towel off behind him. Derek reached out to touch him, as the horns appeared on Kayle’s head like a crown of bone. He narrowed his eyes, his dark, pink tongue sliding along his upper lip, leaving a shimmer of moisture behind. Derek’s pulse beat faster as lust and apprehension mixed in his veins. His cock throbbed between them, pressed up along his belly, trapped beneath Kayle’s pleasant, grinding weight. Kayle caught his hands before they reached him. Caging his fingers between long, curving talons, Kayle leaned down, pinning Derek’s hands to the bed. He kissed him hard enough to bruise. At the same time, he felt Kayle lift his hips, letting Derek’s cock spring free. He lined it up, moving until he could feel the tight ring of muscle loosening enough to take just the first inch or two inside.