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1 They

It should have been a warning that the memory of the dead bastard’s knowing smile was the first thing to emerge from the darkness of my waking mind.

Instead of shoving it aside, I decided to indulge the grim mood that now shrouded me as snugly as the bed blanket. So I lay there, listening to the breathing of my bed companions whilst studying the architecture of my ceiling, its gothic brutality of dark wood panels with cold flowers carved into the grain, like some tragic effort to restore life to the thing that was now dead.

Again, that bastard’s smile invaded my mind, slow, creeping, mocking. It was that smile which pulled my hesitant finger over the trigger. Slasher Harry smiled at me as if he saw the demons that lived inside me, knew that long after he was buried they would still feast on my soul, and that dead or alive, he would be one of them, living on inside me, tormenting me with the rest, until my revolver once again seemed like a flickering flame of escape.

The fact that such morbid thoughts assailed me as I lay there stark naked with Shay and Ezra asleep either side of me, made me wonder whether my life was becoming as stale as the smell of my room, a mingling of sex, perfume, cologne, cigar smoke and … I sniffed my armpit … my sweat.

What was even more troubling, was that as I lay there, with Ezra’s glorious, soft breasts crushing against my arm, a sense of hollowness kept me flaccid and unaroused.

A sound of a distant whistle was closely followed by a gentle tremble of the bed as the rumble of the train going past shook our building. That told me it was a few minutes past seven, and time I faced another day of hunting down murderers around the city.

The fact that the cases I took only ever included Gendrian murderous never bothered me, nor did it bother the chief inspector. My past was not a secret, and if during their apprehension I shot dead the bastards whilst they resisted arrest, then it simply meant less paperwork, and less time and money wasted on the courts. But despite what most thought, I relished the hunt more than the bloody end. Yesterday was the exception. But then, that case was more personal to me than the others.

Shay moved restlessly beside me. Gently easing my arm from under their head, I slid out of the bed.

Strewn through the bedroom and the dark hall leading to it was an oddly macabre collection of frantically discarded clothing: a bra, a pair of boxer shorts, trousers, two shirts, a skirt, a dress, boots and stilettos …

Ezra was one of those feminine Herms, the type Shay particularly liked. The dress I stepped over was theirs. Personally, though I liked a good handful of breast, my tastes ran more towards Shay’s strong jaw, and a rather impressive cock that often went with that. But these last three years, Shay came with the package of Ezra. If I wanted to bed Shay, Ezra was to be a part of that. I did not mind. It was clear that Ezra held deep affection for Shay, though not deep enough to demand exclusivity as yet. I suspected that that time was not far off.

I closed the bathroom door and stared into the mirror. Yesterday I shot a man in cold blood. You’d think something like that would show itself in my face, my eyes. I did not regret it yet felt the stain of it nonetheless. My fingers went to my stomach, tracing over the three ugly scars, a reminder that I had been stained already, long before Slasher Harry took to hunting young Herms in our city.

Yesterday, I closed the case and earned Secureforce both the much-needed publicity as well as the final payment from the consortium of victim families who had engaged our services. The celebration in the office spilled out onto the rest of my night, which invariable ended up with me drinking myself into feral stupidity, a wild night of sex, and then into blissful oblivion.

For long moments, I stood in the shower, washing the grime of last night’s activities off me. The bathroom was a soothingly dark room, with emerald green tiles, orange wallpaper, black décor and copper taps. Invariably I took long showers, perhaps with a vain hope that the steaming water would wash clean my soul.

I head the door open and turned my head to see Shay leaning against the door jamb with crossed arms. They were wearing one of my robes, which I liked in a primitively possessive way. ‘Want me to take care of that?’ They nodded at my semi-erection.

It was tempting. But not enough to break through the grimness of my mood. Nor did I want to spend too much time alone with Shay. They were not one of those doe-eyed Herm hoping to turn me into their lifemate. But I was neither blind nor stupid. I knew Shay harboured feelings for me. Shay was my oldest friend, the only one I had kept from my old life.

Shay had also been my first, and I suspected that for some years now they had been waiting for me to finally be their last. But that waiting seemed to be coming to an end. Hence Ezra, a new addition to our complex dynamic.

‘No time, darling.’ I grinned smoothly and turned off the taps. ‘I’m already late, and Fanigan is looking for an excuse to dock my pay again,’ I added as I dried myself off.

Shay huffed. ‘That bad at the company? I don’t think they’d dare, seeing as you are bringing enough contracts in to feed the rest of them.’

I was not above vanity and was more than ready to admit that in the last three years I had almost singlehandedly dragged Secureforce back from near obscurity to the front pages of the morning newspapers. Despite that, my commission for solving cases was pitifully low. The lion’s share of payment went to the owner CEO of Secureforce, with the remainder filtered through down the ranks, before the leftover dregs found themselves in my pocket.

‘I earn my keep, but private clients are no match for corporate and government,’ I said as I strode past Shay, pausing only to briefly kiss them on the lips.

I pulled out clean clothes from my wardrobe, dressing in my favourite striped suit and silk white shirt. I picked up one of my red stilettos and searched around for the other one. There was a light, amused cough, and I looked over at Shay, who was holding the other stiletto dangling from their finger.

‘The president is about to put out the tender for the next five-year security contract. Maybe this is a good time for you to ask for that pay rise you’ve been hoping for,’ Shay said. ‘They need you if they want to have any chance to get it.’

I sat on the bed to pull on my red stilettos. ‘One detective does not make a company. Besides, Fanigan already said that my promotion depends on our company getting this contract. I don’t see it happening, however. There is no reason why Stateguard won’t get an extension like last time.’

It seemed not only my life had become stale, but also my career.

Behind me Ezra did not stir, sleeping with absurd abandon that took up every available free part of the bed. It was not the first time I was tempted to check their pulse. Ezra slept deeper than the dead and woke up instantly with frightening clarity of mind and a cheerful expression.

I rose to my feet and headed for the door. ‘I’ll see you later, Shay.’

‘Don’t get yourself killed, Ari,’ they said impassively behind me. Shay was not given to showing any emotion. It was what I liked about them. Unlike Ezra whose every thought and feeling was expressed in their face.

Outside, the day was grey and threatened rain. This time of year, the air just outside my apartment block was sweet-scented with blue hyacinths and an invasion of wisteria vines encrusting the walls of the building. That was soon overpowered by smoke and soot coming out of gurgling cars that crammed the roads of our city.

I walked a way down the street, pausing briefly at the window of the gun shop to admire the revolver I had been saving for, silver-trimmed with polished walnut grip. The dark elegance of it was haunting. I have never craved to possess anything of beauty, yet this revolver caught my attention the moment I saw it. Despite its dark, unforgiving beauty, there was a sense of brooding danger in the flow of the wood. It was made for my hand, for my soul. Made by an evasive and exclusive designer, B. Hawkthorn.

Each revolver they designed and made was unique, rare and cost more than my yearly salary. This one was made for me. I knew it’s every grain, every curve by now. Once, I went inside and enquired about it, to be told that that particular one was not to be sold without the owner’s permission, for it was held in reserve as a showcase and nothing more. It felt like caging a lion. A beast like that should be roaming free, should be doing what it was born to do.

‘One day I’ll free you,’ I uttered to it and taring my gaze away, hailed the passing cab, before hopping in with instruction to take me to Secureforce Tower on Plank Street.

My car had been riddled with shot gun holes two days ago and impounded in the company warehouse pending repair or destruction. It was not yet clear which of these the mechanic will make a case for. In the meantime, Fanigan had blamed my recklessness and disregard for company property for its demise and has since refused to assign me another vehicle. I assumed the punishment was less to do with ‘teaching’ me another lesson in being careful not to get shot at whilst surrounded by Secureforce property, than it had to do with the company finances.

A muffled radio was playing in the front of the cab, which I largely tuned out until the news came on.

‘… a hostage was shot … condition of Mayor unclear …’ I caught from the garbled radio, just as the black Stateguard Security van raced past us in the opposite direction, blaring full sirens and armed guard crew rocking in the back.

‘Hey,’ I said to the driver. ‘Mind turning the radio up?’

The driver did as I asked then shouted over the radio, ‘Didn’t you hear. GLF seized the city hall last night. They’ve taken the mayor, their family and all the staff hostage.’

‘… Stateguard spokesperson has so far made no comment, other than to say that they were dealing with the situation …’ The radio added to the driver’s story.

The driver huffed. ‘Dealing indeed. The GLF already shot dead one of the hostages just this morning.’

I sat back, pondering this latest development. Gender Liberation Front have been much more active recently, with a spate of increasing number of incursions into our country from the nearby Gendria. When I was younger, I tried to understand this almost frenzied obsession binaries seemed to have against my kind, against Herms. I no longer tried. They were our enemies. I made peace with that. But to take the mayor of our city hostage was brazen even by their standards.

If not for these extremists, security companies would not be sprouting every day around the city until too many small players were treading on our toes, whilst government-backed Stateguard hoovered up most of the business. Then again, if not for GLF, I’d not have been made detective by the time I was twenty. Initially, I had applied to Stateguard when I left school but did not meet their strict entry criteria on the basis of being ‘unpredictable’ and ‘insubordinate’. Secureforece were less picky by then. I guess I was grateful to be noticed at all.

The cab pulled up outside the tallest building in the precinct, red-bricked gothic facade rising ten storeys. At the top, glowing neon sign announced this to be the headquarters of Secureforce.

Once they were the largest security company in the city. But ten years ago, before my time with them, they lost the lucrative and long-held government contract for our city’s security and policing to Stateguard. It pushed Secureforce into the rank of second best. Their fall was rapid in both prestige and wealth, and they have never recovered since. They lost clients and many guards and detectives lost their jobs. Those who remained behind were forced to take a huge pay cut.

The signs of crumbling wealth were everywhere, from the grand lobby with peeling plaster where damp got it, to empty offices scattered through the building. There was only one guard on the door, who nodded to me, with a polite, ‘Morning, detective.’

‘How’s the baby, Alf? Still keeping you awake?’

‘I’ve taken to sleeping in the spare room, so they are keeping poor Fran awake at the moment. We’ll swap next week.’

I patted them on the shoulder sympathetically and strode to the lift.

Our division occupied the top three floors, right below the CEO’s suite of offices, the millionaire playherm owner of the company, Jamie Carlson. Once I have been to the top floor, received a medal and a glass of celebratory whisky from Carlson before being sent back down below.

As the elevator took me upstairs, the dreary classic music filled my ears, and my thought returned to the situation with the mayor. There was no sense in GLF executing hostages less than twelve hours after the siege. Though brutal, they always had an agenda. This whole business was outside of their usual carnage. They rarely took hostages, but instead preferred to strike quickly and brutally, killing, destroying in moments, and rapidly retreating. They did not allow themselves to get bogged down in drawn-out attacks, to be surrounded and cornered.

The lift door opened, and the familiar bustle of our office and a garble of conversations greeted me. Phones were ringing off the hook, a row of secretaries were typing and transcribing. Junior filers were running around carrying notes and placing files on officers’ desks.

A few officers waved a greeting to me as I strode past them, my heels clipping neatly on the tiled floor. The few remaining oil lamps that haven’t been replaced with electric ones filled the air with a scent of burning wick.

‘If I was you, Rockhall, I’d be calling in sick today.’ Detective Reece fell in step with me.

‘And miss a glorious day of mayhem and murder.’

Reece grinned impishly. ‘Trust me, today is not the day to leave your bedmates. How’s Steph anyway? Haven’t seen them around lately.’

‘Steph left me,’ I said with indifference and echoes of relief. Steph was one of those who hated to share. Strange how those were also the most volatile ones in temper when it came to ending a relationship.

‘Ahh.’ There was a wealth of understanding beneath the fake sympathy in that one sound from Reece.

‘Besides, Fanigan won’t let me throw another sicky so soon after the last one.’ The last one was due to me recovering from a rather impressive blow to my head with a vase by Steph when they were informing me that I was a cad, a bastard and a scoundrel they never wanted to see again. ‘Perhaps you might simply tell me what’s amiss, so I might prepare myself.’

‘Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise, now would I?’ Reece winked and fell away. They were mischievous, their elven face attractive. I’d fanaticised about them once or twice whilst fingering myself or jerking off. Maybe one day I’d be tempted to break my cardinal rule of never bedding my colleagues and invite Reece to my bed for a night or two, or ten.

Hell, my groin was aching just watching that lush mouth of theirs. Reece liked to wear their hair longer than most, curling deliciously past a strong jaw. I’ve always loved a strong jaw in my lovers, a hint of ruggedness and wildness.

I waved dismissively to Reece without breaking my stride, heading down the corridor towards my office.

The bespectacled, middle-aged Tay, the office secretary, suddenly stepped in front of me and shoved a file into my hand. ‘You are late. Here’s a report for you to read.’

I frowned at the file. Classified was stamped over it in red ink.

‘Since when do we do anything that’s classified?’

Tay eyed me over their spectacles in that uniquely chastising way or theirs. ‘Maybe you’d know if you’d answered your phone, Rockhall. We tried to ring you last night. And again, this morning. Clearly your phone was off the hook. You know the company policy. Fanigan is in a foul mood with you.’

Damn. It was a strict rule of mine to always take the phone of the hook when bedding someone. There was nothing more annoying than the phone going off mid coitus. I always replaced the handset afterwards, but last night, after a long night of drinking and fucking, I simply passed out.

‘What’s going on, Tay?’ I asked.

Tay had a habit of turning everything into an incident report. ‘I’ll tell you what happened. The mayor has been taken hostage, along with thirty of their staff. One of them was executed an hour ago, and they are threatening to pop another one by lunchtime.’

‘What’s that to do with us? It’s clearly Stateguard’s matter to deal with.’

‘Chief inspector will brief you. You are instructed to go to their office straight away. No dallying, Rockhall.’

‘I shall delay myself no longer,’ I said with a cheeky bow.

‘Someone really should have cuffed the back of your head when you were little,’ Tay said with the sake of their head, before marching off to their desk outside Fanigan’s office.

I chuckled and pushed open Fanigan’s door without knocking, ready for a healthy mix of contrite and defensive when the chief took me to task …

My feet staggered to an instant stop, as faces turned my way.

Time slowed. For in that moment, in the gloom that was Fanigan’s office, an awareness hit me like a summer gale, a sensation of there being something violent and intense in the air, that made the hovering cigar smoke seem like a smothering blanket. It was akin to air racing out of the room, and my lungs fighting to cling to the remnants of their last breath. It was the sensation of a raging, wild storm turning its gaze on me and studying me whilst turning me inside and out.

I turned my head towards the source of that heady power, and my gaze collided with cold blue eyes, intent, focused, a raging storm in their depths. The gaze that dismantled you with just a stare.

Chills raced over my arms and back. The beat of my heart quickened. The rest of the face came into focus and it was a kick to every physical sense my body possessed. Strong shadowed jaw, sculpted features, harsh, raw and untamed. Black hair falling to broad shoulders. If a wolf could turn into a human, I would be looking at that creature now, a terrible sense of violence hanging about it in wait. But it was the stubble around the jawline that snapped me out of whatever abyss that icy gaze pushed me in into.

Before me stood a Gendrian. A bloody Man , a bloody binary, an adam-appled man . Tall, broad, with a bleeding stubble on the broadest chin I’ve ever seen, somehow burning me inside out in a way no person, and most definitely no Gendrian ever had.

Liar , a voice from deep in my mind mocked me. There was one once before .

In disbelief, or a moment of lunacy, my gaze dropped to his crotch as if seeking to confirm what was bleeding obvious.

‘What the hell is a Gendrian … a bloody Man , doing in your bloody office, Fanigan?’

The man clearly did not miss the direction of my gaze as his grin spread wickedly slowly across his blasted stubble-coated face. His eyes flashed with mockery, as if having dissected me with his perusal, he found a great many things to laugh about. ‘You must be the inimitable Detective Ari Rockhall.’