Blood Bonds (11 page)

Dobson went home and took his wife out for a ride. He punched her in the head, knocking enough skull into her gray matter she was never going to get up. Didn’t matter. She wouldn’t need to where she was headed.

He sold her for a hundred bucks to a flesh trader in the Dens.

Dobson had his son moved to the basement of the Atlanta Draconian Prison Facility and waited for the rest of him to disappear.

It took awhile, almost five years, but pretty soon he wasn’t one bit Human. He’d transformed into some hideous combination of Kin and man. He wasn’t as large as a pure-bred wyrm. About the size of a horse. His front legs were different, more Human in their construction, as were his back legs. But his head had changed, leaving him with a bottom jaw that jutted out too far and a knobby skull that looked like it belonged on an iguana.

From hell.

The rest of him was very Draconian. He even had scales, a tail, and wings.

His mind was the last thing to go. Dobson was grateful for the loss. He was tired of the thing asking him about the Whore every time he walked into the observatory. Now it just stared at him with its yellow eyes.

But his son had been the doorway.

Dobson was going to solve the world’s problems. He was going to kill all those fuckers. Every last one of them, as well as any bastard offspring they’d managed to slip into the population.

There was just one problem.

According to his metaphysical biologists, Male Kin had highly varied DNA. There just wasn’t a way to make the virus fit to any one series of nucleotide combinations. Unlike Humans, Kin had well over a dozen different types. And depending on location, some of one kind weren’t found in another.

It put a little bit of a wrinkle in his plan.

No. It put a goddamn wrench in the thing.

In order to build a virus specifically coded for a certain species, it would have to recognize something unique and only found in that organism. Because of the wide variation in Kin DNA, there just wasn’t a way to design a virus that would recognize all of them without putting Human lives at risk.

While some collateral damage is acceptable in any war, the margin for error in this battle just wasn’t flexible.

The Human race depended on it.

Dobson’s metaphysical-biologist theorized that while Male Kin were extremely varied in their genetic makeup, it was reasonable to believe Females might offer more consistency.

It had taken some work but he’d managed to arrange the raid on the Texas Dens. With some very powerful weapons and military genius, Dobson pulled off what no one thought was possible.

The fact Texas was the last state where killing Kin was as legal as swatting flies didn’t hurt.

It took a little over eight-hundred military men, three hundred Alchemists, and a shit-load of napalm, but they managed to burn her out. Three of the Females were killed along with a thousand or more Males, but one other survived, including the Queen. Dobson’s white coats had been right. Females held a series of nucleotides which could be universally patterned with any Male they sampled. And they had sampled thousands.

So they’d set to work designing the virus. Thanks to the prison system, Dobson had easy access to a constant supply of DNA. They tested the Female samples against everything that came through and it always worked.

Until they sampled Niles.

That wyrm sent the white coats scrambling. Richards suggested it was because of his age. Which was a reasonable theory. If certain lines had lost their maternal lineage, and those Males were never utilized, then there was the potential for rogue DNA sequences that might be missed.

Unacceptable. This new information threatened to undo over twenty years worth of preparation. Dobson was almost ready to accept the fact they’d have some survivors when a hit came up on sample zero.

The Institute for the Advancement of Kin and Human Relations was one of just many fronts Dobson used for routine population checks. He had a group in thirty-five out of fifty states. Not only did the front give him an easy way to do the research he needed on a massive scale, it provided income for his project. Which was by no means cheap.

Dobson’s budget made the U.S. government look like the weekend
Penny Saver
ads.

One of the things the Institute did was set up med clinics to pay the poor and unfortunate for their willingness to donate to science. Sample Zero was cataloged at a local Burn Research drive. When her DNA was entered into the system it took about three weeks for it to be tagged.

Richards brought Dobson the news. And for the first time in over a year Dobson slept like a baby. He thought finding the donor would be hard, but Zero was Female, and by God, she’d left her real name and address on the donor information card.

Haley Night.

Occupation, CFKR Agent.

Fuckin’-A

The same Female Kin he’d been trying to get moved to the Military branch since it opened.

Now it was as if God himself had gift wrapped the wyrm and put her on his doorstep. There was no doubt in his mind creating the virus was providence.

Dobson entered the observatory, and anyone who wasn’t busy made like they were. Richards barked orders to other white coats and the air filled with a lot of yes-sirs and no-sirs. The viewing room emptied as the colonel went in. He didn’t have to tell them to leave. They all knew the rules. The external windows dimmed as if on cue. Dobson refused to hesitate, in spite of the revulsion squeezing at his throat.

He always made himself look at it.

Every day.

Looking at it reminded him what this was all for.

There was a small framed picture of “William-before” sitting on the ledge. He was in his gold and white jersey with the indigo number seven on the front. In the picture he was smiling, his blue eyes bright, his skin flushed from practice.

Dobson touched the photo and imagined his son graduating, going to college, entering the military, making him proud. But that’s what every parent did when they lose a child. They imagine what things would have been like.

It took everything Dobson had to peel his eyes off the photo and look at the thing in the room below. It was thin because they couldn’t get it to eat anymore. Its pale white scales were peeling and its once bright yellow eyes had gone cloudy.

Dobson knew it was dying but he didn’t care. Richards had suggested they dispose of it years ago because they had more than enough samples and there was no need to keep it here. Feeding it. Cleaning up after it.

Getting rid of it would have been easy.

It was keeping it that was hard.

And Dobson was a firm believer the hardest things in life were what made a man.

Colonel Dobson put a finger on the intercom button and clicked it on. The sound of its sandpaper breathing filled the viewing room.

“Good afternoon, William.” His voice was steady today. That was a good sign. The thing below craned its misshapen head and tried to look up at him. Its mouth parted and nostrils flared. He could hear it inhaling, trying to scent him out.

In one lumbering step, it shifted its weight and moved towards the observatory window. The head came up a little higher and turned so its better eye was tilted upward.

Dobson had seen a lot of horrible things in battle, men blown apart, men eaten alive, but compared to this, all that was a Hallmark card. Looking at the thing that had once been his son did something to Dobson’s insides. It showed him weakness he’d never known he had.

But he was fine.

Doing great.

Till it uttered a single word from its jagged mouth.

“Daaaaddeeeee...”

Haley headed home a little after seven and hailed a cab. She considered walking until the sky rumbled and spit out fat drops of rain here and there. The cabbie got her home in less than ten minutes. She was heading up the steps into the foyer of her building when the sky split and dumped everything it had.

The Browning Building didn’t look anything like its name suggested. The wide, fat square, with its white stucco walls, looked like a cross between 1960’s architectural art and a La Quinta Inn. It was ugly, and home to mostly retired couples, but it was clean and rat free.

Which was more than she could say for Farley’s place near the Dens.

The elevator came to a stop and dinged. Haley headed up the hallway. Beautiful Deshi sat on the edge of a large clay flower pot next to Haley’s door, picking at the skeletal remains of the petunias she’d neglected to death. He was dressed in a light brown Baroni, looking every bit of the Prince he was.

But then, with his looks, he could have made a paper sack look good.

He ran a perfect hand through his blond locks as he stood up. His eyes went to the floor. Deshi was a rare thing among Males. He was high up on the dominance ladder not because of his strength, but because of his breeding. He’d been a gift from his Mother, the Queen of Jersey City, to Medan. He was one of eleven Males presented to her by various ruling Queens as possible breeding prospects.

While almost all Kin are born from a Queen, very few of them ever have the pleasure of calling her Mother. Queens hatch their young, then they push them out of the nest into the heart of the Hive. Male Hatchlings learn at an early date to eat or be eaten.

Deshi was the exception.

While most hatchlings are exposed to various body types and allowed to choose their forms, Deshi had been designed. From the blond hair on the top of his head, down to his pinky toe.

It was the way for a Queen to display her reproductive and metaphysical strengths. Haley couldn’t figure out why Medan passed him up. It definitely wasn’t because of his looks.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t call first.”

“No problem.” Haley fished out her keys and undid the dead bolt. “You hungry?”

“Oh, no ... no. I won’t be staying.”

She pushed on the door with her shoulder and it opened. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I just...” His baby blues came up then fell again. “I was on my way home from the office and I thought I would come by and say ... goodbye ... and thank you.” Deshi shuffled his feet and crammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It wasn’t hard to believe he was less than fifty. Maybe his youth was the reason he married Emily.

Haley watched Deshi for a moment, then retrieved her key from the lock and headed across her living room to her bedroom in the back. Deshi stuttered at the threshold before following her in. He closed the door she’d left open.

“I want to try again.” He followed her across the room. “I love her, Haley. I don’t want her to find out. She’s suspicious already.”

Haley held up her hand, stopping him. The Queen of Jersey City had centuries of experience with Human anatomy. Deshi was beauty personified. So much so, it hurt to look at him.

Beside the entry for the “world’s most perfect Male specimen”, was his face and body.

“Is she going to go through with the bonding or not?”

His eyes hit the floor. Well, that was a
ginormous
NO.

“Deshi...” She took a step towards him and he withdrew. When she stopped, Deshi’s shoulders slumped and his head dipped. He’d just made a terrible social no-no, but Haley wouldn’t hold it against him. She played with Humans, so chewing out throats just wasn’t on her to-do list.

With a sigh, Haley went into her room and stripped off her office wear. The shoes went first, then the jacket and the skirt. Normally she’d hang it all up, but she was mad, and kicking her clothes across the room was better than kicking Deshi.

“Emily promised she’d think about it.” He sounded hopeful. But then he always sounded hopeful.

Haley unbuttoned her blouse. “Look, I know you want to be with Emily.”

“I love her.”

Yeah, well, Kin don’t love, buddy. So what you’re feeling isn’t little red and pink hearts
. All the books on Kin behavior and psychology said so. She’d read ‘em.

All of them.

“You want to
keep
her, Deshi. You want to make her
Belong
to you. That’s not love, and the sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”

“I do love her. I know you don’t understand that, but I do. I want to make this work between us, and I can’t do that if I keep coming to you.”

Haley glanced at him over her shoulder, unsnapped her bra, and tossed it on top of the pile. She stood there and let Deshi look at her. She turned back to her drawers and rummaged for a T-shirt. “You know, I don’t question that you feel very strongly for Emily.” She slipped on the long white jersey. It fell almost to her knees. When she looked up, Deshi had moved a few steps closer. His eyes glittered silver and gold.

She hoped he’d just give in, but Deshi was strong-willed and extremely good at controlling what he was. Haley went to him and put a hand on his stomach. “There’s no doubt in my mind you would do anything for her.” He already had. Eight months ago she’d gone with him to a plastic surgeon who specialized in removing
Nevus
. The pale white birthmark tagging Deshi for who he was had been replaced by a long nasty scar.

Using Alchemy to burn it off was the only way to make it permanent.

The Prince put his hand over hers and she could feel heat rising off of him.

He said, “I love her...”

“But does Emily love you?” The look of desperation in his eyes turned to anger. Haley stepped away and walked back into the living room and into the kitchen. It was more of an attachment to the main room, since only a short counter top separated the two spaces.

Deshi followed, growling, “She loves me.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her. “And she deserves to have me to herself. You, of all Kin, should understand that.” Haley went to the fridge and pulled out the horse steaks she’d left to thaw. Horse meat was way better than cattle.

More protein, less fat, great taste.

“Yeah? And what are you going to do when she changes her mind
again
, about going through with the Link, and you wind up killing her because you
raged
?”

He flinched and he shook his head. “I’d never hurt Emily. Never.”