Slave Dance

by Samantha Cayto

  Franklin had also decided that only he would go with them to visit the club and interview the people there. He could have just as easily brought a cast of thousands and a search warrant that would have perhaps not held up in court. It would have nevertheless uncovered stuff in which the violation of Fourth Amendment rights would have been entirely beside the point. The constitution was designed to protect the rights of people. Technically the aliens weren’t homo sapiens, so the Supreme Court would have quite the thorny issue to navigate. Trey could only imagine what the immigration arm of Homeland would make of actual aliens as opposed to undocumented immigrants. How would one deport when a rocket was needed? The idea of it almost made him smile.

  Almost… Because along with being pragmatic and smart, Franklin was also very serious. His expression as they entered the dark luxury of the club was best described as grim.

  Despite the relative earliness of the weekday, quite a few members lurked about while boys twerked their way around poles. Franklin’s human and hetero nature came out when his steps hitched at the sight before he turned his gaze away. The guy was obviously working at not showing his surprise and maybe disgust as he headed for the bar. Kitty was at her usual post, polishing glasses and giving them her haughty look. Val was nowhere to be seen, which was a blessing, because easing anyone into the orbit of the Stelalux family with the scariest version of them would be a trial. Not even Alex was around, but Emil came around the corner the moment when they reached the bar.

  It said something when the sight of the chef made Trey relax a hair, although he wasn’t sure what. The big guy had this Zen quality about him that was comforting, notwithstanding the major way he’d lost his shit the other night. Trey had no doubt the guy would have killed Washburn if circumstances hadn’t beat him to it. That should have worried Trey, but instead, he liked Emil better for it. Anyone who preyed on children deserved what they got in his book. And, speaking of which, Demi sailed up with his usual baiting grin. Trey’s nerves set on edge in a heartbeat. Fortunately, he didn’t have to figure out the best way to respond. Emil did it for him.

  “Demi,” the chef said sharply, “this is grown-up stuff. Go back upstairs.”

  Oh, the kid didn’t like that. His grin vanished, replaced with a frown. He didn’t argue, though. “Yes, Cousin Emil.” He bit the words out before turning and flouncing away.

  Emil fixed his attention on Franklin. “How can I help you, sir?”

  Franklin flashed his badge and identified himself. “I’d like to speak with the owners about a national security matter.”

  “There’s only one owner of this club—my cousin, Alex Stelalux.”

  Franklin nodded. “Then I’d like to speak with him and all of his relatives who are onsite.”

  “That can be arranged, although, unless you press the matter, my cousin Val and Uncle Harry will want to keep their husbands out of whatever is going on, as well as Demi, Harry’s son. As you have seen for yourself, the boy is a child.”

  God, Trey wished that were true, but it was more complicated than that—not that he should be focused on anything other than Franklin’s reason for coming.

  “That’s fine,” Franklin agreed. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s private?”

  “Sure.” Emil turned to Kitty.

  “I’ve already texted everyone, and Alex says to go straight to his office. They should all be there in a few minutes.” She narrowed her gaze at Franklin. “Do you want me there, too?”

  “Not at the moment, ma’am.”

  No surprise there. As a woman who was a naturally born American, she didn’t check any of Homeland’s usual boxes for this kind of thing. Nor should she, except he knew from experience that she was no one to underestimate.

  “Please follow me.” Emil headed back the way he’d come, his large frame showing surprising grace. If he was concerned about Franklin’s arrival, he didn’t show it. But the mere fact that he didn’t offer his usual hospitality told Trey the guy was tense. Trey wanted to ask him how the kid was doing. Now wasn’t the time, although he might not be able to return at all. His movements would likely be scrutinized from here on out, and he didn’t want to give Franklin or anyone else the idea that he was playing on a team other than the one labeled US of A. He might have to trust that Emil was keeping the kid safe, which he did anyway.

  Ushering them into Alex’s office, Emil said, “Please make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen.” So saying, he took a standing position in the far corner to the right of Alex’s desk.

  Franklin, then Trey and Karl, sat on the sofa, all lined up like school children waiting for the principal to chew them out, except Franklin was not someone who would let Alex or anyone else control this little meeting.

  A few seconds later, the Stelalux boys came parading in. Trey tried to imagine what Franklin must be thinking at his first sight of these unusual men. Knowing what he did, Trey couldn’t believe he’d ever seen them as anything other than completely alien. The sheer size of them, the pale skin, the unrelenting black hair with widow’s peaks and long tails, or in Val’s case, that skull-hugging Mohawk… It all gave the appearance of otherworldliness. They looked like ruthless killers, as well. Franklin had to be assessing them in that exact way.

  Then Alex smiled and his smooth, guileless expression reminded Trey of how good these creatures had become at seducing humans. “Agent Franklin,” he said, extending his hand, “I’m Alexander Stelalux. This is my uncle, Horatiu, my cousin, Valeriu, and you’ve already met my cousin Emil.”

  Franklin rose and shook. “Mr. Stelalux, gentlemen,” he added to the room at large. “Thank you for speaking with me.”

  “Not at all. We are always happy to help out law enforcement, as I hope Sergeant Duncan and Detective Anderson have attested.”

  “Yes, they have spoken of your cooperation in past inquiries.” Butter wouldn’t melt in Franklin’s mouth. He wasn’t giving an inch.

  “They are too kind,” Alex demurred as he sat behind his desk and relaxed into a sprawl. He gave every appearance of being unconcerned about Franklin’s presence—a man with nothing to hide. Then again, he’d had a thousand years of practice dealing with humans who might make trouble for him. Given the obvious wealth the aliens had amassed in addition to their superior everything, they probably had an escape plan that could get them gone within hours.

  “They also helped save my husband’s life,” Val chimed in, taking his usual folded-armed stance by Alex’s side. “We owe them for that alone.”

  Franklin shifted his gaze to the bouncer. “I’ve read the report about your encounter with the serial killer that is assumed to have drowned. As I recall, you were the one to save Detective Anderson’s life that night.”

  Val merely shrugged at the observation. Karl, though, cleared his throat and said, “Yes, sir, that’s right. Mr. Stelalux saved me, at great risk to himself.”

  Trey gave a surreptitious nod to his partner. Good old Karl knew that something was up with Trey and this group. He was trying to do his bit to smooth things along, even without understanding fully what was going on.

  “Well, we certainly appreciate citizens’ help,” Franklin said.

  “But?” Alex prodded.

  “No buts, sir. We’re here on a completely unrelated matter. I’m sure you’re aware that there have been two fatal bombings in less than a week in this city.”

  Alex’s face went very serious. “Of course. I’ve asked Val to increase security at this club. We are all too sensitive over how gay men can be a target. We take such threats seriously.”

  “I’m not going to suggest you shouldn’t be concerned. We are still trying to determine who is behind these events and what their motive is.” He paused significantly, and Trey wondered how much the guy was going to share with his quarry.

  Franklin pulled out a folded piece of paper from his inner breast pocket and stood to hand it over to Alex. “Would you please take a look at this?”

  Leaning forward, Alex stre
tched his long arm to take the offering, open it and do as asked. His expression barely changed, except for a narrowing of his eyes. Wordlessly, he passed it over to Val, who did the same with Emil.

  It was the chef who spoke. “It looks like a photocopy of a piece from one of our membership cards.” With a flick of his wrist, he gave it to Harry.

  Franklin nodded his head. “That’s what Sergeant Duncan thought.”

  Emil’s gaze switched to Trey. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought the guy was trying to convey reassurance. Not surprising. Of all the aliens, Emil seemed to be the kindest, even more so than the doctor. Trey had to look away before he could be accused by Franklin of communicating with witnesses who might be suspects in an unsanctioned way.

  “Naturally,” Alex interjected, “the sergeant is familiar with our club. I’ve offered him a complimentary membership, as it happens. And although he’s refused, he knows he’s welcome here any time. I’m not surprised that he recognized the card, even in its damaged state. Are we to assume it was discovered at one of the bombing sites?”

  Franklin didn’t seem surprised by the deduction, nor should he have been. It didn’t take a lot of brain power to connect the dots. Alex’s massive intelligence was overkill here. His nonchalance was impressive, for sure. He, and all the Stelalux boys, could have given the Homeland agent lessons on how to play it cool. They stood and sat in various poses of relaxation, or I-don’t-give-a-fuck in Val’s case, their poker faces in place. They gave the impression that they’d wait until the end of time for Franklin to respond.

  Which he did. “Yes, actually. That’s exactly what happened. We were hoping you might be able to give us some useful information. We need to catch this guy before he acts again.”

  “Of course, I—all of us—want to help however we can. Unfortunately, if you expect us to know the identity based on that picture, you are destined for disappointment. The member’s name is never on the card. Discretion is critical. I’m sure you’ll understand. The number on the card would tell us the man’s identity, but as you know, that part is burned, not that its presence at the bomb site means one of our members is involved. Was it found at the nightclub, for example?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t answer that, sir.”

  Alex’s smile was brittle. “Naturally. I only ask because if one of our members was there as a potential victim, perhaps he dropped it in the chaos of trying to save his own life.”

  “That’s a possibility, certainly. I wonder, sir, if all of you could think hard if anyone strikes you as suspicious? I know you haven’t been in this country for too many years…” Whatever innuendo Franklin was going for, it was the first thing he’d said that rankled Alex.

  He sat straighter and shot Franklin a cold smile. Trey well-remembered from his own efforts at questioning these aliens that they played the profiling card well. “I trust you’re not suggesting that I or any of my family might be involved with this horrific event simply because we are foreigners. I believe Sergeant Duncan can advise you about how well that worked for the FBI a few months ago, hmm? And I assure you all of our documentation is in order.”

  Franklin nodded. “Yes, sir, I know. I’ve reviewed it myself and I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I have to explore all avenues, you understand.”

  Alex flashed his teeth. “Vividly. I expect you’ll want to know where we all were the nights of the bombings.”

  Now Franklin affected a sheepish air, as if he were doing a thankless task that he didn’t really believe in. “Yes, sir. That would be very helpful, just to cross one more thing off our list. I would like Sergeant Duncan and Detective Anderson to remain here to take statements from everyone—a formality, and a voluntary one.” Yeah, no one was really buying that assurance.

  Alex inclined his head anyway, like the grand chess master he was, already five steps ahead of the agent. “Very well. As I’ve said, we’re happy to cooperate with your investigation.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Franklin stood. “I’ll call for a patrol car to pick me up,” he added to Trey. “Take your time with the interviews. Make sure you get the boys and the members who are here now.”

  “Yes, sir.” Trey wasn’t sure what to make of this turn of events. Part of him felt as if it were some kind of test of his loyalty. If that were the case, the guy would be disappointed. Trey would conduct interviews in the usual way, knowing that Alex and the others would back him up to keep him in Franklin’s good graces. It was in their best interests to have their man on the inside in good stead.

  Right before Franklin walked through the doorway, he stopped and snapped his fingers as if he’d just remembered something. No one was fooled by this show, either. “By the way, I almost forgot to ask, what did you do in your native country of Romania?”

  It was Emil who answered. “We were farmers. Why?” It was the most direct and rude Trey had ever seen the man be.

  Franklin gave a tired smile. “No reason…just curious. I guess you worked with plants a lot, huh?”

  “I think that’s the textbook definition of what being a farmer means,” the chef deadpanned. Who knew the guy had it in him?

  “Sure.” Franklin knocked on the side of his head. “Of course. I’ll see myself out.”

  The room was quiet for almost a minute afterward. If Karl hadn’t been there, Trey would have given in to his impulse to slouch down on the sofa and beg Emil for something to eat. His stomach had been in so many knots since the briefing had produced the remnants of the membership card that he hadn’t had lunch.

  Karl broke the silence by tapping Trey’s arm. “Hey, Sarge, how about I get started on the interviews out in the main room? I can begin with the bartender, if that’s okay?” He asked the question to Alex as much as Trey.

  “Certainly, Detective Duncan,” the club owner said. “Kitty is always happy to see you.” That sounded like a stretch, given how frosty the woman acted around them. “She’ll help you with rounding up the boys. And I’m sure I don’t have to ask you to be delicate with the members?”

  Karl stood. “No, sir, you don’t. I understand. No one ever likes it.” He glanced down at Trey. “Meet me later out there when you’re finished here?”

  “Yeah. I’ll take the kitchen staff,” he added, thinking that the boy he wanted to check on might be hidden away in Emil’s domain.

  “Right.” Karl left, closing the door behind him. Damn, the guy was way too savvy for Trey’s own good.

  Emil relaxed a fraction. With Anderson gone, only the family remained. And yeah, Duncan already felt like he was one of them. Pushing away from the wall he’d been holding up, he crossed over and sat in the space the detective had vacated. “Well, that was unexpected.”

  The cop angled his body toward him. “Really? You didn’t think this Marius psycho would pull that move?”

  Emil shrugged. “It’s more that I didn’t think Dracul would. After the drubbing his boys took, I bet he wants to make this agony last longer for us. Our being on the radar of Homeland Security hardly accomplishes that. We’re no fun if we’re sent to detention.”

  “Perhaps he’s decided that he’d best get us out of the way quickly—and once and for all,” Alex mused.

  “He must know we won’t allow ourselves to be locked up.” Even as he made the observation, the idea of having to leave Boston sat like lead in his belly. He’d come to love the place. Plus, what would become of Logan? Or Jase?

  Not that the boy was his problem in the long term… He was only helping him get back on his feet—at least that was what he told himself. Jase needed time to heal emotionally, and teaching him the basics of cooking would give him a marketable skill. All of that would take time, and if Marius was determined to frame them for the bombings, they wouldn’t have it.

  You can always take Jase with you.

  He told the voice in his head to shut up. The idea was ridiculous. Jase had already been captive to another man’s whims for too long. He deserved freedom—of choice, of destiny. He might think
he wanted to obey Emil and call him Master, but that was only because he didn’t know any other way. Emil needed time to show him that he could have more, that he deserved more.

  “I don’t want to run,” he heard himself saying. Looking over at Alex, he added, “We have to hunt down Marius.”

  Alex inclined his head. “Agreed. What do you think, Val?”

  “Yeah, I’m on board with that idea, of course, but we can’t track him by scent. Even if I dared scope out the site of his next explosion, the strong, acrid smells of the fire would overpower my sense of smell. We need to determine some other way to find him.”

  “He’s using some kind of as-yet-unidentified plant as the basis for his explosive,” Duncan said. “Remember last time we convened on this I said they were analyzing it, and now they’ve narrowed it down to something organic—and non-native. Franklin actually used the word ‘alien’, although he didn’t mean it the way I do.”

  “Oh shit, I should have known,” Emil replied, feeling like three kinds of a fool. When the cop raised his eyebrows, Emil explained. “We managed to salvage some of our food stores before blowing the wreckage of our ship. During long voyages, we grow our own food to process onboard. We held on to them with the hopes of being able to seed some part of this planet. It would have been a taste of home, you understand.”

  His species wasn’t immune to the concept of what humans called homesickness. “We have a small amount of them here, you see. Occasionally I cook with them, and Harry employs some medicinals. We never did any real planting because we quickly understood we wouldn’t be able to contain them. Your world might have been overrun with something you couldn’t consume. Some of it would be deadly to your species and other animal life.”

  Duncan sat straighter. “Are you saying you have explosive plants right here?”

  Emil nearly rolled his eyes at the suggestion before remembering how frightened the human must be for his people and his city. “No, they aren’t inherently dangerous in that way, but Marius was playing around with mixtures involving Earth-based elements to create something powerful. He may have perfected what, so far according to our knowledge, had only caused him to lose his arm.”