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Chapter 5

R.M. Haag

The address that O’Malley had given Andy took him to a small ranch house right off the Chehalis-Western trail, on Fir Tree road. With the population crunch, a lot of places out in the urban decay area had fallen to neglect, burned down, or been overgrown. Post-humans had moved in packs to the new high-rises downtown.

Andy brought the bike to a stop with a thick Douglas fir tree between him and the house. He put down one foot and studied the house carefully.

Single-story, gray, with a cold metal roof that reflected back the hazy afternoon sun. Dark curtains covered the windows on the inside, while bars protected the outside. A six-foot tall, razor-wire topped, chain-link fence surrounded the property, including a sliding gate at the front. The fence ran off around the corner, disappearing into trees at the back of the house. Hard to judge the size of the property, but no doubt at least several acres. He could just make out a small barn tucked back under the trees behind the house.

The place was still, slumbering in the heat of the day.

It looked too quiet. Someone knew he was here. He felt it. Most people faced with this place would have the good sense to just keep moving.

He couldn’t. He had to find this Cole that O’Malley told him about, and get the scent. Trouble was, if he was right about O’Malley lacing up on scent, this could all turn out badly. Especially if Cole realized he was dealing with a regressive.

Andy swung off the bike and leaned it against the tree. For his sake, he’d better hope that Cole didn’t realize he was a regressive. Cole had to think he was just another monster looking to come across more dominant. Play it that way, and it’d turn out okay.

The ground beneath his feet was soft, cushioned by needles from the Douglas fir trees and bits of grass and dandelions. A layer of gravel lay beneath the material on the driveway, but it didn’t look like the place saw much car traffic. The weeds were too big.

Andy walked right up to the gate and stopped. He kept his hands at his side and stared at the house. No calling out. No knocking. Just being there, staring.

Challenge enough. If Cole was inside he’d have to answer.

It took a couple minutes before the front door opened. One of the monsters walked out, a male, wearing only blue jean shorts. Pale. Skinny. Short. Dark eyes blinked rapidly as if he didn’t get out often. Even with all of that, corded muscles stood out on his body. Wiry, like a tough piece of gristle.

His posture made it clear he wasn’t dominant. This couldn’t be Cole. The monster walked across the overgrown lawn around the house. He stopped ten feet back from the fence.

“Go away!” He said.

Andy kept his tone calm, but firm. “Go back inside. Get Cole. I’ll deal with him, not his lackey.”

The monster cringed. A whimper escaped from his throat. No dominance at all there, caught in the position between Andy and his boss.

“Go. Now,” Andy said. “Before I open this gate.”

The lackey took a step back. Andy kept staring right at him. As monsters went, this one didn’t have a spine. Two more seconds passed and the lackey bolted back for the house.

Andy resisted the urge to cross his arms. He stayed still. Immoveable. The lackey vanished into the house, but left the door open. From inside Andy heard growls and shouts. A loud crack that could have been a slap echoed from darkness.

Another monster walked out of the shadow, ducking to get through the door. He was like a shaft of moonlight in the shadows. All whiteness and bulk. It was like the house shrunk the moment that he stepped through that door.

It took all of Andy’s willpower not to step back from the imposing figure. The monster stood at least seven feet tall, muscles piled on muscles like boulders in a rock-slide. Andy took pride in the fact that his muscles didn’t so much as twitch. He stood wooden and still, facing the figure.

When he didn’t move the monster walked out of the shadows into the sunlight. The sun made the monster’s long white hair gleam like fresh snow. It hung in waves down past his shoulders. An albino? The only thing he wore was a pale loin cloth that looked like canvas, tied with a thin dirty rope.

This monster was the supplier? The dominant attitude certainly suggested it, but unlike the other monsters this one didn’t hide what he was. He had the power, and all the physical improvements of the monsters Andy knew and mimicked, but it didn’t make him beautiful as it did so many of the other werewolves, the ones that called themselves post-humans.

This one looked like a werewolf, and it wasn’t the full moon for a couple more weeks.

Andy faced him, but broke eye contact first, just a twitch. Enough to recognize the monster’s dominance without becoming submissive. “O’Malley sent me, he said you could get me scent and square his debt.”

“Did he now?” Oddly the monster didn’t sound like a monster. He sounded British or something.

“You’re Cole, right? He said you had what I need.”

Cole brought his hands together in a prayer position in front of his chest. “What you suggest, it makes no sense. Why would I not charge you? O’Malley will never collect on the debt.”

“He’s sent me to collect,” Andy said, letting a growl seep into his words.

Cole’s head lifted and his broad nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply.

Cole started laughing. His head came down and looked straight at Andy. “You smell like meat! O’Malley sent me meat. I can’t imagine what he was thinking.”

That was bad, but Andy reached down and grabbed onto his anger. Anger at what the world had become, and he put that into his voice. “Give me what I came for. Now.”

“Or what?” Cole taunted. “I don’t make deals with bloody regressives. If O’Malley’s been supplying you, then he’s weaker than I thought. I shall take this up with him the next time I see him.”

A low growl rumbled through Cole’s chest. His hands stretched out and flexed. Andy heard a ripping and popping noise and reddish flakes fluttered down from Cole’s hands. It took Andy a second to realize that those were Cole’s fingernails.

He was changing!

That was impossible. It wasn’t the full moon, not even close, and Cole was standing right in the sunlight. He was big enough and probably fast enough to be a problem as he was, but if he changed it’d be that much worse.

It was worse.

Much, much, worse! Even from outside the fence Andy could see the bloody claws forcing themselves out of the ends of Cole’s fingers. Cole started laughing and raised one hand, pointing still growing claws in Andy’s direction.

“You should see your face,” Cole taunted. “I’ll remember that expression when I eat it.”

Cole coughed, snarling and there was a loud, explosive spray of blood from his mouth. Hard white bits hit the ground like a shotgun blast. His teeth. He’d just blown out his teeth.

To make room for fangs.

Andy took a step back. His heartbeat was already picking up. No way to try and act dominant now, that was over. He bolted, running for his bike, which probably still wouldn’t be fast enough.

(Continued next week)

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Chapter 4

Ryan M. Williams

TThe Olinda Police headquarters is located downtown on a crag that looks out over the city. The road runs up along the back of the crag, loops around the building and heads back down the other side. The building itself is a tall double-spire with integrated wind turbines like so many of the Olinda buildings. The solar-power gathering windows glitter blue from the outside. When you’re inside they look transparent. The police generally come and go in flitters but since I wasn’t springing for a flitter cab we were stuck on the ground. As our cab circled up the crag towards the building I could see the police flitters buzzing in and out of the building like so many bees.

We got out and went up into the main entrance. The place was packed. People, not all human, waiting to make complaints were occupying most of the seats in the waiting area. I swiped my ID and took one of the few remaining seats. Dyami folded the seat beside me up into the wall and sat down on the floor. He was still taller than me. His long arms folded up on his legs, palms up. His dark eyes were busy taking in all of the confusion around us.

“Confusion in understanding,” he said. “Meaning in this chaos?”

“These people are waiting to make a complaint or ask for help.”

“So many?”

“Yes. You don’t have police on your world, right?”

Dyami bobbed his head.

“So what do your people do when there is a dispute?”

He flexed those large hands and his black eyes glittered. “Resolution through discussion.”

Somehow I doubted he meant a verbal discussion.

“Okay. Well, here if someone has a problem with someone else they come to the police. Often someone else, like the police, can solve problems between two people more peacefully. Also, sometimes people don’t know who is responsible for their problems. Like this murder we’re working on. Who murdered the girl? We don’t know. What would happen on your world?”

Dyami didn’t respond at for a minute. “Resolution already achieved.”

“What? What does that mean?”

The big guy fidgeted. “This girl and another, problem between? Girl’s death resolves problem. Yes?”

I leaned away from Dyami to get a better look at him. “You do have a lot to learn.”

A voice squawked from the overhead comm system. “Brock Marsden? Mr. Marsden to the front desk, please.”

I got up, glad for a reason to end the conversation. “Come on. That’s us.”

The front desk Sergeant led us back down the hallway to Captain Brice’s office. He didn’t look particularly happy to see me. He took an ice-pack off his neck as I walked in and dropped it on the desk. Dyami barely managed to squeeze through the doorway by turning sideways and shuffling through. He beamed at the Captain. I saw Brice’s shoulder twitch like he wanted to reach for his gun.

“Captain Kynan Brice,” I said quickly. “I’d like you to meet my new partner, Dyami of the Eyota.”

Brice nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure in meeting such a distinguished person,” Dyami said. He placed both hands on the floor and bowed down until his forehead touched the floor.

He didn’t do that when he met me. I nudged him with my shoulder. “Get up.”

“What do you want Marsden?”

“Chrissy Winston’s murderer brought to justice. The key to a delicate neocortex modification and the last piece I need for my Euzebian puzzle. You?”

Brice glared and stood up. “I lost three officers today. Two more are in the hospital getting patched up. I’ve got a half-dozen Nosferans in my holding cells. I’m in no mood for games. Why the hell are you here?”

He was right. “Information. Any word yet on Chrissy Winston’s autopsy?”

“No. Now get out.”

“Do you have any word about who she might have associated with? Anything?”

Brice rubbed his jaw. “Look, Marsden. I have a ton of cases my people are dealing with right now. I don’t have time to fill you in on every little detail. That’s not the way this works. If you find out something that will help us then you tell me – not the other way around. Got it?”

“Captain –”

“That’s enough! Get out of my office. If you come up with anything call. Goodbye.”

He sat back down. Our meeting was over. I was just turning to leave when my personal comm buzzed. Brice scowled but I held up a hand and moved over towards the window.

“Marsden.”

A voice that sounded like rocks grinding said, “I have something that you might be interested in.”

The Tretan. No other name that I knew of. Owner of Galactic DNA Suppliers. According to the stories I had heard the Tretans were once part of the Glittering Throng before they were cast out to mingle with the Rim species. The Tretan I knew was a bulky sort of six-limbed alien that had a skin that looked as rocky as his voice. The Tretan was GDS – a supplier of rare and hard to find genetic samples. Moreaus dealt with him regularly as did those engaged in other sorts of research. He’d come through for me in the past. I owed my eyes to him. Literally. I was still paying for the genetic material he had gained for me. But it didn’t sound like he was calling about outstanding debts. The Tretan was normally easy to deal with. So long as you made your payments.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Not now. Come visit. Soon or it may be gone.”

I ran my free hand back through my hair. “Fine. If I can I’ll stop by. I’m in the middle of a case right now. I might have some cash I can free up.”

The comm went dead. That’s just the way he is. It didn’t mean he was upset or anything. I pocketed the device and turned around. Brice was scowling at me. Dyami’s dark eyes looked nervous.

“Thanks for the help Captain. We’ll just be going.” I jabbed a thumb back at the window. “Nice view.”

I called a cab on the way back out. It wasn’t there yet when we got out side so I leaned back against the warm wall and waited.

“Confusion in proceeding,” Dyami said.

I opened one eye. “We need to work on your translator. It doesn’t seem to be picking up how we speak very well. Instead of confusion in proceeding it should say, what’s next?”

“What’s next?” Dyami asked. “Confusion in proceeding.”

“Right.” What was the use? And the Glittering Throng was supposed to be so smart. “We’ve got a murdered girl. Someone took her brain out. We don’t know who or why. We need to find out the answers to those questions. Most likely this isn’t a random crime.”

“Random crime?”

“The murderer must have had a reason for doing it. It’s like you were saying earlier. There was a problem between Chrissy and someone else. The problem, at least from their perspective has been resolved. The trouble is that we don’t accept this resolution.”

Dyami rumbled and punched the ground with his big hands. He rocked back and forth.

“Are you okay?”

The big orange and black head bobbed excitedly. “Enthusiasm from understanding. Since the resolution is not acceptable then we must find the murderer. We have a problem now with this person.”

I snapped my fingers. “You’ve got it. By murdering Chrissy he’s created a new problem.”

“This also happens among the Eyota,” Dyami said.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Some resolutions lead to other problems. The cycle can consume many lives.”

I held up a hand. “Whoa, one moment there. What you’re talking about is a feud. This is different. That’s where the legal system you’re supposed to be studying comes in. See the law says you can’t kill someone else. It doesn’t matter what the problem is between you – that’s not an acceptable resolution. So when we find this murderer we give him to the legal system, to the police. He will be punished but not killed.”

Dyami’s rocking slowed. “Not killed. But he killed Chrissy Winston.”

“Right. You’re an eye for an eye kind of guy aren’t you?”

“Confusion in understanding.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Sometimes we do consider it acceptable to kill others. Only if there is no other way to protect your own life.” He didn’t look like he understood me. “Think of it like this. When Chrissy was jumped in that alley her life was in danger. What if she had managed to kill her attacker?”

“Resolution in the other’s death?”

“Yes, but you have to consider motive. Chrissy would have been fighting to stay alive. If the only way to do that was to kill her attacker we would have said that she did it in self-defense. That’s different because she didn’t set out to kill anyone but was just defending herself.”

Dyami threw a couple more excited punches at the biocrete. “Pleasure in understanding. To kill in self-defense does not create more problems.”

“Most of the time, yeah.”

Fortunately the cab arrived at that point so I could cut off any further lessons. I opened the back door and motioned him inside. “Come on, we’ve got to go.”

“Where?”

I slid into the rear-facing seat. “Good question. I think we need to start finding out about Chrissy.”

I scanned my ID and told the cab to take us to the corner nearest the alley. If Chrissy was walking through that area chances were it wasn’t the first time. Someone out there had to recognize her. I pulled out my handheld. A couple taps and a picture of Chrissy came up. Her father had given me some images when he hired me for the job. It was all attached to his messages.

The streets were busy when the cab pulled to a stop outside the building. Sunlight streamed down making the wet vegetation and biocrete sparkle. The vegetation in the drainage and along the sidewalks was green, but it wasn’t the green of Terran plants that you saw in some places. Olinda vegetation was a pale pastel green. It was a very soothing green. Most of the vegetation turned towards blues when it dropped leaves. That was an ongoing process so there were plenty of pastel shades of blue mixed among the plants. The building’s solar power glazing brought the blue out. The colors stood out more against the bright white biocrete of the roadways, sidewalks, and buildings. It was much nicer than the reddish plants and skies I grew up with on Seabrook. It used to rain slush there, that looked like blood.

Most of the people walking past us were busy folks intent on getting somewhere. They weren’t the ones I wanted. A few gave Dyami looks as they edged around his hulking orange and black striped body but most acted as if they didn’t even see him. Maybe they didn’t. With alien species one could never tell and with humans, well, we weren’t exactly the majority on Olinda. I tapped Dyami’s shoulder and pointed over at a beverage shop across the street from the alley.

“Let’s check in there first. Maybe she bought drinks.”

Besides my Torlian coffee was empty and I wanted another. It had been a bad day. I could use the boost.

We crossed without fear of being run down by any of the vehicles. That’s one of the things I love about Olinda’s automated transit system. Personal or public transportation, it didn’t matter. The vehicles monitored pedestrians and each other. You could cross the street anywhere in full confidence that the vehicles would stop in time. Given that most of the population lived in the city anyway traffic wasn’t nearly as bad as it might have been. Olinda’s population largely walked or used the public transit systems. I remember being a boy on Seabrook it was very different. You had to watch out for drivers all the time.

The beverage shop was a typical Starbucks. The ancient chain claimed its roots all the way back to Earth. I had my doubts in the claim no matter what the name but hey, they served good Torlian coffee. Dyami proved very helpful in clearing a path to the counter.

A perky young Gazilian twisted her eye-stalks towards us. The bulk of her body was hidden behind the counter. The eye-cluster focused on Dyami withdrew slightly. “What can I get you?”

I handed her my mug. “Hot Torlian coffee, thanks.”

“You want anything?” I asked Dyami.

One thick finger pointed at the menu. “Pleasure in accepting. Iced water.”

Sure enough. I smiled at the Gazilian. “Make that your largest, sturdiest container.”

Her eyes bobbed. “Right away. In a jiffy.”

Dyami’s ice-water came in a bucket-sized container easily as large as my head. It looked half-filled with large ice cubes. The Gazilian handed me my coffee. I swiped my card to pay for the drinks. Her eye-stalks started drifting towards the next customers. I snapped my fingers.

Both stalks whipped around to focus her eye-clusters back on me. “Was there something else?”

“Yeah, thanks. Can you tell me if you’ve seen this girl in here before?”

Dyami shattered an ice-cube between his teeth with a very audible crack. The Gazilian flinched. I held the tablet closer.

Eyes swiveled to look at the picture. “Sure, sure. I’ve seen her.”

“Was she ever with anyone?”

“Sometimes, yeah. Different people.”

“Anyone more than once?”

“One guy. Human.”

“You have a name?”

“Sorry, no. No names here.”

Probably true. I hadn’t given her mine after all. The transactions were all on this side of the counter – there wasn’t any reason for her to have seen the guy’s name.

“Can I give you my card? In case you think of anything else?”

“Sure, sure.” She lifted a tablet with one pseudo-pod.

I beamed over my agency contact card. “Thanks for your time. There isn’t anything else you can tell me about him?”

Her eye-stalks retracted slightly then bobbed. “Fish.”

“Excuse me?”

“He smelled like fish.” She made a noise like passing gas. I think it was a sigh. I hope. “I like fish.”

I hate fish but smiled. “Me too. Thank you. That’s very helpful.”

We managed to squeeze out of the impatient crowd for the relatively open space of the sidewalk. I started walking. Dyami fell into step beside me and managed to keep up despite his short legs. He kept his bucket of water cradled to his chest and he waddled along. I think he would have been more comfortable on all fours but that would have made it hard to carry the bucket.

“Are you okay there? Do you need any help carrying that?”

“Appreciation in the offer, but unnecessary,” he said.

“Okay, fine.”

“Query? Our destination now?”

There’s only one reason that I know of that a human male would accompany a human female in public while smelling like fish. They were too used to the smell to notice it. And that suggested one thing to me – the docks.

“Fishing for clues,” I said.

(Continued next week)

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Contents

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Chapter 4

R.M. Haag

The polished steps of the legislative offices building at the capitol campus were cool beneath Mira’s feet. The walk had given her time to think. The regressive had already died. One of the many killed during the last full moon nights. She couldn’t just throw out the roll.

And she didn’t want to eat it herself. Which wasn’t entirely true, the smell kept reminding her of how good that flakey crust and greasy meat had tasted.

Just because she had a problem with it didn’t mean that she had to judge those that didn’t. People were always bringing in food to share. It was an excellent way to bond with those in the office. They would probably go crazy over the roll, just like the crowd outside the bakery.

The regressive didn’t die to help her, but she was grateful all the same.

The glass front doors opened, flashing in the sunlight. A man came out, tall, broad-shouldered with short dark hair on his head and beard. Each movement was full of power. He wore a dark blue suit with a retro, lean cut to it and polished black shoes.

She saw him first, but of course he wasn’t alone. United States Senator Rafael Garcia didn’t go anywhere alone.

He smiled at her, an absolutely dazzling smile, white with lots of teeth. His hand rose, a quick dismissive gesture that stopped the pack on his heels from following. He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down at her.

It wasn’t fair. The stairs gave him an advantage. She felt her gut twist, urging her to back down.

No way. She didn’t back down for anyone, much less him. Mira skipped up the last few steps and joined him at the top. He turned to face her.

“Mira, you’re looking lovely today.” He inhaled deeply. “And a regressive roll from Winkler’s? Delicious. They certainly are making good use of their share. I’ve been hearing about it all day.”

As the head of the hunt committee, she bet he had.

“Congratulations,” she said smoothly. “It’s going to be hard to top the last full moon hunt.”

Senator Garcia winked slowly. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas. I don’t think people are going to get bored.”

“You can’t ramp it up forever,” Mira said. “What if people get tired of it and want the real thing for themselves?”

“That’s why we have the application lottery. Everyone has a chance to participate. And now that the regressive reservation act is nearly done, we’ll finally be able to work on our breeding and training programs.”

“I expect that’ll be the agenda in our next meeting, Senator.” Mira smiled and reached out to touch his arm. “Now, I really have to go.”

She turned to leave and heard his jacket as he moved. He caught her hand. He was fast. She tried hard not to shiver and looked steadily into his golden eyes.

He was like her, like any adult not a regressive. One of the blessed, rather than being born a post-human. Although, with Senator Garcia, she thought that the term werewolf was much more accurate.

She’d seen pictures of him when he was young. Handsome even then, but without the bulk, confidence and charm he had now. Even in those pictures, though, he had that dominance in his eyes, but they weren’t golden back then. More of a hazel color. The Blessing had changed them all, and a yellow tint or eye color was much more common now.

A man who would do anything to get what he wanted.

A lot of men and women like him had risen into power since the Blessing. Using dominance to rise to positions of control.

“Mira, if you’ve got a taste for regressives, I’d love to take you to dinner at the Red Wharf. I happen to know that they’ve got a flank steak share that will be unbelievable.”

“I couldn’t possibly.” Mira smiled. “No rest for the wicked, as I’m sure you know.”

She turned her back on him, sure that he could hear her heart hammering in her chest. The roll felt like an anchor in her hand, the scent of it sending a message that she was like the rest of them.

Senator Garcia’s crowd of lessor wolves parted before her. She ignored them all, ignored their whispers and went into the building.

When the door whooshed shut behind her, the cool air-conditioned air enveloped her and then she did shiver.

He hadn’t stopped her. Or insisted that she join him for dinner. He’d been polite, if insistent, but that was all. Which meant that, at least right now, he still considered her his equal. One mistake, however, could change that.

(Continued next week)

I hope you’re enjoying this novel! If you’d like to purchase the book you may do so in a variety of formats (ebook, print, or as an e-book + print bundle).

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Contents

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Chapter 3

Ryan M. Williams

That wasn’t the first time I’ve found myself suspended between a couple Nosferans. They labored hard to gain altitude. Nosferans are a frail, light-weight species which evolved in a lower-gravity environment. Smart, technically advanced, until the Human-Nosferan war. Working together they could lift a man but I could hear their harsh pants as they struggle to climb higher. They’d only fly high enough to ensure that the fall would be enough to take me out of commission and then they would drop me. I didn’t plan on giving them the chance. I dropped my Lottier, twisted my wrists and grabbed onto their ankles.

Both Nosferans screeched and kicked their legs. Their struggles only made it more difficult for them to fly. They gave up climbing and headed for the open walkway which spiraled up the abandoned atrium. It was clear they expected to clear the waist-high wall and leave me to smack into the biocrete. An ordinary human wouldn’t have had a chance to see the wall coming. Thankfully I’m a Moreau and my modified eye-sight allowed me to see what was going on. I swung my legs up and cleared the wall easily. I still didn’t let go and as soon as I dropped my feet I swung both Nosferans down to the concrete. The two of them struggled to rise but both had bad breaks from the impact. I left them and ran up the ramp towards the rest of the tribe perched high above on the sides of the atrium. As I ran I drew my backup weapon. When I came in behind them I started firing. Bodies toppled from their perches.

The laughter stopped, replaced by shrieks and cries. More bodies dropped out of the air. Some of them tried to fly out through the upper floors but the police coming down from the roof nailed them. It was over in a few minutes. The police collected the survivors. I made my way back down to the ground floor. I spotted my Lottier, picked it up and then rejoined the Captain as he looked at the carnage around us.

Brice walked over to one of the nearest dead aliens and turned the body over. It had been shot in the face, probably one that I hit judging from the wound. The impossibly large eyes and sharp teeth were still intact but there was a hole between them. I could see the end of the Lottier needle poking out. The rest of the body was small and bony with large leathery wings.

“Bah,” Brice said in disgust. “Nosferans. I didn’t think any of them were on Olinda.”

I looked around at the bodies. “I guess you were wrong.”

Brice stood quickly and reached out to grab me. I didn’t think, I just reacted and stepped out of his way. Did I mention that my reaction time has also been improved? Not that it helped save Jillian. I had a bitter taste in my mouth.

I spread my hands. “Captain, I’m sorry. But you and I fighting isn’t going to bring anyone back. It’s not going to help us find out who killed Chrissy.”

Brice shook his fingers at the Nosferans. “I think it’s pretty clear who killed her.”

“Nosferans are predators, Captain. They wouldn’t bother using instruments to carefully cut open Chrissy Winston’s head to extract her brain. Someone else did that. Someone that came in here without being attacked by the Nosferans. Maybe they had a deal with the murderer. Maybe they were afraid. Whatever the story is, some of them are alive and might be able to answer your questions.”

I saw Brice’s gaze go to Jillian and the other fallen officers. “Just get the hell out of here Marsden.”

I didn’t know what else to say. I felt like I should apologize for something but I hadn’t done anything wrong. The killer was responsible for all of this and even the Nosferans didn’t deserve what had happened. I had to check in at the office anyway so I left.

#

When I got to the office Shanley Walsh, my boss, was sitting in the reception area talking to a large alien. A large, black with orange stripes, or orange with black stripes, alien, with bristles spotting the tough skin. It looked like someone’s idea of a Halloween monster. The rear legs were short and stout while the arms were much longer. Standing straight it’d probably be eight feet tall. The face was a flat, wrinkled, pug-like face with a broad slit mouth and thick fleshy lips. I could see that its teeth were big grinders – the sort that continually grows. The backs of the hands were thick and callused, probably from walking on them. It wore a fancy equipment collar around its neck and belts crisscrossed its body. Various bits of gear hung from the belts but there was no other obvious clothing, much like the Nosferans. Shanley probably had him in the reception area because the alien wouldn’t have fit easily in the office.

Beside him Shanley was tiny. Not that Shanley was small. He didn’t have my height, but he was average sized, thin and strong. Always neat, wearing slightly dated suits. His white hair was the only thing about him that wasn’t ordered, it seemed to fly out in every direction.

“Brock, come meet your new partner,” Shanley said as I walked in.

I stopped. Partner? I looked at the alien. Dark eyes looked back at me and wrinkled in what looked like glee. Or maybe it was thinking about eating me. No, not with those teeth. Probably.

“Partner?”

Shanley beamed. “Dyami, meet Brock Marsden. He takes all of the hard cases. He’ll be the best instructor you’ve ever had.”

“Instructor?” I asked. “Shanley, maybe we should talk.”

Dyami moved then, quickly despite his bulk. A hand as large as my head reached out. I felt like going for my gun but realized that the alien just wanted to shake. I wrapped my hand around two of his fingers.

A Galactic translator collar around Dyami’s thick neck spoke up. At the same time my teeth ached. “Pleasure in our meeting, Brock Marsden. Anticipation in the future’s promise.”

“Right.” As smart as the Glittering Throng was supposed to be you’d think they’d be able to rig up a better translation device. The collars, pendants, caps, bracelets, and other forms the translator took were common in the Rim. Without the technology it would be much harder for the Rim species to speak to one another. The Glittering Throng had offered the technology to help prevent inconvenient conflicts among Rim species. They, of course, had no need of such devices.

“Shanley, what’s going on?”

Shanley slapped his hands together. “It’s like this. The Eyota, that Dyami’s people, don’t have a police force. Or much of a legal system as I understand it. It works for them but they aren’t attracting much business. People are afraid of going to such an anarchic world. So the Eyota have sent out students to other worlds to study law and law enforcement practices. Dyami is studying private detective methods.”

“He’s an intern?”

“Right.”

“Eagerness in understanding,” Dyami said.

I couldn’t believe it and rubbed my eyes. “Shanley, I don’t know about this.”

“They’ve paid a year in advance. They’re covering all of his expenses. We get the help and it doesn’t cost us anything.”

“Except my sanity,” I said.

The folds around Dyami’s eyes drooped. A deep sigh shook his frame. “Disappointment in future.”

Talk about guilt trips. How was I supposed to deal with that? The big guy was like a puppy. A big scary-looking Halloween puppy.

“Fine.” I surrendered. “You can follow me around. I’ll try to teach you what’s going on. But you have to agree to do what I say. Understand?”

“Yes. Happiness in understanding. Anticipation in future learning and friendship.”

“Where have you been this morning?” Shanley asked.

“New case.”

Dyami’s eyes widened. “A case. Eagerness in telling.”

“Yeah, I want to hear this too,” Shanley said.

I laid it out for him. Howard Winston’s call. His daughter’s murder. While I talked Dyami seemed to shrink in on himself. Poor guy. If he was going to wilt just hearing this he’d be heading back home before long. Shanley appeared to be studying his fingernails while I told him what happened. He looked up sharply when I told him about the Nosferans.

“Nosferans. Wow, that’s something. Are you okay? You’d think someone would have been keeping an eye on them.”

“Yeah, I figure they must have smuggled themselves in. Probably thought they could wait in some cargo for nightfall and then fly out.”

A hundred years earlier humans and Nosferans had fought a brutal war. I was there. The Nosferans had lost and had ended up scattered across the Rim. They weren’t usually welcome anywhere.

“Nosferans murdered the girl?” Dyami asked.

Shanley answered with a shake of his head. “No, son. Nosferans would kill her, sure enough there, but they wouldn’t do it the way Brock described her. The murderer is someone else. But Brock’s just the man to track them down.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Thanks. You know if you want to swap cases it is fine with me.”

“Eagerness in hearing your case,” Dyami said to Shanley.

Shanley waved a hand. “No, the dead girl is more up your line. I’ve got a tough case. It needs a delicate touch. Seems this fellow, not more than waist-high, called Tentagil, has lost his pet. Something he calls Enite. Not sure if that’s the personal name or what it is. You know what these translators are like. Anyway the Enite is about half his size. I gather it’s some sort of pet. Very valuable. But it has either run off or been stolen. Not sure which yet. I’ve got to track it down and get it back for this fellow. He’s quite distraught about it all.”

I nodded. “I know how you like your missing cases. Good luck.”

“Shanley seeks the missing Enite,” Dyami mused. “How will you find? Confusion in proceeding?”

I left Shanley to explain the fine art of missing pet searches while I took care of other business. Shanley kept a small kitchen area in the back. I refilled my mug with fresh Torlian coffee. Shanley didn’t touch the stuff. He always said that he had more stimulation than he knew what to do with anyway. I sipped the fresh hot beverage and started to feel a fraction better. Jillian Kelley’s face haunted me. She had been so eager to help. To understand. And just like that she was gone. It was a side of the world that Shanley didn’t want to have anything to do with. Hence the missing pets, divorce cases, and insurance fraud cases tended to go his way. Sure, I’d help with them if there wasn’t anything else to do. And it isn’t that I don’t think they aren’t important because they are. I don’t know what it is but those cases bug me. Take divorce cases. You’d think in today’s day and age that divorce would be a non-issue. There are all sorts of limited marriages these days. But no, that’s not romantic. Then you look at these cases and it makes you sick. Why is your spouse cheating on you? Have you looked at your life? A good deal of the time it’s clear that the problems are not one-sided. They never see it. It’s always about assigning blame.

I took another long sip and shook my head. It wasn’t about the cases. I felt like shit because Jillian Kelley was dead, along with the other officers and Nosferans. For the few minutes I knew her I liked her and I hadn’t been fast enough or smart enough to stop it from happening. I took another drink and went back out to face my new partner.

Dyami swiveled around as I came back in the room. “Interesting scents, inquire as to the beverage?”

I hoisted the mug. “Torlian coffee? Want one?”

Shanley held out a cautioning hand. “Ah, I’m not sure that’s a good idea Dyami. That stuff is pretty potent.”

The big orange and black pug face swung back and forth between us. His lips peeled back in what I hoped was a smile.

“Eagerness in trying new things. Yes, please, I will try one.”

I shrugged. “Whatever you say. One Torlian coffee coming up.”

Shanley covered his eyes and groaned.

I went back to the kitchen and rummaged through the mugs. They all looked like they would be crushed in Dyami’s massive hands. There was a large thermos in the cupboard. It was some sort of composite metal. Probably the best we could do. I filled it full of Torlian coffee, still steaming hot, and carried it back out.

Dyami’s bulk shifted around and he accepted the thermos by pinching it between two thick fingers. In his hand it did look mug-sized. He brought it up to his face and inhaled deeply with a sound like bellows.

“Pleasure in aroma,” he rumbled. Once again my teeth ached.

I rubbed my jaw. “What is that?”

Dyami looked up, brow wrinkling.

Shanley coughed. “Ah, yes. I forgot to mention. Dyami speaks at infrasound levels, below our hearing. You’re feeling that in your teeth. You get used to it.”

Dyami nodded happily and inhaled the odor of his coffee again.

I hoisted my own mug. “To new partners. Drink up.”

Dyami mimicked my actions and took a large gulp of the coffee. He froze then, eyes widening and watering. His cheeks bulged as he held the liquid in his mouth. Then he started to tremble and I have to say I was worried. What if I had just poisoned the poor guy?

Shanley took action. He stood up and pointed at the thermos. “Spit it back in there.”

Dyami didn’t so much spit it back in the thermos, I’m not sure he could the way his lips worked, than open his mouth and let the coffee spill out. Some ended up in the thermos. Most of it ended up on the floor. A large shudder ran through Dyami’s body. When it passed he carefully sat the dripping thermos down on the table and stepped back.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Surprise and embarrassment in reaction,” Dyami said, eyes blinking rapidly as they watered. “Apologies for actions.”

I waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get a towel to clean this up.”

“I tried to warn you,” Shanley said as I went back to the kitchen.

When I got back I cleaned up the spill, then took the thermos back to the kitchen to wash it out. All that Torlian coffee wasted. It almost made me cry.

After I got back to the reception area Shanley looked over at me and gestured at Dyami. “What are you going to do next?”

Dyami’s glum expression brightened.

“Start looking for information. I need to talk to Captain Brice if he’ll talk to me. See what they have on the body so far. I need to try to find out who the victim was associated with. Question people.”

Dyami nodded. “Eagerness in proceeding. Anticipation of usefulness.”

“I’m sure,” I said.

Just then the door opened and Subha walked in. Subha is, well, in many ways Subha is the best of us all. Moreaus that is. When someone like Captain Brice wants to call all Moreaus addicts and freaks Subha’s the example of what is possible. She’s a few inches taller than me with a body and face that can make a man weep. All of her modifications have been made with a plan in mind. Her skin is pale blue like a robin’s egg. She looks soft but that’s a layer of subcutaneous fat that insulates her – beneath it are very strong muscles. There is webbing between her fingers. Her feet aren’t really human at all anymore but you can’t see that as well when she’s wearing sandals. Her toes run the length of her foot with webbing between them as well. I know that she has gill slits along her ribs and a second transparent eyelid, neither of which you’d notice. Today she was wearing a long gown made of clouds. At least that’s what it looked like. The holographic clouds slid around her body, revealing glimpses of the perfect skin beneath but never revealing everything. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

“Brock,” she said. With her throaty voice you just wanted her to keep talking.

Subha wasn’t alone. That also wasn’t unusual. She had some of her acolytes with her. Many of them were also taking an aquatic path along the same lines. The two with her today were an interesting contrast. The one was a human Moreau I didn’t recognize. Thin, delicate face but masculine. He looked uneasy to be here. The other was an alien Moreau, I think. Semi-reptilian features. Of course it could have been human at one time. I couldn’t tell the gender. Subha’s acolytes and her religion were two of the issues between us.

“What can I do for you Subha?”

She folded her hands. “I came about Calanthe. I’m concerned about her. She won’t see anyone but I thought that she might see you. Will you check in on her?”

“I’d rather not?”

“Would you rather see her hurt herself?” Subha asked in that same voice.

I sighed. This was an old argument and not one that I was going to win. “Fine. I’ll check on her. I have to go down to police headquarters anyway. I’ll stop on the way.”

“Thank you.” Subha turned her head to look up at Dyami. “Are you a client?”

“Detective,” Dyami said proudly, touching his chest with both of those large hands. “Pleasure in the giving of names. I am called Dyami.”

Subha laughed. “Dyami. I am pleased to meet you. I am called Subha.”

Dyami stuck out his hand. Subha took it with both hands and shook his hand. “You are going to be working with Brock?”

“Partners,” Dyami confirmed.

“Dyami is the new intern that Shanley picked up,” I added. “I’m going to be showing him the ropes.”

Dyami released Subha and twisted around. “Ropes? These I have not seen?”

Subha laughed again. “He means he will be instructing you in how to be a detective.”

“Yes! Pleasure in learning.”

“Brock?” Subha asked. “Will you be going soon?”

I sipped my coffee. A refill before I left would be good. I hoisted the mug. “I’ll top off and then we’ll leave.”

Shanley stood up. “I should be getting out there too.”

I went to the kitchen to get my refill. When I came back to the reception areas the others were gone, except for Dyami. The big guy was standing there waiting. I motioned at the door. “After you.”

On the street I hailed a cab. The vehicles are fairly large to accommodate all the various alien physiologies. Seats adjust automatically to the occupant’s anatomy. I told the cab Calanthe’s address and settled back to enjoy the ride.

Olinda is built along the ragged coastline of one of the larger islands on the planet. The major continental landmasses are far to the north and south and are much less hospitable. There is a mid-oceanic ridge that roughly follows the equator of the planet. All along that ridge there are islands. Some almost large enough to be considered subcontinents but most are smaller. The planet’s greatest resource is the marine ecology. That’s about all it shares in common with my birth planet of Seabrook. The city is beautiful. There is a wide range of species living on Olinda and they’ve each brought their own unique architectural styles to the planet. Olinda is one of the true Rim trade worlds where all of the Rim species, all those not judged intelligent enough to join the Glittering Throng, are welcome. It has been my home longer than I’ve lived anywhere, and I was born over a hundred years ago, I’ve been a lot of places and yet I ended up back by an ocean. It was better than the dry deserts of Mars, or some of the other places I’ve been, and ocean or not it was a whole other world from where I started out in Mud Port. Dyami seemed content to watch the passing scenery as the cab navigated through the streets. I closed my eyes and rested.

Calanthe lives in one of the apartments towards the outer edge of the city. It isn’t the best neighborhood but not one of the worst either. She’s part of the Moreau Society. I tend to try to stay away from her. It’s complicated.

She opened the door when I pressed the chime. What she was wearing made my heart stick in my throat. It was red, light and filmy and seemed to float just above her skin. It had a peculiar property that it looked like it should be see-through but when you focused your eyes at any one point it was opaque. Calanthe is beautiful, there’s no denying that. She’s petite and as shapely as anyone could wish. Plus she’s a Moreau which means she’s also exotic. Her hair looks like flames spilling down around her neck. Orange, red, and yellow that seems to shift and move but always seems right. She has deep green eyes and flawless skin. The tips of her ears go to a slight point. Her smile can speed up your heart beat. I wish I could say that I’m immune to her charms but I’m not. I do resist. Why? Because Calanthe is a Moreau. Whereas Subha has modified her genome to try to get closer to her Creator, Calanthe has instead focused on her sexuality. Her touch, even just the brush of her hand is amazing. She uses her abilities to star in erotic sensies.

While I stood there trying to throw off the impact she made Calanthe made it harder by throwing herself at me and wrapping her arms around my neck. That made it very hard. Speaking of hard there was nothing I could do to stop my erection from pressing against her. She sobbed into my neck, lips brushing my skin. Each touch set my nerves on fire. If Calanthe willed it she could bring a man – or woman – to a climax in seconds by stimulating their nerves. Or she could draw it out and prolong the sensations as long as she wished. She was very difficult to resist. Did I mention it was complicated?

“Oh Brock, I’m so glad to see you.”

I couldn’t remember why I had come over. Then Dyami moved. The sight of his big striped face helped a lot. I drew back from the embrace. If anyone was going to resist Calanthe’s charms it had to be me.

“Calanthe, let’s talk.”

She cocked her head and looked up at me, then Dyami. She pouted. “Who is this?”

“The agency’s new intern. Dyami, this is Calanthe. A friend of mine.”

Dyami shoved his hand out. Calanthe looked at it for a second then took one of his fingers in her small hand and shook it. She let go, sniffled, and turned her attention back to me.

“Are you coming inside?”

“We can talk inside.”

She looked up at Dyami and smiled sweetly. I don’t think her charms would work on the big guy but you never know.

“Will you wait outside?”

“Happiness in acceding. I will wait.”

Calanthe wasted no time in grabbing my arm and pulling me inside. The door closed. Once inside rather than releasing me she pulled me closer and pressed her body against mine. Even through our clothes I could feel the heat from her skin. She pressed herself against my erection and moved against me, just a little. Her face looked up at me, bottom lip quivering slightly. I couldn’t think clearly with her that close. I lifted my coffee mug and tried stepping back. Fortunately she let me go with just a small sniffle. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. If I looked away I could see her breasts in my peripheral vision. High with dark wrinkled aureoles around each pert nipple. That didn’t help my concentration any.

I took another drink and felt the Torlian coffee singing on my already stimulated nerves. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. “Calanthe, what’s wrong?”

She frowned and that was cute too. I looked around the apartment. The place was messy. Clothes scattered around. Dishes on the end tables.

“They turned me down,” she said.

“Who?”

She waved a hand. “For a role. It was a nice part in a good production. It could have turned my career around. There was a story and everything.”

“You’ve gotten rejections before. It doesn’t mean you aren’t wonderful.”

“Yeah? They said that they wanted a natural. Can you believe that? The things I could do for the audience and they’d rather have a natural? I even gave them a small taste but it didn’t matter. You know why?”

I did but she needed to say it herself. “Why?”

“Because they’re afraid I’ll become a Dumpty!”

She covered her face and started crying. It goes against my nature to stand there and watch a woman cry without trying to comfort her. The trouble is I didn’t trust myself with Calanthe.

“That’s not going to happen.”

She sniffled and looked up. Even crying didn’t make her look bad. She didn’t get all puffy around the eyes the way other people did. The tears ran down her perfect cheeks without taking anything away. It was attractive in its own way.

“Yeah, they didn’t believe that.”

“You have a plan, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not just randomly trying modifications without research, right?”

“No.”

“So you’ll be fine.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I keep thinking that maybe there’s something else I can do. Should I be taller? I could increase my breast size?”

I shook my head. “You look perfect. You don’t need to change. Not because of a rejection. There will be other parts.”

“You keep rejecting me,” she said accusingly.

That hurt. And pissed me off a bit. “We’ve talked about this before. I don’t think we need to bring it up now, when you’re already upset.”

She glared at me and that was sexy too. I had to get out of the apartment. I smiled. “Look. Why don’t we order up a delivery, my treat? Whatever chocolate treat you want.”

Calanthe’s glare blew away and was replaced with a childlike delight. “Really?”

“Really. But you have to try to be in good spirits. Okay?”

She folded her hands and rocked a bit, looking innocent. “I will. I promise.”

“And stop that,” I growled.

She laughed and kicked her feet. The next instant she walked towards me seductively. Her gown revealed without revealing. Her eyes were like deep green pools pulling me in. I took a step back.

“I mean it.”

She stopped and pouted. “Okay. You’re no fun.”

“Who is buying the chocolate?”

She smiled again. “Okay. Maybe you’re a little fun.”

Calanthe skipped over to her terminal and quickly pulled up a wicked looking triple chocolate Sunday with all of the sprinkles. Even Torlian coffee beans. Of course they aren’t really beans. There are no beans in Torlian coffee. I’m not sure what the ‘beans’ are but they are potent. But she needed her spirits lifted. I placed the order. It would be delivered in twenty minutes. With that done I eased towards the door.

“I’ve got to go.”

“Yeah, what are you doing? A case?”

I nodded. “Murdered girl.”

Calanthe looked pale. “You have the ickiest job. I don’t need to hear anymore. Thanks for everything. I mean that, Brock.”

“Sure thing. I’ll see you at the meeting tonight, okay? Hang in there.”

“Will do.”

I escaped outside and leaned against the door. Dyami brought his head down to my height. “Eagerness in departing. Are you ready?”

I waved him towards the stairs and followed.

(Continued next week)

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Chapter 3

R.M. Haag

O‘Malley ran a small shop out on Mud Bay. It took Andy less than an hour to get there on his bicycle, a beautiful carbon-fiber mountain bike with 29 inch wheels and hold-anything cages on his front shocks for carrying gear. The bike was expected, common, and as such didn’t attract attention.

The small, single-story building had probably been a house once upon a time, but O’Malley had turned it into an architectural nightmare. You could still see the red front of the original building but mobile homes, stick built sections, even pieces of prefab greenhouses grew out of the house like monstrous tumors. The structure had billowed up to include the whole lot, probably to the dismay of the neighbors up until they had disappeared and their homes were in turn engulfed and connected to O’Malley’s growing labyrinth.

The other thing about the place, it was algae-pond green all along the upper surfaces where mismatch windows, plastic and roofing created a riot of greenhouses.

There weren’t any signs advertising O’Malley’s business. No parking lot, but Andy didn’t need one anyway. He rolled off the street onto the narrow strip of dirt in front of O’Malley’s place, and on over to the door.

Andy opened the door as if he owned the place and rolled right in with his bike. He found himself in a small chain-link cage that filled the hallway. There was barely room for him and the bike and still close the door, but past experience had taught him where to stand so he could put the back tire of the bike in the corner and shut the door. No need to hold the bike up, there wasn’t room for it to tip over.

No sign of O’Malley either.

It was just this sort of situation that was going to trip him up one of these days. For all he knew there was a scent or something about this that would tip off one of the monsters. All he could smell was pond water and a barnyard sort of smell, but the monsters could smell much more. Or hear things he couldn’t. His lack of reaction could also be a dead give-away that he was a regressive.

But O’Malley already knew that. Andy reached out and grabbed the chain-link, giving it a hard shake. “O’Malley! Get your mangy ass down here!”

A door slammed. Andy tensed and reached around to his messenger bag. He had a knife hidden along the bottom in a special pocket he’d made. It wouldn’t do him any good while he was in the cage, but if anyone tried taking him out of the cage it might make the difference.

If he was very, very lucky. Even O’Malley probably had him out-matched, at least the old coot thought so.

Light footsteps in the hall. Andy kept his hands visible. He didn’t go for the knife. Doing so now would spoil any surprise if it became necessary. He could only hope that he could get to it in time, if he needed it.

O’Malley eased around the corner, wearing only dirty black cargo shorts, and leaned against the door-frame. He was grizzled and lean. Washboard abs and strongly corded muscles gave him a great build. That was all normal enough, but O’Malley had to be at least eighty, maybe even ninety, and he looked like an Olympic athlete.

All courtesy to the miracle of the change that had turned ordinary people into monsters.

Clear gray eyes studied Andy, and Andy stared right back.

Without breaking eye-contact, O’Malley said, “Mangy, huh? You want to see this?”

Before Andy could say anything O’Malley turned around, reached back and yanked his own shorts down to bare a his hairy ass at Andy. He slapped the taunt flesh.

Laughing, O’Malley turned around, his cock hanging long. He reached down with a dirty hand and stroked himself. “You like that? Maybe I should make you suck me off? How would you like that jack ass?”

“The day I suck you off I’ll be a rotten corpse,” Andy said. “And I’ll still bite that off.”

O’Malley laughed, and slapped his thigh. “Man, you really crack me up!”

O’Malley pulled up his shorts, something Andy appreciated. O’Malley could have turned Andy in any time, but he preferred Andy as a customer, but Andy dreaded the day that their relationship soured.

“Man, I don’t have anything for you,” O’Malley said.

Like that. Andy refused to show any emotion, and hopefully he didn’t smell scared. He didn’t think so. “Why, exactly?”

“Exactly? Hell, the gosh darn dung beetles up and decided that they wanted a better brand of shit. You happen to got any?” O’Malley’s fist hit the wall with a loud crack.

Andy heard things creak in the walls. Someday this whole crazy pile was going to collapse.

O’Malley said, “I don’t talk about my process, exactly, with anyone, much less some regressive shit.”

Andy stepped closer to the front of the cage. He didn’t touch the wire, in case O’Malley decided to electrify it or something. Dominance was the only thing these monsters understood. He pitched his voice low.

“I paid you. In advance. So save me your whimpering, old dog. Where’s my scent?”

This time O’Malley looked away. It was immediate, instinctive and Andy felt a surge of triumph. He’d won. Just like that, O’Malley had given ground.

O’Malley snarled, clearly angry with himself, and crossed his arms.”The batch failed, okay? If I’d given it to you then you wouldn’t be regressive any more, you’d be dead.”

“Make more,” Andy said.

“Why don’t you just fuck me up the ass! It isn’t that fucking easy!” O’Malley’s arms jerked around as if he’d been electrified. He snarled. He shook.

The dude was a lunatic. Truly. And he was the only supplier Andy knew. More than that, O’Malley dealt with him, a regressive. Most scent customers were less dominant werewolves looking to get ahead by taking scent. It could make them seem more dominant, but it also increased aggression and led to the monsters becoming unhinged. For the first time he considered the possibility that O’Malley was sampling his own product.

“Careful, you’re going to bring the walls down on your head.”

O’Malley leaped all the way over to the cage. It was one of those breath-takingly fast moves that the monsters could make. O’Malley hit the chain-link, shaking the cage.

Andy didn’t flinch. All the practice paid off. He kept his eyes on O’Malley and stayed still.

O’Malley’s dirty fingers wrapped around the chain-link. “Man, you’ve got a pair. Come in here, giving me orders and shit. Dissing my den. I’d give you what you want if I could, I would, but I ain’t got the supplies. Get it? When the batch blew up it ruined everything and I don’t have the fucking money to start over!”

Andy stepped an inch closer to the fencing. He imagined his eyes as lasers, burning right through O’Malley’s flea-ridden head. “In that case, how do you expect to make it right?”

“I know a guy,” O’Malley said. He released the fencing and stepped back.

“He’s got a supply. Good stuff, probably better than the shit I make.”

A short barking laugh escaped from O’Malley. He scratched both hands on his head, quickly. “He owes me. He can fix you up now, and I give you my next batch when I can get it together.”

Andy really, really didn’t like that plan. Deal with another supplier? Options were good, but dealing with someone else made him more vulnerable to exposure.

“So you get the scent from him and give it to me. When?”

“No man.” O’Malley snapped his head back and forth. “Aren’t you fucking listening? He hasn’t paid me, got it? You’ve got to fucking go there and make him give it to you, on my account. Square things between us, and then I give you my next batch. That’s two for fucking one price!”

Andy understood what O’Malley was saying. This other supplier, he wouldn’t pay O’Malley because O’Malley wasn’t dominant enough. And the longer the other supplier held out, the worse the relationship between them got.

O’Malley said, “It’s your fucking choice. It’s that or nothing.”

And that was the problem. Andy kept a tight grip on his reactions. If he didn’t get the scent then his days were numbered. He’d have to head off into the wilderness areas, like the rest of the feral regressives. Better to hide in plain sight, where he could see the monsters coming.

“Where do I find this guy?”

O’Malley dug into one of his shorts pockets and came up with a scrap of paper. He stuffed it through the chain-link. Andy took it and glanced at address. Out Fir Tree road, out in the urban decay area. As the city had contracted it left behind the old sprawl, slowly decaying. Efforts were being made to clear it out, but that was a long process. Not someplace he liked going. He stuffed the paper into his pocket.

“Tell the asshole that I sent you, he’s to pay you what he owes me in scent.”

“Name?”

“Cole.”

“Just that?”

“What the fuck more do you want? You think if you show up, that won’t be enough?”

O’Malley was already backing away from the cage, taking any bite out of his words.

“Okay,” Andy said. “Next time I call, you’d better answer. And if this Cole doesn’t pan out like you say, I’ll be back.”

“Go fuck yourself!” O’Malley jumped through the doorway where he’d appeared and was gone. If he’d had a tail it would have been tucked through his legs.

Andy opened the door, backed the bike out of the cage. He blinked in the light after the dim interior, then turned the bike and stepped up, slipping his bare feet into the pedal straps.

Ten miles or so to get there, and then he had to retrace his path to get back home. As he hit the road he pulled out his Camelbak bottle and took a sip of the little tea that remained. The scent wouldn’t last.

And then it was only a matter of time before the monsters realized he was a regressive.

(Continued next week)

I hope you’re enjoying this novel! If you’d like to purchase the book you may do so in a variety of formats (ebook, print, or as an e-book + print bundle).

From: $7.99 Select options

Copyright © 2013 All Rights Reserved

Contents

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Chapter 2

Ryan M. Williams

I‘ll give it to captain Brice’s people. They are efficient when they set their minds to it. While teams deployed around the building, those at the murder scene worked steadily to document the body. Kelley did most of the photography. I stayed back out of the way and nursed my Torlian coffee. It was starting to get cold despite the mug’s insulation. I thumbed the dial and the heating element warmed up the liquid. Much better. Nothing is worse than cold, congealed Torlian coffee.

Medics arrived in another flitter which drifted down out of the sky like a falling leaf. They settled down up the alley and brought over a stretcher and body bag. When captain Brice gave the word they bagged the body and carried it out. The officers gathered for the entry moved up. They wore armor made from galactic material technology. Nearly impenetrable by most modern weapons. I knew from experience that it hardly weighed anything. It was like a lot of the technology gleaned from the galactics – mysterious and defying explanation. Of course to everyone’s shame it was simply, according to the galactic civilizations at least, because humans and other ‘inferior’ species were less intelligent. So far all of the data gathered indicated that it was true. The myriad of species that made up the Glittering Throng, as the galactic civilizations were called, really were more intelligent than humans, Torlians, and all of the others. I’d spent more time on the problem than most and it seemed pretty clear to me. Our neocortex is six layers deep and hosts over thirty trillion connections – but one of the lesser members of the Glittering Throng might have a neocortex or its equivalent with three hundred trillion connections. The math was clear. They simply were smarter than us.

Captain Brice waved at the officers with the tools to open the door to move up. I shook off thoughts of the Glittering Throng. Right now there was a cold-blooded murderer to catch. I pulled my own weapon but kept it at my side in my coat. A Lottier 45 firing nanoparalyzers coded to over 150 Rim species. There was always a chance that the initial penetration by the projectile might cause a fatal wound but the Lottier was considered to be the safest weapon available. As long as the target was one of the coded species. Anyone else, it might just piss them off. Brice and his men carried Lottiers as well but they only had the standard service-issue, a 25 with a third as many species.

The officers with the door cracker moved up. They jammed the tip in between the door and the frame and activated the device. There was a high-pitched whining noise followed by squealing metal and the door popped open. The officer deftly caught the cracker and stepped back to allow those with the guns to move up into position. It was dark inside the building, at least to the police because they snapped on their lights.

“Wait,” I called out.

Brice held up a hand then looked over his shoulder. “What?”

I pointed with my free hand. “There’s blood on the floor.”

Brice pointed his light down and spotted the drops scattered on the floor inside the door. He eased to the side and motioned his people to do likewise. Once they were out of the way he snapped his finger. Kelley moved up and snapped off some quick shots of the pattern. I walked up behind her.

“He stopped to clean off his instruments,” I said.

She looked over her shoulder and tried a weak smile.

Brice jabbed a finger at us. “You stay here. The rest of you let’s start the sweep.”

Kelley eased inside as the team moved further into the building. She took some more pictures. I followed and walked further inside.

The place was huge and decaying inside. It had been left alone for a long time. There were holes in the floors above. Ahead, towards the street, there was a large atrium space that reached up through the floors, probably to the roof. The windows were all covered so it was dark except for the officers’ flashlights. I could see the space clearly enough but I doubted they could see much beyond their lights. I started to follow.

“Mr. Marsden,” Kelley said. “The captain told you to wait here.”

I smiled at her. “I’ll be careful. Besides, they can’t see worth shit in here. I’m far more likely to spot someone.”

Kelley flicked her light around us. “You can see in this?”

“Yes. I have an increased number of rods and cones in my eyes as well as modified pupils and a tapetum lucidum which helps me see in the dark.”

“That’s why your eyes are glowing?” Her voice sounded a bit unsettled.

I smiled. “Exactly.”

Her expression changed to one of wonderment. “I can’t wait until we have a chance to talk more.”

“I’m looking forward to it as well. I have to warn you, though, Officer –”

“Call me Jillian, please.”

“Jillian. If you’re thinking of becoming a Moreau you’d better be careful about it. Your captain doesn’t approve. He thinks Moreaus are nothing but junkies.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.

I turned and followed the officers deeper into the building. There was a good deal of dust but it didn’t hold prints. The dust here was light and tended to fly up and settle back down to the ground. It was hard to get any idea of which way people had gone. I doubted the murderer left any tracks I could follow and there wasn’t any more blood.

“He stopped to clean his tools so we couldn’t follow.”

Jillian joined me. “What?”

“It’s like I tried to tell your captain. The murderer came inside then stopped and cleaned off his instruments. He knew that the dust wouldn’t leave tracks.”

“So how do we figure out which way he went?”

I considered the problem. If I were the murderer, carrying tools and the container with Chrissy’s brain which way would I go? The roof offered one avenue of escape if he had a flitter up there. But a flitter might be seen by someone, particularly on an abandoned building like this. The other option would be to go down. Use the aqueduct tunnels. That felt right. The murderer could have come up the tunnels and departed the same way. Easier than going up and down flights of stairs and no one would be likely to notice.

“I think he probably went down. There could be an aqueduct tunnel under this building, right?”

“I don’t know,” Jillian said. “It’d make sense if there were.”

“Let’s check it out.”

“Let me tell the captain first.”

“Do you have to?”

Jillian gave me a look as she activated her comm. “Captain, Kelley here.”

“Go ahead.”

“Marsden thinks the perp might have gone underground. He wants to check it out. Should I go with him?”

Brice swore over the comm. “Sure, fine. Keep him out of trouble and radio if you find any sign of the perp. Do not engage. Do you understand me? Call for backup and wait.”

“Understood.”

Kelley smiled at me. “Let’s go.”

I looked around and pointed off to the side where there was a stairwell. “That way.”

We moved off together. I watched the floor for signs anyone else had gone this way but there was nothing in the wispy dust to tell one way or another. It blew about us in clouds. When I looked back there was no trace of our passage either.

A scream shot through the darkness behind us. I spun around, bringing up my Lottier and saw a flashlight ascend rapidly up into the atrium. There was a loud flapping noise and then the flashlight fell, tumbling end over end towards the ground. As far away as we were I couldn’t even tell for sure what was happening. There was another officer standing in the atrium swinging his flashlight around. I started running towards him and knew deep in my gut that I was going to be too late.

I yelled as I ran. “Turn it off! Turn the light off!”

Something swooped down out of the atrium. I saw a dark blur of motion then it crashed into the officer. The light spun away and smashed against a pillar, going out. My eyes were adapting to the low illumination. It was easier to see without the lights. Two child-sized shapes crouched on the officer. He screamed in short frantic pants. I heard a wet tearing noise and then he was quiet. I took aim and fired but too late. The shapes sprang upwards into the air with the officer dangling in their grasp. Shrill noises that could have been laughter floated down out of the atrium. The noise was picked up and repeated. It sounded like a classroom of children up in the dark laughing at us. I skidded to a stop, dimly aware that Brice was yelling over the comm Jillian held, demanding explanations.

“We have to get out of here,” I said. I recognized that laughter. We were all in trouble.

With my dark-adapted eyes I could see other eyes up there. Eyes which dimly glowed in the faint illumination which seeped in through cracks in the window coverings. Lots of eyes looked down at me and the laughter continued. I turned to Jillian and pushed her back towards the door.

“Move! Get out of here!”

Police officers ran towards us. Their flashlights were too bright and I had to cover my dark-adapted eyes. I waved them at the door. “Out! Get out!”

I felt a wind ruffle my hair and I dropped to the ground, rolling. As I stopped I saw two of our attackers sweep down at Jillian. Her mouth opened in a small ‘o’ of surprise. They caught her arms and swept her back, flying on either side of a pillar. Helpless to do anything else I closed my eyes at the last second. I heard her scream and then a wet-tearing sound followed by more of that crazed child-like laughter. When I opened my eyes a second later Jillian’s armless torso lay at the bottom of the pillar.

There were more screams around me and I saw two more flashlights spin off into the darkness. Once more I sensed movement and I rolled. A shape skimmed above the spot I had just occupied. I lunged up and caught furry ankles. I slammed him against the ground. He jerked and kicked then lay still. I picked up my Lottier and looked up. Glowing eyes looked back at me and I fired. A hit from a Lottier 45 in the face could be fatal. I picked two more targets and fired. Three bodies dropped out of the air and hit the floor. Hard.

The remaining police rallied and joined me in the atrium. Their flashlights stabbed upwards and guided their shots. Captain Brice ended up beside me. He held his light and gun steady. I put a hand on his shoulder.

“Turn off the flashlights! You’re making it easier for them.”

Brice didn’t look at me. “What the hell is going on?”

“Nosferans, captain.”

One of the officers with us swore. Brice glanced at me. “You can’t be serious.”

The Nosferans’ laughter filled the building.

“Turn the lights off. Now!”

Brice grimaced and flicked the switch. The other officers didn’t. I stepped away from the group and kept looking up. Nosferans silently dived out of the building’s upper reaches. They stayed outside the lights. I raised my Lottier and fired. The police fired but I doubted any of their shots hit. Then I heard wings flapping behind me. I turned. I’m fast, but with the shooting I heard them too late. Two Nosferans grabbed my arms and flew me right at the police. They scattered and the Nosferans, laughing, carried me up into air.

(Continued next week)

I hope you’re enjoying this novel! If you’d like to purchase the book you may do so in a variety of formats (ebook, print, or as an e-book + print bundle).

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Copyright © 2013 All Rights Reserved

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Chapter 2

R.M. Haag

Mira Samuels, state senator, walked up the hill toward Olympia’s capitol campus. Maybe it was the sunshine after last night’s brief rain, but everything absolutely gleamed today. A rich, spicy scent, thick and a bit gamey, mixed with baked rolls, drifted down the street. She couldn’t place it. Venison, maybe? It was coming from Winkler’s Bakery, on the next block. It had to be their famous meat-stuffed rolls, hot out of the oven. A crowd was already forming, drawn by the scent. A low growl formed in her throat.

She grinned, and pushed the growl back down. She didn’t growl in public. Not like some people since the Blessing. The whole world had changed, almost overnight in 2020, and ten years later the world was remade and new.

Dancing along the sidewalk, she relished the feel of the new rubberized texture coating the spotless sidewalk. It was a bright spring green color and the texture invited you to really dig in your toes. All those recycled tires put to good use. People still wore shoes, of course, but mostly for dressing up or if you had a job that really needed it for safety. Shoes had become like gloves,. But like most people since the change she could hardly bear to wear shoes anymore. Too constrictive. Vaguely she remembered what it was like when she was young.

The sidewalks were dirtier back then. People worried about things like broken glass. Even needles. No one had gone barefoot except at the beach, and even then you had to be careful.

Now? A much cleaner, nicer world. Maybe nicer wasn’t the right word, but there was no denying that the world was a better place now.

She crossed the street and inhaled deeply. Those rolls smelled so good, plus she was picking up on the excitement of the crowd. People were even waving money in the air, trying to bribe the guys on the door to let them in.

Her steps faltered as she got closer. It was so tempting. But if she had to get through that crowd? She didn’t have the time.

In that case she just had to dominate her way through.

She caught the gaze of one of the brutes on the door. Big, big boy with massive, mountain-sized shoulders. He looked like he could bench-press a truck. Probably could. No shirt, and his chest was covered in a thick coat of curly gray hair that matched the long hair that cascaded down his back. Not old, though, his strong face was unmarked. As she held his eyes she got a deeper impression.

He was so young! A pup really, but a really, really big pup.

All of which made it so easy. She walked straight at the bakery as if she had the place to herself. Her head was up, lips parted to show her bright smile. She put a bounce in her step and laughed silently when the pup’s eyes wandered.

Oh yeah, too easy.

Those in the back of the crowd fell away first, melting out of her path. She didn’t even acknowledge them. A couple of the more submissive in the crowd, men and women, turned their faces away, showing her their perfect unmarred necks.

Even the more dominate males at the front of the crowd, the quieter ones, fell back out of her path.

Laughter bubbled up her throat and rang out, delighted, joyful and unfettered.

Oh, yeah, life was good these days.

Up close the pup was even bigger. The other male standing on the other side of the door was only slightly smaller. Mira beamed at both of them, but she reached out and ran her hand through the curly hair on the pup’s chest.

“I’m really in a rush, boys, but those rolls smelled sooo good,” she said.

The pup almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to open the door for her. She gave him one of her best smiles and skipped inside.

Inside the electric lights were off, the only light came from a sun-tube on the ceiling, giving the place a warm natural light without the annoying buzz of fluorescent lights. The ten tables around the room were full, as were the seats along the counters, with the capital’s elite. State congress critters in blazers. No ties anymore, out of fashion along with shoes. Most of the women were dressed like Mira, in earth-tone dresses that moved freely.

A few of the men even wore kilts, which were becoming more and more popular as the years went on.

She recognized people, like Brett Northfield, state senator not only from the senate, but also because he was on the hunt committee with her. His round face was flushed as he fed a piece of a shredded meat roll to one of the two young women hanging on his arms. Both were blond, young and pathetically eager. Both likely had the word ‘aide’ in their job title, but it was clear the way they hung on him, just what they did to aid the senator. She didn’t care about Northfield. In the world of politics he was at his peak already.

Deep down the girls bothered her, but it wasn’t any of her business. Less dominate types latched onto those stronger It was that way long before the change.

Senator Northfield saw her and lifted his glass as a salute. Mira gave him the faintest nod and went on to the counter.

Behind the counter, several more young pups, all twenty-somethings, crowded up to the counter. Quick and eager to please, all three of them jostling for position as Mira strolled to the counter. A young woman with spiked yellow and black hair took the center spot with a well-placed thrust of her elbow into the side of the young man that crowded her. The girl had beautiful dark markings around her eyes, reflecting her moonlight side. Glitter spray gave her a moonlit shimmer as well. Her mouth fell open, grinning widely.

“I’ve got something for you,” the girl said. “Just in today, fresh kill.”

Mira inhaled appreciatively, savoring the spicy, gamey scent of the meat baked into the rolls. “Venison? Or is that boar?”

The pups laughed in sharp yips. The girl bit her tongue and shook her head. Delicate bone earrings made soft knocking noises. Clip-ons, but that was becoming the new standard. Most people didn’t want to get new piercings every month.

Mira leaned into the counter. “What is it then?”

The girl lifted a polished wood tray. On it were several chunks of the golden rolls, dotted with bits of meat, dripping grease onto the wood. “Try one. Tell me what you think?”

Mira’s eyes narrowed. They must have scored something rare to be making such a production of it. Dog, maybe? Most of the breeds she remembered were long gone but there were supposed to be tough feral dogs in the wilderness areas. They warned campers about them.

“Go on, then,” the girl said. “Ya know you want it.”

That was impossible to deny. Mira bent forward and opened her mouth expectantly. All of the twenty-somethings leaned closer, noses sniffing the air as the girl placed the morsel on Mira’s tongue. The girl’s finger traced a wet line across Mira’s bottom lip.

Hot grease and spices soaked the light bread. The outer crust crunched nicely and then Mira’s teeth sank into the meat. Soft, juicy, a bit gamey and pork-like but sweet and utterly delicious. She moaned her appreciation and swallowed.

The girl laughed and clapped her hands. So did the rest of them.

Mira grinned, and said, “That’s a lot of excitement over a meat roll.”

The girl leaned forward, pushing her hands into the counter, her eyes bold. “It’s our first regressive roll, we got a share from the last hunt!”

Mira was far, far too dominant to let anything show on her face except a wide, appreciative smile. “That’s fantastic! No wonder you’ve got such a crowd outside!”

“I know, right? It’s like huge, for us.” The girl turned to the others, who were handing her a foot long roll, wrapped in brown paper. The girl lifted it up and inhaled deeply, eyes closing, her whole body rising up with the inhalation.

Mira felt the same ache. The same hunger. She couldn’t claim she was any better, just because she denied herself. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had opportunities before, she’d just always managed to avoid it. She should have realized what was going on given the crowd outside, but just hadn’t thought about it.

The girl opened her eyes and held up the roll. “Ya want it, right?”

“Of course,” Mira said.

She reached out and the girl pressed the heavy, warm roll into her hand. One of the pups held out a tablet for her ident, she placed her left palm on it without looking away from the girl, who ducked her head playfully.

Tempting, but the morsel she’d eaten was like a bright spark burning a hole in her stomach. Or her conscience.

“Thanks so much,” Mira said. “I’ve really got to fly, thanks!”

The girl’s hopeful posture dropped, but Mira couldn’t encourage her. She liked being on her own right now, and she was old enough to be disturbed by the age and gender differences, even though neither of those was thought of as an issue today by most people.

She had to take the roll with her. She didn’t want to put it in the messenger bag she had over her shoulder, if the paper leaked it’d get all over everything.

Back outside the crowd parted for her again, but there was a lot of sniffing, and deep-throated growls from those gathered around. Mira waved breezily to the pup guarding the door, the one with the luscious gray hair, before continuing up the sidewalk.

But now her stride was fast and purposeful instead of dancing. She wanted to get up to the capitol and get to work. The warm roll in her hand could have been someone’s arm. In truth, the meat inside might have come from someone’s arm. She knew people in their forties, like her, and older who didn’t have any problem with it, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was wrong.

Cannibalism. That’s what it felt like, no matter how many scientists stood up and said that regressives weren’t human..

No matter if her stomach was growling from the smell of the meat.

Regressives. Unaltered humans, those that had miraculously avoided the Blessing and the bloody aftermath. Today science considered them a separate species, one doomed to extinction if steps weren’t taken to prevent it. She’d seen scientists toss around words like punctuated equilibrium and spontaneous adaptive evolution, ignoring the fact that many of them had actually been born human.

It disturbed her how much she’d enjoyed the bite that she had eaten. Even now, her instinct was to rip open the paper and devour the roll right there on the sidewalk.

Only her instincts didn’t control her. She decided what she would do, or not do.

(Continued next week)

I hope you’re enjoying this novel! If you’d like to purchase the book you may do so in a variety of formats (ebook, print, or as an e-book + print bundle).

From: $7.99 Select options

Copyright © 2013 All Rights Reserved

Contents

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Chapter 1

Ryan M. Williams

There should be a rule that a person shouldn’t have to visit the scene of a murder first thing in the morning. I shouldn’t complain. Sure, I might have stayed up late studying ribosome distributions in Euzebian biology but I didn’t have to be the one worrying about whether or not my daughter was still alive. Unlike Howard Winston, I hadn’t had to get a call that my daughter had been found dead in some downtown alley. Mr. Winston had a friend on the force. Someone thought he should be notified right away. No, I was just the guy that got called by Mr. Winston to find out what the hell had happened to Christina, or Chrissy as she preferred.

I sipped my white Torlian coffee and looked down the alley. I didn’t have to go any closer to see what was going on. My eyes aren’t exactly human anymore. I’ve worked on them a bit. Under normal circumstances I can see about twice as well as any human with an unaltered genome. In dim light or at night, however, I can see easily five times better than the standard human. From the mouth of the alley I could see the crowd. Small for this time of the morning, mostly composed of humans. Like most Olindan alleyways this one was mostly well maintained. Not too narrow. The wetlands plants in the drainage strip looked healthy enough. There were two police flitters blocking off the crime scene from the gawkers. Unfortunately that included me. I couldn’t see the body from this angle. Maybe I could go above and look down. I sipped the Torlian coffee. I could almost feel the boost running through my veins. Too much and I’d get jittery but this was only my first cup. I didn’t have to worry until I reached my third or fourth cup. Today I just might too.

A man moved into view behind the pale blue of the flitter’s canopy. I could see him easily enough. Captain Kynan Brice. We’d had dealings before. He didn’t much like me. He was a big man with raven black hair and deeply tanned skin. Captain Brice wasn’t fat; there was too much muscle beneath his bulk. He stayed in pretty good shape. I knew from Subha that he still dived regularly. He turned my way and I saw him squint. I doubted he could be sure it was me at this distance. I, on the other hand, could see the creases at the corners of his eyes. I decided to make it easy on him and started down the alley.

I saw the instant he recognized me for sure. His eyes widened slightly and he swore under his breath. He said something to the cop beside him and then came out to the police line.

“Well look here.” Brice crossed his arms. “It’s our very own detective Moreau. What are you doing here Mr. Marsden?”

I shook my head. “Please, Brock is fine, captain.”

“I’m waiting.”

I nodded in the direction of the flitter behind him. “There’s a body over there, right? Chrissy Winston. Her father is a vice-president over at Galactic Bank, Howard Winston. He’s hired me to find out what happened to his daughter.”

Brice rubbed his jaw. “How the hell did you find out about this so quickly?”

“I just got the call from Mr. Winston this morning. He had talked to someone we’ve worked for before. He had been informed by someone about his daughter. Are you going to give me access to the scene?”

I didn’t say anything about the fact that Howard Winston, reputable banker, is a large contributor to the police force. He’s the sort of man that made it a point of having friends in the right places. I didn’t say anything because Brice knew it as well as I did. I just waited politely, sipping my coffee, while he worked it out. I like Brice, I do. I think it’s unfortunate that the feeling isn’t returned. In fact I think Brice would like nothing better than to lock me up somewhere. If he ever gets the chance I’m sure he’ll take it.

This morning, however, he realized that sometimes practicality wins the day. Besides, whether he would admit it or not, he knew that there was a chance that I might be able to help them solve the case. A few times in the past we had managed to set aside our differences and work together on cases. He had to be thinking of that when he stepped to the side with a scowl.

“Fine, Brock. But you touch so much as a fiber and I’ll throw you off the case for tampering with evidence – you understand me? Howard Winston be damned.”

“I got it.”

Brice leaned closer and frowned at my mug. “Are you drinking hot milk?”

“Torlian coffee,” I said.

Brice frowned more. “What the hell are you drinking that stuff for?”

One of the things I like about Brice is that he is steadfast and dependable. Once he sets his mind against something there is no force in the universe that will change it for him. Not even the law. On some worlds with less legal emphasis on personal responsibility Torlian coffee is considered to be an illegal stimulant. Olinda’s legal system holds that an individual is responsible for their own decisions. For the most part that means that many substances and technologies that are illegal elsewhere are legal on Olinda. Brice doesn’t always agree. It’s one of the reasons that he doesn’t like me.

I slipped past him before he could change his mind and walked around the flitter. I stopped just as soon as I cleared the nose. There was a drop of blood on the biocrete. There was another drop a few inches closer to the building. Then more. Many more. The blood had sprayed out from a doorway alcove in the building wall. The girl lay on the biocrete with what was left of her head back and her empty eye sockets gazing right at me with the blank accusations of the dead. The top of her head lay nearby on the biocrete.

I eased around the spray pattern. I didn’t need to get any closer to see details. Not with my eye-sight. Brice nearly stepped on the outer edge of the spray pattern. I reached out a hand to stop him.

“What –”

I pointed at the biocrete.

Brice bent over at the waist, squinted and then he straightened with a scowl. He looked over his shoulder at one of the officers. “Let’s get some lights over here before we trample the evidence, okay?”

The officer went to the flitter and started looking inside for the lights.

I didn’t care about the lights. For me the scene was illuminated well enough by the early morning light leaking across the city. There were different blood patterns here, layered over one another. They told part of the story of what had happened to Chrissy.

“She must have been coming down the alley last night.” Her shoes, red, shiny, lay where they’d fallen.

“Why would she do that?” Brice asked. “We figured that her assailants must have dragged her back here from the sidewalk.”

I shook my head. “Look at her shoes.”

Brock squinted some more. “What?”

He probably couldn’t see them clearly back in the alcove. It was still fairly dark there, at least to normal human senses. “Her shoes are polished to a shine. There’s no sign of scuffing. If she had been snatched her feet would have dragged. She’d have been lucky to even keep the shoes on her feet. Much less keep them from being scuffed.”

“Okay, so she came down the alley.” Brice looked down towards the street. “Why would she come down here?”

I pointed up the alley towards the other end. “I think she came down from that end, cutting through the alley.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s facing that way.”

“She could have been turned around.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But I don’t think so. I think she came walking down the alley. When she got to this alcove she was pulled in sideways, killed, and then dropped.”

“Why would you think that?”

I gestured up the alley. “Because her footprints come down the alley towards the alcove.”

Brice scowled. “That’s biocrete. There aren’t any prints.”

“Biocrete is a living colonial organism, Captain. Like all living creatures it sheds dead cells. This creates a fine layer of dust. The dust normally washes away into the reclamation strips but it hasn’t rained yet. Prints that match her shoes are there in that thin layer of dust.”

“You can see that?”

I nodded. Nice thing about better vision, and it didn’t rely on technology. “If you get one of your officers to get a camera with a strong zoom I’m sure you can get some nice pictures of it.”

Brice swore and turned to whisper urgently to one of the other officers.

I took a couple deep breaths and turned my attention back to the body. Men are supposed to be tough. We’re always the ones that aren’t supposed to be affected by this sort of thing. I consider myself as tough as the next guy but I don’t like seeing people like this. Dead is bad enough. Dead and mutilated is worse. There’s a profound disrespect in mutilation. To top it off Chrissy Winston wasn’t someone dangerous. One quick blow with a blunt object to the right spot and she would have dropped dead in her tracks without knowing what had happened. But that isn’t what they had done to her.

Her body was mostly in the alcove. Her right arm was extended out into the alley. Her hands were elegant. Soft but strong looking with bird-like bone structure. She had colored her nails a deep forest green. A deep purple bruise circled her wrist. The bones there looked odd as if someone had squeezed her wrist in a clamp of some sort until the bones splintered and broke. The bruising made it clear that this had happened to her while she was still alive. I let my eyes skip over her head. I wasn’t ready to look closely at that yet. There was another dark bruise around her neck. Her shoulders were attractive as well. Small, firm with delicate bones. She was wearing a top with no shoulders. Like her nails it was a deep forest green but there were golden sparkles in the material. It ended just above her midriff. A long darker green leather skirt completed the outfit. The bright red shoes matched her red lipstick. Each of her ankles and her left wrist looked like the right. They had been squeezed until the bones shattered. Dark bruises banded each of her limbs. Chrissy reminded me of Calanthe. Petite and pretty. But she had come down this alley on her own. Why?

I licked my lips and took a couple more deep breaths. The worst violation had happened to her head. Something had precisely cut around her head just above her meticulously formed eyebrows. The entire top of her head along with most of her short black hair had been popped off like the top of a can. It sat a foot or so away from the rest of the body. It looked like someone had sunk into the biocrete until only the top of their head was showing. But it was only the top of Chrissy’s head. Her skull had tipped back over her outstretched right arm. The inside of the skull was empty except for a pool of blood that had leaked out onto the biocrete. Her empty eye sockets looking vacantly upwards.

My stomach is usually strong. Of course I had been drinking Torlian coffee this morning too. That’s probably why my stomach started to get uneasy looking at her scooped out skull. I turned away from the body and nearly ran into Brice. I’d been so focused on what I was doing that I hadn’t noticed him approach. In other circumstances that lapse of awareness could have been enough to get me killed. It was enough to get my stomach to settle down. The last thing I wanted to do was vomit Torlian coffee on Brice’s crime scene.

“Well? What do you see, detective Moreau?”

I gritted my teeth. Brice thought it was funny to call me that. I am a member of the Moreau Society, I don’t deny that. I don’t think it is a problem. Brice disagrees. I decided to let it slide. There were more important things going on here.

“She was alive when her brain was removed.”

Brice looked a bit paler. I wasn’t bothered by his name-calling. Really.

He swallowed. “Why do you think that?”

“The bruises, for one.”

“She has bruising on her neck,” Brice said. “She could have been choked to death before they ever cut into her skull.”

“That would have taken too long. He didn’t want to wait. She was violently restrained with enough force to break the bones in her wrists and ankles. But her neck isn’t broken, just bruised. The blood spray indicates that her heart was still pumping when they cut into her skull. There are holes spaced regularly around the cut on her head. I think they put something on her that cut quickly through the skull. That was pulled off and discarded. There are blood tracks running down her face from the cut and her eyes, nose, and ears. But then something interesting happens. The tracks turn to the right and then actually go towards the top of her head.”

Brice pushed his lips together. “What are you saying?”

“I think that after they removed the top of her skull she was still alive. Then they tipped her over and poured her brain out into a container of some sort.”

I turned and pointed at a spot near the body. There was another fluid on the biocrete there that was paler than blood. “That is probably the fluid that was in the container. A bit splashed out when her brain fell into the container.”

Captain Brice didn’t look well. But he wasn’t about to be weak in front of me or his officers. He took a couple deep breaths.

“Okay, so they took the brain. We knew that. Why?”

“How should I know?”

“Where were you last night?”

“What?”

Brice took a step closer and his hand fell down to his gun. “I asked you where you were last night.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You come down here claiming to have been hired by her father. You seem to know an awful lot about what went on in this alley.”

“If you’d open your eyes you’d see the same things I’ve seen. I’m just telling you what I see here.”

“So where were you last night?”

“I was at home,” I said. “My landlady, Sonya Thornton, can confirm that. She brought me over something to eat.”

Brice eased down and took a step back. He rubbed his jaw and nodded. “Fine. We’ll check it out. I don’t suppose you can tell us which way the perp went when he left the alley?”

I pointed at the door behind the body. “He went in there.”

Brice shook his head. “It’s locked. Place hasn’t been used in years.”

“Sorry. The lock is clean. There’s no biocrete dust on it. If it hadn’t been used in years the door should be covered in the dust. Besides, I can see that the dust on the ground has been disturbed and the blood drips there along the wall lead towards the doorway, not away from it.”

Brice waved to the officer that was taking pictures of Chrissy’s prints in the alley. “Officer Kelley, come here.”

Officer Kelley came over. She was a sturdy-looking woman with a broad, friendly face. She flashed a warm smile at me. I liked her right away. She wasn’t what some would consider beautiful but I thought her warmth made her very attractive.

“Hi,” I said. “Brock Marsden, private detective.”

“Jillian Kelley.” Officer Kelley juggled the light and camera so that she could shake my hand. Her grip was like her smile, warm and strong. I wouldn’t have minded holding on a bit longer but she was about to drop the light. I let go and caught it before it could escape from her grasp.

“Thanks,” she said.

“No problem.”

“Officer, if you don’t mind?” Brice gestured at the alcove. “I want to take a look at the doorway. Our dear detective Moreau here thinks that the perp went inside.”

“You’re a Moreau?” Kelley asked with frank interest.

“Yes.”

“Maybe we could talk later? I have some –”

“Officer!”

Kelley snapped the light over to the alcove. “Sorry, sir.”

Brice took the camera from Kelley and fiddled with the controls. Looking over his shoulder I saw him enhance the contrast and suddenly the dust on the ground was visible on the tiny screen. It was obvious that the door had swung out into the alley. There were even a few blood drops smeared when the door opened again and closed. Brice snapped off several shots and then handed the camera back to Kelley. He spoke into his comm.

“Listen up people. We now think that the perp entered this building. He might still be inside. We’re going to go in and search as soon as backup gets here. I want teams surrounding this building and get someone up on the roof. We’ve got to lock it down now!”

Brice turned to me and jabbed a finger at my chest. “Marsden, you stay out of this.”

“I can help.”

“I’m not taking a civilian inside. If you get in the way and endanger my people I’ll bring you up on charges.”

Brice turned to Kelley and told her to finish documenting the scene. They’d have to move the body to get inside through the door. It’d take a while.

I didn’t plan on staying outside either. Brice could complain all he wanted but I had to see what was inside there. Besides if he did try to lock me up he’d have to deal with Howard Winston. I didn’t think he was ready to take that chance yet.

(Continued next week)

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Contents

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Chapter 1

R.M. Haag

It’s 2030 and humanity is extinct. Or nearly so, those of us that remain live in hiding. That’s the first thing to know.

Sitting here in the warm April sunshine at Olympia’s Woodard Bay Park, you wouldn’t think it.

Andy Wilson, freelance writer, human, sat at one of the weathered gray picnic tables. His fingers slowed and stopped typing on the small translucent keyboard hovering over his lap. He looked around at the couples strolling, and the children playing, their shrill voices floating up from down by the new boardwalk. All of it, the water glinting in the sunshine, the cool breeze, the people, it all looked like a beautiful peaceful day. All the monsters out playing in the sunshine, glad of a nice break from the cold and rain. Temperatures up into the seventies today, it almost felt like summer.

Andy picked up his stainless steel thermos, sipped the unsweetened iced tea inside, laced with a few precious drops of the scent that kept him safe, holding the cool taste of it for a moment on his tongue before letting it slide down his throat.

A translucent screen floated in front of him, above the unmarred, rubberized picnic table. The background was white, blurring the beach and the water. The letters were crisp and black despite the sunshine. The screen, like the keyboard, were created by his augmented reality system. They weren’t really there, but seemed real to him. The journal he kept on it, that was private. Deadly private. But he like working out here, in public. In order to be invisible, he had to be seen. And the monsters couldn’t see the words. They just saw flat gray placeholders showing that he was working on something.

His fingers moved on the keys more. Although the keys weren’t really there, they felt as if they were.

The monsters look human. Take the red-haired girl that just sprinted past. Freckles on her nose, pony-tail, blue-jean shorts on skinny pale legs. Bare feet on the grass. Nothing threatening there.

Her brother, a smaller male red-headed version, sprinted right after her. Children laughing, their parents lounged with boneless grace on the grass, chuckling with indulgent humor as their brood scampered around without care.

Then the girl turned, swerved and ran straight at Andy’s table. Full-on sprint right at him. He could see her tiny nose flaring, yellow eyes wide and focused. Her panting came short and fast.

She ran like a steam-engine, huffing and puffing. There was a joy, a liveliness in her movements. She ran with a wild abandon, exultant in her speed and agility.

Except in a couple heart-beats she would smash right into his table.

Andy waited those heart-beats.

When she reached the table she bounded up. He saw her toes, nails painted red, catch the edge of the table top. In another heart-beat she would spring right over the table.

But Andy was already moving, anticipating her motion. He surged to his feet, one massive hand catching the girl by the throat. Her forward motion stopped in an instant, but her feet and legs kept going, stretching her horizontal.

He slammed her down on the table beside his thermos, and growled deep in his throat.

The girl’s parents were already on their feet.

The boy skidded to a stop on the other side of the table and immediately cowered back.

Beneath Andy’s hand, his skin dark against her pale, freckled neck, the girl whimpered and squirmed. But she didn’t fight. She tried to turn her head and advert her eyes.

His upper lip rose in a snarl. The parents were coming. Not running, but walking quickly across the grass.

The girl closed her eyes and turned her head to the side. Her ear looked so dainty. Details like that made it hard to remember she was a monster. A werewolf. Homo Sapiens Canis. Or post-human, as they preferred.

Andy released her.

As quick as a rabbit she rolled sideways off the table, landed on her feet, and sprinted to her parents. The boy was already there, cowering behind them.

Andy stood and looked straight at the father. Yellow eyes looked back at him, a common color among the monsters, but not the only one. The father held eye contact for a second, then glanced away. Not arguing dominance. The father nodded and Andy nodded back.

It’d only taken a second, but Andy’s heart beat steadily in his chest. He hadn’t any choice. If for one instant the monsters suspected the truth, that he wasn’t one of them, that he was a regressive, a normal human, then his days would be very numbered.

The father was a big guy, broad shoulders and even through the loose, white, buttoned shirt, his well-defined muscles were obvious through the fabric. Thick corded muscles in his legs, visible from his shorts down. He looked like a body-builder crossed with a fashion model, with his wavy brown hair brushing his shoulders. Very handsome, of course, like all the monsters.

And beside him, the mother was stunningly beautiful, with short strawberry hair like her daughter’s, a figure and a body to die for, very visible in the red bikini top and shorts.

Both had perfect skin. Both looked like they could bench-press hundreds of pounds without breaking a sweat. And Andy knew they were stronger than they looked.

But he’d worked hard to blend in. He knew what they saw. A lone wolf. A man in a t-shirt and cargo shorts, just as muscled as they were, if not more so, with buzzed hair. Not someone to mess with.

The girl had made a mistake entering his space. He had to play at being a monster, and a monster wouldn’t tolerate being interrupted that way. He’d played it right. The girl wasn’t hurt.

Deep, deep inside Andy felt shaken but he kept that pushed down. He couldn’t afford to let any of that show. As much as he hated the monsters, hurting a child wasn’t something he wanted to do.

He had played it right and now the entire family turned back to their space. The kids joined their parents and the mother started taking food out of their wicker picnic basket. Sodas came out of the blue cooler beside the basket. No harm done.

Andy settled back down in his seat.

Safe. Safe again for the moment. He sipped his scent-laced iced tea and remembered that he needed to pay O’Malley a visit to replenish his supply. That wasn’t something he could afford to put off, but he’d stay here another half-hour. Long enough to make sure the monsters didn’t think they’d driven him off.

He couldn’t look weak in front of the monsters.

(Continued next week)

I hope you’re enjoying this novel! If you’d like to purchase the book you may do so in a variety of formats (ebook, print, or as an e-book + print bundle).

From: $7.99 Select options

Copyright © 2013 All Rights Reserved