by Amelia Jade
“Where are you taking me?”
“Out of his and my sight until the building is cleared for us to go back in. You’ll stay here until myself or Martin comes to get you, or else we’ll be forced to hunt you down.”
Hector nodded at that. He wasn’t going anywhere anyway. Not only because he didn’t have anywhere to go, but also because he wasn’t going to put that on his friends. By running, he would declare himself a fugitive, and Gray and Martin would be forced to hunt him down.
And kill him.
Shifter law wasn’t very forgiving. Andrew was already well within his rights to take Hector’s life in exchange for the needless death he had caused with his negligence.
“This sucks,” he spat. “I did the morally correct thing, and I’m getting punished.”
“Sometimes duty comes before morals,” Gray said, unhappily. “I would have wanted to intervene too, Hector. Nobody is faulting you for that. But you didn’t ensure that your post was covered before you left. That’s the problem. And because of it…” Gray fell silent, looking back at the smoke and steam still emerging from the center part of the embassy.
Hector looked away eventually, unable to bear it. The pain he felt was fueled by the knowledge that what Gray was saying was true. The death of Corvin and the damage to the embassy was all his fault. If he’d been on duty, he could have signaled everyone earlier, and possible even stopped the fire before it began. His sense of smell would have let him notice it before it got very large. Instead, he’d simply waltzed out the front door without notifying Martin or even Gray and having them come to watch. It was unacceptable.
“Stay here,” Gray said, opening the door to a storage shed and gesturing for Hector to move inside.
He did, and the other shifter reluctantly shut the door behind him, distaste for everything that was going on etched into his features. Hector understood. Gray was a good man, and he didn’t like having to treat his friend this way, but like Andrew, his hands were tied. There was little else he could do.
Hector found a clear spot next to the wall and slumped down until his knees were up to his chest, back against the corrugated steel. Then he proceeded to smash his head back into the wall until it flattened, and basked in the pain.
I’m sorry, Corvin. I wish I could have been there for you.
Chapter Nine
Rachel
2:10
The clock on her bedside table glared at her with its harsh red lighting, the two dots blinking on and off as each second went by.
2:11
Nothing had changed in the intervening minute. Nor had anything changed in the past hour and eleven—no, twelve minutes—she thought, as the clock ticked over again. Not one single thing was different. She was still lying on her gray and black patterned comforter staring at the plain drywalled ceiling, hands clasped on her stomach, feeling her child as it stirred slightly.
Where the hell was Hector?
That was the question that had been on her mind all afternoon. He’d agreed to come by between twelve thirty and one, depending on how eventful the night before had been and how much sleep he was able to get. When she’d mentioned this to the various support groups she was supposed to meet with, they’d all urged her to go see him.
Rachel blew air out noisily. No, that wasn’t correct. They hadn’t urged her, she thought with a smile. They’d practically ordered her, telling her she wasn’t allowed, that they’d shut her out, lock the door on her, all sorts of things that would prevent her from partaking in the meetings. So she’d stayed home, showered, even going so far as to shave, all in the name of her second date with Hector.
Who was now over an hour late.
2:17
Eventually she tired of lying on her back and got up and paced back and forth for a bit until her child made it clear he was not a fan of that at the moment. So she sat on the couch in the main room and waited for him there until the clock on her microwave read two thirty.
There was still nothing from him, on her phone or at the door. Nothing at all to notify her that he was late, couldn’t make it, whatever his excuse might be. Finally she texted Angela.
Rachel: He no-showed.
She went and poured herself a glass of water while she waited for the response. It didn’t take long in coming, and her phone vibrated in her hand.
Taking a swig, she checked her phone.
Angela: Did you hear about the fire?
She almost spit water out of her mouth as she read it. Fire? What was she talking about? What did that have to do with Hector? Putting the glass down, she composed her reply.
Rachel: No. What fire?
Angela: At the embassy. Last night.
Angela: I heard it was bad. Lots of damage.
Her fingers shook a little as she typed out her next message, unsure she even wanted to know.
Rachel: Was anyone hurt? Or killed?
Angela: OMG Rach…there was one casualty according to the news, but they haven’t named names.
Angela: Do you want me to come over? I can leave.
Rachel: No.
She took another swig of water, grabbed her purse, and dialed another number as she headed outside. The number rang and rang.
“Hello, you’ve reached Hector Gorchan. I’m unavailable right now, so please leave your name and number. Thank you.”
“Hector, it’s Rachel. I need you to call me, okay? Call me right away, as soon as you get this. Please.”
She started to say more, but then hung up and called a taxi, telling them to step on it. Time was of the essence.
***
The damage was obvious the moment she pulled up to the embassy. She shoved bills into the driver’s hand.
“Wait, this is too much!” he said, but she just ignored him and rushed from the car as best she could in her condition.
There were lots of people around, most of them shifters, judging by the height, muscle mass, and the confident way they carried themselves. She’d never truly understood the phrase “moved like a predator” until she’d seen a shifter walk. It was tough to express in words, but they didn’t just move their legs. They sort of stalked, prowled, and hunted. The wolf shifters were the most noticeable, but even in the bears she could see it.
“Excuse me, miss, but you can’t be here,” one of them said, moving to stand in her way.
Rachel came to a halt, peering past him up the steps and into the lobby of the old motel that had been converted into the Cadian embassy. She could see huge black marks on the walls and ceiling, but couldn’t tell if that was from smoke or fire.
“Where is he?” she asked, looking around him some more. “He was supposed to meet me earlier today, but he didn’t. He never came. Is he okay? Is he all right? Did he die in the fire?”
The guard’s face instantly went neutral, betraying absolutely nothing about his emotions as he reached out gently to touch her shoulder.
“There was one casualty, ma’am, but I need to know who you’re looking for before I can tell you if it was the person you’re searching for. Do you have a name?”
“What?” she asked, looking up at him. “Yes, yes of course. It’s Hector. He’s one of the guards here.”
She watched as the man’s face flashed briefly with anger and then once again closed itself off to her, a mask of expressionless stone.
“No, ma’am, Hector did not die in the fire.”
“Oh thank goodness,” she said, reaching out to steady herself on the concrete that ran vertically up the sides of the stairway, creating the level platform and walkway at the top.
“Are you all right?” the shifter asked, reaching out to help her.
“Yes, yes I’m fine. I was just…Hector was supposed to meet me, and then he didn’t. Then I found out that there was a fire and someone died, and I just…I just assumed the worst,” she said, working to regain her composure.
“I understand,” the guard said, his voice still not revealing much.
“Where is he then
? I’d like to talk to him.”
Rachel saw the guard visibly steel himself before he spoke. Whatever it was, she realized, he knew it was going to cause problems.
“I’m sorry, but he isn’t receiving visitors right now.”
She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
This time anger did flash through the guard’s eyes. “Exactly what it sounds like.”
“Excuse me?” she snapped suddenly, stepping up close. He wasn’t the only one caught off guard by her aggressiveness. Internally Rachel was panicking, wondering why she was getting so worked up over her insistence at speaking with Hector. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she’d spent all morning getting ready and then he’d bailed, or that she’d missed her group support sessions in favor of seeing him. Perhaps it was the simple caustic attitude of the shifter in front of her who was being nothing more than an obstinate pain in the ass. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter, because she was about to verbally throw down with him, and he was going to regret it if he didn’t start giving her some better answers.
“Give me one good reason why I can’t see him?” she pushed when he didn’t respond right away.
The guard’s eyes tightened, and then he gestured behind him. “Take a look around. At all of this. This is all Hector’s fault. He’s the one who caused all this.”
Rachel inhaled to say something more, but she was interrupted before she could.
“Martin, go take a break.”
The third voice entered their conversation from the side. A shifter came up and touched the guard on the shoulder, gently pushing him away. Rachel traded one last glare with him before he turned and stormed away.
“Don’t mind him,” the voice said. “He’s just under a lot of pressure and hasn’t had much sleep.
Rachel turned to see who it was, and her attitude immediately improved as she realized she knew who it was.
“I know you. You’re, um, Gray, right?” she asked, fumbling for the name of the man who had driven her on her first date with Hector the other day. “You’re the leader of the guards.”
“I am,” he said. “And I know you’re probably looking for Hector.”
“Yes. Marvin wouldn’t let me see him.”
“Yeah, Martin can be a little bit of a stickler for the rules,” Gray admitted. “But in this case, he’s correct. You can’t see Hector.”
“Why not? Marlin said that this was Hector’s fault?” she asked, motioning to the building behind Gray. “That’s not true though, right? Hector didn’t burn the place down? Why would he do something like that?”
Gray sighed and raised a hand to stop her as she started to work herself into a long-winded ramble, and Rachel stopped, nodding briefly in thanks. She took several slow, deep breaths, forcing herself back under control once again.
“Hector didn’t try to torch the place, no,” Gray began once she was better. “But he was on duty last night. It was his responsibility to ensure something like this doesn’t happen, or that it doesn’t get out of hand.”
“What happened then?” she asked. “It looks pretty bad to me. Someone died. How is Hector at fault?”
“Because he wasn’t at his post when it happened. He’s confined to quarters now.”
Rachel opened her mouth to say more, but the look on Gray’s face made her stop. His eyes had gone hard, the bright blue orbs glittering with anger and frustration. There was more to this story, she could tell. Gray wasn’t happy with what was happening, but neither was he against it. Conflicting emotions warred in his eyes as she watched, and something told her that now wasn’t the time to push her case. She needed to maintain a good rapport with Gray if at all possible, since obviously Martian boy hated her guts simply because she liked Hector.
“I see. Will you pass on a message that I came to see him then?”
Gray looked uncomfortable with the idea, but he didn’t say no.
Rachel nodded once in thanks, and then turned to go, frustrated at the entire situation. She needed to talk to Hector, to help him figure this whole mess out. But how was she supposed to do that when even his friends seemed to think he was at fault?
What had happened last night?
Chapter Ten
Hector
He couldn’t take it anymore.
Being confined to quarters was not something that he thought he could deal with. They were too small and cramped. There was quite literally nothing to do. Not even the televisions worked. Well, they worked, but there were no channels because why would the embassy pay for them when shifters weren’t television watchers?
Hector was stuck, with nothing to do. True, he was back in his quarters, which was a nice change from the storage shed. But all he’d done was lie on his bed and stare at the ceiling, getting up when someone brought one of his meals by. At least they were feeding him plenty, not trying to starve him or anything like that.
“But I’m going stir crazy,” he said aloud. “I’m also talking to myself. There is nothing about this that is going to help my situation.”
He rolled off the bed and stood up, muscles and tendons creaking after having lain still for too long. Hector reached up, stretching to the ceiling, before bending over and reaching for the ground.
Hector was through sitting on the sidelines. He’d done that for a full day already. No longer. The sound of shovels and hammers and other tools reached him, through vibrations in the building and under the crack in his door. There was lots going on out there, and he was currently sitting in his room doing nothing. That was unacceptable to him. Hector needed to be out there, working with the others, getting dirty, doing whatever he could to make the situation better.
Sitting on his ass was not helping.
He slipped on some clothes and then his boots, lacing them up extra tight. Then he headed for the door, undoing the bolt and flinging it open. Two guards turned to regard him steadily.
Right. The guards. He’d forgotten about them.
“Hey fellas.”
Andrew had recalled all the shifters in Cloud Lake after the fire, wanting everyone onsite and helping with the damage. The list of those who were permitted to travel to Cloud Lake was very tightly regulated, which meant that many of those who were eligible to come were the trained military members of Cadia. Whether Green Bearets or their equivalent from the other races, they all were held to high expectations, and also given increased levels of trust over the general public. It hadn’t been hard for Andrew to press them back into service for a few days while he decided what to do with Hector.
“You aren’t allowed out, sir, except under Andrew or Gray’s permission.” The tone of voice of Guard One was polite and respectful, yet also completely unyielding.
“I’m aware of the stipulations surrounding my confinement,” he said, perhaps a little harsher than necessary. “But here’s the situation, guys. I’m here, in my room, lying flat on my back and doing absolutely nothing. Yet out there are more of you working around the clock to fix this place. I’m done sitting around and doing sweet fuck all. I’m going down there to help with the repair work. You can either stop me, or the three of us can go pitch in and lend our hands to the effort, where we can do a lot more good.”
The two guards grimaced and looked back and forth between themselves. It was clear to him that they wanted to do nothing less than what he was suggesting. Yet if they did, then the pair of them would both be guilty of exactly what he’d done to get himself locked up in the first place: abandoning their post.
“I understand,” he said gently. “So that’s why the two of you can just work with me. You can even switch off, one of you supervising me while the other helps. If I’m still right there with you, then you technically haven’t let me out of your sight. And if anyone complains, I’ll say I beat you into submission.”
One of the shifters snorted in amusement at the suggestion Hector could even do such a thing. He had them, and they knew it. Neither one of them wanted to be stuck on babysitting
duty while their friends and colleagues worked hard to restore the embassy.
“Let’s go,” he said, pushing between them.
Hector was ready for one, or both of them to protest, to stop him and shove him back into his room. But neither of them did, and the door closed behind him with a thud. He looked from side to side, nodding at them each, and then set off down the hallway toward the stairs and the lower level where all the renovation work was ongoing. Behind him, half a step slower, came the double footfalls of his guards.
He grinned, careful not to let them see it. Finally he was off to do some good, after all the bad that he’d caused. They reached the stairway where several shifters were busy washing the walls down. The carpets had all been ripped out and sheets had been put down over the concrete to help contain water so it didn’t seep into the walls. It was thick with blackened sludgewater, but the walls themselves looked great. Cleaned up and with a fresh coat of paint, the place might actually look better than it had before. The dull creamy-beige color was far too dull for his tastes.
Taking the stairs down two at a time he looked around, taking stock of what was happening and trying to decide where he could be used best. While he waited his guards caught up, still hanging out on either side of him. Hector didn’t care, and he vowed to do his best not to make them have to work extra hard to keep up with him.
“Where to?” he asked.
The three of them glanced around. Several pairs of shifters were hauling large metal bins of debris out the front door, where even bigger dumpsters waited to receive the debris before they were to be hauled off.
The walls were coming down, and beneath their feet the tiles that had covered the entire lobby and hallways extending to either side had already been removed.
“Let’s help with demo,” he said, pushing into the back of the embassy and into the lounge. The damage was worse back here, and he could see a zone marked off where the fire had started, along the far wall. Several humans were there still, taking pictures and making notes.
