by Lia Black
Kayle Perrine, on the other hand, was open about his preferences. As an incubus and someone living in Apex with Clan, he might have been a perfect fuck-buddy, just because there was very little that was likable about the guy. He came off as an arrogant ice-prince. Physically, too flawless to be real in his human form— and not human. None of these things should have appealed to Derek, but after Kayle’s attack, Derek realized things about him: his coping skills, just how hard life on Apex—or anywhere, for that matter— was for him. He began to see this non-human in human terms. Physically perfect, but inside, as messed up as any mundane. Or maybe that’s what Derek wanted to see.
He turned off the light and headed back to bed. Dropping down onto his back, he slung his arm over his head as he stared at what he could see of his ceiling in the dark. He’d had the chance to send Kayle home. One word and Kayle would have been on the airship, headed back to Apex and out of Derek’s life forever. That would have been so much easier, so much smarter. But Derek had gotten a blowjob beforehand. Maybe some magical incubus spit had poisoned his mind and made him believe all of this stuff— that Kayle wasn’t so bad, after all.
Derek enjoyed their debates, he liked their discussions. He especially liked it when he caught Kayle off his guard. He liked seeing the uncertainty, the awkwardness about him. It brought out that part of himself that wanted to support and reassure. That’s probably a lot of why he’d fallen for Marc. Marc needed him. He needed a strong shoulder to lean on, and Derek had been that. If it had ended there— if one night was all that they’d had together, none of this would have messed up his head so much.
Derek felt like he’d only just gone to sleep when the sound of his alarm woke him up. He’d been thoughtful enough to put it under his pillow so as not to wake Kayle any earlier than he had to. He decided since he had to shower at work, he may as well start an exercise routine as well and try to get his body back into shape.
Derek put on some sweats and a T-shirt, and managed to find his old gym bag at the back of the closet, wedged behind some boxes of things he’d never bothered to unpack. He dropped in some essentials, then headed out into the living room.
The scant light made everything look gray and fuzzy. Regardless of how much Derek told himself he shouldn’t bother checking on Kayle, he found himself standing near the back of the couch, looking down at him.
Kayle was sleeping on his back. One arm was stretched up near his head, the fingertips curving into dark claws. His glamour wasn’t masking as much as it did when he was awake. Even in the dimness, Derek could see horns, obscured by the tangle of long hair that spread out over his pillow and the arm of the couch. Derek’s mouth went dry when he remembered Kayle, down on his knees between his legs, looking up at him and meeting his eyes.
Damn it. Derek adjusted himself through his sweat pants as he turned and headed towards the door.
In the small workout room at the precinct were a couple of different weight benches and a few sets of dumbbells, as well as an old treadmill that nobody used. Derek had been surprised his muscles had been able to manage the exercise, but his lungs balked at their treatment with the treadmill. Yeah, he was really going to have to stop smoking. It was his last remnant of self-medication. Dr. Ray had helped wean him off the alcohol, but Derek clung to nicotine like a security blanket. It was an expensive habit, one he’d picked up from Marc. But maybe it was time to leave it behind.
The shower wasn’t so bad, and as he’d suspected, he had it entirely to himself, until he reached the locker room.
“Couldn’t have put you with a better partner, huh, Childress?”
Derek forced an empty smile at the sound of Detective Billy Cosgrove’s voice. Billy. Seriously? The man was pushing forty. He was friends with Meyers, and although Derek had no evidence that he knew anything about Meyer’s plans to attack Kayle, he likely was on the same conspiratorial wavelength.
“You have something you’re trying to say, Cosgrove?” Derek hated passive aggression, but in this case if he didn’t play passive, it would be all aggression. Besides, he knew that Cosgrove wasn’t good at reading people. Sarcasm was lost on the man.
“I’m saying that it seems to some people, that people like you will forget your loyalties if you have a place to stick your dick.”
“Hm. How do you figure the two go together, Cosgrove?” Derek knew exactly what Cosgrove was getting at, but he also knew someone else had made that statement before he did—probably Meyers—and Billy thought it sounded like something clever he should pass along. That seriously pissed Derek off.
“Y-you know.” Not surprisingly, Cosgrove was not as confident of himself now, which would ultimately lead to belligerence if Derek kept pushing. He wasn’t in the mood or position to fight; he could always bring it up to Gilchrist later, and maybe that would put Cosgrove on a later shift.
Derek sighed, thankful he was nearly dressed as he stood up and pulled on his T-shirt. “Sound’s like you’re saying that gay people— like me— will throw away our careers, our histories, and the entire human race if it means we get sex out of the deal. I hope that’s not what you’re saying, Cosgrove, because if it is, then it’s probably the most ignorant thing I’ve heard come out of your mouth lately.” How the hell this idiot ever made it to detective was beyond him. It probably had everything to do with his dad once holding Gilchrist’s job.
Cosgrove’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. “I hope they get out. I hope they get out and give that Variant scum what he deserves.”
Derek felt heat rising through his core. This asshole had no fucking clue how sick and wrong Meyers and Sapetti were for what they’d done to Kayle.
“I hope they do too,” Derek said, his voice low. “Because this time I'll make sure Perrine doesn’t hold back. And if there's anything left of their bodies when he's done, I'll help him hide the evidence.”
Derek deliberately spent an extra few seconds checking the safety on his gun before slipping it into his vest holster. The sound of voices echoed down the corridor—Gilchrist’s among them— as other people headed into work early. It distracted Cosgrove long enough to let Derek slip away before he said anything else that might compromise the hold he had on his anger. Derek made a detour towards Gilchrist’s office before he headed home, finding him just unlocking his door.
“I need to talk to you later,” Derek said, and kept going before Gilchrist could ask what about; at this point, he wasn’t so certain himself. This whole thing just wasn’t right. He smelled a set-up somewhere, but had no evidence that it was from within the police organization. It was obvious that some people on the department wanted Kayle gone and off this case. Derek didn’t know if it was because of historical prejudice or fear that Kayle might come too close to the truth. Maybe it wasn’t a Variant killing all of these people. Maybe somebody was trying to lead them to that conclusion. If that were the case, then it was all kinds of crazy. Hated or not, the Variants were in charge, and despite how many humans banded together to try and fight them, the fact remained, Clan had the capacity to scour them off the surface of the planet. They held the bombs that the humans had once used on each other, and they alone had the technology to use them.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Kayle was showered, primped, polished, and wearing his suit when Derek got back home.
“Ready?” Derek asked, almost before he’d gotten in the door.
Kayle frowned at him. “What’s troubling you?”
“Troubling me? Nothing,” He thought he’d done a pretty good job of prepping his features on the elevator ride to his apartment. “Just ready to start my day.”
“I’m not convinced. Your shoulders are too tense. I can hear it in your voice.”
Stupid mind-reading incubus, or whatever it was that he was doing. “I worked out. Weight-bench, treadmill, I’m wrecked, and even if that’s not what it is, I’m not ready to talk about the rest of it, okay?”
If Kayle had continued to stare at him any longer, Derek would have bro
ken, but he finally looked away and stood up, dusting some imaginary specks from his lapels. “I’ve been thinking; I’d like to examine the last body.”
“Ramon?” Derek blurted out before he thought better of it.
To his credit, Kayle didn’t flinch, but Derek noticed a tiny tic at the corner of one eye. “Yes.”
He wouldn’t ask if Kayle was certain about doing that. The truth was, Derek wanted him to give the body a thorough look before somebody claimed it and any evidence was lost to them until the next body showed up. That was something Derek was trying very hard to keep from happening.
At the crime scene, Derek had been occupied with location, timing, and Kayle to give Ramon’s body more than a cursory exam before they took it down. The comprehensive examination was left to the medical examiner’s office. The last two murders had been a lot closer together than the previous four, and it would be foolish to believe it was coincidence.
“Okay, I’ll call Dr. Ray.”
“No need. She called from the morgue to let us know that the body would be claimed tomorrow. He had no family, so his boyfriend, Brando, is going to take him.”
Derek looked blankly at Kayle.
“You forgot your phone. I saw the number for the medical examiner’s office so I thought it could be important. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No. No. You’re right, “ Derek said. “I’m just glad you were here to answer it.” He knew he must really be off his game this morning: remembering his gun but forgetting his cell phone. Well, his routine had been very recently disturbed.
“If you’re ready then,” Kayle said, passing the phone over to Derek. “Let’s get going.”
Derek watched the glamour slip back over Kayle’s fingers as the device left his hand; saw the long, black claws turn into pale rounded crescents. He didn’t realize how long he’d been staring until Kayle said his name.
“Derek?”
God, he loved what Kayle’s voice did to the sound of the letters. “Right.” Derek shook himself out of his trance. Fresh air. That’s what he needed. The apartment was undoubtedly infused with incubus pheromones to the point where he couldn’t even smell them anymore.
“So why the sudden interest in seeing the body?” Derek tried to sound casual as they drove to the morgue. Kayle was looking out the passenger window, his chin in his hand as he leaned on the armrest. Derek had the sense that Kayle was mentally preparing himself.
“I wanted to check something…see if there is something the ME’s report missed.”
“Dr. Ray is pretty thorough, but I assume you’re looking for something in particular?”
“I’m trying to see if the killer is working alone. The previous victim on the ship, had a time of death was at least ten hours before the body was found. That might’ve given him time to rig a way to get the body into position.”
“But that would leave marks behind,” Derek offered, trying to follow Kayle’s reasoning. Regardless of how much or little someone weighed in life, dead bodies were heavy and cumbersome. Hoisting one twenty feet above the deck of a boat, or even over a bridge, would require help of some kind, either mechanical or human.
Unless, of course, the killer was a Variant. Derek wondered if Kayle was thinking along those lines, and if so, would he admit it if it turned out that Derek was right? He wasn’t going to be an ass about it, though. Even though he wouldn’t admit it, this had to be very uncomfortable for Kayle.
By now, Derek was coming to accept that beneath that ice-prince exterior there was likely a man who felt the same things anybody else did. If it had been Derek who’d slept with Ramon, he wasn’t so sure he could shove all of that aside for the sake of furthering the case. He’d like to think he could sacrifice his own feelings for the greater good, but the truth was, he wasn’t sure he was that strong. They weren’t going to look at the body of a fleeting, one-time contact like a friendly store-clerk or waiter. Kayle had shared intimate, physical contact with the victim; he’d probably had plans to set more appointments with him, and Ramon spending the entire night in his bed was not what prostitutes normally did. He couldn’t help but wonder if they’d talked about things that Kayle wouldn’t have talked about with him. Derek felt something creeping up behind his feelings of respect and pity for Kayle. It felt a lot like jealousy. Shit. He was jealous of a dead man. Well this was a new low for him.
They pulled up to the back of the building, where Derek usually parked. He came around to the passenger side of the car to let Kayle out again. He could tell that Kayle was mulling things over in his head. It was the way his eyes shifted, as though he caught a flash of something going by and was tracking to see where it led.
Cal greeted them at the door. “Gentlemen,” he said. His gaze barely skimmed over Derek before it came to rest on Kayle. Derek couldn’t really blame him. Of the two of them, Kayle was the most interesting and pleasant to look at.
“Dr. Ray told you we were coming, right?” Derek said, following Kayle inside.
“Of course, Detective—Detectives.” Cal corrected himself. “The deceased is in room 1-A. It’s pretty cold in there, for obvious reasons. Dr. Ray is out of the office now and I’ve got some coursework to catch up on so I’ll be up front if you need anything.” With a final, lingering glance at Kayle, Cal turned and left them in the hall.
“Got yourself an admirer there,” Derek chuckled quietly after Cal got out of hearing range.
“Yes, well, he doesn’t understand. Can we look at the body now please?” Kayle’s posture was stiff and his dark eyes were looking everywhere but at Derek.
Right, Derek reminded himself. This is hard for him.
They were practically outside room 1-A . There was a placard on the thick door, just below the small, square viewing window. Derek could see the shape of a body under a sheet, laid out on a stretcher. The door came open with a small sucking sound like a refrigerator as Derek broke the seal and they went inside. Cold was right. Not freeze-your-balls-off cold, but enough to make his breath a cloud in the air. The sheet was folded down from Ramon’s face, barely covering the stitches on his torso from the customary autopsy. Derek cringed. He knew that Dr. Ray did a thorough and almost cosmetic job of sealing everything up, but there was nothing that could hide the Y-shaped cut. It was procedure, he understood this, but it still was difficult to look at. The only small saving grace was that Ramon didn’t look like Ramon as much. It was a strange phenomenon that Derek had come to recognize over the years, how death changed what a person looked like, but in an unexplainable way. Even when people were sound asleep, they looked like people. Something about death made them seem empty…unreal…like husks that were supposed to look like people, or some kind of wax double. There was also an odd smell in the room. Antiseptic, infused with chemicals that were at one moment sweet and the next, pungent, and just below the surface, the solid lingering odor of blood.
“You—” Derek began to ask Kayle if he was okay, but Kayle shot him a warning glare that made him bite his tongue. Kayle pulled on some gloves out of a box on a nearby counter and approached the body. Derek turned around to grab a set of gloves himself, though he was hoping not to have to touch the body. The thing that was once Ramon was pale like a grub. There had been no blood to cool and congeal in his veins, so even the normal blue tinge of non-oxygenated cells was absent. The bite marks left by Kayle, however, were still visible, and Derek felt that dark, spiky worm of jealousy twist in his gut when he thought about them being together. Yes, it was just one night, and yes, it was a paid visit and yes, it was just sex; but the evidence of passion was clearly visible. Had Ramon been that good that Kayle bit him? Marked him? Had Ramon asked him to and Kayle obliged?
“…No ligature marks save for the ones where he’d been hanging…”
“Huh?” Derek shook himself out of his punishing thought spiral. Kayle had moved the sheet lower, around Ramon’s waist, his face stolid and very close as he examined the dead man’s pale skin. Derek moved to the end of the stretch
er, lifting the sheet a little to see if he could find anything that could indicate his heels had dragged, or maybe a mark left from something on his ankles to help hold him up. He noticed a small divot on the arch of Ramon’s left foot. “That’s odd.”
“What?” Kayle moved down next to Derek.
“This mark. I mean, it doesn’t look like much, but I don’t remember seeing mention of it in the autopsy report.”
Kayle walked over to the counter, taking up the clipboard that had all of the documentation surrounding the intake and prep of the body. He flipped a few pages, then frowned down at one. “It says Dr. Eidola Ray performed the autopsy. Here’s her signature.”
Derek took the offered clipboard from Kayle, repeating his gestures from a moment ago. Indeed, it was Dr. Ray’s signature. “She’s usually meticulous about these things; I mean, the woman counts and documents every freckle.”
“Maybe she was having an off-day? Or was distracted?”
“Maybe,” Though Derek didn’t believe it for a second. This was worrisome. Dr. Ray was up-front about her association with Variants, but would she do anything as risky as help them hide their crimes? No, that was crazy. The doctor was an ethical woman. There wasn’t anything Derek could think of that could make her compromise to such an extent but extreme duress. He’d like to think if that were the case, she would have somehow found a way to clue him in. When he raised his head, Kayle was watching him closely. He said nothing, but Derek felt like he was reading volumes from his body language.
“I think we should talk to her,” Derek said and returned the clipboard to the counter, shucking his gloves into the flip-top metal garbage can. As an afterthought, he grabbed the last page of the report with the signature on it. It was a photocopy, so it likely wouldn’t be missed.
“I agree.” Kayle respectfully covered Ramon’s body, taking what Derek believed was an entire minute to look at the dead man’s face. He glanced up at Derek for a time that was equally as long before he too removed and disposed of his gloves.