by Susan Lain
"At least there's an upside," Eliot mused, though his aversion toward fossil fuels remained. Maybe it was largely unfounded these days, but he couldn't shake the years of hatred he'd held onto, though he tried every day.
Whenever he felt his mood sour, he began to fantasize, began to think about the other things that weren't right in his life. He missed closeness, intimacy and sex. He longed to have a man in his life. Where were all the tall, dark, handsome strangers?
His eyes began to water as he watched the rattling image on the television.
Eliot glanced outside, a streetlamp in view through the shutters. Temperamental photon faeries produced light, emanating flickering, bright flares of pure illumination. What they consumed was a mystery. Something unseen?
Now thoroughly annoyed with everything, Eliot switched off the television and slouched to the kitchen to make his meager meal on an unreliable cooker, with a cranky heat freak playing its on-and-off game every damn day. In the end, Eliot forwent a warm meal and ate a cold salad with equally cold grilled chickens he'd purchased from the market the previous day.
As he sat at the table, the light of the overhead flickering above him, Eliot stared out the window and chewed his scant dinner. Yeah, this was the world today.
Chapter Two
"Come meet the customer service manager at this branch of CEPA—and my absolute best employee."
Eliot blushed at the sound of Francis's praise. He also rose from his seat when he noticed a young-ish man at Francis's side. Tall, dark, and handsome wasn't a stretch in describing him, but it was somewhat misleading. Tall, dark and brooding seemed more apropos.
Exasperated already by his own low expectations, Eliot tried not to focus on the man's raw sex appeal. Unfortunately, Eliot knew himself well enough to acknowledge he had a kink for gloomy men.
The man removed his long dark overcoat and handed it to Francis who took hold of the item of clothing with a rather mystified expression. Underneath it, the stranger wore an immaculate charcoal-gray business suit that hugged his form like second skin, which Eliot definitely did not notice.
Despite the classy clothes, complimented by a cornflower-blue tie that matched the shade of his eyes, this man screamed more back-alley bruiser than businessman. A thin, white scar over the bridge of his nose and another over his upper lip made him look like he was sneering. In fact, his whole face was nothing but sharp angles, an unduly chiseled statue. His black brogue shoes had zero stains despite the inclement weather.
"Hello. I'm Eliot Tate." Eliot extended his hand for a polite greeting.
The strange man smoothly took his hand in his, the grip strong without being overpowering. The shake itself was short and to the point. "Good afternoon. I'm Agent Alek Saroyan from MERF."
Eliot swallowed hard and shivered in spite of himself. The man had the deepest bass voice Eliot had ever heard in anyone who wasn't a blues singer. The sound vibrated in his ribcage—and his nether regions. Hot damn.
The Mythkin Energy Research Facility (MERF) was funded, supported, and endorsed by the federal government, thus allowing the workers there to officially call themselves agents. The group was composed of scientists and field agents, mostly the former. They studied the mythkin, their origins, habits, energy production, and biology. MERF was the authority on the fabled creatures that had come to life a year ago.
Alek must have been invited here by Francis. Eliot wasn't sure if this arrival was a good thing.
"Nice to meet you, Alex."
The agent narrowed his eyes. "It's Alek. Alek…Saroyan."
Eliot flushed with embarrassment both at being dressed down in front of Francis, and at the immediate change in Alek. "Oh, sorry. I thought I heard Alex."
Alek's brow cleared and was replaced by a blank expression. "Common mistake. Believe me."
Eliot remained unsure of what to make of the newcomer. "What kind of name is Saroyan?" he asked out of childlike curiosity.
Alek's cornflower-blue eyes glinted hard, again. Dammit. "My great-grandfather emigrated from Armenia. I'm American." There was no mistaking the sharp edge in his tone. Alek acted like he'd been insulted by a born and bred racist.
Everything he said to this man seemed to be the wrong thing. Eliot brought his hands up in a surrender gesture. "I'm not your enemy. Hashtag, I stand with immigrants."
"How nice for you." Alek turned back to Francis, in effect dismissing Eliot, his snide remark causing Eliot's hackles to raise. "I'd like a desk where I can work in peace," Alek told Francis with a cool tone.
Francis coughed, his nervous gaze flicking between Eliot and Alek. "Yes, sir, of course. Follow me. This way, please."
They disappeared around the corner.
Eliot slumped back down on his seat and blew out a breath. It turned out the agent was a tool. Shrugging, he went back to work. Not like his caseload got any smaller by him ignoring it.
*~*~*
"You've not gone to lunch yet?"
Eliot blinked as Francis walked over to his desk, tapping his wristwatch with a telling gesture. Frowning, Eliot glanced at the computer clock. Shit, he'd missed lunchtime. And not for the first time in the last two weeks. "I'll fetch a salad or a sandwich from the lobby." Eliot glanced behind his boss. "Where's your tag-along?"
Francis harrumphed. "Be nice now. He's just like you." Eliot glared at him over this assessment, but Francis merely chuckled. "He's still hard at work, like you. Listen, I know can seem like he's full of hot air and that he's a bit, um, rough around the edges."
It was just like Francis to apologize for someone else. He was adorable but a bit too old for Eliot's liking. And he was straight, plus also a friend. Eliot didn't mess with his friends.
So all he said, while looking at his computer screen, was, "Yeah, he's full of something alright."
An awkward silence fell like a bomb. Eliot looked up and saw Francis stare behind Eliot in shame and guilt. Eliot sighed, not bothered in the slightest. Still, he knew he should pretend like he was.
"Mr. Tate, was it?" Agent Saroyan asked with his deep voice—though he damn well knew who Eliot was. "I'd like your assistance with the complaint files. Apparently you know these cases inside out, so…"
The question left hanging made Eliot's teeth set on edge. It was a subtle demand, an order made by hiding it behind a seemingly free choice.
It didn't help any that Eliot's body, specifically his cock, responded to the commanding tone in the agent's voice with an eager jump.
Damn that impatient dick. Eliot wasn't sure if he meant the man or his own member.
"I'm kind of busy at the moment," Eliot snapped.
Poor Francis tried to catch his eye. Francis's disappointment made Eliot bow his head, actually bothered this time.
He understood he'd gone too far, so changed his tone before speaking again. "Give me half an hour and I'll join you."
Alek shrugged. "Fine." He wheeled around and vanished down the hall.
Francis whistled low. "Dammit, Eliot. You don't need to make an enemy of MERF."
Fuck if I care. Thankfully Eliot only responded like that inside the safety and comfort of his head. "He's supposed to be here to help us, right? We work with him, not for him. We aren't his damn servants. I don't jump because he tells me to."
Francis smirked. "You hop like a bunny if I tell you to."
Eliot grinned, continuing the joke between them. "I'd do the bunny hop all the way to the bedroom if you asked me."
"Naughty boy." Shaking his head, Francis went back to his office, leaving Eliot alone to finish what he'd started. This time, though, Eliot couldn't fake not paying attention to the clock. He had a meeting with a jerk, and he couldn't miss it.
*~*~*
Only once he'd done everything he could possibly think of, did Eliot dawdle his way to Agent Saroyan's temporary room at the end of the hall.
The door was ajar. Eliot peeked in and saw Alek sitting behind a desk full of folder stacks and opened archival boxes, his jacket folded ov
er the back of the chair. The man in question was hunched over a notebook Eliot barely caught a glimpse of him past the heaps of paper.
"Agent Saroyan, you have everything you need?"
Alek met his gaze, his own slightly out of focus. Then he frowned and nodded. "You are the only thing missing from this equation. Still busy?"
Eliot bit his tongue from spilling out exactly what he thought. Although, to be fair, Alek wasn't being impolite with words, this time. But his tone still revealed his condescending attitude.
"Would I be here if I was?" Eliot retorted. He walked in, closing the door behind him. Sounds of the open office faded away.
Alek quirked a dark eyebrow. His lips thinned disapprovingly. Eliot wanted to smack him. The impulse was new and uncomfortable. Perhaps he'd just been doing this job too long.
Or maybe he was running out of patience for idiots.
He wondered in passing if Alek's demeaning voice could be silenced with Eliot's dick down his throat. Eliot sure wouldn't have minded. Every guy was a dream come true with your cock in their willing mouth.
Eliot was about to take a seat opposite Alek, but the agent waved him over to his side. Eliot grudgingly moved the empty seat next to Alek's, but he kept a discreet distance. With reluctance he observed that Alek's spicy cologne tantalized his senses. Eliot shook the untimely thoughts aside. There really wasn't room for temptations in his life, especially not with another jerk.
"What is MERF looking for exactly?" Eliot asked, steering his focus back on track.
"Evidence of abnormalities, signs of arising problems, anything that might suggest a larger pattern of troubles." Alek had several opened file folders with ongoing and closed cases in front of him. "You keep meticulous notes. As does your whole division."
A compliment from Alek? Eliot was gobsmacked. But he didn't thank him. "We archive everything on paper, so detailed accounts are a necessity."
"How're you faring with crappy internet connections?"
Eliot shrugged. "Same as everyone else. Cursing out loud, often."
Alek actually chuckled at the remark. Once. His lopsided smile was indistinguishable from his sneer. "I suppose we're both lucky, working for scientific organizations at this time. We've been granted additional funds, manpower, and supervision-free opportunities to conduct pure research."
Eliot grunted. "CEPA does that, sure. But that's not what I do."
Alek studied him with narrowed eyes. "Director Cook said you're a doctor."
"Yes, I have two doctorates, one in climatology, the other in ecological energy research. I admit it's become useful since the world went to hell in a handbasket. But here at CEPA, I'm the senior manager of customer service." Eliot surveyed Alek's icy nonchalance, their gazes locked, neither willing to release the other. "You?"
"I was a cop back in the day. Army before that."
"So you're not a scientist?"
"I didn't say that." Alek shot Eliot a hard stare, then shrugged. "I studied zoology and mythology in college. I added cryptozoology to the list once I was employed by MERF."
Eliot snorted. "That pseudoscience?" Then he cringed, recognizing more of his own outdated prejudice. "Sorry. Obviously it's significant now. Vital even."
Alek's attention veered back to his notes. His handwriting was small and tight, almost like an ancient language, impossible to decipher. Eliot didn't even try. In addition to irritating and mysterious, the man was clearly an overachiever.
"So how can I help you?" Eliot asked, wondering if his time would be better served doing something else somewhere else. Yet he couldn't deny he was fascinated with witnessing how Alek would investigate these familiar cases from a different perspective.
Alek stopped writing but didn't put his pen down or raise his gaze. "Have there been any complaints outside the greater Washington D.C. area?"
"Not so far. I've heard nothing from the other branches." Eliot narrowed his eyes. "Is there something special about D.C.?"
Alek shrugged and asked another question. "Have there been any complaints made about clean energy mythkin?"
"Again, not that I know of." Eliot had already figured that part out. "Only dirty energy creatures seem to be having problems. At least we've seen no direct evidence to suggest that. But, with your expertise in mythkin, what do you think is going on…Agent?"
Alek studied the files in front of him. "I believe there's a yet unknown being out there, far more powerful than any of the ones we've come into contact with. Something dangerous. Perhaps similar to an alpha in a wolf pack."
As weirded out as he felt about the peculiar segue that seemed to have nothing to do with the topic at hand, Eliot gulped. Fear of the unknown still affected humans. Civilization was a mere façade for animals running on instinct. The idea that they hadn't yet encountered all of the mythkin gave Eliot cold shivers up and down his spine. The world of these mysterious beings was like the ocean; layers beyond imagining. Who knew what lurked in those depths?
"You think or you know?" Eliot asked with a whisper, as if the situation called for greater discretion and a cloak of secrecy.
Alek shook his head as he continued to flick through case files. "Like you, I have no direct or conclusive proof. For now it's a hunch. A gut instinct brought on by years of experience."
Eliot frowned. "But we didn't even know about the existence of the mythkin until last year right after Loreblast—"
"Yes, but I'd studied mythical monsters long before the event that changed the world a year ago. And I'm certain there's something else out there. A creature that is able to exert some kind of influence over the rest."
Eliot gasped. "B-but…that implies the mythkin are…might be intelligent."
Alek shrugged. "Intelligent? Maybe. Sentient? Likely. Those two are not the same thing." He met Eliot's undoubtedly frantic gaze with his own level one. "Neuroscientists have for years attested to the fact that humans are not unique when it comes to consciousness. Several animal species show signs of awareness similar to that of humans. The evidence points to childlike intelligence but it's still sentient perception of the world around us. Who's to say the mythkin are any different?"
Eliot spotted a potential flaw in Alek's theory and was quick to point it out, mostly for his own peace of mind. "But separate animal species can't communicate with each other, regardless of their level of consciousness. So how could the various mythkin accomplish that? You don't suspect, like, telepathic powers or something to that effect, do you?"
Alek's attention veered back to the folders and papers. "I don't know yet. But I plan to find out."
Eliot worried his bottom lip. Was it possible that the gas gremlins were acting oddly due to the unknown influence of a more powerful mythkin? And if so, why was it happening in the first place? As incredible as that sounded, the idea would be hard to prove.
Alek sounded like a determined investigator. He might indeed discover the truth behind his theories—but at what cost to himself and others?
Chapter Three
Half a week later
The office had begun to reek of stale air, body odors, ice-cold coffee, and ripened takeout after only a few days. Eliot had sacrificed his first free weekend in months to spend the better part of the week late into the night in a dusty, windowless office replete with boxes and papers for Alek's investigation. He grimaced, tired of being stuck in the same room with Alek, bored out of his skull reviewing cases he'd already looked over. But he'd promised Francis he'd help Alek, so he had no choice.
Well, that wasn't true. He did have a choice, but failing his boss on purpose felt wrong.
"We should've moved away from dirty energy sources generations ago," Eliot said, fed up with everything. "Thanks to a corrupt government, we're dependent on antiquated energy. Now the mythkin, and their issues, are our issues."
Alek glanced at Eliot briefly, his expression detached. Perhaps he heard worse outbursts in the course of his duties. "Take a step back and study this situation dispassionately. If you
can't, you're of no use to me, or anyone."
Eliot wanted to smack the guy on his flippant mouth. The guy's attitude bugged him big time. However, he plastered a sweet smile on his face. "Oh, I'll be as blasé about this as you are about people getting your name wrong."
A tick appeared on the corner of Alek's left eye. "Anyone ever tell you, you have a major problem with authority figures?"
Eliot snarled. "Anyone ever tell you, you'd get a better response out of people if you didn't march in and start barking orders like you own the place?"
"Yes. Behind my back. Many times." Alek immersed himself in the case files again as if that was all there was to say on the matter. "Most of these complaints of late involve gas gremlins. Their number far outweighs the others."
Eliot regrouped and forced himself to calm down. Alek might have been a pretentious dick, but the larger problem remained. "Yes, I noticed that. It's possible they're simply the first mythkin to be affected by…whatever is happening."
Alek leaned back in his chair that creaked, crossed his arms over his chest, and raised his gaze to the ceiling, as if he could see through it to the heart of their dilemma. "Of all the mythkin MERF has documented over the past year, gremlins are the only ones we'd been aware of beforehand."
Eliot assumed a similar posture, straightening his back that had been hunched for too long over the desk and then leaning back, trying to relax. "Yes, but they're beings of folklore that appear as complete opposites to the gremlins we know, right?"
"That's true," Alek admitted with a curt nod. "According to lore, gremlins are fascinated by machines and vehicles, specifically aircraft—which they try to break or dismantle."
Eliot nodded affirmatively. "Exactly. And the gas gremlins we know don't destroy vehicles but power them up, same as other mythkin. If anything, they improve the functions of the machines they inhabit. Cars runs smoother and faster, planes fly farther with greater stability—"