Undone

by R Phoenix

  “Am I interrupting?” Emma asked, cutting into the conversation. Her eyes focused on the dinosaur-shaped donut, and she went for it without waiting for permission. “Because we have actual work to do, if you two are finished gossiping like old hens.”

  Bryce looked up at her — and the blue dinosaur donut, pointing at it triumphantly.

  “See? I told you! One of you nerds…” he declared.

  Percy rolled his eyes and stuck his finger in the spilled jelly on the napkin.

  “What’ve you got?” Bryce asked, putting his feet up casually on the side of Percy’s desk, much to the younger man’s chagrin.

  Emma took the head off the dinosaur first. Unlike Percy, she actually bothered to chew and swallow before she spoke. “Several murders with no visible marks,” she said. “A lone human and a massacre at a local strip club. Let’s just say the strippers weren’t the only ones who weren’t wearing much.”

  “Pictures?” Percy practically chirped.

  “Perv,” Bryce muttered with a smirk, but his incredible sense of humor was once again ignored.

  “They’re still at the club,” Emma replied without batting an eye. “Should be sending you the crime scene photos from the single murder here in a few for you to analyze.” Her eyes went to Bryce. “Heard from your favorite incubus lately?”

  “For the record,” Bryce said, “he’s the only incubus. And no. Why?” he asked — though he had a suspicion. “You think he had something to do with any of this?”

  “Hmm, let’s see. Suspicious deaths, no marks on the victims, most of them undressed or nearly there… Yeah, I think it’s safe to say I suspect an incubus had something to do with this,” Emma retorted.

  “Could be a siren, or a love spell gone wrong,” Percy chimed in helpfully, but he was already refreshing his inbox for the photos.

  “Could be,” Emma said, nodding to Percy. “Check registration to see if we have sirens in the area.”

  “So, wait,” Bryce said. “If he’s a suspect—” He took his feet down from the desk. “We can go arrest him, right? Get him out of there?” He got up and began to grab what he would need to leave with a sudden sense of urgency. This could be the only chance he’d get.

  Emma eyed Bryce, taking the time to eat more of the donut before she replied, “Hold it, Romeo. You realize that these are murder charges, right?”

  “Innocent until proven guilty, Emma,” he responded. “You coming, or you staying behind your desk again?” he prompted her, holding up his car keys.

  Emma muttered something under her breath. He couldn’t make it out, but Percy almost choked on his donut. She waved toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Everything took time.

  Even with the aid of his premonitions, it was hard to know exactly where to go. The possible futures never failed to blur together, but when they finally coalesced into something he could make sense of…

  Gideon knew.

  The problem was, it only became perfectly clear when there was no other option. At that point, the future was set — or worse yet, it had already come to pass, and there was nothing he could do about it. He felt like he was leagues behind Kolt, knowing every death was being carried out mere minutes after his premonition showed it to him.

  When Nero died, Gideon cursed. Leandro would have to deal with serious repercussions from the fae realm for that particular death.

  That particular murder.

  But when he saw the door to the club, neon lights flashing and smoke casting a haze over the floor, he knew they were past the point of containing the mess Kolt was leaving behind. He knew the Pussy Cat Club, a strip club just off of the freeway. It wasn’t even far from the Lucky Blight, and it should’ve been the first logical place to go look for an incubus gone rogue. He hadn’t gone there. He’d waited until it was too late, until every future led to its doors.

  He didn’t bother trying to find Nero’s corpse once he got the vision of the club.

  It was still too late. He could cover up a single dead human, and Leandro could deal with the fae, but the number of bodies Kolt could drop in a strip club left him with ice in his veins.

  There was no one at the door, and inside, the music was still playing with a heavy beat and too much bass. The lights spun and strobed along the mirror ceiling even though it was early in the morning and the club should’ve closed a long time ago.

  Glitter was everywhere, and the air-conditioner rustled the cheap decorations that hung over the veritable massacre. Bodies were strewn everywhere in various stages of undress, nothing left to them — like they were simply husks of what they had been, who they had been. Their faces were gaunt, mouths agape, skin ashen, eyes sunken in, fingers grasping and reaching desperately.

  It was worse than the first body he’d found, and it was much worse than what he’d seen of Nero. These people hadn’t stood a chance, and there hadn’t been a single one who had tried to get away. Everyone had been in the throes of some unnatural lust whilst they’d been dying. Alone, together, on stage, in the booths — they were everywhere.

  At the heart of it all, casually leaning on the bar and drinking straight from a bottle of vodka, stood the incubus himself.

  “Kolt,” Gideon said carefully, pausing near the doorway.

  Kolt looked different, but Gideon knew it was him. The incubus was no longer Leandro’s little blond angel. His hair was darker, salt and pepper colored now, brindled and almost blond with black mixed in. He was absolutely taller than he had been, and he was wearing clothes that looked like they’d been Nero’s. His broader shoulders filled up Nero’s jacket with ease now.

  Kolt was still beautiful. He probably always would be to some extent, but he was more solid, like he might give Gideon a run for his money in both strength and weight classes. His jawline was stronger, his nose smaller, and while his eyes were darker, more hazel than the light amber they had been, the same vicious look as when Gideon had seen him last was in them.

  “You should leave,” Kolt said shortly. “I don’t care how you found me, or what you tell him, but I will fucking end you if I must.”

  It was no idle threat, and they both knew it, but the wording caught him off guard. End him if he must? Kolt really had been spending too much time with Leandro.

  The incubus had had a fucking feast, and getting into a confrontation with him would be dangerous. Not to mention he would have to hide this from the Organization’s inquisition once he’d dealt with Kolt. There was going to be hell to pay.

  “You should leave, too,” Gideon said, not moving any closer to the incubus. “Not gonna be long before someone calls the cops, and that’ll be a hot mess.”

  Kolt laughed, and there was something cold and sickening about the sound. “I was on my way out, when who should I sense, but you?” he said, changing the subject. He pushed away from the bar, taking another swig from the vodka bottle. The alcohol had to be doing something to the incubus, as for a few tense moments, he could see the real Kolt through the facade of his shapeshifted appearance.

  “You’re drunk,” Gideon stated, which was a rare enough thing for an incubus that it was worrisome.

  “Am I?” Kolt asked, smirked. “I feel fucking amazing.” He spread his arms out, continuing to cross the distance between them.

  Gideon didn’t want to yield, but he wasn’t keen on letting Kolt get too close to him — not on any given day, and definitely not in this state.

  “What’s wrong, Gideon?” Kolt asked sweetly. “You look nervous.”

  “I have a drunk incubus who’s had a fucking feast eyeing me like I’m his next meal,” Gideon retorted. “Of course I’m nervous.” And somewhere, he did see a future in which Kolt treated him just like that. It would feel good, too, to let himself be touched for the first time in so long, to surrender and feel warmth against his skin…

  No. He wasn’t going to go there. It was the incubus’ spell, and he wouldn’t be caught in it.

  Ko
lt closed what was left of the distance between them, stepping over the legs of a dead man with an equally dead stripper in his lap to do so. He could feel the shift of power as the incubus moved. Kolt was glowing with it, and it made the hairs on his arm stand on end. How much of his feelings were his own? How much was Kolt affecting him?

  How much more than usual?

  “Hmm…” Kolt hummed, shamelessly sizing him up. The incubus’ free hand lifted and came to rest in the crook of his neck, where he could feel the crackle of power against his skin, like a sharp tingle. The incubus was blatantly using his powers on him, which explained the stray thoughts that reminded him of how little sex he’d had lately.

  Knowing that it was happening wasn’t a relief though — nor did it negate how the hand on his neck made him feel. Gideon knew the gesture. He’d seen Leandro grab Kolt like that many times, as had others. He’d even seen Darcy maneuver Kolt like that from time to time. He understood why now. He felt particularly small and harmless, like a puppy next to a predator.

  Kolt leaned in a little closer to him. “Why did you come here?” he asked. “You can’t win a fight with me now,” the incubus mused, and Gideon could feel the suck on his power even just from the mere touch to his neck. “And I’m not going back, no matter how nicely you ask, Gideon.”

  Gideon resisted the desire to jerk away from Kolt and his touch. He didn’t want to respond like a prey animal — he couldn’t afford to. “It doesn’t have to be a fight,” he said, even though he knew better. It was going to be a fight. Kolt was drunk on liquor and power alike, and there was no way in hell he’d be able to reason with him. “You don’t have to go back, either.”

  “Then why are you here?” Kolt asked again. His voice dropped a little, the silk replaced with something more dangerous.

  Gideon couldn’t help it. He tilted his head, giving Kolt more access to his neck. He instantly regretted it as the more of that strange power washed over him, rousing his deepest desires more. He wanted, so badly, to touch and be touched.

  The odds were going down that he’d get through this intact, especially with the way his cock was stiffening in his pants. He did step back then, meeting Kolt’s eyes. “To help.”

  It sounded ridiculous, even to his own ears.

  Kolt’s answering smirk was vicious and cruel, and it didn’t suit the incubus, not even with the way he looked now.

  Gideon swallowed convulsively at the sight of it. This was not going well.

  “Too late,” Kolt said softly, sounding so contrary to that smirk. The way the incubus’ thumb caressed the line of Gideon’s neck was unnerving, and it took effort not to shiver at the light touch. “I don’t need your help anymore,” he crooned in practically a whisper as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against Gideon’s lips.

  It was like he got trapped in an electric storm, tingling along his lips and sending his heart beating twice as hard.

  Holy fuck.

  If a chaste kiss like that had his cock hard as a fucking rock, what would something deeper feel like? Something more? Gideon fought back a moan, gathering the part of him that had resisted the incubus — and everyone else — for ages.

  He drew back from the kiss but rested his forehead against Kolt’s. His voice was quiet, almost tender, as he murmured, “I’m gonna help you anyway.”

  One of his hands slid to the back of Kolt’s neck, and he fought against the part of him that wanted to give in, to kiss him hard until they ran out of air to breathe. He wanted to see where it might go, even if that was to certain death.

  Fucking incubi.

  He stole another soft kiss anyway, unable to stop himself from nipping Kolt’s bottom lip, then pulled away. Before he could think about the feeling of those lips on his, the knowledge of the true form beneath the physical shell, Gideon drew his arm back — and punched him. He only had one shot at this, so he punched hard enough to make his knuckle crack as it impacted that perfect cheekbone.

  There was a split second in which Kolt’s eyes flashed with surprise, a split second in which Gideon was afraid he hadn’t hit him hard enough after all. But then the incubus’ body sagged and crumpled at the same time as searing pain cut through his hand.

  “Fuck,” he hissed. He caught Kolt before he could hit the floor, holding his body up awkwardly and trying to bite through the searing pain in his hand as he clutched Kolt hard. He held on for a moment, maybe two or three, but then he sucked in a sharp breath and unceremoniously dropped the incubus to the floor anyway. Now he’d broken his fucking hand too.

  Perfect.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to shake off that energy that was still buzzing against his skin where Kolt had touched him. It was potent, not even necessarily in a bad way. A nephilim was just always susceptible to corruption because of their angelic blood, and an incubus was the antithesis of everything divine.

  “I don’t fucking have time for this bullshit,” he muttered. He ignored the pain in his hand, crouching down and struggling until he got Kolt over his shoulder. It wasn’t subtle, but he didn’t have many options with one hand out of commission.

  He carried Kolt outside, cringing as he hit the side of the incubus’ head against the frame of the car door before sliding him into the back seat.

  Rope. He had to find rope and restrain Kolt. But what the fuck was he supposed to do with him after that?

  Taking him to Leandro was out of the question.

  Cursing, he fished his phone out of his pocket with his unbroken hand and slammed the back door closed. He had to get the fuck out first, before the cops or worse showed up.

  He drove off, impatiently waiting for his car to connect to the Bluetooth of his piece of crap phone. When it finally did, he told the device to call one of the last people he wanted to talk to.

  As the line rang, Gideon drove, not even sure where to go just yet. He wasn’t sure of anything, least of all what would happen once Kolt awoke in the back of his car, or what he would say if Ackerman ever picked up his fucking phone.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “This is a horrible idea. He’s never going to let you—”

  “You don’t get out enough,” Bryce interrupted Emma before she could finish speaking. Frankly, he was still surprised he’d gotten her into the car as effortlessly as he had. It was probably because she had been under the impression they were going to the crime scene, whereas Bryce had only the Lucky Blight on his itinerary. “We’re allowed to bring in suspects. Cultural integrity doesn’t factor into that. If he’s guilty—”

  “If he’s guilty, he’s a killer, Ackerman,” Emma snapped at him. “It’s not going to end well for him.”

  “If he’s guilty,” he continued staunchly, not about to be talked down. “And he’s Leandro’s property,” he added pointedly, casting her a look. “Blame would shift to him, no? He’s responsible for his property and his spells, right?”

  Emma wavered and drew in a breath. “In theory. Yes,” she grudgingly agreed. “But we don’t know anything yet. If you jump the gun, Leandro will make your life hell.”

  Bryce scoffed. There wasn’t much more hell to be made of it. The fae was already up his ass, he was still dealing with the fallout from screwing up as a real detective, and his new job was vague and morally grey to the point of frustration. Leandro wasn’t even close to the top of the list of people he was worried about killing him, if he was honest. What was one more powerful enemy in a sea of them? “I’m utilizing an opportunity. If we can convince Kolt to testify—”

  “Jumping the gun,” Emma interrupted him again. “We don’t even know if it was an incubus yet, or if it was Kolt, or—”

  “You were pretty certain it was an incubus when you told me about it. You were even the one to ask about Kolt. What changed?” he prompted her.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Emma said, feigning casualness as she brushed her hair back behind her ear. “Maybe the part where he could be responsible for a killing spree through the city?” She shook h
er head. “Sure, they could hold Leandro responsible if,” she rolled her eyes as she looked pointedly at Bryce, “if Kolt is guilty, but that doesn’t mean Kolt would get to ride off into the sunset.”

  “Who the fuck comes up with these rules anyway, Fairy Court?” Bryce huffed. “Either Leandro is responsible, or he’s not. What is with all the gray areas?”

  Emma closed her eyes, and her lips moved while she silently counted to ten. “Do you think anything with the fae is easy, Bryce?” she asked. “For one, I doubt Leandro is going to come quietly. Two, even if he did… You have to think about this, Bryce. If Kolt killed several people while he was under Leandro’s thumb, what makes you think the Organization won’t see him as a danger out on his own?”

  “This is why you never get out from behind that desk of yours. You worry too much,” Bryce muttered with a shake of his head. Regardless of the outcome, it would get Kolt away from Leandro, like he’d promised him he would. It was a step in the right direction. The messy details, he would work out later. Jumping the gun was kind of his thing anyway.

  Emma sighed. “All right,” she finally said. “So what’s your brilliant plan?”

  Wasn’t she just a ray of fucking sunshine?

  “We go in, right?” he said with a smirk. “We ignore fucking Leandro, right?” he added, as if he was genuinely divulging the multiple complicated steps to a well-executed and drawn-out sting operation. “And we take the incubus in for questioning, like we’re cops,” he finished with the sarcasm topping off his snark. This didn’t need to be so complicated. Fae or not, suspects got questioned when they were suspect.

  His phone buzzed at the same time as Emma’s, and he glanced at the incoming message on the car kit.

  “Percy,” he pointed out, even though she was looking at her phone too. “What’s it say?”

  “I was right. It was an incubus at both crime scenes, and O-CSI suspects there might be more victims.”