Love in the Land of Fire

by Brochu, Rebecca

  Josiah scowls harshly in the safety of his transport as he orders it to head for the Ember Harbor district and to activate his enforcer’s status to allow for a quicker commute. He knows that Eagan is telling the truth. After attacking and injuring the one to whom he’d been promised, Zweil is in serious trouble, but Josiah’s far from happy with the situation. He knows in his gut that Zweil doesn’t deserve what’s in store for him.

  “I’m heading in that direction now. Eagan, I want you to get a medical unit and a defender on the line and have them on standby. Try Marcel. She’s always been passionate about submissive rights and he’s going to need the best to get him out of this mess he’s in. And whatever you do don’t let Frisch out of our sight. Plant a few of the lower ranks on him if you have to but he goes nowhere.”

  He can practically hear Eagan’s hesitation and confusion but it’s a testament to the other man’s level head and intelligence that he picks up on the implications behind what Josiah’s saying. Josiah can hear him curse soft and vicious under his breath as it all sinks in.

  “What exactly are we looking at here, Marx? How bad is this? There was no mention of it in the reports and everyone but Frisch was taken down with hand to hand, but do you think that he’s armed? Do you want me to send another enforcer unit your way?”

  Josiah hesitates for a moment, eyes staring blankly out the polarized glass of his front window as his mind traces back over what he’d seen in the video. Panic, fear, a flash of helplessness and a large dose of pain mixed in with all of it; none of the signs were good, but he doesn’t have solid proof and he doesn’t know just what had made the other man run like he had hounds on his heels. Still he’s confident that surrounding Zweil with unfamiliar faces would be the wrong thing to do at the moment.

  “No, I’m confident that reinforcements will not be necessary. They might actually make the situation worse, but I’ll update you if the circumstances change. I’m not sure exactly but something tells me that it’s going to be bad, Eagan, and by that I mean he’s going to be in rough shape and more likely to be more dangerous to himself than to me. You need to watch the video feed again and pay careful attention to his face and the way his body moves. He’s in pain, desperate, and most of all scared, and I’ve seen how situations like this can play out if they’re not handled just right. If I don’t get to him soon he might do something stupid.”

  “I’ll take care of things on this end. You just bring that one back in one piece and we’ll handle it from there.

  Eagan out.”

  Josiah hears the click of Eagan closing the channel between them but it barely even fazes him; he’s too caught up in thoughts of Zweil and planning the best way to make sure that they both make it out of this thing relatively unscathed.

  Zweil’s bright, pain-filled eyes flash across his mind once again and Josiah’s afraid that he might already be too late.

  1Chapter Three

  After half an hour of travel Josiah finds himself staring down a crossroads in indecision. Something is telling him that he needs to hurry, that Zweil’s living on borrowed time and that he needs help, but for some reason Josiah can’t move forward. The control panel of his transport blinks a mocking red as it waits for him to either order it to resume the previously set course or to select a new one but he’s frozen.

  By all rights he shouldn’t be having this problem, shouldn’t be confused or indecisive about where to go. The reports had been clear cut and simple with sightings of Zweil headed down this very road over an hour ago in the direction of the Ember Harbor District. According to them Josiah should’ve gone ahead and allowed his transport to take the right fork and speed down towards the cargo ships that might even now be taking Zweil out of his reach. Instead he’d barked out an order to the vehicle as soon as he realized where exactly the other road led, causing it to stop rather suddenly right in the middle of the fork.

  Something is telling him that the harbor isn’t where he should be going, that Zweil isn’t there and it will only be a waste of time he doesn’t have. The small voice in the back of his mind, the one that he’d learned to listen to as a child, the one that told him to duck and dodge and when someone had him in the crosshairs, is telling him to go left instead, that he’ll find Zweil in that direction. Josiah hesitates because there is nothing in that direction anymore, at least not anything particularly habitable. The estates and housing facilities in that area had been destroyed in the Steam War, the decade long battle that had raged across much of Shangri-La between The Land of Fire and The Land of Water. Those were painful years, especially for those Bonded pairs who originated from opposite lands and for the children of such unions who had been disdainfully referred to as steam brats due to their mixed heritage.

  Many families had suffered on both sides and the devastating fighting had only seen a resolution about seven years ago, a year before Josiah had left the Crimson Elite. Most people had tried desperately to move on, and Fire and Water now enjoyed a cooperative and almost unbelievably joyful peace but some things had been unsalvageable. The area formally known as the Flicker District was one of those places.

  That area had been heavily hit during the fighting, leaving only grief-stricken and destroyed families and the haunting shells of the places that they’d once called home. Shortly after the incident the area had been unofficially renamed the Charred District and was carefully avoided. Even now, almost a decade later, there are still dead unaccounted for and no effort has been made to reclaim the land from the ash and debris that covers it.

  By all logic Josiah knows that Zweil shouldn’t be there, that the man has no reason to go there, not when he’s so close to the harbor and the possibility of safe passage across Fire’s borders. Still Josiah can’t shake the feeling that Zweil doesn’t seem to be the type to run like that, not to that extent, or the disturbing reminder that most animals liked to slink off to be alone when they’re dying. Josiah knows that the other man isn’t some wild beast but he’s all too aware of the fact that he doesn’t actually know the extent of his injuries. All he knows is that something within him is screaming, telling him to go left instead of right.

  With a bitten off curse Josiah takes manual control of his transport and with a harsh jerk speeds down the left fork and towards a place that he shouldn’t even be thinking about. His implant chimes in his ear and he grits his teeth, knowing that Eagan is on the other end and that he’s about to have to explain himself. With a resigned sigh he opens the channel between them.

  “Marx, what in the hell are you doing? Your locator has you heading for the Charred District. What happened to Ember Harbor? Has there been an update that I don’t know about or did you see Zweil?”

  1“He’s not at the harbor Eagan. I know he isn’t.” Josiah keeps his voice calm and steady, careful to hide his own doubt.

  Eagan is silent for a moment and when he speaks again his voice is level and cool, so at odds with his normal informal teasing that Josiah knows the other man is dangerously close to true anger.

  “How pray tell did you find that out, Marx? Do you have some secret informant that I don’t know about or something?”

  “Actually I have several but that’s another subject entirely. I just know that Zweil isn’t at the harbor; he’s not trying to escape all of Fire he’s just trying to get away from Frisch. It’s just a hunch but I’m asking you to trust me, Eagan. I’ve never led you wrong in the past.”

  “Remind me to point out all of the things that are wrong with that statement before I fire you for this later, Josiah.” Eagan sounds resigned and slightly irritated but he isn’t demanding that Josiah turn around so everything is alright.

  Plus Eagan normally threatens to fire him about once a week because of his more unorthodox techniques when it comes to negotiation and interrogation, so it’s almost become a routine between them.

  “Thanks, boss.”

  “Yeah, yeah, don’t thank me yet. If you’re wrong and Zweil gets away I’m handing your ass over t
o Frisch and his people when they start screaming for blood over this fuck up. Anyways I’ve got a medical unit and Marcel mobilized and on alert. They’re not too far behind you but they’ll wait for you at the crossroads since you didn’t seem to think back up would be a good idea right off the bat. Either one can be to your location in a little under fifteen minutes. You are to maintain an open channel at all times; otherwise, I’m sending in the cavalry. I’m not going to take the chance of losing you if Zweil happens to get the drop on you despite all odds.”

  Josiah bristles, his hands tightening around the steering bars of his transport at the thought of anyone getting the drop on him with all of his training and experience.

  “I hardly think that’ll be necessary.”

  “Necessary or not, it’s what’s going to happen. I know that you’re Crimson Elite and everything and normally I let you pretty much run wild but you’re right. There’s something different about this case. I’m not taking any chances.”

  The channel between them is muted, but not terminated, before Josiah can protest any further and he knows that Eagan did it on purpose. He has little time to think about it because he’s rounding the next curve seconds later and the Charred District is looming in front of him in all of its desolate glory.

  He spends precious seconds taking in the sight of the burned out ghost town in front of him before he once again bursts into action. His transport is powered down and he’s out and onto the ash-covered street moments after he enters the district. His best bet of finding Zweil’s trail is on foot where his transport can’t erase any evidence of the other man’s passage that might have been left in the ash on the ground.

  One hand on the hilt of the rapier attached to his belt, the weapon that he’s always favored and is rarely without, Josiah moves forward. His eyes scan his surroundings and the ground in front of him automatically, constantly on the lookout for movement or tracks, anything that can lead him to Zweil. He’s also completely alert, ready to draw either his sword or the standard issue electric pistol that he’d received along with his badge.

  1It takes him almost ten minutes to pick up the trail and when he does he’s covered in a fine layer of ash and even more impressed with Zweil. The other man had went through the pains of hiding his tracks as best he could, but Josiah finally manages to pick up the trail when he spots the place where pain or exhaustion had caught up with him. Zweil had gone down on a knee, and the hand he’d used to brace himself is outlined perfectly in the ash. Josiah feels relief well up within him at the first bit of tangible evidence that Zweil had gone this way.

  The situation gets better for Josiah and worse for Zweil quickly after that initial discovery. After that the foot prints are perfectly clear and crisp and Josiah cannot help the way that his anxiety grows as he reads the tracks and sees the way Zweil gets more and more unsteady the further he goes. Something is wrong with Zweil; something has to be to make him so careless with his tracks when he’d been so meticulous before.

  Josiah feels that anxiety gnaw at his gut so he picks up his pace, following the trail at a slow run.

  It isn’t long before the trail ends and he finds himself staring up at the burned out remains of what was once a nice, if a bit modest for the area, house. What’s left of the walls bear the same scorch marks as the houses around it, the windows destroyed by what was once intense heat, and the front door is propped up almost comically against what’s left of its frame.

  The tracks lead inside.

  Josiah unholsters his electric pistol and slides his way up the front stairs to peek inside while giving himself as much cover as he can. He doesn’t actually believe that Zweil will be a danger to him but the years of training he’d undergone refuses to allow him to leave himself open in such a manner. He easily spots what appears to be the sole of a thick black leather boot, which he knows Zweil was wearing the last time he was seen, from around the corner of what must have once been the main living area in the house.

  Josiah does his best to soften the rough tone of his voice when he calls out, to sound friendly and non-threatening despite the fact that he is armed and heavily trained.

  “Rafe Zweil, this is Enforcer Marx. I need you to come out unarmed and with your hands up.”

  He hears a worryingly wet cough and sees the boot shift just slightly before a husky voice that sends inappropriate shivers down his spine and straight to his cock calls out lowly to him.

  “I’m afraid that I’m going to have to say no to that, Enforcer Marx. I don’t think I could move right now even if I absolutely had to. So if you want to talk to me either we keep yelling at each other or you bring your ass in here.”

  Zweil’s short speech is followed by a round of equally wet and painful sounding coughs that cause the hair on the back of Josiah’s neck to stand up. Something is terribly wrong with Zweil and Josiah has a not so sneaking suspicion that the other man’s injuries are worse than he had thought. The only way he’ll be able to find out is to go inside.

  His instincts tell him not to, that Zweil could be lying and ready to ambush him with any number of things, but he pushes them down and into the back of his mind. He needs to get to Zweil, to find out if he’s safe and to get his wounds treated as quickly as possible. So with a deep breath and a roll of his tense shoulders Josiah raises his pistol into a firing position and steps calmly up and into the remains of the house.

  1Chapter Four

  The remnants of the house are silent, almost eerily so, except for the occasional sound of Zweil letting loose another damp sounding cough or the quiet rustling of his clothes as he shifts in his spot on the floor. Josiah is careful not to rush himself, to hold back his impatience and sweep what he can of the dilapidated building before he heads towards Zweil in order to make sure he isn’t walking into a trap. After a few moments he’s as satisfied as he’s going to get with the security of the building and he turns and heads in the downed man’s direction.

  He peeks around the corner swiftly, eyes taking in the picture Zweil makes on the floor. The younger male is slumped against the wall of what Josiah had correctly guessed to be the remnants of the house’s main living area. His clothes are dirty with ash and debris and his face is wet with sweat and unnaturally pale for someone of his complexion. His right arm is draped loosely across his stomach, fingers clenched in pain.

  Taking in Zweil’s prone form, Josiah lowers his weapon slightly as he steps fully around the corner but doesn’t holster it; he’s not willing to ignore his instincts and make himself vulnerable to that degree, not until he gets a chance to assess Zweil further.

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d holster that thing since you really don’t need it. I’m not exactly a threat to anyone at the moment, in case you couldn’t tell. Unless of course you come close enough and then I might be able to gnaw on an ankle or two.” Zweil quips, almost cheerful despite how obviously wounded and vulnerable he is.

  Josiah feels his lips quirk up into an almost smile, a begrudging sense of admiration taking root in his chest at the other man’s blasé statement. Dark humor is something he’s always found particularly appealing and hard to find in a submissive, so to see it in one like Zweil does nothing but sweeten an already prime deal. He’d like nothing more than to take Zweil home, stretch him out across the length of his bed, lick him open and take him so far down that he forgets everything and everyone but Josiah. Wants to do it over and over again every day from now until the end of their lives, wants to be the only name Zweil calls out in the night, the only hand he submits to.

  Another hacking cough breaks him out of the fantasy and reminds him that he’s here for a purpose that doesn’t include claiming the other man as his own. He has a job to do, a submissive to take into custody, and a case to close. Josiah isn’t going to let a pretty face and the sweetest pair of lips he’s seen in years stop him from doing what he’s supposed to do. Zweil needs help that Josiah can’t give him, things that are out of his jurisdiction and his skill set, so he’ll
take him back to the crossroads and turn him over to Marcel and the medics and be done with it. He’ll go home tonight and work his frustrations out on his training equipment and put thoughts of claiming, of Bonding, out of his mind.

  Josiah shakes his head and holsters his pistol, making sure that the lock is secured before he crouches down beside Zweil. He isn’t worried about an ambush or anything of the like now. Zweil is clearly in no shape to attack him and even if he does Josiah is more than confident in his own skills and abilities in hand to hand. He starts to say something, starts to tell Zweil that he’s got help waiting for him only a handful of miles away, but Zweil’s husky voice interrupts him before he can even start.

  “You said your name was Marx, right? What’s your first name?”

  “Josiah.” He answers out of curiosity and confusion, unsure why the information is necessary.

  “Josiah. That’s a pretty nice name. Well, Josiah, you should call me Rafe since you’re seeing me at what’s admittedly not exactly my finest.”

  1Josiah frowns slightly, liking the way Zweil’s tongue curls around his name and wanting to accept the offer but knowing that he shouldn’t, that it’s a step in a direction that he shouldn’t take.

  “That would be…inappropriate given the circumstances.”

  Something within Zweil seems to dim for a moment, something wounded and vulnerable shining through before he noticeably stuffs it back down, takes a deep breath, and continues talking.

  “This used to be my home, you know. I lived here with my father and his Bonded Miguel when I was a child. I remember waking up every morning to laughter and knowing just how much those two loved each other and me. It was glorious. Those days where something I thought would never end, something I thought would be there forever. Then when the war started and my father died in one of the first raids I knew that everything was going to change. I was twelve and terrified. We had to go to my father’s family’s main housing complex and I never saw Miguel again.”