“Men,” I growled to myself. My biggest problems stemmed from letting men into my life. Sometimes I yearned for the years when I didn’t date, but then I remembered the loneliness. Compared to a desirous man pressed against me, it had been a cold existence. Then again, tonight was a very close call with DJ. It wasn’t the weather for outdoor loving and I didn’t need another foray into the stupid. I dragged myself home, to my couch and ice cream, praying it wasn’t too late to salvage my original Halloween plans and evening.
My cell phone rang and I cursed looking up at the sky. What the fuck now? I thought, rooting around in my basket for the offending sound. I looked at the caller identification and reluctantly raised it to my ear. I knew I’d probably hate myself in the morning if I ignored it.
“Who’s dead now?” I asked without even a hello. Hamilton snorted on the other end.
“No one I know of.”
“Then what the hell do you want?” I stopped my determined stomp towards home when there was silence. I knew he was still there because I could hear his breathing.
“Cassandra, what’s the matter?” I gritted my teeth. Hamilton cared. I knew that was all it was, but for some reason it just really pissed me off. I just wanted to be mad for a little while. I wanted to stomp around, have my bad mood and enjoy it.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Cassandra, you don’t sound…”
“I said I’m fine. Now don’t fucking ask me again. What do you want?” Hamilton’s voice got gruff.
“I need you to come to the station, to PCU.”
“No,” I said setting my jaw in a stubborn line.
“No?” Hamilton sounded confused. It had been a long time since I told the man no, and it was high time I started again.
“Is there an echo? No. I am not coming down there. I am in no mood for tiptoeing around Rourke and her circus tonight.”
“Please Cassandra. After the way she treated you tonight I can’t blame you, but we have a problem and even Sam admits that we need you.”
“Oh yes, just let me drop everything and work on your problem.” Hamilton huffed into the receiver.
“Are you done being a bitch yet because it’s tiring? I have to deal with that from Rourke. I don’t need it from you. It wasn’t me who’s done anything to you.”
I sighed and took a few steps to lean against a wall. I felt a wash of shame for taking my temper out on Hamilton. He didn’t deserve it. He was right about that.
“I’m sorry. I’m just having a really shit night. What do you need me to do?”
“Sit with a sketch artist. You are the only one who’s seen the bodyguard. We need an electronic facial identification technique performed, an E-FIT.”
“Alright, I can be there in ten minutes.” I hung up the phone and tossed it in the basket, trying to reign myself in. My temper had been getting way out of hand lately. As a precaution, I put spells on my clothes so they wouldn’t burn. Sometimes when I got really mad I still caught on fire.
I didn’t particularly want to walk into PCU wearing my Halloween costume, but I promised ten minutes and it would take too long to go home and change. I changed my direction and walked towards the police headquarters on Castle Street.
* * * *
I had to explain my outfit half a dozen times when I got to PCU, especially after I took off the cloak and laid it down on LeBron’s desk. LeBron backed me up about the werewolf Halloween party and enquired if Brie did okay without him. I lied to save him the worry. Brie looked bloody miserable without her batman. Hamilton quickly got me into an interview room before Ben could get his two cents in. He coddled me, desperately trying to keep me peaceable and my temper down. Poor Hamilton, angry women must really frighten him. I sat in a chair while he plied me with coffee that smelled halfway decent and introduced me to the sketch artist. The young man was very pleasant. He sat next to me, opened a laptop and brought up a program that would help us make a sketch-like rendering of Rin.
I was asked polite questions about his eyes, the width of them, the thickness of his brows, distinctive facial markings and so on. Slowly, a picture of this man was built. I thought about how I should tell Hamilton I saw Rin at the party tonight. I was positive that he would want to know although I’d bitten his head off. I was positive he didn’t want this guy stalking me anymore than I did. He’d killed three people without any sign of remorse.
“Miss?” A hand touched my arm and I turned to look at the young man next to me. It became clear that he’d been trying to get my attention for a while.
“I’m sorry, I spaced,” I said with a weak smile and looking back to the screen. “The nose needs to be a little broader and the eyes more evenly set, but apart from that, I think you have him.”
He made the adjustments. I nodded my approval but became aware of sounds of commotion outside. I pulled myself up from my seat, excused myself and slipped out into the main room. The door to Rourke’s office was shut and the blinds were down. I had no idea whether she was in there or not, or if Hamilton was with her. I turned my eyes to the hullabaloo.
LeBron stood squared off against Benjamin, his immediate superior. LeBron was well passed pissed. His fingers clenched and unclenched into fists at his sides. I could tell he was trying to keep his shit together, but it was a losing battle. Ben beamed at him, self-satisfied as if he enjoyed a good joke. There was a litter tray with a small bag of kitty litter in it sitting on LeBron’s desk. I rounded the desk and read the little tag attached to it. It read “congratulations on getting married”. Disgust roiled my stomach. LeBron growled and his lip curled.
“This isn’t funny!”
Ben continued to smirk.
“This isn’t funny, sir,” he said correcting him, “It’s hilarious.” I looked at LeBron’s hand. The back started sprouting silver hair like the wolf that had bitten him. I stepped up to him carefully, unthreatening, and squeezed LeBron’s shoulder. I leaned into him and whispered very quietly.
“Calm down, you’re starting to shift.” LeBron took deep breaths and closed his eyes. Louder, I said. “It’s not worth it. Step back.”
“Listen to the girl,” said Benjamin cockily. LeBron shuddered against me, a shiver that thrummed up and down his spine visibly.
“Ben,” I said, “do yourself a favor and shut your trap.”
“This is your fault Farbanks. You led him to meet those people. Now he’s gone and married a freak.”
“My wife is not a freak,” snapped LeBron. I could see his canines lengthening.
“LeBron calm down, please. You’ve got to keep it together. He’s an ass. Ignore him.”
Everyone else in the room understood that something else was going on. Their boss’s prank had gone too far. They stepped back leaving a circle of empty room around us. I put my hands on LeBron’s shoulders.
“Stop,” I pleaded with him. “You have to stop.”
New lycanthropes could shift under stress or when they lost their temper. I was doing my best to help him but he might be beyond what I could do.
“I hope he’s had her doused for fleas,” came the final insult from Benjamin behind me. LeBron was gone.
“Shit,” I said stepping back as his body began to contort and his shirt ripped. “Everyone back.”
“What the hell?” cried Ben, watching the muscles and bones move beneath LeBron’s skin. One of the female officers screamed as LeBron’s body burst and the silver wolf was there in his place. His back paws slammed against his desk sending it skidding back against the wall. The wood splintered and the computer’s monitor fell to the ground with a crash. LeBron snarled, his large fangs dripping with saliva. His huge front paw swung through the air and I shoved myself in its path to Benjamin. I cried out as the claws raked through the flesh of my collar bone, ripping me open and sending my blood splattering to the floor. The paw dropped and I fell to my knees gasping. LeBron’s wolf eyes looked at me. I could already read the apology in them. I wrapped my arms around his neck, partly restr
aining him, partly comforting. His big, pink tongue ran over the wounds and he whimpered butting his muzzle against my head.
“I’m okay, just no sudden moves.” I heard the click of a metal hammer. LeBron growled and I knew there was at least one gun on us.
“Fuck!” cursed Ben. “He’s one too! Get out of the way Farbanks.” I pushed back from LeBron, the warning in my eyes very clear. One wrong move and LeBron was going to get himself shot. He might survive the regular ammunition, but there was no point in risking it. I rose slowly to my feet and turned to face Benjamin, keeping myself between him and a direct shot. He held his gun two-handed. Even then he was shaking. His eyes dropped to see the blood pouring down my arm from the wound.
“Someone get a medic,” he shouted then focused back on me. “Get out of the way.”
“No,” I said, my voice a little hoarse from the pain. “I won’t let you shoot him.”
“That thing nearly ripped your throat out.” Benjamin seemed unable to refer to LeBron as he anymore, like he was no longer a person.
“And whose fault is that you bigoted ass? All you had to do was keep your mouth shut. I could have gotten him calmed down but no, you’re too busy hating to have sense.”
He raised his gun at me.
“Move away from the monster.”
“Why is he a monster? Just because he’s not one hundred percent human. I’ve got news for you. He’s not half as much a monster as someone who hates for the sake of hating. You bring this shit on yourself. Next time I may not be there to take the hit. Wake up moron.” I was shouting at him now, furious. I’d already been on the edge temper-wise, but I was going to hit boiling point.
“Maybe you should be taking those classes, not me,” he said, a cruel smirk growing on his face.
“I don’t need anger management classes. You need shut the fuck up classes. Do you ever stop to think about the shit that comes out of your mouth?”
Benjamin stared at me. I think he got it, for the first time, I wasn’t ever going to change my mind. I wasn’t going to see his side and convert my opinion. His eyes went cold.
“Move or I’ll shoot you first.” I looked around watching several people take note that he’d just threatened to shoot an unarmed civilian. One officer pounded on Rourke’s door now. I realized that if she was inside, she’d been turning a blind eye to Benjamin’s abuse. Something in my brain just snapped.
“You want to attack non-humans, go ahead. But remember we hit back much harder.” I felt the fire rise up around me. It circled up around my ankles and wrists, curled around my shoulder and sent my hair flapping.
“Stop it Farbanks, stop it.”
The flames licked along the torn edge of my flesh, slowly knitting it back together. Ben’s eyes widened.
“What? What’s happening to you?”
“I would explain it to you but I’m all out of puppets and crayons.” My voice held a menacing resonance to it, a timber of power that made him shudder. He kept his gun trained on me. I raised one hand towards it, melting the muzzle and heating the metal till it burned him. Ben let it go with a squeal but the gun stayed in the air. It was mine now. I focused on it till it was nothing but a melted, smoldering bubble. I flung it away. It hit the door with a loud hiss, flattening and cooling in a grey smudge on the wall. Benjamin stared at me as I took one flaming step towards him. Part of my mind told me that Benjamin had this coming for all his mouthing off. It was important he learn from me that he was not the biggest bully in the sandbox. Rather than someday, from someone who actually meant him harm. Another part of my brain really wanted to hurt and punish him, seeking my vengeance on him like some wrathful deity.
The fire curled through locks of my hair, dancing in a halo about my head. I wondered how I looked to those watching us. Did I look beautiful, deadly, or a mix of the two? Whatever effect I was having on them, not one rushed to his aid. Ben tried to put his desk between us, but my arms coursing with strength pushed it. It slid across the floor like it weighed nothing, crashing into another that joined it on its course. From the corner of my eye I could see Rourke had joined the crowd now. She shouted at us, but although I could see her lips forming words I heard nothing. Ben was backed against a wall now. He had nowhere to go and was completely at my mercy. He stank of fear and the smell that accompanied the dark stain on his pants. A dark voice in my head continued telling me to punish him, but I no longer felt the anger driving me. I had no feelings about the pathetic form that huddled closer and closer to the floor. He was an ant. I could squish him or step right over him, letting him survive to see another day. I had never felt so ambivalent about the idea of taking a life. I could or didn’t. It didn’t matter to me.
That scared me almost more than anything. I had been raised with human morals. I knew that society deemed murder to be wrong, so why didn’t it matter? Where was the guilt that had been programmed into me? That same voice whispered you’re not human Cassandra. You don’t have to live by their rules. You battled. He lost. His existence is yours. It took the longest time to realize that under the rational, passionless cold, the voice was still mine.
“Cassandra, stop this.” A voice cut through the white noise, clear, crisp and commanding. I turned my head, searching for the speaker. Hamilton stood to my left. It was he who spoke. I looked at him. His eyes held wonder and fear, but his face was calm. He had the E-FIT in one hand, but the other was held out to me. His voice continued to resonate above the static.
“You don’t want to do this. It’ll change you forever. You’re a good person. Remember who you are.” My brows pulled together as I stared at him and his out stretched hand. I tried remembering. Like the flashbacks on Lost, my childhood memories cut into my mind, disrupting the flow, the hold that cold thoughtlessness held on my consciousness. I reached out and took his hand. He didn’t wince when my fire touched him. It didn’t even look like it bothered him.
“Paris?” I said his name with numb lips. I felt like I’d been lost and he drew me back to myself. Something in his eyes flashed.
“Let it go,” he said softly. The fire went out and I stepped, half collapsed into him. He held me as sound rushed back with painful clarity. People were shouting, someone was crying and I could hear the whimpering of a wolf. I looked up at Hamilton who shot me a brief but wicked smile.
“Welcome back,” he said so silently I doubted even I had heard it. I pressed my face against his shoulder. I didn’t want to turn and face the room just yet, and for the grace of, Hamilton didn’t force me. I felt all the energy I’d had during the confrontation poof right out of me.
“When you two are done canoodling, will someone explain what the fuck just went on here?” My back stiffened. Rourke was really mad. I decided it had to be contagious. Besides, the longer I stayed in Hamilton’s arms, the harder it would be to convince her that there was nothing going on between us. I slowly turned around to face her. Rourke stood in the space between the three groups: her people trying to peel a blubbering Benjamin off the floor, Hamilton and I, and the werewolf lying down panting from exhaustion or excitement, I couldn’t tell.
“I lost control of myself. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Rourke said, her mouth flapping open. “You think an apology is going to be enough? You nearly barbecued one of my people, and God knows what you’ve done to LeBron.” I looked at the silver wolf.
“Oh I didn’t do that to him, and him not telling you about his condition is completely on him.” LeBron whimpered slightly. Put blame where blames due, I thought.
“I should arrest the pair of you,” yelled Rourke. I blinked, wondering where she proposed to get cuffs big enough for LeBron right now.
“For what?” Hamilton chimed in over my head. “Cassandra didn’t actually touch Detective Sergeant Hodgeson, and being a werewolf isn’t a crime.” Rourke looked confused and then was right back to being pissed again.
“I’m going to report you to the witch’s council Farbanks,” she said, then turne
d her imperious finger on LeBron. “And you are on suspension effective immediately until I assess whether you are fit for duty in this unit. I want your gun and your badge.” LeBron looked at her and then at me. What was he supposed to do when he had no hands? He whimpered, looked at his torn clothes then at me again.
“What does that even mean?” she growled. I took a few steps forward and Rourke moved sharply to give me a wide berth.
“I can’t explain it to you, but I can understand it for you.” I bent down to the scraps of his clothing, finding his belt I unsnapped his gun and unclipped his badge. I stood with them in hand and slammed them down on the nearest desk.
“All yours,” I said and bent down near the wobbling wreck of LeBron’s desk to retrieve my cloak and basket. LeBron understood I made motions to leave and he rose to his feet. Rourke took a few further steps backwards.
“We’ll just take ourselves away.” I signaled with a wave of my hand that LeBron should follow me. Hamilton held the door for us but was distant. His eyes were on the picture of Rin in his hand. I almost said he recognized him.
We walked through the station to audible gasps. LeBron had a little trouble navigating the stairs with his large paws but we were soon outside in the parking lot. LeBron looked to his parked car and whimpered.
“It’ll have to stay here for now. I didn’t think to go through your desk for personals.” I texted Hamilton. “There. You can come get it from reception in the morning or you can send Brie.” He stared at it for another heartbeat, and then followed me as I left the parking lot. I rested my hand on his large wolf head as we walked, meaning for it to be comforting.
“We’ll go to the community. It’s the safest place for you right now. Get Simian on damage control.” LeBron shook off my hand and gave an unhappy rumble.
“Don’t give me that,” I said reading his grumpiness. “You did damage. You lost control. You shifted in a confined area with people all around and took a swipe at someone. Provoked or not, it’s going to need to be reported. The fact that no one was permanently injured is just luck.” LeBron grabbed the edge of my cloak pulling at it so he could see my collar bone. His eyes went wide looking at the near perfect, smooth flesh. He dropped the cloak. I continued walking till I realized the only footsteps were mine. I turned back to him. He waited. I rubbed one pulsing temple.
Deadly Sin (Cassandra Farbanks) Page 16