But Liz surprised them by getting to it immediately. “For some time, police in countries around the world have been recording murders of young gay men. These killings always occurred on the first night of the full moon, and there was anywhere from one to three murders in any one area. Interpol was brought into this only recently.” She dropped her eyes for a moment. “A French cop was recently traveling in Italy when he read about such a murder. He remembered a similar killing in Paris last year. He looked into it and found the similarities striking. It was subsequently reported to Interpol, we asked some questions, and we issued a green notice.”
“What’s that?” Rachel asked, swinging one foot lazily.
“It provides warnings and intelligence about persons who have committed criminal offenses and are likely to repeat the crimes elsewhere. Within a few hours, we began to hear from other countries that had experienced similar killings. He’s being called the Full Moon Killer.”
“Someone here submitted our cases to Interpol?” It hadn’t occurred to Artemis that the murders might be international in scope, and he mentally kicked himself for that oversight.
“Your FBI did, after you ran prints and DNA samples through ViCAP. We alerted them to watch for the pattern.”
Rachel’s foot tapped against the side of the desk. “Do you have a name?”
“No. This person has, until now, been a mystery. You said you’ve identified him?”
Artemis spoke slowly. “Possibly. Talis Kehk, lead singer of a rock group named Phoenix Rising. Rachel and I spoke with him briefly yesterday. I managed to cadge a spoon he’d touched, and this morning the lab matched the prints to those found at the murder scenes.”
Liz's face became animated. “Circumstantial, I know, but it’s a breakthrough. He’s finally in the system. This has taken too long. The sheer number of murders is stupefying if what we’ve discovered so far is anything to go by.” She turned to Numbnuts. “Can we use your computer? I’m familiar with this group—yes, I’m a fan—and they’ve been touring. I saw them at the Royal Albert Hall just last year. If we can tie them to the murders via the cities they’ve played, we may just have our man.”
Numbnuts almost graciously offered Liz the use of his office, and they got down to work. The morning passed quickly as they tracked the group’s progress around the world via their web site. Artemis took notes as reported murders were compared to tour dates and cities.
They ordered lunch, and while they feasted on sandwiches from Subway, Liz stretched and said, “What have we got so far?”
Artemis consulted his notes. “The band has been in NYC since mid-April. Jason Embry was killed on the eighteenth, Ken Darwin on May 17, and Donny Carlson on June 15.” He glanced up. “Before that, they were in Rome, where murders happened in January and February. They performed there twice.” He wiped mustard off his mouth with a napkin. “In London for a couple concerts, one on July 24, another on August 28. A killing in July, one in August. We’re missing some months.”
Liz grabbed a handful of chips and munched. “We’ll fill in the holes as best we can, but it looks like a pattern is emerging. Web site says they were in Paris in March of 2010. We have a murder that corresponds to that month, and they were in Berlin next, but I haven’t yet spoken to law enforcement there.” She narrowed her eyes. “But I will. A touring group is perfect cover for killing and moving on. They’ll be in California next week.” She looked at them hard. “You’ve spoken to Mr.Kehk. What’s he like?”
Rachel, sitting opposite Liz, leaned back in the chair. “Charismatic. Great-looking. I wanted to like himhell, I did like himbut when he turned those purple eyes on me…. Well, if he’d hit on me, I’d probably have been all over him. There’s a scary thought.”
Nodding, Liz looked to Artemis. “Your impression?”
He folded his sub wrapper in fourths and slid it into the empty bag. “Controlled.” He paused, reflecting. “Calculating. Charming.”
“Dangerous,” Liz remarked, sucking Pepsi through a straw.
He hadn’t felt that at all. “Not… as such. At no time did I feel threatened or entertain the idea he might hurt anyone.” Artemis had been alert, watchful, cautious, but he wondered now if that had had more to do with the man’s visceral effect on him than with his being on guard against a possible murderer. He rolled up their refuse and tossed it in the basket. “I’ll get a DNA sample from him today. That will at least confirm him as the person who fucked those young men, which means he lied to us about knowing them.” He altered his voice, making it deeper as he mimicked Talis. “‘I never saw him before.’” He snorted. “We can get him in here for a polygraph, ask him some hard questions.”
“He may agree to none of that,” Rachel said dryly.
His lips tightened. “Oh, yes. He will.”
THEY took a short break so Liz could call her people and start some wheels turning. The London office would coordinate and assemble the information gathered, and subsequently share it with New York. Artemis and Rachel returned to their shared office, where they looked at Nolan’s autopsy report.
“Same as the first two,” she said, flipping through the pages. “No obvious reason for the death. In England, they used to put it down to ‘death by misadventure’. I wonder if they still do that? I love the phrase. Almost makes it sound romantic.”
“Ask Liz, and there’s nothing romantic about the lives of these young men being taken.” He sat in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk. “So the group spends a minimum of two weeks in each place before moving on, and Talis murderssomehowwhile they’re there. Did he strike you as a killer?”
“Only in the bedroom, but we know there’s no such thing as someone who looks like a killer. They come in all shapes and sizes, and lately even kids are doing it. What the hell is our society coming to?”
Artemis leaned forward to type on the keyboard. His monitor woke up, and a moment later, a music video by Phoenix Rising began to play. It was a concert clip, and the sound was surprisingly good.
There were five people in the group, counting Talis, and he was obviously the front man. He prowled the stage, mike in hand, making eye contact with the audience, his lean body moving gracefully from one side to the other. Artemis couldn’t take his eyes off him.
“Charismatic,” Rachel said decisively, watching over his shoulder.
Even on a YouTube video, Talis’s voice resonated with a quality that sent chills down Artemis’s spine. This song had an Eastern influence behind a dark, driving bass that heated his blood. Artemis hadn’t expected it to be this good. He liked the music immediately. “You said they were popular.”
“Very. Their first CD, released two years ago, won a shitload of awards and went platinum. They’ve been touring off and on ever since, though I think this is their first visit to the States.”
“Talis speaks English like a native. I wonder what his country of origin is?”
“You can ask him when you go after the DNA sample.” She moved toward the door. “But right now, time to rejoin the lady from Interpol. Speaking of which, I thought those people were supposed to be mysterious and spooky. She’s about as interesting as my Aunt Alice, who wears housedresses and cans veggies.”
Grinning, Artemis clicked the video off and followed her out. “Only in movies, Rach. In real life, they look like anyone else.”
Liz was waiting for them in Numbnuts’s office. They got back to work.
Chapter Seven Talis
Where does discontent start? You are warm enough, but you shiver. You are fed, yet hunger gnaws you. You have been loved, but your yearning wanders in new fields. And to prod all these there’s time, the Bastard Time.
—John Steinbeck THE band was tight. After a couple years of intermittent touring, they knew their stuff. Talis felt bad this would soon end, but Ammon would take care of them. There was plenty of money. They could start again with someone else, because after this week, he was finished. He would not sing professionally again.
; Rehearsal proceeded smoothly and wrapped just after 4:00 p.m. After Talis set the mike down on a stool, he hopped off the stage and crossed the room to where Ammon awaited him.
“What is it?” “Detective Gregory has requested to see you as soon as possible.”
“Did he say why?” Ammon handed him a bottle of icecold water, and Talis drank it.
“He did not. You had planned to see him this evening.” “Yes, to take the tickets and backstage passes to him.” Talis set the empty bottle on a table. “Just as well he comes to me. What did you tell him?”
“Seven p.m., your suite.”
“Excellent. I wonder if the fair Rachel will be with him?” He brushed damp golden hair back off his face. “I’d rather he was alone.”
“Perhaps that can be arranged….”
Talis raised an eyebrow. “If that is possible, do it. She is an unwelcome distraction.”
“I will see to it.”
BACK at his hotel, Talis showered and prepared for Artemis, dressing in clothing he knew made him look good. The scent he applied was made of the rarest elements and could not be purchased anywhere, and his hair was perfect.
He smoothed the silk arm of his shirt, reveling in its slippery coolness, and then he stroked the back of his hand, which was warm, the blue veins under the skin pulsing with life. He enjoyed this body and what it allowed him to do, what it let him feel. After nearly one thousand years, feeling was important to him. Love, lust, hate, fear… he fully embraced every emotion, every experience in a way most humans did not. They needed their various walls to protect themselves from others; Talis remained completely open to his world.
Three years ago, when he’d begun the quest for his soul mate, he’d transformed for the first time. He’d been frightened at the shift, and then, very shortly, exhilarated. He’d taken to being human as if he’d been born that way, and in a surprisingly brief time, he’d become addicted to it. Someone had to die once each month so he could continue in that form. The moon kept track of time for him. A steep price, to be sure, but with so many people in the world, was it really so much?
His human self was beautiful, as beautiful as his other form. Looking at himself in the mirror, he stroked his thick hair, seeing the red streaks among the silver-blond. He traced his golden eyebrows with gentle forefingers and looked into amethyst-colored eyes. He had seen civilizations rise and fall, gazed upon the many wars waged by man against himself, watched humans fly, first in planes and then to the moon, wept over the ongoing destruction of a planet straining under so many bodies, and still… still he wanted to live and see more.
His hunger for life continued unabated. He wanted another thousand years, and another thousand after that. He wanted to live forever, and now that he’d found Artemis, there was a good chance he would. It had been foretold by the ancient pharaohs.
In the mirror, he stuck out his tongue and slowly licked his bottom lip, imagining it was Artemis’s tongue that did it. That man would appreciate Talis’s beauty but would not be swayed by it. This was about their souls and the connection between them. Did he feel it? Was he aware?
Talis placed a hand on his chest, over his heart, and felt it faintly beat against the pressure. Of all the people in the world, since my time began, you are the only one for me. You are my savior, my sun and silver stars, my key to eternal life, and in return, I will give you the same.
TALIS was waiting in the living room when Artemis arrived promptly at seven. Ammon was in his room. The detective was accompanied by another man who was introduced as Barry Martin with the CSU.
Talis invited them in, smiling to hide his disappointment that Artemis wasn’t alone. “Where is your partner this evening, Detective?”
“Elsewhere.” Artemis gestured toward Martin. “He’s going to take a DNA sample. Simple process. He’ll swab the inside of your cheek. You don’t mind?”
Talis hesitated. He had never before been asked for a DNA sample. What would his show? Would it look human or contain odd chains from the other? Regardless, they would match it to what he’d left behind at each murder and come to arrest him. The evidence would be circumstantial but overwhelming, and they would try to put him in jail. Try, and fail, so in the end, what would it matter? “Proceed.”
Martin pulled on gloves, stuck a Q-tip inside Talis’s mouth, stroked it against his inner cheek, and dropped the swab into a plastic tube. It was sealed, labeled, and put away. “Thanks. I’ll get this over to the lab.” He backed to the door, ready to leave.
Talis stepped forward, reaching out involuntarily, searching Artemis’s eyes. “Stay?”
The detective’s eyes widened in surprise. “I… can’t.”
Talis laughed softly. “I promise I won’t kill you.”
That startled him. His lips parted, and Talis caught a glimpse of tongue. He wanted to suck on it.
“Artemis….” It was only a breath of sound, a nearly silent entreaty.
The detective shook his head as Martin, hovering with the door half open, gave them both curious looks. “No.”
Talis ached to touch him, to show him who he was, to tell him who he would be, and to feel the energy pass between them again. Mustering all his self-control, he dropped his hand. “Tomorrow, then.” He stepped back, raising his chin, an external sign of the internal bolstering of his emotional muscles. “I have something for you.” On the small table beside the door was an envelope. He handed it to Artemis. “Concert tickets and backstage passes.”
“Mm.” The detective turned, hesitating at the door. “Thanks for the sample, and the rest.” He glanced back at Talis. “Don’t leave town, blah blah. Got it?”
“I have a show to do, Detective. I will not leave.” Yet.
And then he was gone, following Martin out, the door closing quietly behind them. Talis pressed the fingers of his right hand against the flimsy barricade keeping him from his love, listening to their steps go down the hall and fade. Laying his cheek against the wood, he flexed his hips against the door, feeling his cock fill and strain against tight pants.
Tears pricked his eyes, despite his resolve. Talis had found him at last, but Artemis was intent on proving he’d killed those young men when Artemis should have been kneeling at Talis’s feet, worshiping him with his beautiful mouth.
He retreated to his bedroom, tearing off his fine clothes and throwing them aside as if they were rags. Anger washed through him, making his movements harsh and abrupt.
Artemis had been within arm’s length of him, and he’d held back. Held back! Talis’s head swam as he sat on the edge of the bed, his erection jutting from between his legs. He’d never wanted anyone more. Curling one hand around his dick, he stroked hard, watching as a drop of precum appeared in the slit, shimmering in the lamplight before a second drop shoved it into a silver slide down the engorged head. He caught it on a finger of his free hand and brought it to his mouth, tasting himself. His breathing quickened, his hand moved faster along the shaft, and a fire began to burn inside him.
This fire did not kill, not like the other one, but after breaking him down to a straining, gasping, trembling heap of quivering need, it swept through him wildly, cleansing him of stress, relieving him of want, purifying him in a way nothing else could.
What a shame the effect was only temporary.
WHEN Ammon came in two hours later, Talis was sitting up in bed, reading. The PA paused near the door, and Talis raised his eyes. “You want to know how it went.”
Ammon nodded.
“He arrived with another man, who took a DNA sample from me. Rachel was not with them.” Talis smiled. “Thank you for that, though it did not matter. After his business was concluded, they departed.”
“I am sorry.”
He sighed. “I am, too. But I will see him tomorrow, and after the concert… we go home, and he comes with us. I will exercise patience.”
Ammon nodded and left.
Talis tried to continue reading but eventually admitted failure, closed the book
, and turned off the light, attempting sleep. Eventually, during the still hours of early morning, he managed it. His dreams were full of smoke and feathers.
Chapter Eight Artemis
The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next. —Ursula K. LeGuin ARTEMIS woke to light rain that Saturday, but by the time he’d showered and dressed, it was already passing. As he drove to Queens to lunch with his mother, the sun was struggling to break through thin cloud cover.
He didn’t really have time for this, but Mom had made a special request. Rachel called when he was still several miles from his destination.
“Thanks for letting me duck out last night,” she said, sounding sleepy and happy. “The play was great.”
“I’m glad you had a good time. Shit, one of us needs to engage in a social life sometimes.” Someone had dropped tickets on her boyfriend, Steve, at the last minute. Like Artemis, she worked hard and didn’t have much of a personal life. “Got the DNA sample, no problem. In and out in minutes. I dropped it off last night on the way home, put a rush on it. We should hear something by tonight.”
“And then we take him in?”
“We take him in. Meet me at the Park at three.” “See you then.”
JAN GREGORY hadn’t been quite the same since her
husband died of a heart attack. Although left comfortable financially, some of the life had gone out of her, as if a part of her had been buried with Thomas. She looked tired when she opened the door to her son.
“Thanks for stopping by, Artie.” She hugged him before leading him back to the kitchen. “I made your favorite.”
She was the only one who called him that. He wouldn’t allow anyone else to. Smiling, he sat in his usual place. “You always do, Mom.” The kitchen smelled of fresh coffee, and on the table were bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches on toasted white bread. He’d never had the heart to tell her he preferred seven-grain or sourdough. “There’s something you want to talk to me about?”
Phoenix Rising Page 4