by Jaxon Reed
“Now that this is over, I have spent the better part of this morning reviewing the results of COPE’s findings. As y’all know, Chief Jones was dismissed from his position when COPE discovered he had been hunting on land owned by the city out in the Hill Country.
“However, upon further review, it appears no laws were broken in this regard. All the deer shot by Chief Jones were taken legally, and in season. Wildlife often requires culling to maintain herd health, and in this regard, Chief Jones’ activities were beneficial for the local ecology.
“In addition, it has come to my attention that most of the meat harvested by the Chief was donated to local homeless shelters and soup kitchens.
“In light of the Chief’s admirable service to the city and our state, and also with the full realization that this legal activity is the only controversial aspect of an otherwise stellar career in law enforcement, I have personally requested the Mayor give Mr. Jones his position back, and the Mayor this morning has agreed to my request.”
A smattering of applause and cheers came up from the crowd, especially from the police providing security for the event. Jones, towering in height above everyone else on the platform, smiled and waved gratefully at a couple of admirers.
The City Manager, standing next to Jones, scowled and crossed his arms. Bryce didn’t need to be an empath to sense he was upset at this turn of events.
“Finally, I will be personally reviewing the other decisions COPE has been making in recent days, and I’m withdrawing executive authority from the committee and dissolving it. Sometimes, our public servants need to be allowed to do their duties without interference from higher levels, and this is one of those times.”
Zavala paused and took a deep breath. He looked over his shoulder at his wife, who smiled back at him. She looked like she had been crying. She rubbed her nose with a tissue.
He faced the cameras again.
“I know I have not been myself in recent days. I want to apologize to the people of this state, and especially to my wife. This time was marked by several mistakes, and I take full responsibility for everything that has happened.
“But that time is over now. We are moving forward, and I will do my best to make things right. I thank you for your continued support, and I will get back to doing my job, serving the people of Texas.
“Thank you.”
-+-
After lunch, Jenkins and Miller invited Bryce and Parker back to the office.
“I have it on good authority,” Jenkins said in a stage whisper, “that something interesting might happen this afternoon.”
When they walked through the door, they were greeted by a round of applause. Everybody came up to meet them and shake their hands.
Bryce was unused to so much adulation. Jenkins and Miller beamed in paternal pride, as if celebrating a winning game with their children. Through snatches of conversation, Bryce figured out they had not only told the story of what happened the night before to everybody at the office, they had also insinuated that Bryce and Parker were directly responsible for the dissolution of COPE.
And in a way, I guess we are, thought Bryce. Although, the Chief deserves most of the credit.
Soon after, Wilton walked in the door. He was greeted by another round of applause, and everyone came to shake his hand, too.
Lu opened the door to the Captain’s office and stuck her head out to see what all the commotion was about. Wilton excused himself from the crowd politely, and headed her way.
He pulled out a vid sheet, and shoved it in her face.
“Get out!”
Her back stiffened, and Bryce a felt a wave of indignation from her.
“I’m going to have to verify the authenticity of that document.”
“Get out now, or I’ll have you arrested and dragged out!”
Dead silence filled the room. Several cops moved their hands toward their firearms. Lu looked out at the crowd in the room, and found no support.
Bryce felt her resolve as she lifted her chin up high.
“You haven’t seen the last of Dottie Hart Lu, I assure you!”
She walked briskly out the door and down toward the elevators.
Applause erupted again as she walked out, and several people cheered.
-+-
Bryce and Parker spent the remainder of the afternoon catching up on reports from the night before. They learned shortly after Captain Wilton returned that they had been restored to their positions, with back pay and a small bonus for their troubles.
After about an hour at the computer terminal, Parker leaned back in her chair and gripped her stomach.
Bryce looked up as she belched softly.
“Sorry. I guess something from lunch is not agreeing with me.”
Bryce smiled.
“You’re pregnant.”
Parker’s jaw dropped.
“How did you . . .”
He chuckled as her astonishment swept over him.
“It’s just one of those things, partner. I can tell.”
Parker closed her mouth as a thought occurred to her.
“Can you sense anything from the baby? Any emotions?”
He shook his head.
“It’s a little early, still. Give it a few months and I can generally start to feel a few things from unborn babies. Usually feelings of contentment. They’re raw and somewhat unformed emotions. That part of the brain is still developing. But they have them. They’re just not as interesting as adults’.”
She nodded, holding her stomach, thinking about his remarks.
“Oh, and it’s a boy.”
She looked up in shock.
“You can tell? Already?”
He broke out in laughter at the look on her face.
“Nah, I’m just messing with you. I’ve got a fifty-fifty chance of being right, though.”
-+-
Toward the end of the workday, Bryce received a text from Ivan’s messaging service. Parker interrupted him while he was reading it.
“Hey, do you want to come over for supper tonight? Dan thought you might like some home cooking after eating out with everybody all this time. Of course, he’s always willing to volunteer me for things. He won’t be cooking, I’ll be doing all the work.”
“Thanks, but I promised I’d see Desmet and his coffin off. I’m going to meet him and Renard at the airport tonight. And it looks like Ivan wants to talk with me, too. So, I’ll take a rain check.”
-+-
Bryce veered his car off the flyway and headed toward Ivan’s shuttered restaurant. Someone watching for him in the parking lot ducked inside as soon as he landed. They opened the door for him as he approached.
Inside, Ivan sat flanked by his two usual bodyguards, a bottle of Russian vodka on the table and a couple of shot glasses. On reflex, Bryce scanned everyone’s emotions. Finding nothing amiss, he relaxed and continued inside.
“Come in, Detective! Come in! Congratulations.”
Bryce shook his hand, and took a seat at the table. Ivan poured shots, and drank his quickly. Bryce followed suit.
“Do you know, Detective, just how difficult it is to defeat a powerful harpy?”
Bryce nodded.
“I do now.”
“This is an extraordinary event. Very extraordinary. It is quite difficult.”
He poured two more shots, and they both drank them down.
“If you thought she was bad, can you imagine how much worse an even more powerful creature might be? We hear stories in Old Russia. Nothing official, you understand. The Communist Party suppressed the information. But we hear stories. Stories of powerful harpies and others like them. They fought hard and killed many before being taken down.
“Stalin hunted the cunning folk with a vengeance. Practically every lineage in Russia and her satellite states were wiped out during the purges. But many did not go down without a fight.”
Ivan poured a third round of shots, and knocked his back. Bryce decided to slow down and
keep his head clear. He took a tiny sip from the shot glass.
“Hitler himself was a male harpy, you know.”
Bryce shook his head.
“No, I didn’t know. I thought they were always women.”
“Most of the time, yes. But you see, in Hitler’s case, two lineages crossed. It skipped his mother, and of course his father, but his grandparents from both sides had the blood.
“Now, the Nazis made sure to destroy all records of his ancestry. The rumors were one of his grandparents was a Jew. It would not do to have the leader of the Aryan race proven to be one quarter Jewish! And so, the documentation proving his ancestry was completely and thoroughly erased from history.
“But the bigger reason, the real reason for destroying his ancestral records, was an attempt to hide the fact he was the product of two strong lines of cunning folk.”
Ivan filled his shot glass again, and topped off Bryce’s. He downed his shot quickly. Bryce didn’t touch the glass this time.
“Never trust a Central European, Detective. Never trust a Southern, Eastern, or Northern one either. Just don’t trust Europeans. They are untrustworthy. But Central Europeans are the worst!”
Bryce nodded politely, keeping his thoughts to himself as Ivan filled the shot glass again.
“And don’t trust these Europol agents, either, Detective. Why do you think they want the body of this harpy, hm?”
“To study it. To research it. Try to see what made her tick.”
Ivan chuckled, then downed his vodka.
“You are too trusting, Detective. Every world war started in Europe. Think about that.”
-+-
Bryce was late seeing Desmet off. He got confused at the airport, and finally figured out Desmet was flying on a private jet along with the coffin.
Eventually he found Renard in the right area, away from the commercial terminals, and they watched as Desmet trudged up the steps to a waiting jet.
Desmet turned and waved. Bryce and Renard waved back. He went inside the plane. The steps were rolled away and the door shut. The plane taxied down the runway to prepare for takeoff.
“You’re not going with him?”
Renard smiled, and shook her head.
“No, I’m going to wrap up things here. I’ll take a later flight.”
“Oh. Well, in that case how about dinner at the club tonight?”
“I would love that, Jerry.”
-+-
Renard kept the rental van, so she had her own transportation for a change. She met Bryce later that evening at Nightsky.
She walked in wearing a dress, cut short above her knees and fitting snug at the waist. Bryce glanced down at her shiny black high heels and reflected on the fact he had never seen her dressed up before.
She put her purse down on one of the leather chairs and came over to hug him. He caught a whiff of her perfume as the thought crossed his mind she had never hugged him before.
The staff found out this was likely her last visit before going home, and they went all out on the meal. They served roasted duck and rack of lamb, with delightful side dishes and creamy desserts that must have taken an exorbitant amount of time to prepare. The sommelier provided bottles of wine from Texas, Argentina, and Australia.
When they finished, Bryce decided it was probably the best meal he had ever had at Nightsky. He pushed away from the table and walked over to a plush leather chair, sitting down with a sigh.
Renard grabbed the last bottle of wine and two glasses. She walked very slowly toward his chair, placing one high heel in front of the other. She carefully sat down in his lap, and filled both glasses.
“It is time to celebrate, Detective.”
She bent down and kissed him, her tongue probing his mouth. He felt lust flowing from her. All the feelings of loneliness, his deepest emotional need, struggled toward the surface.
He pushed them down, as a bigger commitment exercised power over his emotions.
He placed his hands gently on both her shoulders and pushed her away.
“I can’t.”
Her brows furrowed, and he felt her confusion.
“It’s my wife. I still love her. I made a promise on our wedding day, and I’ve kept that promise, even though she’s gone.”
“It’s been eight years, Jerry. It’s time to let her go. You deserve this.”
She bent to kiss him again. He pushed her back, gently.
“No, there’s still a chance. She’s never dated anyone all this time. She’s kept her end of the promise. I don’t want to ruin it for us, if she ever wants to come back.”
Renard paused for a moment, eyes locked with his.
“She’s not coming back, Jerry.”
He scanned her emotions. Something was there, hidden deep. He couldn’t pinpoint it exactly. But there was something . . .
“You don’t know that.”
Renard took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He felt her lust slipping away while she exhaled. The breath escaping from her body took the lust along with it.
She tilted her head and gave him a lopsided smile.
“I had hoped we could do this the fun way.”
She reached over to her purse, pulled out a tranquilizer dart, and jabbed it into his neck.
-+-
Bryce came back to consciousness slowly, to a steady knocking at the door. Diffused sunlight streamed into the lanai, as morning broke into the room.
The knocking continued.
He sat up too quickly, and the blood rushed from his head. He groaned in pain, and looked down. His pants and underwear were pulled down around his knees, and he felt a dull ache between his legs.
He heard a female voice the other side of the door.
“Mr. Bryce? It’s housekeeping! We’re coming in now!”
He struggled to pull up his pants as the door opened. He stood up, sat down in the chair, and pulled his fly up as two cleaning ladies walked through the door.
“Sorry, I . . . fell asleep.”
“That’s quite alright, sir. Happens all the time.”
He limped out of the room as they started picking up plates and glasses. The pain between his legs grew in intensity as he walked.
He waved at the front desk clerk, who greeted him with a hearty, “Good morning, sir!”
He pulled himself into the transport tube, then gasped as it dropped toward the parking lot, exacerbating his pain for a moment.
He staggered out of the exit and limped over to his car. He touched his phone implant as the car floated up, and called Parker.
“Morning, partner!”
“Renard’s flight. Do you know which one it is? Has it taken off yet?”
“Yeah, it’s a nonstop to Amsterdam. Lufthansa. Leaves in a few minutes. Why?”
“We gotta stop her. I think she extracted my sperm last night.”
“What? What do you mean, ‘extracted?’”
“I mean she knocked me out, took a syringe, and extracted my sperm.”
“Omigosh Bryce, that’s horrible. Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know. Probably the same reason they took Desiree’s body. To study it or something. Meet me at the Lufthansa gate. We’ve gotta keep her from taking my sperm out of the country.”
-+-
Bryce ran into the foreign departures terminal, ignoring the pain between his legs. He scanned the crowds going through security.
Parker ran up next to him from another entrance.
“I don’t see her, do you? They just sent out the final boarding call for her flight.”
Bryce pointed at the line of people on the other side of a transparent security wall.
“There! She just got through.”
They ran toward the reserved entrance for pilots and airport personnel, which had no line. A security guard saw them coming.
“Stop! I’m going to need to see some—”
“Renard!”
Bryce drew his gun, aiming at the smaller woman through th
e entryway. She stopped and turned around in alarm. Her carry-on baggage looked like a large purse.
“Gun!”
Bryce squeezed off a shot just as five guards tackled him.
BLAM!
The shot went wide, ripping into Renard’s baggage. She turned and ran toward the gates.
“He’s APD! He’s APD!”
Parker waved her badge at the guards. They slowly pulled themselves off Bryce. He lay stunned on the floor, his head bruised, his shoulder throbbing from where he had been shot earlier.
Renard ran through the gate for her flight. An airline employee closed the door behind her.
-+-
Bryce walked into his mother’s room. She slept on the bed, facing the vid screen. It showed scenes from the bank of a slow moving river. The water lapped peacefully against some large rocks. A fish broke the surface, biting at something floating by, maybe an insect. Gentle music played in the background.
The knot on his forehead had receded, leaving only some slight discoloration. His other pains were slowly fading, too.
He smiled at his mother, and gently moved a strand of hair out of her face.
Her eyes fluttered open. They were sharp, for a change. Her pupils dilated as he came into focus.
“Gerald?”
“Yes, Mom. I’m here.”
“Did you take care of that harpy?”
“Yes, Mom. She won’t be a problem anymore.”
“That’s good.”
She closed her eyes again, and started breathing regularly, the moment of lucidity passing quickly.
She mumbled something. He put his ear closer to her face.
“What’s that, Mom? What did you say?”
“Harpies are dangerous. Stay away from them.”
“I will, Mom.”
He left her snoring gently as she slid back into sleep.
Epilogue
The door buzzed open and Renard walked into the secure clean room. The Chief Scientist nodded at her, but did not shake her hand. A tall, balding man in his sixties, he towered over the smaller Agent.
“Please don’t touch anything.”
Renard nodded in compliance, then followed him as he walked over to a table filled with medical equipment.