City of Dragons: Of Flesh and Blood (55 page)

“What are you going to do?”

“That internal engine I was talking about?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re going to try and get it started again.”

Movement in the doorway made them both look up.

Maze still looked cookie cutter sharp despite it being after seven AM and having just stared a corporeal evil right in her one good eye. The majority of the cops hadn’t shown half his fortitude. No, they’d gone home to change their shorts. But then Maze was versed in the species well enough that he’d probably learned to keep a spare change in the back of his Escalade.

“Orin, Haley…” His eyes said he had news, the good and bad kind, but he didn’t seem sure where giving it crossed the line of disrespect.

It was Orin who spoke. “We don’t want to leave him. Just tell us here.” He was prepared for the worst. As in an Alchemist squad ready with a blade in hand. But then that thought about choked him out because he
belonged,
and if they killed him that way, the magical backlash could kill Haley. The stronger a Kin was, the more power it would punch. Orin glanced at Haley. Very few Queens would be able to survive the death of an eight-hundred year old Mark. It was very unlikely Haley would either.

Maze shook his head. “It’s all right. It’s nothing like that.” Had the man read his mind? Orin realized he was clutching his throat. He tried to make like he was just massaging a

crick out of his neck, then tried to figure out where to put his hand. Haley made the decision for him. She caught it and held it.

Maze said, “The City has dropped all the charges. Sarah Drew told told them what happened, about Rebek’ah, about Nidia. Ms. Drew was very adamant about your role in saving her life.”

“So, I’m safe?”

“Yes, you’re safe.” Maze’s gaze twitched over to Deshi, then back to them. When he spoke his tone had lost the professional crisp he’d wielded so well in the face of far scarier situations. “The hospital has notified next of kin. Deshi’s wife is down at the end of the hall signing papers.”

Signing papers?

Oh, hell no.

“Can you stall them?” Orin asked. The lawyer looked at him, but he wasn’t giving off his usual I-can-make-that-happen vibe. “Look, it will take Ray fifteen minutes tops to get here. He’s just a few miles down the road….thirty minutes tops to get the kit together…” It was obvious by the look on Maze’s face he had no idea what Orin was talking about. “I’ve got an idea. We might be able to save him.”

The lawyer’s eyes widened. “Are you bringing in a specialist?”

“Well, sort of…no…he’s a meta-physicist. Ray is very good at what he does. A genius if you want to know the truth, and--”

Haley said, “Can you just tell them to wait a little while?”

Short and simple. Now why the hell didn’t he think of that?

Maze nodded. “I’ll try, but neither one of you has any legal grounds to even be here. If I piss them off and they ask you to leave and you don’t, they can have you arrested.”

Haley stepped forward. Her scent was bitter with a combination of exhaustion, stress, and hunger. “Is Emily at least going to come see him?” Her voice cracked.

Maze’s silence was louder than any bullhorn-powered no.

Orin pulled Haley against him because he was afraid she was going to go looking for Emily. It was about as ungraceful of a hug as hugs go, but then he was rusty. Really rusty. She needed Farley because he knew her, how to take care of her, how to comfort her. He was her Marked.

The little voice inside Orin’s head had the nerve to point out, so was he.

Yeah, right, like he knew how to take care of anything. Hell, he couldn’t even take care of himself.

Orin looked up. “Please?”

The lawyer’s eyes went hard. “I’ll try.”

Okay. This was getting old.

What the hell was it with this place? Every time Farley turned around someone was knocking him out or doing him over until he passed out. And all this nap time? It was seriously screwing with his internal clock.

Farley tried to move but the chains around his wrists and ankles didn’t give.

When he opened his eyes he saw a collage of Human bodies and Kin in full form. The picture was pieced together with hundreds of thousands of tiny tiles. Colors so vivid he had to blink several times just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. But Farley never dreamed. Most Kin didn’t. Dreams took imagination and inventiveness, something which was a Human quality.

No, Kin didn’t paint, write poetry or music. They could sing though. Not because of talent but biology. Their vocal cords were simply able to reach pitches and tones a Human couldn’t.

But this thing covering the ceiling? Man, it was a work of art. A real beauty. And Farley almost lost himself staring in wonder at the images of half-Human half-dragons, pushing and pulling against each other, teeth locked, bodies entwined, frozen in a moment of violent sex and brutality.

“It came to me one night, in a dream.”

Farley turned his head. He could only see Heikman’s back. The distinct shape of wings, a back ridge, and scales hovered beneath his skin in holographic clarity.

The Lesser-Bred had traded down his fancy slacks for black cotton scrub pants like the ones packed in the drawers of Farley’s room.

Not my room, a cell with a hotel interior
.

While Heikman looked elsewhere, Farley gave the room a once over. Unlike the ceiling, the walls were solid black. Light came from candles perched on shelves. There had to be dozens of them. The wax dripped in a multicolored wash down to the floor.

Small sounds, like silverware being shuffled, sounded off. Heikman said, “You asked me how an Alchemist can shift.” Yeah, he did. “Do you know what a mosaic is, Farley?”

Well, he was pretty sure that the ceiling was an example.

Heikman paused in whatever he was doing and turned. His golden eye flashed and rolled over him. There was a high flush to his usual pale complexion and his scent screamed arousal, anticipation, hunger. As if Heikman was reading his mind he said, “Not the art. A genetic mosaic?” He turned back to the table and the sounds resumed. “I suppose it was silly of me to ask, considering most of your kind can’t even read and write.

“A mosaic is when an organism has two distinct DNA types. Normally, we express a combination of traits from each parent. Sometimes there are mistakes during fertilization and you wind up with genes competing for expression. In my case, the Kin DNA was dormant until I went through
becoming,
after which it reacted to the presence of the Alchemy.” Heikman put some sort of black band on his arm. He pulled it tight and there were Velcro sounds as he adjusted it. The process was repeated on the opposite bicep. “As a Human I was taken into the Circle, but when the Shift happened the Alchemy I housed in me couldn’t win out. Sometimes I think if I’d had more time, if it had been allowed to grow… You see, they tapped me when I was only twenty one. Some said I had a future as the Prime for Atlanta.” He paused. “You cannot possibly imagine what it was like to wake up one day as the thing I hated most.”

Heat rolled out of the Lesser-Bred. His shoulders flexed and muscles jumped along his back.

His next words were strained. “Normally…normally I don’t have to do this again so soon. But…like the
feeding,
it has increased. I almost killed Lor last time. I waited too long. You are right. I wait too long. And I’m hungry. So hungry…starving.” His breath came on a sharp intake of air.

Farley said, “I’ll help you if you’ll just let me go.”

Heikman shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“I’m Food. I know how to sate a Dominant.” But he couldn’t do it like this. Flat on his back, hands and feet bound, offered up on an altar like a freaking sacrificial lamb.

“There isn’t anything you can do, trust me. This…this is a necessity like the
feeding
. I didn’t mean to shoot Junily, you know. I just couldn’t
not
kill him.” He glanced at Farley again. “You understand that, don’t you?”

Sad to say, he did. There were many times where Farley wound up doing things because he had to, not because he wanted to. That was a part of being Kin and not Human.

Heikman picked up something and padded across the black tile floor to the table Farley was on. Farley saw it was an IV bag when Heikman fastened it to the wall. The Lesser-Bred Alchemist extended an IV line.

Farley watched. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you can heal.” Heikman pulled the cap from the end. Farley felt fingers press against his wrist. There was a small stick, then Heikman wrapped tape around the port several times to hold it in place.

Farley arched his head back. The bag on the wall was red.

“Fuck no…that’s Human blood.”

“Yes.”

“Shit--” Farley struggled and the collar flared. “Christ, no, not that. Heikman…please just take it out--”

“I can’t risk you dying.”

“I’m a blood addict, you can’t give me Human blood!” The Lesser-Bred pulled the line until red welled at the end, and reattached it.

“I know about your past.”

Farley froze.

“It’s in your case file with the CFKR.”

“Why would you do this then?” Farley said.

A white sharp-toothed grin cracked across Heikman’s face. “Tit for tat. You’re right, I need you. And now…now you’ll
need
me.” With a flick he opened the line to a slow trickle.

Human blood hit Farley’s veins and sweat broke out over his body. Heikman wandered back over to the table.

“God of Man, no…” Farley’s teeth punched down, his muscles jumped, his body hummed. “Take it out…please--” Farley blinked, trying to clear his vision, but everything was too bright, too fuzzy. He yanked at the chains but nothing gave. After another minute he quit fighting, and by the time the Lesser-Bred came back, Farley wanted the blood.

It felt good. It felt wonderful. A moan eased over Farley’s lips and he rolled his eyes up.

“More…” His stared at the bag and he licked his lips. “More…please, more.”

“All in good time, wyrm.” Heikman climbed on the altar and straddled him.

Enough hunger rolled out of the man that Farley’s own flared, except he was already being
fed.
He just wanted it in his mouth. To taste it, smell it, to feel the heat of it slide down his throat.

It was the sound of sliding metal that drew Farley’s attention. Heikman held up a slender curved blade. The shape reminded Farley of chelae. Candlelight glinted off the mirrored surface.

The Lesser-Bred planted one hand beside Farley’s head and rolled his hips into his groin. He was hard. Apparently all the inhibitions Heikman had during the
feed
seemed to have gone MIA.

“Now…” Heikman caressed the flat of the blade against Farley’s arm. “If you survive this, I will reward you. Anything you want will be yours.”

“How about letting me go?”

Heikman flicked a look up at the IV bag. “I don’t think you’ll want to leave. I don’t think you’ll be
able
to.”

Cold metal moved to Farley’s shoulder, then followed the contour of his arm, down and around.

“This is going to hurt. You may pass out from the pain. Try not to. That can be…very bad. Sometimes I can’t stop. Sometimes…” He sucked in air and ground his hips forward. “Don’t scream till I tell you. I’ll let you know when I
need
your pain.”

Was he fucking nuts?

The answer was obvious.

“Ready, Farley?”

“Fuck, no!”

Those mismatched eyes hardened. Heikman put the blade against Farley’s under arm. The tip pricked the skin. “If you live through this, I promise to make it up to you.” Heikman’s breath shuddered.

“Really? With what? Ice cream and a pony ride?” Farley hissed as the steel punctured the skin of his pit, then slid into the muscle. Heikman’s expression widened and sweat glittered on his skin. The Lesser-Bred licked his lips and without warning jerked upward. Farley’s head kicked back as the blade severed the radial cartilage.

And since the asshole didn’t say a damn thing about not cussing… “FUCK!” Farley slammed his head against altar. “OH FUCK!!!”

Heikman ground his hips against Farley. This is what Lor meant. Heikman didn’t fuck what he ate, but sex for him wasn’t about pleasure….it was about pain. It was the Alchemy it had to be.

When Farley opened his eyes the man’s face was only an inch away.

“You are so beautiful.” Heikman swallowed over and over, while making contented noises.

Scent. He was drinking it out of the air.

A second blade mirrored the first on the other side. With one hard shove Heikman buried it to the hilt. Farley hissed out a breath when Heikman yanked the blade upward, severing the other joint.

The Lesser-Bred thrust against him, his breath ragged, his face strained. He selected another blade and put it over Farley’s shoulder behind his clavicle.

“Scream,” hissed Heikman. “Scream for me.”
Heikman shoved the steel into Farley’s shoulder so hard the sound of cracking bone echoed.

Farley screamed.

Heikman’s face became a mask of ecstasy.

Panting, the Lesser-Bred put his hand on Farley’s throat. “Now…” He nodded and closed his eyes while his thumb made little circles across the pulse beating in Farley’s neck. “I need you…this next one…” Tremors shook him and his tongue played along his lips and his expression calmed. “Scream. Next one…scream.” Heikman’s hand went to the band on his arm and he unsheathed another knife. The tip touched Farley’s shoulder. “You need to scream for me, wyrm. Don’t hold back. Give me everything!” He shoved in the blade and Farley felt it all the way down his sternum. The scream coming out of Farley’s throat threatened to shred his vocal cords. Heikman roared and twisted the blade, his mouth open, sucking in the scent bleeding out of Farley’s skin.

“God…no!” Tears squeezed out of Farley’s eyes. Heikman gave the blade hilt another twist, tearing something deep and sending bolts of pain through Farley’s arms and back. He bucked, tried to kick, and bucked again.

Above him Heikman hissed, grinding, biting his lip. His mouth worked open and closed as he ate the scent out of the air.
Feeding
…