City of Dragons: Of Flesh and Blood (54 page)

“Shit.” Farley ducked and struggled all in one motion, but Junily had a death grip on him. One arm moved across his upper back and a hand hooked around his lower thigh.

“Christ, Junily, it’s not worth getting shot over! Put me the fuck down!” Heikman snarled and Farley tried to move out of the line of fire. He glanced over his shoulder at Heikman. “Put the gun down. Please!”

“Submit, Junily, or I’m going to put a window in your face.”

And Junily’s face just happened to be way too close to the side of Farley’s head.

Farley twisted as far from the line of fire as possible and held his hands up, pleading for Heikman to wait. “I’ll get him to let me go! Just back off a second.”

“Don’t tell me how to deal with my insolent pets.”

“I’m not telling you shit. I just don’t want to get shot!” Farley put a hand on Junily’s throat and pressed his thumb into the Male’s pulse. “Give me two minutes. Just back off and I’ll get him to put me down.” He risked a quick glance. Heikman’s gun hand was back at his side. Junily quit growling but his grip was tight as ever. When Farley brought his gaze back around,

the other Male’s eyes were orange with agitation, long white points distorted his lips, and he was throwing off enough heat he felt like he was on the verge of a shift.

“Hey…” Farley pulled himself more upright, knowing damn well he was putting the back of his skull in the line of fire. “Easy…” This close, in relatively good light, it was evident just how new Junily was, like just-out-of-the-shell new. How the hell did Heikman even get a hold of a Male this unfinished? “Who’s your Queen?” Farley asked, mostly to distract him, but also because he wanted to know.

Junily blinked a few times and shook his head. “No Queen.”

What? Farley looked back. The Lesser-Bred was still putting out pissed-off like it was sunshine.

“How can he not have a Queen?”

Heikman gave him a momentary glance but it didn’t linger. “You’ve got a minute and a half to get him to put you down.”

“Answer me. If he doesn’t have a Queen, then how the hell is he here?”

“Minute fifteen seconds. Time’s short, wyrm.”

Fuck.
“Junily…” Farley squeezed his throat. “Listen to me. I’ll be all right, but you’ve got to let me go.”

“But you
fed
me. I
fed
you. I want to
keep
you.”

Farley squeezed out a string of curses. Sometimes tasting good had its downfalls. He pressed himself against the Male and put his lips to his ear. “Listen. Okay. Fine. You can
keep
me. But right now, I have to take care of asshole back there or he’s going to put a peep hole in our skulls. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to die.”

Junily shook his head and his heart-shaped face went sad. “I don’t want to die.”

“Good, then we’re on the same page.” Farley stroked the other Male’s cheek.

“I can
keep
you?”

“Hell, why not? Not like I’m going anywhere.” For now.

Junily’s grip opened and Farley slid free. He stepped to the side and jacked up his pants before he did more than just moon the room. As he tightened the strings on his trousers he said, “See, I told you--”

The sharp quick crack of a gunshot was loud in the small space. Something wet and warm splattered against Farley’s temple and a piece of bone cut him under the eye. There wasn’t even time to be startled. He just stood there, looking down at his hands; the strings between his fingers and his mouth still open, forming a word. Junily spun off the bed and spilled onto the floor. His legs kicked a few times, and his back arched like the last thought in his brain before it was shoved out the side of his skull, was to run.

Then he was still.

Farley rolled his eyes up at Heikman who smiled. “Lor, get rid of it and call the cleaners. I want this room sparkling by the time I get back.”

The Lesser-Bred kept the gun out and headed towards Farley. “You…” Heikman’s hand locked on the collar around his throat and yanked. “Come with me.”

“Wait--” Farley gagged as the Lesser-Bred pulled on the iron ring, cutting off his air.

“There is no waiting. Now!” Heikman no longer smelled angry. He smelled like sex.

When the Lesser-Bred shoved Farley through the door he caught a glimpse of Lor cradling Junily against his chest and petting him.

In a series of pushes and shoves Farley was forced up the hall and past the two guards. The fear, the aggression. It was as if it were
food
for the Lesser-Bred, and at such close proximity his
need
was at full throttle.

He tried to look back at Heikman. “What the hell?”
“Shut up.”

“He let me go!”

“I said shut up.”

“Why are you going to do, shoot me too?” The gun came up and Farley fell back with his hands up, his face turned away. Damn it, when was he going to learn to keep his mouth shut?

“Don’t tempt me.”

Christ on a cross, the SOB was pumping out heat like he was getting Rolled and the bulge in his pants wasn’t a cell phone.

Farley lowered himself to the floor and put his hands over Heikman’s shiny black shoes. His fingers played along the man’s ankles, stroking silk socks and expensive wool slacks. He rolled his shoulders and whistled high, following it with clicks and whirrs. When the Lesser-Bred didn’t move or decide to kick him in the side of the head, he eased forward and pressed his shoulders against his shin, staying low, submissive. Farley begged for his life, and was unashamed to do it.

Farley stayed bent over until Heikman told him to get up. He did, but moved slow.

When Farley caught a quick peek in his peripheral, the white of Heikman’s sharp pointy grin just about struck him blind.

Heikman said, “Looks like you’re going to get your wish, wyrm, seeing that Lor’s occupied.” His hand closed back down on the collar.

Farley had about two seconds to think about Haley before the scent of magic permeated the air and his lights went out.

While the Metaphysics specialist didn’t know what was wrong with Deshi, Orin did. He’d seen it before many times in Africa. But they didn’t have any fancy scientific terms for it back then. They just called it what it was.

Deshi’s life force had been stripped out. Nidia had Rolled him, one Male, with all her metaphysical power. Not for sex, not for pleasure, not for
feeding
, just a weapon of internal destruction to destroy the atomic workings of his metaphysical source. The effect was like a sudden cool down in the center of a star, causing mass nuclear fusion failure. With no internal source of power, the star can only do one thing--run out of energy and die.

The last of what gave Deshi life trickled out in a slow leak. All the stitches in the world, straight line feeds, and medical art weren’t going to hold him together. Because it wasn’t his body unraveling. It was his preternatural-self.

And Johnson and Johnson just didn’t make bandages to repair damage like that.

No, the facts were simple. The Jersey City Prince died in the Hive, his hearts just hadn’t quit beating yet. His breathing had stopped but air was being forced down his lungs at a steady mechanical rate. Eventually that was going to be useless too.

Haley sat in her chair, her eyes boring a hole in the side of Orin’s head. He wanted to go to her but stood rooted to the spot, because part of him was afraid it was the mark. He knew from experience that he couldn’t trust the thoughts rolling through his head when his defenses were down. Thing was, he was pretty sure he’d closed himself up. Now that the ties had settled, he no longer felt the raw Human emotional grid Haley had been
impressed
with.

How the hell did she live like that?

Haley was right. Crying was exhausting. And no matter how hard Orin tried, he just couldn’t shut that one part out.

Come on, asshole, haven’t you done enough damage this week? You may not want to be Kin, but you are and so is she. You are not made to be alone.

Orin moved around the corner of the bed, slow and unsure. He was just a few steps from where Haley sat when he folded himself down on the floor.

It occurred to Orin it’d been centuries since the last time he’d marked someone with his scent. Humans just didn’t do palm licking and face rubbing, so he’d given it up. He raised his hands, trying to remember the hatchling lessons he’d been taught.

Below the knee, head down and wait.

And he meant to do all that, except once he was this close it didn’t work out. Orin wound up curling in a C shape, his hands tucked under his armpits, because he’d suddenly forgotten where they were supposed to go. He did remember to keep his eyes down, which wasn’t all that hard. Looking at the floor was a hell of a lot less painful than staring at the grief behind Haley’s eyes.

Orin almost barked in surprise when her hand stroked his cheek and neck. Haley leaned forward and put her face to the side of his head. Orin closed his eyes and listened to her breathe.

“He’s going to die, isn’t he.” Haley made it a statement, but then she was no dummy. Naïve, painfully inflicted with a disease called hope, but stupid she wasn’t.

Orin wanted to lie to her because the truth was only going to hurt more. But even in eight hundred years he’d never mastered controlling his scent, so only one option was left. “Yeah. Serena killed a lot of Males this way.”

Haley made a meaningless sound and asked, “Can you tell me what’s happening to him?”

How did he explain it? Orin moved closer and somehow Haley wound up in his lap. Maybe he pulled her, maybe she spilled out of the chair…Hell, he didn’t really fucking care, cause honestly it felt right with her in his arms. Her body, flush against his. The heat of metaphysical energy rolling back and forth.

He propped up against the hospital bed and she put her face against his neck. His body responded by spiking a higher temp.

Orin said, “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

“His engine is stalled out.” Okay, that wasn’t going to cut it because now Haley was looking at him. He gave a sigh and tried to think. “I could use a bunch of big words like
acendogenesis, Biometaphysical Conjunction
, or
Denaturing Pyrokaryote
,
but the simplest way to put it is the part of Deshi which keeps the metaphysical side of him intact has been stripped out.

“My best friend Ray is a meta-physicist, he helped me with the sterile feedings. We did a lot of studying on the internal process. Funny thing, we wound up using a lot of astrophysics to theorize about the meta-physics side because chemical biology alone just doesn’t cut it.” Orin thought about all the hours they’d pored over metaphysical research papers trying to find some hint on what direction to take when cooking up the sterile feeds. They’d gotten into a lot of arguments over stupid shit, and in the end it boiled down to trial and error.

With a heavy dose of error.

Haley said, “Did it work?”

“The
feeding
?”

She nodded.

“Well…at first they seemed like they did. But the conduction process isn’t perfected. We started with Kin blood and thought that spinning out the
cendicytes
and concentrating them was a quick way to turn the entire
feed
into a one-cc injection. Kind of like insulin for diabetics. But there are bioelectrical processes happening in the blood that…” Orin stopped and sighed. “No. It tanked in a really huge way. Last time I almost burned myself up cause we overcooked the stuff…” Yeah, his insides had fired up double time. Like a power surge.

Feeling like a total fucktard, Orin tried to stand up, but Haley was in the way.

She said, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m a fucking idiot.” He started running the Metaphysical Combustion Theory Ray had developed through his head. “Phone…I need a phone.” Haley scrambled to her feet and Orin paced. Pacing helped him think. He said, “We based everything on the first law of thermodynamics. Since metaphysical energy creates heat and is biologically fueled and maintained by heat…a big loop, no end, no beginning.”

“Orin?” She out her cell phone.

Right…he’d asked for that…because? He took the phone and dialed Ray. “Anyhow, energy cannot be created nor destroyed. It can only change forms…Which is why we
feed
.” Ray answered. “Ray, it’s Orin.”

“Shit, Orin, where the hell have you been? I saw the news--”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m not calling you from jail and the cops know where I am. Listen, I need you to get a batch together. Enough for a triple load.”

Ray made an angry sound. “You promised me you were going to use the Lesser-Breds. I almost fried your metaphysics last time, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, which is exactly why I need you to cook up another batch. Run it wide open, as hot as you can get it.”

“I am not even going there with you. Hotter is not going to do it. I told you that.”

“It’s not for me. Ray… Look, bring the kit to Athens Medical, we’re on the metaphysics floor. Do you remember that theory you had, the one about internal bio-metaphysical fusion?”

“Yeah?”

“If you want to test it, get your ass down here. Cook the serum as hot and as high as you can stand it.” The sound of papers fluttered over the receiver; there were a few clanks, bangs, and then a door slamming. Knowing Ray he was flying downstairs to his office. “If your theory works, you’ll be saving someone’s life.”

After a few more conversational exchanges and suggestions for doctoring the serum to give it as much kick as possible, Orin hung up and handed the phone back to Haley.

She looked at him. “I didn’t understand half of that, but it sounds like you’re going to try something.”

Yeah, he was. Orin watched her for a moment, wishing he knew what she was thinking. If he opened himself up he’d know, but then she’d be up inside his head and he wasn’t ready for that yet.

If ever.

Coward.
Yeah, maybe. Okay…sure.

Orin put a hand on her shoulder. “I can’t promise this will work. If fact, it probably won’t because we may wind up frying Deshi’s system. God of Man knows I’ve come pretty close to doing it to myself.”