“We have some nasty relatives of sorts that need a beat-down,” Demi added. “Ask Emil sometime when you’ve made him stupid with sex. He’ll tell you.”
Mackie increased his speed and started weaving among the heavying traffic. “And the men keep forgetting just how helpful we can be. They need a reminder. Hence, we go to the place they told us to avoid. We just don’t know why or what we’re walking into, that’s all.”
“Then we shouldn’t go,” Jase stated the obvious.
“Except there must be something risky happening to the men we love, and although they wouldn’t think so, we might be the difference between them living and dying,” Quinn said. “They’re not indestructible.”
Jase’s stomach did a flip-flop of fear. I knew Master was lying. And maybe disobeying made Jase a bad slave. So be it. He wasn’t going to lose the man now that he’d finally found him. “Mackie, drive faster.”
* * * *
Trey headed for his bed with glazed eyes and was half-asleep already. He landed face down and didn’t care that he was still fully dressed. After clocking more than twenty-four hours, nothing would disturb him. Then his phone started ringing and he nearly wept at the sound. He also considered tending his resignation from the force if it meant the chance of getting a few hours’ sleep. In the end, he pulled it out of his pocket and answered with his eyes closed.
“Speak.” He didn’t care if it was a superior on the line.
“Duncan, we need you.”
“Emil?” He rolled over, wide awake now. “You found Marius?”
“We found his bolt hole and his stash of explosives. Harry and Logan are dealing with that. Alex, Val and I are heading to where we think is his next bombing site.”
That had Trey lurching to his feet and racing for the door. Fatigue stood no chance against terror. “Tell me where so I can get Franklin and his people to cordon it off.”
“I’ll tell you, but you can’t let anyone else know.”
“Fuck that. People are dying.” He punched through to his garage, where his car sat still warm from his trip home.
“If we don’t stop Marius, thousands more will be killed. If he sees any one of your people, he’ll abort that plan and move to another. We’re not even sure we know where he’s going. It’s an educated guess. Mine, actually.”
“I trust that.” He got in and started his motor.
“Thanks, and I hope I’m not leading everyone astray. I need your promise on this, Duncan. You know what’s at stake and why this isn’t like catching a human terrorist.”
Trey backed out onto the street and gunned it. “Yeah, yeah. Fine, tell me where.”
“Frog Pond.”
“Fuck!” He glanced at the clock on his dashboard. “It will be filled with kids skating in an hour or so.”
“We know. We’re parking at the garage below the Common and are going to do our best to scout out the area hopefully without him seeing us. He won’t know you at all, though.”
“Yeah, but I know him—an alien with one arm. If I see him first, I’m taking him down. I don’t care how I have to explain a pile of dust, either.”
“That’s fair. See you on the other side.”
The call disconnected. He started to pocket his phone then decided he needed to make one more call.
“Christ Jesus, this better be good.”
“Karl, I need you to meet me at Frog Pond. Please don’t ask questions now. I promise I’ll explain later, and I need you to come in quiet.”
A noisy breath blew through the connection. “On my way.”
* * * *
“Damn, it’s so crowded.”
“Humans are resilient,” Alex observed. “It’s one of the things I admire about them. In the face of terror, they go on with their lives, refusing to be cowed.”
The three of them—he, Alex and Val—lurked behind the small enclosure that provided the entrance and exit to the garage. It was still early, the skating pond not yet open for business. It would be soon, however, and that’s when Marius would make his move. There would be no point in bombing an empty park.
That was assuming he was right. There’d been nothing about Marius’ plans to confirm it. It was merely a hunch on Emil’s part. There were other possibilities, such as the bridge he’d highlighted and the airport. His gut still told him this was the place, though. It would be bad and yet a small escalation of the carnage. It checked all the boxes based on his knowledge of how his former shipmate’s mind worked.
“Where is he?” he murmured.
He scanned the growing group of people. While it was cold, it wasn’t frigid. Groups milled about with light winter clothing. The sun was starting to shine in earnest, making it a lovely day for spending some time outdoors. Families were arriving at the Frog Pond pavilion, looking to rent skates. A gaggle of little girls skipped up, paired off and holding hands. One at the front had a princess crown on. A birthday party… Had to be. All Emil could picture was those sweet girls being maimed and killed.
He broke his gaze from them and searched intently. “Where are you? Where are you?” He spotted a tall figure off to one side, shambling along. A homeless man, probably. With his watch cap pulled low on his face, it was hard to get a good look at him. He carried a dirty duffel bag, though, and that alone made him suspicious. As did the fact that his far sleeve appeared to be plastered to his side, as if there were no arm in it.
Emil tapped Alex’s shoulder. “What do you think?” He pointed in the direction of the man, who continued to approach the rink.
Alex straightened. “Could be. It’s a good disguise. Build’s about right and that bag could contain a lot. Val…”
“On it.” Hunching into his own coat and pulling a cap low on his brow, Val headed toward the man.
Not satisfied they’d identified Marius, Emil kept looking. Now the little girls were laughing and pulling on skates. Others had already hit the ice, the rink having just opened. The man kept going and so did Val, picking up his pace to close the distance, yet not rushing to raise suspicion. Emil’s phone vibrated in his pocket.
He pulled it out and checked the caller. “Duncan.”
“I’m here, over toward Boylston. And don’t chew my ear about it, but I brought in Karl. We need help and he’s trustworthy.”
“You can take that up with Alex later.” Emil looked in the direction the cop had stated and caught sight of him and his partner. “I see you. Val’s on the other side of the rink. There’s someone approaching who might be…
“Wait.” Emil narrowed his eyes at a figure rounding the Frog Pond pavilion on Duncan’s side. A musician, from the looks of him, with a long duster, a rasta hat pulled down low and a covered base fiddle slung over one shoulder. The guy sauntered over to the side of the rink and, putting his burden down, leaned on the rail to watch the skaters.
Val and his quarry hadn’t quite reached the pond, the man having slowed down. He redistributed his bag, showing for the first time that he had two arms to move. At the moment when Val was realizing this and looking back at Emil and Alex, the musician turned slightly. His movement stole Emil’s attention back.
“It’s him,” Emil said into the phone and to Alex at the same time. “Rasta hat by the railing. That’s Marius.”
Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he grabbed his own pack and raced. It was brutal keeping his pace to a slower, human level when all he wanted to do was fly. His gaze homed in on the bag on the ground. Death lurked inside, ready to go off at any moment. Marius’ nonchalance at standing next to it made no difference. The man’s blood ran colder than the arctic. He undoubtedly found it a source of pride that he didn’t simply dump it and run.
Alex ran next to him, and Val, having caught on, took off after Marius. He was closest, but Marius saw him and bolted in the opposite direction, no longer so casual. Emil took a second to appreciate how they’d spoiled his fun before silently urging the guy to keep running in that direction. He was almost on top of Duncan and his pa
rtner, and their plain clothes made it impossible for him to peg them as cops. But too bad for him, because they were. They pulled out their weapons and yelled “Police” in the kind of dramatic way one saw on television. And, like in fiction, people started screaming when they noticed the guns and heard those words.
Marius hadn’t expected that. He paused in a moment of indecision before trying to change course for a safe way out. That’s all it took. Unlike the vampires of the lore they’d inadvertently created, their kind could be killed by bullets. Duncan and Anderson shouted for him to stop, and when he ignored them, they fired at him point blank.
Emil didn’t have time to watch the scene unfold in its entirety. A bomb lay waiting to decimate the ice rink. He had no doubt it was going to be the most powerful one yet. He headed straight to it, while Alex and Val started yelling at the humans to run. Alex rushed through the rink’s opening, sliding right across the ice. He swept up two girls as he passed them and lifted them along for the ride. Val did the same a half-second later. At the other side, boys stood with open arms to grab the now-screaming kids and carry them across the Common.
No, not merely boys. Mackie and Quinn. What the fuck! Demi was also there, taking two girls from Val before sprinting away. Other humans caught on quick. Those that weren’t trying to save their own children went to grab anyone Alex and Val had scooped up on the ice. It was like a bucket brigade of kids whose skates would prevent them from running for safety. Someone would be filming it, without a doubt, but Alex’s and Val’s ability to navigate the ice in a way humans would have failed at was the least of their worries.
As Emil skidded down beside the bag, the back of his mind worried about Jase. If the boys had come back from Rockport to the very place they were told to avoid, where was he?
“Master.” The sound of the breathless voice made Emil’s heart skip.
“You were supposed to be safe!” He vented his fear through fury as he ripped open the bag and tried to make sense of what he saw.
“I want to help. Please, tell me how I can.”
“The children.”
“They’re almost all cleared. The others are seeing to that. The cop, Duncan, is here, too.”
“I know. I called him.” He sacrificed a second to look at Jase. The boy stared back at him with wide and teary eyes—and determination. He wasn’t going anywhere.
“Open my backpack and take out one of the jars.” Marius’ bag was packed with explosive material and an electrical device that was designed to set the spark. When and how were beyond his skill. He was no engineer, but he was a botanist and a cook. He knew that if he saturated the material enough, no spark would set it off. He could only hope he had gotten the measurement right.
“Here, Master.”
Jase opened one jar. Emil took it and started to gingerly sprinkle it over the top of the material. His plan was to neutralize it layer by layer, working downward so as not to jolt anything. He moved slowly, afraid to make any sudden moves.
“You understand that this could go off at any moment.”
“Yes, Master.”
“We’ll both die if it does.”
“I know, Master.”
He tossed the empty jar away and held out his hand for the next one. Jase was ready for him. “Do you think, given the precarious circumstances, you could do me the favor of calling me by my name? I’d like to hear it once from your beautiful lips and have you mean it man-to-man, not slave-to-Master, if you don’t mind.”
“Emil.” There was no hesitation, no coyness, no dramatic pause. “Emil.”
Although he was now wrist-deep in Marius’ deathly shit, he had to smile. “Thank you. I hope we get a chance for you to say that a whole lot more.”
“As you please, but I’d like to call you Master, too, sometimes.”
“We’ll talk about that. If it’s something you really want, I can’t say I mind hearing it.”
“Truly?” He passed another jar to him.
“Yup. Who knew? I’m a secret Dom or whatever.”
They worked quietly for a minute after that, slowly incorporating the baking soda mixture into the explosive. At some point, the ratio changed sufficiently that Marius’ compound started to decompose. It withered, then went slimy, turning into a disgusting goo. When Emil had used the last jar, he sat back on his heels and watched the bag’s contents, looking for signs that it was still volatile.
A muffled click gave him his answer. Sticking his hand in, he felt for the electrical component, found it breaking apart. The detonation had happened but the explosion had not.
“Thank God,” he sighed.
Jase grabbed his arm. “Master!”
Emil jerked and followed Jase’s line of sight. The man Val had been hunting was still there, the only one who hadn’t run from the scene. He was bending down and grabbing something from behind the pavilion. Emil had a split-second to throw himself over Jase and cover him before the explosion rocked the area.
Debris rained down on them, on him, pelting his back with bits of dirt and mortar. He grunted with the impact of some of it, yet moved only so much as to make sure he fully shielded the smaller human.
Terror robbed him of breath more than the stuff pelting him. He wrapped his arms around Jase’s head and pressed him down as much as he dared without smothering him. He could feel the boy shaking and hear his screams, despite the ringing in his ears.
Something large clobbered him on his head and he fought a wave of dizziness. Blood trickled down his face. He ignored it. He stayed lying on top of Jase until nothing more fell from the sky. Opening his eyes, he tried to turn to look and see if it was safe to get up. Everything appeared blurry. Then Jase shoved him off with a surprising strength. Emil toppled over and blinked at the boy’s worried face that now peered down at him.
“Jase? Why are there two of you?”
The boy burst into tears. It was the last thing Emil saw.
Chapter Thirteen
“Keep the ice pack on, Emil.”
He eyed his nurse, Jase, who was taking his assigned role very seriously. The fact that the boy was carefully using his name and had dropped the ‘Master’ in front of the feds was a good sign. So, Emil shot him a smile and said, “Yes, sir.”
He settled back in the booth where he sat and adjusted the pack to cover the lump. He winced because it did hurt like a bitch. Everyone was clustered at one end of the main room of the club, the separate interviews having been concluded. No one had been spared the grilling, from Kitty and Lucien, to Logan and Harry—and, of course, the boys. Emil had worried about Jase being by himself, but he seemed unfazed when he left the upstairs room the feds had been using. Only Demi had been spared, being a minor. Harry had insisted that any questioning had to be done with either him in the room or someone from social services. Franklin had elected to cut the boy loose entirely, although he had joined them for the grand finale.
Even though his team had left minutes ago, Franklin was still there, eyeing them like a disapproving schoolmarm. Man, was he pissed. He wasn’t buying their story, yet with two cops backing it up, he had little choice. It was a minor miracle everyone had absorbed the hastily concocted explanation as well as they had.
Plus, some unknown homeless man had now been identified as the unsub. The poor bastard… At least his identity might never be known, so his good name wasn’t going to be sullied with Marius’ horrific deeds.
The acrid smell of the fire lingered and would for weeks, likely. Lucien and Kitty had done an excellent job at a diversion. The kitchen was in shambles, and while the rest of the club was unscathed, the smoke damage alone would require substantial renovations of the first two floors. Emil tried not to pout about that. In the larger scheme of things, having to redo his kitchen hardly ranked as a tragedy.
Franklin tapped his notebook and grimaced at the crowd at large. “Well, this has been quite the day. While I was happy to report that another tragedy had been avoided and that the unsub appears to have been neutr
alized permanently, there are still a lot of loose ends that I don’t think I’m going to be able to tie up soon. I don’t like loose ends.”
He paced away before confronting them again. “I also don’t like appearing to be an idiot in front of my superiors, like the President of the United States, for one. So, here’s what I’m going to write in my official report. Most of the Stelalux family headed out this morning before an unfortunate grease fire broke out. The boys went to Rockport to frolic about the rocks in the freezing cold, for some reason, then decided ice skating at Frog Pond was in order. Husbands and lovers left separately to join them, somehow without my people outside noticing.”
“I find the fact that you had us under surveillance disturbing, to say the least,” Alex interrupted.”
“I’m sure you do. The timing of your departure vis-à-vis the fire is astounding. You missed it by minutes at most.”
“They do say timing is everything.”
“Yeah, anyway… Sergeant Duncan, acting on an anonymous tip, contacted his partner and they went to the Common, as well. Quite the coincidence.”
Duncan coughed. “Sometimes police work is about getting lucky, sir.”
Franklin glared at him. “Indeed. Regardless, a suspicious man dropped a bag by the rink and started running. After due warning, Sergeant Duncan and Detective Anderson opened fire. Then, thinking they’d killed the unsub, they proceeded to evacuate the area. They were wrong. He somehow went from where they’d dropped him and decided to make himself a casualty of his own bomb. He won’t be the first perp to end it that way, I suppose. We’re lucky he was the only one to be hurt.”
“My head would like to disagree with you, sir,” Emil said. He winked at Jase, who smiled back at him. The boy was sitting as close to him as possible without being on his lap, which is what Emil would have preferred.
“Yes, my apologies, Mr. Stelalux. Although I appreciate how all of you worked to save those kids in particular, it was monumentally stupid for you to open that bag. You had no idea it was filled with some gunk.”
Slave Dance Page 19
