by Wen Spencer
"Ru," Ukiah murmured to Hellena. "Have him remember Ru."
. . . Was there anything louder, drunker, randier than a party of college boys? Atticus couldn't decide if coming tonight had been a mistake. With the recent gay bashings, he didn't like his roommate walking alone, but Atticus was the only straight person at the party. And apparently there was some confusion over that. On the theory that a moving target was harder to hit on, he drifted through the party. Perversely, he felt like Goldilocks, critiquing each area: too loud, too crowded, too drunk, way too intimate.
Where the hell was Ru? Atticus felt a prick of jealousy that probably someone else was with his roommate. Ru had been moody and withdrawn since winter break and the whole mess with the stabbing.
At the time Ru had been surprisingly calm and efficient. He said the mice were cute. Instead of being upset about Atticus not being human and able to come back from the dead, Ru seemed to focus on the fact that he was the first person Atticus ever told his secret to. He invited Atticus home during the break, and introduced him to his parents and three little sisters. What had happened? Even with Atticus's perfect memory, he couldn't pinpoint the sentence or the gesture where it all went wrong. And it hurt like hell. Ru was the best friend he'd ever had, and it really felt like he was losing him.
No one was in the backyard. While there was afire going in a brick grill, it was dark and cold: a perfect spot to sulk. Ru found him there a short time later.
" Hey!" Ru breathed out a haze of wine, snuggling against Atticus's back." What are you doing out here?"
" Sulking." Atticus immediately wished he'd said something else. For a moment, things had been right, with Ru playfully affectionate. He liked the closeness they had, despite what it was doing to his image.
Ru, though, pulled away." Whatever for?"
" The mice weirded you out— didn't they?"
" Why would you say that?"
" Because . . . Nothing, just forget about it."
" You sorry you told me?" Ru asked warily, putting more distance between them.
" No. It's just things seem broke between us. And it sucks."
" Yeah, it sucks."
So they fell into silence except the crackling of the fire.
" Yeah," Atticus whispered finally," I'm sorry I told you. I hate this."
" Atty, this has nothing to do with the mice."
He looked at Ru, dubious.
" This is about you and my sisters," Ru explained, or rather, didn't.
" What?"
" All the girls you dated last term were complete babes, but my sisters . . . I couldn't deal with that."
" Ru, what the hell are you talking about?"
Ru gave him a look of pure agony." You'll hate me."
" What, you've taken up killing babies and torturing puppies when I wasn't looking?"
Ru laughed, and then sobered, falling back to the hurt look.
Atticus didn't know what to say. He never knew what to say. He tried to bridge the gap between them; he went to Ru, awkwardly embraced him, and asked quietly," Tell me what's wrong. Until I know, I can't do anything to fix things."
Ru's heart started to hammer, and he let out a trembling sigh, as if he were going to start crying." Oh, Atty, sometimes you're just so clueless."
Just as Atticus was going to ask him what he meant, Ru reached up to undo Atticus's top three buttons, leaned his head down, and dropped a kiss in the hollow of Atticus's neck. His kisses moved upward, strange for their maleness.
It all clicked for Atticus. Ru was in love with him, and Atticus was straight. Things had been fine as long as Atticus was unattainable, but then they'd gone to Ru's home and Atticus had flirted with Ru's sisters. With Ru's long hair, and his sisters' relatively flat chests, the only difference between the siblings was an X chromosome and some southerly plumbing. He felt stupid not to have realized it before.
Shaking now, Ru whispered," I love you."
Ru, who knew that he wasn't human, who had seen the mice form and be reabsorbed, who watched him die and come back to life, loved him. A jolt of something as pure and blinding as joy flashed through Atticus, stunning him.
Ru kissed him, then, firm male lips against his.
Atticus was fairly sure he was straight-straight; as totally aware of being driven by pheromones and animal instincts as he was mystified that he could not be human and still so desperately want to mate with a human female. In his blackest moods, he felt similar to a randy little dog that humped visitors' legs, driven over the boundaries of his species by lust. But he had no species of his own; he was a solitary creature, a freak of nature.
And Ru loved him just the same.
Ru kissed him again, tasting of tears, and then, realizing that Atticus wasn't responding, tried to pull away. Atticus tightened his hold, sensing that if he let Ru go now, it would tear a larger rift between them. The slight pressure was enough to check Ru. As they stood in the cold darkness, neither wanting to let go, it started to snow. Huge white flakes drifted down silently around them.
Could he maybe not be as straight as he always thought? Certainly he'd never tried . . . that. Never had the desire to. But if he really were entirely straight, why'd he never rebuff Ru? Why would the thought of Ru loving him hit him with lightning-intense happiness? And if asked—just minutes ago—for a word to describe how he felt about Ru, wouldn't he have used the word" love" ?
Ru traced the line of Atticus's jaw with his fingertips, snowflakes in his long black hair.
What was the depth and width of his love? For Ru, couldn't he bend a little?
Wetting his lips, Atticus tilted his head to Ru and kissed him. Strangely, while his senses told him that this was just another set of lips, with an X chromosome instead of a Y, there was something different—some electricity that had nothing to do with taste or smell or touch. Was this love?
So while the snow sprinkled them with cold kisses, they tested the possibilities, Atticus unsure and hesitant, Ru eager and growing bolder.
After having Ru as a roommate for months, his body was imprinted on all his senses, and yet it was like Atticus was discovering him for the first time. His musky scent. His soft skin over hard muscle. His silky black hair.
Ru fumbled with Atticus's belt, undid his pants, and slipped a hand down the flat of Atticus's stomach and into his boxers.
Do I really want this? Can I do this?
There was no denying that what Ru was doing felt good— he grew erect in Ru's hand. Encouraged, Ru slid down his body, freed Atticus from his underwear, and, with a slight groan of want, took Atticus into his mouth.
Am I really ready for this? Atticus didn't know, but his body did as it took up the rhythm of sex.
Ru looked up at him, and in that moment of union it seemed like Atticus could see straight to his soul and knew— Atticus loved him.
Relief and puzzlement went through the Pack. How did Atticus get to college? How did he go from the angry teenager to this protective and sensitive man? And how did he end up selling drugs? How long had he been dealing in Invisible Red? Atticus resisted Helena's probes until she used her personal knowledge of the Iron Horses—and what Ukiah had told the Pack earlier—to dig out memories of tonight's buy. She glossed over the biker's theories about the Pack and focused inon the information on the cult.
" We lost three men at Buffalo," Ru said." You lost three too."
" Four," Daggit said." No one's heard from Toback since; whoever hit the place took him."
There was a weird echo in the memory; Atticus hadn't known the name when Daggit said it, but he'd put a face to the name since then, so the reference had new meaning to him. Hellena pushed into the echo, and Atticus's memory jumped to a hotel suite overlooking the Boston Harbor. Atticus stood with a man, watching a massacre on a computer screen.
Why would drug dealers record a drug buy?
Hellena went digging for an answer. Atticus resisted, trying to divert to other thoughts. They played cat and mouse for a moment,
and then Hellena caught hold of a memory and dragged it forward with a cry of dismay from Atticus.
Atticus was starting to hate hospitals. He stopped, found the right room, and glanced in. The now familiar scene of a young man strapped to machines doing the living for him, a family desolate with grief. Hopefully this time he could get some useful information.
He rapped on the door, catching the attention of the father." I'm sorry to bother you, but I need to ask you a few questions." He took out his ID and held it out to them." I'm Agent Atticus Steele with the DEA."
" I don't understand," the father said.
" We believe your son took a new designer drug. It has several names. Pixie Dust. Liquidlust."
" Our son would never do hard drugs."
" The word on the street is that this drug is harmless, safer to take than Ecstasy, but we've seen a growing number of deaths in young men like Paul here who frequent the rave and dance club scenes. We think this new drug is the cause."
Atticus thrashed in Hellena's hold, desperately trying to escape her power. He tried to turn his thoughts from the memory, but Hellena kept firm, pushing on to see what he was hiding now.
. . . footsteps sounded behind Atticus. He knew the length of the stride, the scent . . .
"No." Atticus groaned. "No."
. . . the father's eyes shifted to the newcomer. Without turning, Atticus indicated the man behind him . . .
"No!"
" This is my partner, Agent Hikaru Takahashi."
With a roar of anger and fear, Atticus yanked himself out of Helena's control and surged to his feet. The Pack melted backward, having seen enough to convince them, their relief obvious. Ukiah felt his brother's fear for his partner and stepped back, clearing a path to Ru.
Atticus and Ru communicated in some secret language, a look, a touch of left hands, and relief swept through Atticus. Ukiah sensed that Atticus ached to hug Ru tight, as if all his body wanted part of the reassuring contact, but his brother ruthlessly shoved the desire away to focus on the surrounding Dog Warriors. The two DEA agents put their backs to each other and faced the Dogs. Despite the rush of terror for Ru's safety, part of Atticus filled with calm; Ukiah realized that as Atticus protected Ru, his partner guarded Atticus's heart.
But was there anyone else in his brother's life? Atticus had seemed to view Kyle as an odd mix of friend and child; someone protected with affection and yet kept at a slight distance. Ukiah supposed that was the nature of children, that the act of protecting them built a shell around them, keeping them from your own dark thoughts of disappointment and despair. And in Atticus's memories, there had been no one else. What a desolation of a heart. For Ukiah, in the wilderness, there had been only the rough affection of the wolves. How much harder it had to have been for Atticus, surrounded with examples of what he lacked. From Jo finding Ukiah in the woods, onward to the Pack and Indigo, he'd been blessed with those who loved him.
"We're not going to hurt you," Ukiah said.
"I don't believe you." Atticus stood panting, one arm still out flung to shield Ru. "You set us up, you little bastard. I can't believe I was fucking worried about you."
"We only wanted to be sure you're a decent man." Ukiah didn't need to check for a vote; he sensed the lack of dissension among the Dogs. "You passed."
Atticus clenched down on a curse, but still it struck like stones against their minds. " Fuck you. Fuck you all."
" Atticus." Ukiah stepped close, attempting to merge back to one mind, to explain. " We don't care that you're DEA. You're family. We test everyone. They even tested—"
"Get out of my mind!" Atticus hit him with the force of a truck, smashing him off his feet.
Without thinking Ukiah put out a newly healed arm to catch himself as he fell. The many fragile knits shattered in an explosion of pain. As the Dogs closed back in with a snarl of anger, Ukiah fought to stay conscious. " No! Don't hurt them!"
"I said stay out of my head!" Atticus roared. "We're not family! I'm not one of you, and you don't have any right to do this fucking mind rape! You have no right to go in, mess with my head, and pass judgment on me!"
"We're brothers," Ukiah whispered.
"We're nothing but an accident with an axe. I don't know you. I don't wantto know you." Atticus caught Ru's elbow and hurried him toward the waiting Jaguar, radiating his anxiousness to get his all too human partner away from the Dog Warriors. "Stay out of my head, stay out of my life, and stay out of my investigation, or so help me God, you'll find out how little I value our family tie."
CHAPTER FIVE
Boston Harbor Hotel, Boston, Massachusetts
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Why, Atticus wondered, did life continually try to confound him?
The sudden addition of an outlaw brother had been bad enough, but an entire species of criminals? Hypocritical ones at that—judge if he was a good man? Unlikely. What had they really been after?
The answer came while they were at a truck stop off of Route 3, where Atticus changed into dry clothes while Ru filled the Jaguar with gas. Atticus had just gotten back in the car when the Jag's phone rang.
Atticus pressed the talk button. "What is it, Kyle?"
"The Dog Warriors just raided Sumpter's room. They've taken the drop."
"Damn it! Are you okay?"
"Yeah, they didn't come down to our rooms."
Because they knew from Atticus's memories that Sumpter had the drugs.
"What about Sumpter?"
"He's pissed."
Which meant he was at least alive.
"We're on our way back."
"I tried both of your phones and you didn't answer."
His phone had been killed by the dip in the ocean. Ru's phone had gone missing sometime during the day. "We're fine. I'll explain later. We'll be there in twenty minutes."
***
The door to Sumpter's hotel room was smashed open in a manner that was entirely too familiar. The room had been thoroughly searched; all the dresser drawers were pulled out and couches overturned. The computer, Atticus noted, was gone from the desk. On the floor was the plastic evidence bag that had held the drugs; his signature was still readable on the tamper-proof tape. They found Sumpter in the bathroom, nose bloodied, checking the tightness of his teeth.
"Steele, you asshole." Sumpter grimaced at his reflection as he found a loose molar. "You were followed here after the buy."
"Yeah, something like that." Atticus scanned the room. "What did they take?"
"Everything, even my sheets and blankets."
That puzzled Atticus until he remembered that the FBI reports stated that the Dog Warriors were known to camp outdoors and Ukiah was without a sleeping bag. He felt a moment of remorse, remembering the flashes of pain as bones splintered; it had been like he did the damage to himself. Angrily, he pushed the sense of guilt aside. Yes, he hurt his brother, but look what the Dog Warriors had done after raping his mind.
"They took my copy of the surveillance DVD." Sumpter wet down a hand towel and dabbed at the blood on his face, wincing in pain. "It's only reasonable to assume that they did it to cover up their involvement in the Buffalo shooting."
Bitter as Atticus was at the Dog Warriors, that didn't seem right. The images on the DVD had been fairly clear; none of the shooters had been the Dog Warriors at the beach. Ukiah and the Dogs had been full of feral grace, something that the shooters lacked. "I think it would be wrong to jump to that conclusion."
"Why else would they be involved in this?" Sumpter snapped.
Because Atticus stole his dead brother out of a trunk. It was annoying that his sense of right and wrong had gotten him into this mess. "According to the Iron Horses, the source of the drug seems to be the Temple of New Reason. I think the cult—"
"You're going the wrong direction." Sumpter threw the bloody towel into the sink. "The Iron Horses set us up here. Obviously, they're working with the Pack. They've got the money and now the Dog Warriors have the drugs."
<
br /> "That's possible." Atticus could easily believe that. It would explain how the Dog Warriors found the beach house when Ukiah himself was clueless as to his location. "But I don't think they're our shooters."
Sumpter harrumphed, taking one last look at himself in the mirror, frowning at the bloody mess of his shirt. "Where the hell were you, anyhow?" He turned and saw the matching bruises on Atticus's face. "What the hell happened to you?"
Atticus's encounter with the Dog Warriors had left him battered enough that a change of clothes and the healing done during the drive couldn't disguise it. "The Dog Warriors jumped me at the beach house."
"You?" Sumpter studied Ru, who was unscathed beyond a bruised hand. "Where were you during this?"
Ru's face went to neutral, but Atticus recognized the signs of guilt and hurt carefully hidden away.
"He was smart enough not to pick a fight with them," Atticus said.
"He's your partner," Sumpter said.
And the pain etched deeper into Ru's face.
"Give it a rest," Atticus snapped.
"Just because you don't fill out the forms, doesn't mean I don't keep track of the number of times you've been hurt," Sumpter said. "I can read between the lines on your reports. He always slacks off and lets you take the brunt of the danger. He's going to get you killed."
Atticus turned and walked out of the hotel room. It was the only way he could keep from hitting Sumpter.
"Where are you going, Steele?"
"I need a drink!"
He was thankful the elevator appeared moments after he slammed down on the button. Ru huddled in the corner, trying to keep his hurt to himself.
"He's not right," Atticus said to the numbers counting down. "He doesn't know jack shit about me."
"I screwed up big-time at the house. I've gotten too lax. I count on you being able to take anything the perps deal out."
"You didn't do anything wrong," Atticus said. "I rushed in like an idiot, and there were just too many of them. We lost it the moment I got out of the car. Hell, when I left the hotel." He reached out and tried to smooth away the worry line on Ru's brow. "You didn't let me go alone, and that's all you could have done, and that's all that matters." Ru gave him a sad smile as the elevator stopped on their floor and the door opened. "Let's get Kyle and go down to the bar."
