“I don’t care about money.”
“Not right now. You’re angry. You feel my client is guilty. Which I assure you he isn’t. But this will go beyond money.” Maze leaned in closer. If the cop wanted to pull a Mike Tyson, the lawyer was going to lose an ear. Haley had to strain to hear the man--he was talking too low and soft for Human ears. Except for the one right next to his lips.
“The only thing keeping that video off the news is my client’s good health. Do you really want the world to see what you did?”
“I don’t care.” The cop’s face went a dark shade of magenta.
“I think you do. I know for a fact you do. Orin can hide in the Dens to escape the public. What will you do to escape that kind of humiliation?”
Maze stepped back and dropped his eyes to the man’s holstered gun. When he brought them back up he smiled.
Gilsp’s nose flared and his eyes bugged out. He pulled back, jerked himself free of the other officers and stormed out of the room. Drew stood at the end of the table, looking pissed.
Maze’s calm gaze flipped back at the DA He tipped an imaginary hat in her direction. “Call me sometime, Sarah, and we’ll do lunch.”
With that, Maze held his hand out and shuffled everyone out in the hall. Once there it was too quiet, with too many angry cop eyes and county officials. They’d obviously heard every word.
Haley leaned in close to Maze. “Something tells me we aren’t through.”
He shook his head. “No, Haley. Today was just a bunch of posturing. They’ll run the DNA and then they’ll re-file the charges. ” The door opened ahead of them and the screaming media strained over police barriers with their microphones jabbing the air in front of Orin’s face. He shied away, and Maze directed him into the Escalade throwing rapid fire “no comment” to the reporters.
When the door was shut Maze said, “The problem is, Lesser-Bred profiles are too unreliable. Since Orin is the only one who ever saw Mary Gilsp’s Stain, proving what she was will be a difficult position to argue.”
Orin turned his sea-foam green eyes on the lawyer. “I thought you got it dismissed.”
Maze shook his head. “I filed for it to be dismissed. It won’t be dismissed.”
“Why not?” That from Deshi. He almost looked angry.
Haley cut in. “Because their expert will focus on what’s similar in the sample, not the differences.” Both Males looked at her. “It happens all the time with suspects at the Center. The public defender argues the differences and the ADA argues what’s similar. I can usually save everyone the entire expense just by asking the Kin in question.” Maze arched an eyebrow. “I’m Female.” His eyes said “really?” Haley waved a hand. “What I mean is, because I’m Female the Males will talk to me. Our nature isn’t to lie, because we can smell it. So I know if they’re telling the truth.” Maze glanced at Orin. Whether it was Freudian slip or not, Haley wasn’t sure, but she answered the unspoken question. “No, he didn’t do it.”
Maze smiled. The expression said all and nothing.
“So what happens now?” Orin asked, scooting forward. “And if DNA can’t prove me innocent then how the hell am I supposed to beat this?”
“We don’t have to prove your innocence, Orin.” Maze said. “In fact, it would make things much easier to be alleviated of that burden completely.”
“But I want to be proven innocent.” Orin threw a desperate look at each of them. His eyes held Haley’s the longest. “I didn’t do this. I don’t want to lose my job. I don’t want to lose my permit to be outside the Wall.”
“There are worse things than the Dens,” Maze said.
Orin pegged the lawyer with a glare. “No, there isn’t. Not for me.”
Maze sighed. “I can beat these charges, Orin. That is going to happen. As you already know, permits are issued by the Governor’s office and have to be sponsored by at least two different Humans, including a place of employment.”
Which meant when Orin lost his job, he’d lose his sponsorship, and no one would want to back him up after this. Haley knew from experience how touchy Human society could be. Without Garrett on Farley’s side, he would have lost his job a hundred times over.
In front of them Maze said, “Orin, I’m sorry this has happened to you. But you have to believe me when I say your safety and welfare are my top priority.”
“Then help me keep my position at the University.”
“That might not be conductive to your defense. Besides, you need to realize that--even by keeping you out of the ADF--a large population of people in this state, even the world, will still see you as guilty.”
“Which is why you need to prove me innocent, not just get me off on a technicality.”
Maze frowned and his eyes darkened. Haley decided he looked like a man trying to decide between the rock and a hard place. When he spoke his voice was firm but sharp. “You’re not Human, Orin. There isn’t going to be a fair trial for you. You are guilty because of what you are, not because of the things you do.”
Chapter 38
Farley thought Paul Husley looked like a shoe salesman. Right down to his tweed jacket and receding hairline. The man circled him yet again, rubbing his chin and making little thinking sounds. Garrett stood over on the other side of the small conference room, watching.
Farley crossed his arms. “Aw fuck, will you decide or not?”
Paul shot him a glare then looked at Garrett. “He’s the right size, pretty like Heikman likes them. Nice eyes.” He made a few more noises. “You sure he can pull this off? Cause I really don’t--” He bit off his words when Garrett leveled his stare. “Okay…Okay, you say he can do it…” But Paul didn’t move. He just kept staring and rubbing his chin.
Farley sighed. “Dude, come on.”
Paul flicked a hand at him. “Lose the shirt?”
“What?”
“Lose the shirt. He’ll want to see you bare, trust me.”
“It’s forty degrees outside!”
“I’ve got heat in the Hummer, but lose the shirt.”
Ah hell, why not? He still didn’t have any shoes. Farley stripped it off and tossed it on the floor. Paul reached over and yanked out the socks stuck in Farley’s pocket. “You won’t need those either.” His eyes went to Farley’s Nevus. “He’ll like that too. Very pretty. On both sides, even nicer.”
“Okay, we’ve decided I’m pretty. Can we--”
Garrett said, “Shut up, Farley.”
He clamped his mouth shut.
“Hair is good. Too bad it’s not a little longer. He’d like it longer. Red. He likes red.” Another circle.
Farley went to one foot then the other and made an angry sound. Garrett shot him a look and he froze.
Paul stopped. Finally. “And you’re sure he--”
“Yes,” Garrett snapped.
Paul’s chin dipped like a bobblehead doll. “Okay, fine. Let’s do this.”
Garrett held the door while they went out into the garage. Usually the space was reserved to do service work on Bureau cars, but today it was a private parking spot for Paul’s Hummer. The thing was the most godawful color orange Farley had ever laid eyes on.
He went around to the passenger side but Paul shook his head. “In the back.”
Arching an eyebrow, Farley said, “Excuse me?”
“In the back. I always carry my deliveries in the back. If I let you sit in the front and he sees you, he’ll suspect something.” Paul started the engine. At least it sounded nice. Nothing like a certain cat box on wheels.
Feeling like the family dog, Farley climbed into the back seat and shut the door. Garrett tapped on the window and Farley rolled it down. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
Farley had a feeling Garrett was saying that now, because he might not get to later. Pleasant thought, that. He gave his boss a nod, rolled the window back up, and waited for Paul to get this show on the road.
Even though Farley could see the top half of the fifty-three st
ory GLG Grand as they came into Midtown, the drive was long. That’s because Paul kept going around in circles, taking back roads and side streets like he was on some sort of covert operation. Every so often he would glance up and catch Farley’s gaze in the rearview.
And since Garrett wasn’t here to make him shut up… “Is there something you want to say to me?”
Paul nodded. “Yeah. Don’t get caught. God, please don’t get caught.”
“I won’t.”
“Yeah…famous last words. You know, I could always just drop you off at the Greyhound station and you could--” Farley glared. “Seriously man, you have no idea what you’re getting into.” Paul scrubbed his face with his hand and pulled over. He cut the engine and turned around. “Look, I don’t know what the people you work for told you, but if you go in there you’re not coming out. Do you understand? Only way out of that place is a pine box. Heikman is certifiable.”
“Too bad you didn’t have this much concern for all the other Kin you took to him.”
The man flinched and made like a butterfly with his hands. “I’m…I’m not so proud of that, no. I made some mistakes. Some bad choices.”
No, you got caught. Farley leaned closer. “So what did you tell the others to get them to go with you?”
Paul squirmed. “They just wanted to be safe…”
Yeah, sounds just like a Submissive. Somewhere they could eat, sleep, and stay warm.
Farley raised a lip. “How many?”
Paul shook his head. “I don’t…I don’t…”
“Bull shit.” Closer now, and that buttered chicken scent associated with most Humans coated the back of Farley’s throat. “You know exactly how many. Tell me, Paul. I’m curious to know. Maybe you’ll even convince me to take a bus ride instead.”
Paul made all nervous with his tie, then fiddled with his comb over. While he repeatedly checked all his parts, Farley waited.
“Seven. I’ve taken him seven.” Paul shook his head hard enough to jiggle his double chin. “B-But I didn’t know…at first, I didn’t…I swear…” He tried to look at Farley but failed. But then, guilt is like that. No matter how strong of a swimmer a person is, eventually it drowns them.
“But you figured it out, didn’t you?” The man didn’t answer and Farley didn’t need him to. The regret oozed out of him like toxic waste. “So what? You found your God or some shit like that? Or did you just grow a set?”
Paul shook his head again, too fast, too hard. “I just…I just…” He let out a sputter as he turned back around and clutched the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. “I just want to make things right. You know. All the bad things.” The I’ve done, went unsaid but weighed heavy in the air between them.
Farley gave a snort. “So what are you saying? You’re looking for some sort of absolution?” He sneered. “Spare me the pity party. I’m not going to forgive you for all the Kin you’ve sent to death in that place. I’m not going to pray for you. Hell, I’m not even going to feel sorry for the Males who fell for your shit.” Paul’s eyes flicked up at him in the rearview. “You’re a predator, deal with it.” But the look on the man’s face said he couldn’t.
“If I take you there--”
Farley cut him off. “Which is the only thing that’s keeping your ass out of the can. This is a free ride for you, Paul. Start the car and let’s move.”
“He’ll kill you.”
“Look, you want to help me survive? Try doing something useful.” The man’s eyes asked what. “Tell me what to expect. What does Heikman look for? What pushes his buttons? I’m going in there one way or the other. This is the only way you can help. That is, if you really want to help.”
Paul gave a head-shake-shrug combo thing. His hands fluttered again and he scrubbed his face in his palms. A long minute passed before he spoke. “You’ll enter through the Lounge. That’s what he calls it. There will be the regular voyeurs, Humans, who like to watch.” He paused like he was considering elaborating. Maybe add on words like participate. But he shook his head and went on. “The pets, those are mostly Dominants. They’re on the pay roll. Their job is to keep the clients safe from the meat.” He turned a little. “Those are the Kin like you. The ones the other traders bring in.” A shaky sigh rolled over Paul’s lips. “The whole place is wired, one-way glass, cameras. The big money sits in the back. Heikman always gets first pick. His price is set. The others get to pick the leftovers.” Paul Husley’s frightened eyes hit Farley head on. “If Heikman doesn’t pick you, one of those other psychos will. You can’t imagine what those EFH people do with the ones they buy.”
A sharp grin cut across Farley’s face. “Let me guess, pin ’em and set up a nice canned hunt? Or serve ’em up at their special luncheons for five grand a plate?” Paul turned green. “I’ve been dealing with this shit for decades. Considering what happens to the Humans on the illegal end of the flesh trade, I can only imagine what goes on when the tables are flipped.”
“Aren’t you scared?”
“I don’t want to die, no.” And Farley didn’t. But doing things like this fed his prey drive. It was as enjoyable as the hunt. Not to mention he was good at it.
The trader blew out his breath and said, “He goes for the ones who attract a lot of attention. If the other Males like you so will he. When he taps you out, you go to the back. After that…” He shrugged, went quiet and stared at the dash.
“So do you watch?”
Paul’s eyes snapped wide and he turned. “What? No…no….never….”
Farley leaned forward. “Not even a little?” The man pulled at the collar of his shirt like it had gone tight. Farley hated to admit it, but Paul’s discomfort gave him a little twist of pleasure. “Anything else you care to tell me?”
The flesh trader went back to alternating between shaking his head, moving his comb over, and nodding his head. Just watching the son-of-a-bitch made Farley dizzy, so he stared out the side window and waited for him to get over his epileptic fit.
“Please don’t make me do this,” Paul said.
“Like you, Paul, I don’t have a choice.” Farley looked at the man’s reflection in the mirror.
“Why not?”
“I owe a friend a favor.”
“This is some favor.”
“He’s some friend.” Considering how many times Garrett had pulled his ass out of the fire, this wouldn’t even cover the interest. At least it would pay him for September. Farley could have been fired for his little trip off the wagon when he ate that MKFK member. Medan’s influence or not, he’d killed and consumed an innocent Human being which was a sure fire pink slip if there ever was one. But Garret had smoothed it out. Probably because he’d never reported the incident. Farley didn’t ask and his boss didn’t tell.
After a minute Paul said, “Okay.” The Hummer cranked up. “Okay, I’ll do this. We can do this.” He sounded like a man choosing the road to redemption. Farley didn’t bother with popping his bubble. Getting the living to forgive was empty because it was the dead who had already paid the price.
Chapter 39
In the underground parking lot of the GLG Grand, Farley thought Paul was going to have another attack of conscience. Eventually he managed to pull himself together and get out of the Hummer.
As they headed to the elevator Farley shivered and hoped to hell the inside was a lot warmer than out here. By the time the lift doors were sliding shut his nuts were anticipating the next ice age and crawling into his stomach.
The entire ride up Paul wouldn’t look at Farley, which was fine with him. He had nothing to offer the man. No thank-yous or it-will-be-okays. Nope. Reassurance wasn’t in his job description. He was here to do what he did best.
Get on the inside. Get information. And get out with his ass intact.
The elevator opened into a small foyer with two doors at opposite ends, covered by suits wearing guns. Not that Farley could see the weapons. On a good gunman one never can. But Farley knew the weapon
s were there because he could smell them.
“You go that way.” Paul pointed to the door on the left. His frightened eyes said this is your last chance. Farley gave him a crooked smile and turned on his heel.
On the other side of the door the room was almost pitch black. It reminded Farley of the inside of the Pit minus the glow sticks and laser lights, but there were strobes and Manson’s Nobodies was playing loud enough rattle his teeth. At least Heikman had good taste in music.
And just like the Pit, the Sin was the oxygen everybody breathed.
One-way glass mirrors stretched the length of the right wall, reflecting the room and the people in it. Farley was willing to bet his next pay check people were sitting back there watching the action in safety, with or without company.
And boy, there was a lot to watch. A whole lot to see.
Farley moved, easing through the loose crowd occupying the floor. The sounds of feeding drifted through the darkness, riding on screaming guitar riffs. Voyeurs cluttered the space along the wall as they gorged themselves on the sights while the Kin gorged on blood. No one was dancing here, at least not the stand up kind. All the couches and thick lounge rugs were occupied with sweaty bodies and bare flesh. The bar on the right was filled with people and between the long necks and the shots, they were serving up each other.
Farley paused behind a group watching two Males like they were some sort of art exhibit. One of the Humans had palmed himself to stroke off to the rhythm they set. The rest swayed, glassy eyed, breathing deep and absolutely captivated by what they saw. One Male at the other’s back, fucking, while feeding.
As always the prospect of becoming food made Farley’s scent flare. He licked his lips, felt the sharp points of his teeth and tasted his blood on his tongue. For Farley the biological reaction was about survival, and the only reason he’d ever crawled out of the Hive. In the Dens the skill earned him protection, and when information was tight, offering up blood and flesh could always shake it loose.
Farley moved—liquid—sliding between people caught in the ebb and flow of pleasure and gluttony. Glowing draconian eyes flicked up at him and faces turned as the Males tracked his flavor floating on eddies of air. Bodies shifted, flowing and rolling in his direction. Moving like beasts and nothing like men.
City of Dragons: Of Flesh and Blood Page 31