Page 9

Calix almost ignored the pounding on the door, stumbling out of the bathroom bleary-eyed from all the vomit-induced tears. He’d spent the better part of the morning huddled around the toilet with his face in the bowl, all because of whatever had been in that single drink he’d consumed at the party.

It’d been hours since he’d finally stopped trying to convince himself it was because of what he’d witnessed there either. If he were a better person, he wouldn’t even have to lie to himself about that. Wouldn’t have to convince himself he was sick to his stomach because he’d watched another living being be sawed in half.

He’d seen the blood.

Heard the screams.

But that wasn’t it.

It wasn’t the gore that made him sick. It was all of those people sitting there watching it. Acting like someone wasn’t being torn apart and tortured against their will.

It was the fact that he’d been one of them.

Despite all of his efforts to be a good person, Calix had sat there amongst them and done nothing. He’d merely watched. What did that say about him?

What did it say, that the entire drive home he’d been worried about Aodhan and not the merman? Hell, the merman hadn’t even come to mind again until this morning. Instead of calling for backup or sending the police the location of the party, Cal had gone back to his hotel, given himself several hand jobs while picturing Aodhan and Antithesis, and had promptly passed out with his dick still resting against his palm.

He passed the washer machine on the way to the door, the light flashing indicating it was ready for the dry cycle to be keyed in. His bedding and clothes had been covered in dried come when he’d woken, and he’d tossed it frantically into the machine to hide the evidence of his humiliation.

Except for the suit. The suit he’d tossed into a garment bag and thrown into his closet. He wasn’t sure how that had to be cleaned and hadn’t wanted to risk the washer, though now that he was thinking a bit more clearly, he realized that was stupid too.

It wasn’t like he was going to return it to the doctor covered in his shameful bodily fluids.

He should toss it in the trash and make up some story about spilling coffee on it or something of the like.

“I’m coming,” he called out tersely once he was only a few feet from the door, yanking it open when he got there.

Troya stood with a paper tray in one hand and a tablet tucked under his other arm. He took Calix in and then pushed past him, entering the hotel room without an invitation. “You aren’t the type to take a sick day, but now that I see you, you really do look like shit.”

“Gee,” Calix let the door shut and followed him into the living room area where his partner was already making himself comfortable on the small loveseat, “thanks.”

Troya set his holo-tab on the coffee table and took a look around at the space.

“What are you doing?” Cal asked.

“Weren’t we both supposed to have the same style suite? Why’d you get an upgrade?” He pulled the fancy powder pink throw pillow from behind him and held it up. “Is this real silk?”

Calix rolled his eyes and snatched the pillow, clutching it close before dropping down on a navy chair set across from the love seat. “I’m guessing you didn’t come all this way to find fault with my room.”

“I’m literally in a room two doors down,” Troya argued, “and I’m telling you, my room isn’t decked out like yours. Who’d you blow to get all the perks, huh?”

His gaze hardened and he went to stand, intent on kicking the Inspector out, but Troya threw up his hands and stopped him.

“Okay, okay. Fine, it was just a bad joke. Mostly. The room really is better, though. Anyway,” he tossed the holo-pad to Calix, “these are the notes I collected yesterday from the doctor and the rest of the staff we were able to speak with. Doesn’t seem like there’s going to be much help there.”

Cal scrolled through the file, forced to admit his partner was probably right. “We knew it was a long shot from the beginning.”

“You’re disappointed. Would have been nice if we could solve this thing quick and you could put in your retirement at the ripe old age of twenty-six.” Troya leaned back and rested his hands behind his head. “What’s up with you and the doctor?”

His finger momentarily paused on the screen before he collected himself and nonchalantly asked, “What do you mean?”

“He wouldn’t shut up about you yesterday,” Troya divulged. “It’s not like you to make friends. Has me wondering if maybe there’s something more going on…? He did rescue you at the reunion. Was it love at first sight?”

“Shut up.” Cal tossed the pillow at him, hard, grinning when the Inspector caught it and laughed. For a moment, he could almost believe that maybe they didn’t dislike each other as much as he’d always believed. But that wasn’t a thought he’d allow himself to hold onto.

“Do you like him?”

Cal’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

“Did someone…” He ran a hand down his face. “That’s dumb. We’re not in grade school anymore.”

“The doctor may or may not have asked me to feel you out on the subject,” Troya admitted with a shrug.

“Seriously?”

“What? I think it’s kind of cute. Don’t you?”

“No.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay, I believe you. Anyway, those are the notes. I was able to record my meeting with the Director, so you can listen to it later if you want. Personally, I don’t think you should bother. There was nothing useful there either.”

“You met the Director? What’s he like?”

“Titus is…Well. He’s a Connect. So.”

Calix couldn’t help but stare. “No shit.”

“Yeah, really. Royal Titus Mercer, Director of Hopeful Heart Hospital, is a Connect, and a pretty high-standing one, if my instincts are any good.

“All Connects are high standing,” he reminded.

He’d never met one in person before, but they’d learned about them at the Academy in their beginner's courses. Those who went on to study to become Inspectors like Troya might have gotten a more extensive course, but the fact that Connects, even at a basic level, were taught to all cadets meant they were important and fairly high up the proverbial food chain.

One of the oldest documented species in the universe, Connects were a regal and secretive bunch. Though their home planet, Tenor, was still occupied, due to dwindling populations, many Connects had dispersed throughout the galaxies in search of mates.

“I guess that helps to explain the weird vibe I got,” Troya said, though it was obvious by his tone that he was uncertain of his own words. “Connects can live for centuries. Maybe he’s just old and was looking down on me or something like that.”

“What do you mean? What vibe?”

“It was…chilling? I don’t know, man.” He tossed the pillow back at Cal, clearly embarrassed. “It sounds stupid when I say it out loud like that. He just had weird energy, okay?”

“He made you uncomfortable?” Calix had seen Troya talk his way out of a demerit with their captain before. If he was saying someone unsettled him, it was worth paying attention to.

“Yeah, but I’ve never met a Connect before. Maybe that’s just how they are. They have all this built-up energy, after all. That’s why they need to create pods. Each Connect needs to find two mates before the age of one hundred or they risk losing their mind. The influx of energy within them eats away at the brain first.”

“They must have trained you about Tenor in case we ever needed to take a case there,” Cal said, unable to help his curiosity. “What else did they tell you? I don’t know much, just the basics.”

“Pods are traditionally created with at least two of their own kind,” Troya told him. “In recent years, they’ve had to make due with taking mates outside of their species. It’s a great honor to be chosen by one, it’s supposed to make you set for life. Connects all have generational wealth that would allow them to live comfortably without ever having to lift a finger.”

Cal tilted his head. “And yet Titus has chosen to not only work, but oversee an entire hospital? Sounds stressful.”

“That’s not all,” Troya added, unable to help himself when gossip was thrown into the mix. “He was an infamous brain surgeon up until two years ago. But that’s not even the most interesting part! He’s only worked for the hospital for a decade. He’s thirty-five!”

That was pretty young to be made the director of a hospital of Hopeful Hearts stature.

“Do you think it’s because of his skill or because of his station?” Troya thought it over. “Maybe both?”

“What I think,” Cal drawled, “is he’s only nine years older than me and he’s already got his shit together. Lucky.”

“Says the guy who’s about to retire at twenty-six.”

He shrugged. “It’s not like I can go the rest of my life without a job. I’ll have to find something else to do.”

“Going to stick around here?”

He snorted. “Are you kidding? After the warm welcome I received? No.”

Calix didn’t want to think about the night of the reunion.

“I know you hate causing trouble, but you really should have reported them for jumping you.”

“Bruce said the same thing. But it’s not going to happen. Let’s just call it even and move on.”

“Even with what?” Troya shook his head. “You keep saying you were innocent back then, if that’s the case, there’s nothing to get even with.”

“Whether it was an accident or not—”

“Whether it was an accident or not, it’s time to fucking grow a pair and move on.” Troya rolled his eyes and stood with a flourish, practically stomping over to the mini fridge. He stuck his head inside and pulled out a bottle of local beer. “Can I have this?”

“Whatever, it was already in there.”

“What?” Troya frowned. “That’s seriously messed up. My fridge has water and soda in it, that’s it. Why are you getting so many upgrades? I’m taking this up with Freya in booking once we’re back. This is bullshit.” He twisted the top off and took a swig as he headed back to the couch.

“Want to trade rooms?” Cal offered, only for his partner to get even more annoyed with him.

“Quit doing that shit. How many times do I have to tell you, it wasn’t me.”

“What wasn’t you?” He wasn’t following.

“You think I’m the one who spilled and told everyone at the Academy what you were accused of here, don’t you?”

Calix leaned back in his seat. “Well, the rumors only started up after you’d arrived.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“So it was a coincidence then?”

“You don’t believe me.” Troya snorted and then smirked. “This must be what you felt like back then. Telling the truth but having no one have your back.”

“Bruce did,” he corrected. “Bruce made sure I had a good attorney and helped keep me sane throughout the entire process. The woman who worked at the orphanage I lived at did too. She couldn’t leave the rest of the kids behind, so she never came to any of the meetings or the trial, but she wrote me a letter once.”

“What’d it say?”

“I…” Calix’s brow furrowed. “I don’t remember.”

“Weird.” He changed his mind rather quickly. “Maybe not. I imagine there’s a lot of stuff from that time you’d rather forget. Your mind probably wiped as much of it away as possible.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You’re probably right.”

“Anyway,” Troya set the mostly empty bottle on the table and pulled up his notes on his multi-slate, “anything happen at the party last night? You didn’t submit anything to the group forms.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “No, we didn’t get anything.”

Calix hadn’t been there long enough to even attempt to. The whole night had been a mistake, and he still hadn’t decided how much he wanted to share about the things he’d witnessed.

And allowed to happen.

If he did decide to file a report, it’d be with Bruce directly. Troya didn’t need to know about the sick things that went on in the criminal underbelly of his homeworld.

Hell, Cal wished he still didn’t know anything either.

But more than that, he wished he could stop thinking about Aodhan and Antithesis.

Wished he could stop wondering how far they’d ended up going.