Smoke Dance

by Samantha Cayto

  “And that’s where Bran is, we presume?” Emil chimed in.

  “Exactly,” Val confirmed. He ran through more slides showing various aspects of the conversion camp, some of it obviously from a website, the others more aerial shots. “We can’t see much from any of this. To really understand what’s going on and possibly what Bran is up to, we’d need to get inside this camp.”

  “I could jump into the new chopper Alex bought and do surveillance,” Will offered. It was a self-serving suggestion, given how itchy he was to get his hands on those controls. Flying helicopters was a new skillset of his. Waiting for humans to develop flight capabilities had been agony—and not much of a challenge once they’d done it. Choppers were a different animal and far more fun.

  Alex dashed his hopes. “We’ve already considered that option, Will, but we don’t want to tip our hand too soon or too obviously. Bran would notice that kind of activity, given how remote the camp is.”

  Damn. He said nothing more. Trying to get Alex to change his mind purely to amuse Will was not acceptable hive behavior. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few—or the one. Not an original idea, Mr. Spock.

  Val continued. “We could have someone volunteer for the campaign to snoop around, but I really think the answer lies here. There seems to be a lot going on, and hopefully, both Bran and the candidate let down their guard in this relaxed setting. More usefully, there are a lot of people there, making it easier for someone to blend in, not get noticed as paying attention to matters that they shouldn’t. Still, an obvious first effort would involve someone working for the campaign in Boston.”

  Alex twirled his chair to speak directly to Logan. “We’d thought you might be able to help, work your way into the campaign? The congressman makes veterans’ issues a central part of his platform. And we don’t think Bran would recognize you. You’ve changed since Wales.”

  Indeed she had, with her hair grown out and having put on some weight, she looked less waif-like and much healthier. But she was shaking her head as Alex spoke.

  “I’d like to help, except the idea of working in an office makes my skin crawl. Sorry. I can’t do that. I’m happy to break into the camp, though. Say the word and I’ll do a B and E, no problem.”

  Alex smiled. “I appreciate the offer and I understand about not wanting to play eager volunteer in their small office. If we simply break into the camp, however, we run the substantial risk of alerting Bran. It has the same problems as doing aerial surveillance.”

  “Surely he already knows we’re on to him,” Will interjected. “He’s practically waving a flare at us.”

  Alex rubbed his finger along his lip. “He does seem to be taunting us. Or perhaps this is merely his way of showing he’s not afraid to make his mark in this world in a blatant way. ‘Look at me. You can’t touch me or stop me. I’m not doing anything illegal.’ It’s hard to say what goes on in his demented mind.”

  “So, we kill the fucker, you ken?” Malcolm spoke up. When everyone stared at him, he said, “And why not? He’s right there in plain sight.” He turned to Will. “You’re a more than fare sniper, as I recall.”

  Will winced. Yes, that was another of his skills. He preferred flying machines, thank you very much. Being a sniper had ripped out a big emotional piece of him, leaving him feeling sick and cold. He hated killing. Except if this was what the hive required of him, if this was necessary to keep Annika safe…

  Alex saved him from saying anything. “An outright execution isn’t an option. We have no way to get close enough to rig an accidental death, and an assassination of the head of a presidential candidate’s security would be too high-profile, especially when the body disintegrates immediately. We can’t risk that kind of scrutiny.”

  Will was practically dizzy with relief. And he felt cowardly for it.

  Val put up a bunch of pictures of young men. “It wasn’t a bad idea, MacLerie, and one that I proffered already. What we need is someone on the inside. This camp is actually only for boys. The girls, I guess, only have to meet the right guy to turn them straight,” he added with a shake of his head. “If we can get someone in there posing as a convert, he might learn something useful, something we can use to bring Bran down with more subtlety than double pops to the head.”

  “Or,” Alex interjected, “we may be able to end the asshat’s presidential hopes, leading to Bran suddenly finding himself without a job. He leaves for greener pastures and we nab him quietly. Either way, we neutralize the threat with the least amount of attention drawn to ourselves.

  “Oh, Alex, no,” Harry exclaimed. “Who would you use? Demi is known to Bran and Mackie is out of the question, for obvious reasons. It would be harmful to expect Brenin, Dafydd or even Jase to put themselves into a situation that is one step above prison. Are you sending Quinn?”

  At the head of the table, the pucker factor went up substantially, but Alex was a leader, first and foremost. “I worry that Bran saw him in Wales and would recognize him. Still, getting someone inside that hell-hole is the only solution I’ve come up with. It’s either that or we sit and wait until Bran possibly achieves his goal. Once he’s ensconced in D.C., there will be no way to get to him without revealing ourselves to the world.”

  “There is another possibility,” Emil mused.

  Will stiffened. Don’t say it!

  “We could ask Damien.”

  Fucking hell!

  “The thought had crossed Alex’s and my mind, as well,” Val admitted.

  Will opened his mouth to say—he wasn’t sure what—but Harry beat him to it.

  “How could we ask him? He knows nothing about us, though. Does he?” he asked Emil.

  “I haven’t taken him into my confidence. I wouldn’t do that without authorization,” he added, clearly affronted.

  “Then how the hell do we get him to agree to do this without telling him the truth?” Will demanded.

  Emil shrugged. “We tell him some of it—that Bran is a wayward family member intent on mischief and we want to see what we can learn about his plans without alerting him to the fact that we’re doing so. It could work.”

  Will leaned forward and took them all in with a sweeping glance. “Damien is not stupid. He’ll figure out something weird’s going on. Plus, it’s dangerous. Why not have one of the other hybrids help, from our shipmates who are coming to Boston? I know of two born in the last hundred years, even if their fathers have bowed out of fighting.”

  “We considered that, as well,” Alex said. “But a hybrid is still different enough from a full human that Bran is likely to detect him. Other than Annika, does anyone know a shipmate who has fathered a child that doesn’t share our physical appearance? She’s an anomaly, isn’t she? And not only because she’s female?”

  Harry spoke again. “I believe Claude’s boy inherited his human father’s darker pigmentation. Here he could identify as African American. Except,” he added with a shake of his head, “from what I know of him, he’s too young to pass as a human adult.”

  “Then that leaves us back to using a fully human ally,” Alex said.

  No one was able to gainsay Alex, not even him, because fuck it all, his captain was right. Still, Will believed a hybrid was a better choice than a mere human. “Damien can’t protect himself the way a hybrid could. If Bran figures out he’s working for us, he’s as good as dead.” He didn’t really care that his voice had risen or that he’d pounded the table on that last word.

  There was silence for a few seconds as everyone stared at him. Then Alex broke it. “You’ve been very discreet, Willem. How long have you and Damien been involved—and have you told him more than you should?”

  Will jerked back. “What? No, sir.” He shook his head. “I am not involved with Damien, and I’ve told him nothing.”

  “Oh, Will.” Emil tsked. “You should let him know how you feel. He’s interested in you, too, you know?”

  Will’s shock rocketed up even more. “No! See? You’re wrong
. He isn’t interested in me at all. I’m some guy he barely knows who’s saddled with a child, no less. And that’s my focus, totally, raising Annika. Serving our Queen.”

  Emil folded his arms. “He wants you. Trust me. I’ve known the boy for years now. He rarely goes out clubbing anymore and no one asked him to cook for the family. That was his idea.” He scrunched up his face. “And when did he get that idea? Oh yeah, two seconds after you and Annika moved in.” He nodded once for emphasis, as if he’d produced Exhibit A in the case of the Willem versus Reality.

  Will was at a loss for words. He sat there with his mouth open and shaking his head until Logan spoke up.

  “He’s a good kid. He’ll help if you ask him, and he’s street-smart, can take care of himself.”

  Has everyone lost their fucking minds?

  He was outvoted, however, not that theirs was a democracy. Somehow the meeting was ending and Alex had given Emil and Will marching orders to seek out Damien and ask this huge favor of him. With his heart in his throat, Will stood to obey his captain. His mind, though, searched for a way out of this crazy scheme—one that put Damien in the middle of an alien war he knew nothing about. He had no choice, though, not at the moment. He’d follow Emil and help make the case to Damien, and yet as he did so, he decided on an alternate plan that would have him undermining his captain for the first time. He hated to do it, but fear and conviction steeled his resolve. Alex’s decisions were no longer the final ones. He was the captain, but Annika was the Queen.

  * * * *

  Damien tried to play it cool when Will trailed Emil into the kitchen. Dropping the tray of cookies he’d been taking out of the oven gave him away, however.

  “Shit!” He scrambled to catch it, then swore again as he burned his arms on the hot metal and fumbled to keep the whole thing from crashing onto the floor. For a few seconds, he was like that chef on Sesame Street who was always dropping treats after he finished counting. All that was missing was the comical music—One hopelessly crushing twiiink.

  “Let me help you.”

  Somehow Will had reached his side, like Whoa, the guy was ninja fast. The heat didn’t seem to bother him, either, because he grabbed the side of the tray and helped Damien get it onto the counter. Only two cookies had bitten the dust, and Will scooped up those, as well, popping one into his mouth.

  “Three second rule,” the man said around his mouthful.

  Damien smiled. “Thanks, dude. Losing them all would have sucked.”

  “Do you have a second?” Emil asked. “We’d like to talk to you.”

  Despite Emil’s expression staying its usual relaxed state, Damien sensed something serious was going on.

  “Sure thing, Chef. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, we have a favor to ask. That’s all.”

  Okay, curiouser and curiouser, because Will sure looked unhappy about something. He was chewing the second cookie as if it were his mortal enemy.

  “I should finish this first,” he said with a wave at his next batch of baking.

  “That’s what the new kitchen staff is for,” Emil replied. “Hey, Penny? Can you take over here for Damien, please?”

  “Yes, Chef.” Penny was one of the four new hires. They were all pretty green, but well-trained and eager.

  Damien had no trouble relinquishing his task. He didn’t like how whatever was going on bothered Will, that was all. Shooting a grin of thanks at Penny, he put his oven mitts on the counter and followed Emil to the man’s office. Will pulled up the rear, a solid presence at his back.

  When they arrived, Damien took one of the visitor chairs and was disappointed when Will elected to stand next to Emil after closing the door. He’d had a fleeting hope that the man would sit and, given the smallness of the office, their knees would be practically touching. Yeah, leg sex… That was where his mind was at. It was practically Victorian in its prissiness, yet nothing more seemed to be in the offing.

  You could make the first move, moron, his inner voice reminded him. When did I become so shy? Maybe it was because Will wasn’t some rando in a club. If they hooked up, they’d see each other every day. And what if one night was all Will was interested in? That would suck. Damien was afraid his heart was at risk of being cut to ribbons. That was new…and scary.

  He dove right into the reason they were there. It was easier than pondering his attraction and worries. “What’s up, guys? How can I help you?”

  The two men shared a glance before Emil spoke. “First, I want to be absolutely clear that you are free to say no. Hell no, in fact—and that refusal will in no way jeopardize your job or how we, the family, appreciate you.”

  “Okay, duly noted, Chef.”

  Emil huffed. “Good. It’s, ah…weird. See… We recently found out that a member of our family, a cousin, has joined a political campaign.”

  Damien furrowed his brows. “Yeah, I know. Bran, right? And the cocksucker, Warren. I was there, remember, when you all collectively shat boiled lobsters in Alex’s office the other day?”

  Emil rubbed his forehead. “Yes, of course. I’d forgotten. Sorry. We hustled you out so fast that I’m sure it was bizarre and confusing.”

  It had been all of that and more, but Damien merely shrugged. “Not my business. Or I guess it is now?”

  “Yes, if you’re willing,” Will interjected. “Which you absolutely don’t have to be.”

  Damien smiled at the man’s earnest face. “Voluntary… Got it. No worries. What do you want me to do, seduce the congressman or something? ’Cause from what I know, that’s not hard. A big enough dick and he’s all yours. I, ah, don’t have any trouble meeting that requirement. Although,” he added with wink at Will, “I bet you’d be a significant rival in that department.”

  Will’s eyes went wide at the comment, leaving Damien both satisfied and embarrassed. He mentally facepalmed, wondering where that cheekiness had come from.

  Emil cleared his throat. “Anyway, the congressman has a gay conversion camp, and—”

  Damien sat forward. “No fucking way! Wow, I hate the guy even more. I had a boat-load of that shit with my own family before they realized it was never going to work and booted my gay ass out of the house. It’s torture, in the literal sense of the word.”

  He stared at the floor, shaking his head as memories suddenly swamped him. The old feelings of hopelessness and urges for self-harm threatened to overwhelm him for a few seconds before he reminded himself he was not that scared boy anymore.

  “Are you all right?”

  The question and Will’s closeness startled him. The man had crouched beside Damien, concern marring his lovely face, his violet eyes darker now and staring intently at him.

  For a few awesome moments, he got lost in them, imagining they looked at him with something more like passion. He had to work to break the connection and shake off the effect of that focus.

  He switched his gaze to Emil. “What do you want me to do, go undercover there or something?” He’d meant it as a kind of joke, real Charlie’s Angels kind of shit. He could see by the man’s expressions that he’d hit on the truth. A quick glance at Will confirmed that he also was on that page.

  Damien sat back again. “Okay, wow. Fuck, but okay. I can totally do that.”

  “It would only be for a few days,” Emil assured him. “Long enough to maybe learn something useful. Bran is up to no good. That’s all we know, because that’s what he does—causes trouble.”

  “And you want me to find dirt on him so you can make him slink back to… Where do you all come from again? Romania?”

  “Originally yes,” Will answered. Sadly, he’d stood and moved back. “Although Bran was raised in Wales.”

  “Like Brenin and Dafydd. You don’t want them to go because he knows them.” He was proud of being able to connect the dots, instead of getting emotionally mired in wanting Will and tracking his movements.

  “Yes,” Emil confirmed. “He knows all of us, but not you. And we need to be clear o
n this. You aren’t going to do any snooping. All we ask is that you keep your eyes and ears open for a few days. If nothing pops out that is of use, then you leave. It’s purely a voluntary place. They can’t keep you there.”

  “We won’t let them do so,” Will clarified, and there was a fierce look in his eyes, as if he were willing to shit, die for him or something.

  That had to be a trick of the light. Will barely knew him. Besides, it wasn’t going to be dangerous. Not really. Was it?

  “It could be dangerous,” Will said in the next instant, as if reading his mind.

  That answers that question.

  “In what way?” The first sense of unease was killing his enthusiasm.

  “Bran is vicious and wouldn’t hesitate to make you disappear if he thought you were spying on him. I won’t let him do that,” Will said without a pause. “I swear I won’t.”

  The ‘I-will-take-a-bullet-for-you’ vibe was back. This time, Damien believed it, wholly, and it sent a warmth through him that settled in his dick. It started to harden and an image of them sharing a night of unbridled passion before Damien went off to his suicide mission invaded his head. Oh boy, am I being ridiculous.

  “How would you know if I needed you?” he challenged in an almost-breathless voice.

  “I’ll penetrate the compound every night. We’ll set up a rendezvous point in there, and if they lock you in at night, I’ll find a way to get to you.”

  Damien had stopped paying attention after the word ‘penetrate’ had been uttered. His hole clenched in juvenile fashion. He could hear Beavis and Butt-Head… “He said penetrate, heh, heh.” He shook his head to get it back in the game.

  “I’m sorry. Did you say you’re going to break into the compound every night? You can do that?”

  “Yes.” The simple conviction was comforting.