by Rhys Ford
Suddenly I wasn’t all that happy about my gun being so far away. But I knew it was the juniper berries talking. Or so I hoped.
“How about if we start off with you and….” I hated being called a splice, and the few I’d known before Trent were older, unhappy people who’d either fallen victim to their parents’ odd need to have a winged kid or somehow thought adding a bit of mystical insect to their bodies would make their lives go sweet. I didn’t know where to start with him. Didn’t know what to say. Confusion muddled my already murky thoughts, and I reached for the first thing that popped into my head. “What are you?”
“Besides human?” he teased, but his eyes went a bit flat. “Thrym. They think. I don’t know for sure.”
“I don’t know that one.” I was pretty good with Western Europe and Asian faerie, but my knowledge of interior Europe was a bit sketchy, especially since many fae in those regions avoided other clans by burying themselves deep in the wilds and mountains. “Russian?”
“Scandinavian. Frost faeries, a little bit like the Goku in front of Kingfisher’s, just more….” He jutted his jaw out, creasing his brow until it hung heavily over his squinted eyes, then relaxed. “Coarser features and big. They make snow and ice.”
“Hence the popsicle-tong fingers,” I murmured, mostly to myself, but I caught Trent’s wry, abashed grin.
“Yeah. One of the… side effects of the splice,” he conceded. “My turn. Were you with your grandfather yesterday afternoon? While Jie was being killed?”
My breath froze in my lungs, an acidic kick adding to the already sour brew I had going in my belly. Placing the coffee cup on the corner of the table, I asked, “You think I murdered her and I’m using my grandfather to set up an alibi? Is that the real reason we’re off the case?”
I wouldn’t think it of Gaines. He’d been my other parent for the most part, the house I’d gone to when my mother worked an all-nighter and I’d been too young to stay in our Chinatown apartment, but that didn’t mean there weren’t others in the department who’d throw me under a bus if they had the chance.
“I don’t,” he replied softly. “I know you. You might go a little maverick once in a while, but you’re a solid cop. One of the best C-Town has. If you were going to go off the rails, you wouldn’t start by killing someone you’d known since you were a kid, and you sure wouldn’t get caught doing it.”
“While I appreciate your faith in me, you haven’t known me that long.” I snorted, counting the hours I’d spent with him and thinking I had sandwiches older than our relationship rotting away in my fridge. “What the heck do you know about who I am or what I’d do? We haven’t been partners that long, remember?”
The tired I felt suddenly appeared on Trent’s face, deepening the crow’s-feet near his eyes. He looked away, this time not following any movement outside but simply drifting off to stare at the wall. For the longest time, I thought he wasn’t going to say anything. I was about to slap his knee to get his attention when Trent finally spoke, his voice a light feather of sound against the pound-pound of my headache.
“Okay, small confession.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, and his fingers made shadow puppets on the pale sand-hued rug under our feet when he played with the plain silver watch he wore on his left wrist. “When I joined the force, they asked me where I wanted to work and… fucking Hell, this is going to sound creepy… just hear me out, okay?”
“Yeah, sure. You cleaned puke off of me. Least I can do is listen to you. Can’t say I won’t shoot you, but I’ll definitely listen.”
“I… don’t know much about the fae because, well, my life was a little bit weird up until about three months ago. I’ve spent my entire life being trained to—Hell, I can’t get into that, but the bottom line is, when my… unit was shut down, they suggested I become a cop, and I jumped at it because doing nothing was driving me crazy. There’s only so much a man can read and work out before his brain turns to goo.” He bit his lower lip, and I could see him trying to knit together his words in his head before he said them. “I’m good at hunting things… people… down. And well, it gave me something to do. Something I can do. So I did some research, stumbled across Arcane Crimes, and read up on the department. That’s when I found you.”
“You’re right. Sounds a bit creepy,” I admitted softly. “So you rolled the dice and you got in. Right after I shot Arnett.”
“Arnett wasn’t going to last as your partner. You were carrying him in more ways than one, and well, they—I was told I got to pick and choose what I wanted to do when I got out, so I asked for the Chinatown detail. I asked for you. Only you. And they—the state—agreed because… they owed me. Still owe me.
“I knew who you were. I studied up on you. What you were. Your arrests and investigations. Your life. Everything I could get my hands on. And yeah, it sounds creepy, I get that, and at first it was the job, but then it became… more. I needed to find someone who was kind of like me. Caught halfway between human and fae and maybe—just maybe—you’d help me understand how to fit in that in-between.” The blue in his eyes caught fire and burned hot when he looked up through his lashes at me. “I like you, Roku. Look, you drive me insane, and it’s as if you have a death wish I don’t understand. I don’t know what I want to do more, punch you or fuck you. But I do know you wouldn’t murder someone in cold blood. If you could, you’d be standing at the Takahashi’s side and my mission would be taking you out instead of that bastard you call your grandfather.”
Fourteen
“WAIT….” I wasn’t sure if I’d heard him right, and I shook out the words I’d caught a few seconds ago. “You’re on a mission? To kill my grandfather?”
“Were. And it wasn’t here.” Trent shrugged as if where he popped my dad’s father made any difference. “It also wasn’t necessarily him, just… I can’t get into it—”
“You’d better fucking get into it because you rolled me right up into that mess like I was a piece of marinated kampyo for his damned furomaki.” The couch wasn’t letting me go, or rather, Trent wasn’t, because as soon as I fought my way clear of the rough tweed womb I was trapped in, he put his hands on my thighs to hold me still. “Dude, if you don’t want to lose your fingers, let me up.”
“You promised you’d hear me out,” he reminded me, a gruff roll of affection in his bemused voice. “Let me explain.”
“Look, I don’t like the old man. You get that, right?” I stabbed his chest with my finger and instantly regretted it when it felt like I was poking a brick. “But do you have any idea the kind of fucking Hell San Francisco’s going to be when he dies? The power vacuum… shit, me! He’s got me strung up like one of those damned Peking ducks at a noodle shop, and there’s people waiting to see if he’s going to eat me alive or if I’m going to get torn apart by the damned Takahashi to make soup once he keels over.”
“I get all of that. I do.” As reassurances went, Trent’s sucked donkey balls, mostly because of the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Not a laughing matter, Leonard.”
“I’m not… your eyes go copper around the edges when you’re angry. It’s… pretty. And distracting. Don’t punch me.” His left hand covered the fist I made at my side while I silently debated slugging him. “Your grandfather wasn’t… when I was assigned to that job, we were a contingency plan. We weren’t even told his name. Just the key players in a compound and who our main targets were going to be.
“About six months into the op, it was called off and my unit was being… retired. Just like that. No warning. No nothing. Then as we were evacuating out, something in the compound went wrong and we had to go in. We pulled everyone out, put them on a chopper, and that was it. Last I saw of the place, and well, a week later, my unit was broken up.” He ran his thumb over the back of my hand. “Your grandfather was one of the players on the board, and you were listed as an estranged associate. It was the first time I saw your face, and when your name came up as a po
ssible partnership, I got curious.”
“Lots of holes in your story. Ones you aren’t filling in.” He was rigid with discipline but oddly disconnected from how the world worked. “Who spliced you? Your organization or your family?”
“They’re one and the same,” he replied roughly, and he gave my thighs a short, tight squeeze, his eyes darkening for a moment. The air grew chilly, and wisps of vapor ghosted over his forearms. Shooting me a rueful look, Trent took a breath, then let it out between his clenched teeth, obviously putting a wall up around his leaking power. “There’s a lot I don’t know about what they did to me, and what I do know, I can’t count on it not being a lie. I’ve been out of the unit for nearly a year now, and it’s been… rough sometimes, but it’s getting better, especially now. Well, until you started trying to get killed, which was what? Three hours after I’d met you?”
“Fair enough. Okay, so other than the stalking thing you’ve got going on, do I have to worry about you blowing a hole in my head?” My gut told me no, but I’d been wrong before. I’d thought Donnie liked me. I’d only met him briefly a few times, and we’d gotten along fairly well, but that went sideways. “I need to count on you if you’re going to partner with me. I already spend most of my time looking over my shoulder for the old man. I don’t want to have to be watching my back with you.”
“If I was going to kill you, I’d have let you go when you were hanging off the side of the building.” Trent shifted closer, leaning into me. “I’ve got your back, MacCormick. Did you miss the part where I told you I’d asked to be your partner?”
“No, but I also remember the part where you said you wanted to punch me in the face.”
“Or fuck you,” he shot back. “It was punch or fuck, and I don’t think that’s going to change. Being your partner has been… a Hell of a ride, and I’ve got the feeling that’s just how life is around you. I’m willing to give it a shot. Hell, I’m more than willing to give you a shot for other things too.”
“See, that’s where this gets a bit sketchy. Partners shouldn’t—”
His mouth found mine before I could object to even thinking about having sex with him. He kissed like he spoke, a jab of words wrapped around a bit of gentle coaxing with a shot of something wicked and potent. There were layers to how Trent tasted: a hint of coffee, a dash of cinnamon I knew came from the toothpaste tube on the counter in the bathroom, and a ghostly whisper of ice. I wanted to fall into him. Give in to everything he promised in the flick of his tongue across my lips, but amid all of the things Trent Leonard tasted of, trouble was at the top of the list.
He pulled away after stealing my breath, and I had to sit back, hoping I could get my heart to stop pounding. Shaking my head, I didn’t let Trent’s fingers touch my face when he reached for me. I knew the moment he got his hands on me I’d give in to the want he’d stoked in my core.
“Moving kind of fast there,” I finally ground out, my voice shaking and thin despite my best efforts to shore myself up. “And we’re… fucking Hell, we can’t do this. We’re supposed to be partners. How the fuck are we supposed to be going through the door together if we’re fucking each other?”
“Others have. Gaines did. He married his former partner. Your other godfather. Braeden. Remember him? Fire chief now, isn’t he?” Trent apparently smirked imperiously when he scored a point in an argument. “Didn’t your mom stand up for them at their wedding? That’s what it looked like in the photos I saw.”
“So you’re asking me to marry you?” I grinned when he jerked back, a little shock flickering over his face. “See? It could go only two ways. A ring—which I sure as Hell am not doing—or one of us shooting the other one. There’s no third road where we shake hands and go back to being just partners once we’ve fucked. Think about this. Seriously.”
“I have. I did. Not at first,” he confessed with a chuckle when I snorted at him. “Just so you don’t think I’m going further with the whole stalking thing, but about an hour after meeting you. You’re… I like how you fit against me. We work. I can’t see why we can’t take that a step further if we want to. And go on and tell me you don’t want to. You hum when I kiss you.”
“I hum when I take a shower too.” My flippancy was met with an eye roll. “I need to… shit, I need to get back on this damned case and put it to bed. I don’t have room in my life right now for anything other than figuring out who the Hell killed Jie and why they want me dead too. After that… I don’t know. But me surviving into next week is at the top of my to-do list right now.”
“Mine too.” Trent nodded. “But look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want this… want me. Tell me you don’t think it would be good between us and I’ll leave it behind me.”
The scary thing about Trent was it felt like he knew me. As much as I wanted to laugh him off, to shove him aside like I’d done every other guy who’d asked me for anything other than a quick toss under a blanket, I couldn’t. The words stuck to my tongue, turning to sawdust and embedding their hard, sharp sides into my throat. I wanted to know what he’d feel like wrapped around my dick, while my back and hips itched to discover how his fingers felt digging into my skin.
Something must have shown on my face—some tingle of desire—because Trent’s smirk went from mocking and straight into shit-eating.
“Fuck you, Leonard.” I shoved at his shoulder when he began to laugh. “And don’t say shit. Just… not now. Not right now. Or at least not today. Tomorrow might be different, but right now I’ve got to get this case under me. Okay?”
“Definitely tomorrow, then?” He studied me, and I would have made a remark about being an insect pinned to a piece of corkboard, but I didn’t think he’d find it funny. Nodding slowly, he said, “I’m not saying we go at it on the couch here. What I am saying is that we should be open to it, at least. Life’s too short, Roku. You know that. We both do. But when it’s all said and done, we need to be friends. I need that in my life. My world was turned upside down, and, well, I don’t think yours has ever been right side up.”
“You’ve got that right.” The pangs in my chest were subsiding, but the broiling sear in my belly was kicking it up a notch. “You going to go toe-to-toe with me on the case? Because I need to get it back. I owe it to Jie.”
“You go through a door, I’ll be right there with you. Look, there’s got to be a connection between the first two netsuke murders and the attempts on you and your grandfather. I’m guessing Jie was killed because she was poking into things for you.” Trent’s fingers were busy again, ghosting over my knee. “I’m sorry you lost her.”
“Hell, there were some very recent days when Jie was the only person I could depend on,” I admitted quietly. “Gaines and Braeden are great. Don’t get me wrong. But their idea of empathy usually comes with a huge meal and fifty of their closest friends to keep you company over the weekend. Way too damned social when all I want to do is brood and sulk.”
“We don’t have anywhere to start, remember? The whole damned division came up empty on every single weak lead we had.”
“Yeah, don’t remind me.” I needed to get some breathing room, some space to get my thoughts all in one bucket to fish through, because Trent’s hands were making it hard to think. “Okay, someone took out Jie with the same kind of magic used on me and the old man. The three of us have a solid connection, but what about the noodle factory owner and the… what did the other victim do?”
“Teacher, I think.” Trent leaned back, resting his weight on his hands. I feared for the coffee table, but it held under his movements. “And then there’s the woman who went missing from the temple. The same temple our dead noodle factory guy attended.”
“Okay, supposition. Maybe the spell is done in threes. A lot of them are.” I was going to need something for my head, but at the moment, I had a whisper of an idea dancing through my thoughts.
“Three’s a magical number,” Trent offered. “Or at least everything I read says that.”
&nbs
p; “Chinese especially. The word for three sounds like birth. Um, sān or shēng, depending on how you pronounce it. It’s convoluted, but it works with the three major stages of life, birth, marriage, and death.” The incessant throb was back behind my eyes, but I told the pain it was going to have to wait. It responded by picking a spot in my sinuses to poke at. I ignored that too. “Three is both the birth and the stages. Look, I know the concept, but ancient numerology tenets require a man with a tall, thin hat and robes to explain. I just know there’s numbers that matter and a little bit about why they do. The point is three is a powerful number and word.”
“Really? Marriage?” His eyebrow crooked up.
“Continuation of family is the basis of most Asian cultures. You don’t live for yourself. You live for the generations before and after you. You’re cared for in the beginning, knowing you will spend most of your life caring for your children and your parents, and if you’ve done right by the generations you’ve cared for, they take care of you when you’re older. It’s just how it is. That’s what marriage means, that span of time when you’re building off of what came before you.” I needed more coffee, and when I checked my cup, it was woefully low. “But three, that’s significant because the caster might be using it to birth the netsuke. It corresponds to the number he seems to be creating in a batch. Three is a powerful magic base. Three netsuke and the right kanji combination would fuel the spell if he’s using birth to mean animate.”
“There were only two tanuki netsuke,” Trent pointed out. “Where’d the third go?”
“I think the shrine god was the third in that. They’re connected as fertility totems. It could be why the god didn’t have a focus. We assumed it was a love spell gone wrong, but suppose it couldn’t lock on its victim? That would explain why it was running amok through Chinatown.” The threads were beginning to form, solidifying into something, but I couldn’t see the whole picture. “Grandfather, Jie, and I were attacked using scorpion netsuke. Suppose the shrine god was used as a substitute. Suppose he had three tanuki and something happened to one of them. He’d need a substitute, and shrine gods are a dime a dozen.”