Chronicles of City M

Misaki sucked in a deep, cold breath, wondering when he’d finally die. How long had it been since he’d last eaten? A week, maybe more? He couldn’t remember the taste of food. Even the gruel they got in the concentration camp had been better than nothing.

The cold frost of winter covered the streets and made him shiver. Layers of dirty clothes stolen from the trash and other homeless didn’t help. Somehow the wind blew right through him.

He huddled in a doorway in the heart of the City M slums. There had been talk of police enforcement sweeping through, jailing those like him, throwing others out of town. He could hope for jail. It had a roof, heat, and inmates got food. If he hadn’t escaped the containment camps of the south, he’d have thought anything would be better than this endless cold and gnawing hunger. But really he’d had it much worse.

People wandered by him. Some even paused to stare. Did he look so awful? “Spare some food?” he whispered, not too proud to beg, but knowing well enough not to meet their eyes. A shadow loomed over him, then another joined the first. He should have been afraid, but they could do nothing that hadn’t already been done. Any violence against him now would likely kill him, and he had longed for death for years.

“He’s a child,” one voice said.

“Small, but I bet he’s legal or will be soon. Good bone structure. Could be pretty with some meat on him,” another replied.

“I have people begging to work for me. What do I need of a street urchin starved near to death?”

“A hidden gem. Give me six weeks with him, and he’ll be one of your biggest earners. I did promise when I bought out my contract that I’d find you a comparable replacement.”

“How can you see this as your replacement, Paris? He’s a psi. People will run the second they glimpse those eerie eyes.”

Their banter bounced back and forth like Misaki couldn’t hear them. He squinted against the sunlight to try to make out the figures without blatantly staring at them. One was younger, handsome, dressed up like some sort of dandy or a prince from a storybook. The other stood tall and firm like a soldier. Misaki cringed away from the older man, too many memories of beatings, experiments, and pain.

“You had a brother who was psi, did you not? You once told me he went missing at a young age. How would you feel if the world treated him like this? Left him out here to die like a rat? I plan to put an end to this homelessness in my new job. No matter how the other senators fight me, I will use my own money if I have to. No child should end up like this.” The younger man was speaking. He knelt down, reaching his hand out. “What if I offer you food, shelter, and safety, little one? Would you come with us?”

False promises. Misaki had heard a lot of those. “What do you want me to do?” he whispered, not daring to hope. No more experiments—please, if there was any sort of god or goddess of life and death, there would be no more. He’d go with them anyway, if only to hasten death. Surely it would take him sooner rather than later. He had already endured so much. The pretty man before him could be an angel from the darkest bowels of hell, and Misaki would still go with him. Maybe he could be warm for a few minutes. Or even have the endless ache in his stomach eased by a bit of broth. He could only dream of having someone to hold him again like Hyeon had. Hope was by far the cruelest of emotions.

“My friend here offers contracts for favors. You’ll have food, shelter, security, all the clothes and pretty things you could ever hope for, and all you have to do is work for him. Ease the troubles of others, provide pleasure, and be all they hope to ever attain, even if it’s only for a half an hour.”

“You want me to be a prostitute?” Misaki couldn’t see anyone wanting the battered shell he was, starved, emaciated, ugly. Who would pay for that? And then there was his curse. “I can’t touch people. I see things….”

The older man sighed. “Useless, Paris. If you want a charity case, so be it. But I don’t know how I can use him.”

“Six weeks, Bart. Give me six weeks. What is your name, child?” the younger man, Paris, asked.

“Misaki. Misaki Itou.” Please take me with you. Or kill me. Anything but leave me in this misery for one more day.

“Misaki—a shining star indeed. Six weeks, Bart, and you’ll be unable to hide the brightness of this little gem.”

Paris wandered through the open area of the empty casino between rows of machines and tables. He could imagine the sounds of the slot machines clinking and card sharks calling a bet. Even after several decades unused, the casino was clean—though the air was a little stale. One dodgy old caretaker had seen to the place for nearly a quarter of a century. The largest hotel and casino in the Midwest had been abandoned after the plague had killed the global economy. Was City M ready for it to return?

“It’s all structurally sound,” Oscar, Paris’s solicitor, told him. “We’ve had experts sweep the entire building for signs of cracks or leftover radiation. Heating and cooling systems need to be updated, but there’s plenty of room on the roof for solar panels and even an eco-garden if you want to go that route. The aquarium is solid. Though I can’t imagine it will be easy to fill since the coastal cities have no way to ship any aquatic life safely here. Or if they have any to spare. The cross-country trains just aren’t that reliable. You could put stuff from the restaurant supply in there. Give those feeder fish a better life and have something to feed your guests in case of a food shortage.”

Paris swallowed back a snort. The tubes were meant to house dolphins and sharks, not shrimp and salmon. Though the idea had merit. “What about all the machines? They’re old, but do they still work?”

“More than old. Vintage. Some as much as a century old, but they still work. The caretaker said he tested the machines every year and even has a guy who would come in and fix them if they broke. Technology is old, but that might be a draw.”

Paris nodded. Just beyond the edge of what was now City M’s red-light district, the casino had loomed large and intimidating for ages. No one wanted it because of the size and the proximity to the many whorehouses that blighted the edge of the city. Only with the popularity of the Hidden Gem had the area become more of a tourist attraction than the slum it used to be. Paris had been eyeing the building for years, contemplating options, dreaming up possibilities. The place needed some fixes—lights and carpeting; all the rooms would need to be renovated, and the kitchen would need new appliances—but he could almost feel the energy rolling through the place. Casinos were something he’d only read about in stories. Sure there were a few in the coastal cities, but when did he have time to go there?

The attached hotel had potential, and he would change one of the many meeting hall areas into a series of rooms for a spa, another into a grand ballroom, and then expand the dining room. The tax benefits to the city and possible tourist draw had pushed the senate to approve his request to buy the place. “Is the no windows a casino thing? Is it safe?”

Oscar shrugged. “As safe as any old building. I guess they didn’t do many windows because they wanted people to lose track of time and keep gambling. Plenty of secure doors and escape routes but not much natural light.”

Paris would have all the glass—windows, mirrors, even the sanitary glass in the buffet—changed to safety computer monitoring, a minor change that wouldn’t interrupt the old-world feel. Some paint and a wise choice of decor and he could convince people inside the casino that the plague had never happened and the war had just been a bad dream.

“When does the next bunch of refugees arrive?” Oscar asked him.

Refugees was a nice way of putting it. They were all rescues from the South. Some spirited away from the pray-the-gay-away camps, others from slavery. This newest batch would be almost a dozen. He hoped they all made it, though the trek was long and hard. There was always the possibility of bandits getting them and selling them off to the whorehouses along the roads, or even the South tracking them and dragging them back. Paris promised them a better life. Always found them all jobs even if they were just as contract companions. At least the whores at the Gem got health insurance, regular breaks, and decent pay. The roadside whorehouses were little more than slavers.

“They arrive next week. I’ve got a handful of them picked out for the Gem. A few of my contacts have positions open and contracts available for those who don’t fit the role.”

“This is ideal, then. You’ll have plenty to choose from to staff everything from the card tables to the kitchen, and room for more rescues.”

Paris agreed. Everyone would be trained so long as they were willing. Those who were unwilling got no sympathy from him. They could work their way up from the bottom, but only if they tried. “Let’s get the paperwork signed and begin renovations. I want this place open by the end of the year.” Six months wasn’t that long to complete renovations, but he’d done the Gem in only two. It was a matter of knowing who to talk to so the job got done.

One more legacy that Paris hoped to leave behind for all those he’d rescued throughout the years. If the casino generated income like he hoped, it would be self-sustaining and need more than a couple dozen well paid employees. He could make this work. After all, he’d turned Bart’s back-alley whore hole into the most reputable place for food and fucks in all the Midwest.

Oscar pulled out his com screen and opened to the documents that would make the building Paris’s. Paris had thought a lot about this project, wanted it for a while. Knew what it had to be. Cardinal Sins would open soon to show the world that life had survived beyond the darkness of the last war—now it was time to enjoy it.

Snow cascaded outside Jack’s window in giant clumps. He’d never much cared for snow as a kid when he lived in the South, and their idea of snow was a dusting. In the North it snowed seven months of the year—huge drifts that often towered above him when shoveled to clear roads and walks. He should have been used to it by now, but the dark sky and quickly forming piles covering his windows made him lonely and tired. Most City M dwellers wouldn’t have been deterred by the heavy downfall, but Jack had no desire to venture into the cold. At least not tonight.

He had decided when he got up that morning that he was going to finish his work early and find a book to get lost in since it was his birthday. Most people went out to party with friends, drink themselves into a stupor, or find a little company. Jack’s only friend was a hard-boiled detective with a new lover he couldn’t pry himself away from for more than a few hours. He was sure Shane didn’t even know it was Jack’s birthday, as such trivial things never came up in their rare conversations that weren’t about serial killers, missing persons, or hybrid humans genetically modified by former political regimes. They didn’t really talk about much else. Not even the fact that they were both detectives or A-Ms—humans mutated by a plague who turned into animals once a month. Did that mean they were actually friends? Jack equated trust to friends, mostly. He trusted Shane and a handful of others. Did that mean all the rest were his friends too? And yet he was still all alone tonight.

Jack sighed.

Life was supposed to be easier now that he was older, except he was coming back to the same issues. Having a birthday shouldn’t hurt. It was just another day, really—only with it always came the memory of his family.

The better life had been long in coming. Jack spent years as little more than a prisoner at a facility for human testing. He never knew what they were testing on him, but he always had clothes to wear, warm blankets, and his own space. He was allowed unlimited access to digital libraries. Food came and went. Sometimes they’d starve him for weeks, only to return to regular feedings like nothing had ever changed. There were times they would drag him away to perform procedures on him. He always returned with scars, but very few memories. The days were long and lonely, filled with nothing but gray walls, the cell door, and endless books to read. After his change the testing had intensified for a while. Then one day the facility had just shut down. All the doors opened and the doctors walked out, leaving the rest of them to go free as well.

He remembered how dark the sky had been that day. He’d spent years dreaming of sunshine. Only it no longer existed. Not in the South. He went North when a handful of years on his own had garnered him enough respect to get a job offer with the ISS—Institute of Scientific Study. Though he now suspected that Paris had something to do with that. At least whatever Paris’s involvement, it was minimal. He called only when he needed Jack to work on something, hack into something, or reprogram something—which oddly enough wasn’t all that often.

Jack flipped through his digital library. The list of “to be read” books had been growing exponentially the past few months since he hadn’t had enough time for recreational reading. Case files and research took up most of his time and left his head spinning with nightmare-like mysteries to haunt his sleep. He needed to find something to escape the real world for a while. Maybe a romance. He loved the concept of romance. That people would connect on some intimate level and do everything for each other sounded like a fantasy. But he’d seen it in real life, hadn’t he? Shane and Aki had a romance, right? Maybe even Paris and Rain. It wasn’t all physical—which Jack didn’t understand at all—else Aki would never have given up being a whore and Shane could have just continued to visit him at the Gem.

A knock on the door broke him out of his brooding. Jack frowned and glanced out the window. Still snowing, but the porch motion light was on. His inner unit townhome looked just like the other five surrounding it, so it was unlikely someone had just randomly knocked on his door. He sat contemplating it so long that they knocked again. The fact was that no one ever visited him.

He got up, setting his book reader aside, and made his way to answer the knock. From the table under the window, he retrieved a gun, flicked off the safety, and approached the door. He couldn’t fake not being home. Not with the lights on and the shades up. Jack carefully peered through the peephole in the door, blinked for a minute as his brain slowly caught up with what he was seeing, then unlocked the door and threw it open wide, keeping the gun lowered at his side.

“Hey,” said Ivy. He was bundled up in a thick fur coat and seemed to be wearing full-length pants, which was unusual since he was a companion from the Hidden Gem and usually half-nude. His rich red hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, and his face was bare of the makeup he usually wore when he worked. He carried a stack of boxes and behind him at the curb a car was parked with Manny, the head guard of the Hidden Gem, leaning against it.

Ivy frowned when he noticed the gun. “Everything okay?” He glanced around like he was looking for some unknown assailant.

Jack put the safety back on the gun and stuffed it in the drawer. “Yes, sorry. Just cautious in the middle of snowstorms. What are you doing here? Is it even safe to be out in this?”

“Can I come in?” Ivy asked. “It’s kind of cold here on the stoop.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry.” Jack stepped aside. “Does Manny want to come in too?”

“No. He’ll be back later to pick me up.” Ivy stepped inside and waved at the guard, who nodded slightly, then made his way back to the passenger seat.

Jack closed the door and locked it mostly out of habit. Ivy shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the hook beside the door, and he made his way to the kitchen. He set the stack of boxes and a small pot filled with dirt down on the table. One of the boxes was in a familiar-looking sort of package of cardboard with shiny stickers decorating the outside. That one made Jack’s heart lurch. Ivy opened the box, revealing an elegantly decorated cake.

“Happy birthday!” Ivy smiled at him.

“Thanks.” Jack glared at the cake and kept himself on the opposite side of the table. He hated the memories, but hated the fact that they still bothered him so much even more.

Ivy set the cake aside and ushered Jack to a chair at the table. “Sit, sit. Presents first, then cake.”

“Shouldn’t you be working?”

“Nope. Candy rearranged my schedule so I could be off. Not that it would have mattered. The Gem was dead for customers tonight.” He set the stack of presents in front of Jack. The shiny paper and attached cards were something he’d read about in books, but had never actually experienced for himself.

“In case you didn’t notice, there’s a blizzard going on out there.”

“Nah. Just a lot of wind blowing around the snow that’s already there. I’ve seen much worse winters.” Ivy handed him a blue-wrapped package. “Open this one first, it’s from Candy.”

Jack flipped the present in his hands for a moment, debating how to do it without looking stupid. He took off the card—a digital mini screen that flipped from pictures of balloons and cake to the words “Happy Birthday.”

“It’s personalized to you. Just put your thumb in the middle,” Ivy told him.

Jack found the marked spot and put his thumb over it. The mini screen instantly changed to a recording of Candy. “Happy birthday, Jackson. I hope it’s a great one. Would have thrown you a big party, only you’re not the ‘big party’ sort. I saw this and thought of you—oh, and I know you’ll like the other gift I sent you.” He winked. “Ivy is yours all night, for whatever you wish. No questions asked.”

Jack was frowning by the end. He didn’t want Ivy to be all his for whatever debauchery Candy thought he might enjoy. He hoped that whatever the gift was it didn’t involve some sort of kinky sex toy that Jack was sure to have never seen before. His experience with sex was limited—mostly learned from smutty romance novels—and he was okay with keeping it that way.

He set the card aside and unwrapped the present. Instead of being some overinflated dildo or fuzzy handcuffs, it was a book. A real book. No one had real books anymore. They were collected and stored behind protective glass in museums, but this one looked ancient. The pages were yellowed with age and brittle.

It was a first edition of The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas in English. Published in 1846, the book was worth a very sizable fortune. “You should bring this back to him,” Jack told Ivy, carefully wrapping the book back up so it wouldn’t be damaged. “This is too much. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to it.”

“Candy said you’d say that, but he won’t take it back. You talked about a lot of books when you were sick. Did you know that? We would even find something to read to you when you were a cat, since it seemed to keep you calm so we could get more food and fluids in you,” Ivy told him. A few months ago a very bad virus had made its way through City M, a virus that was aimed at killing the A-M population by pulling them back and forth through shifts. Candy and Ivy had helped care for him when he was battling the illness.

“This should be in a museum.”

“Only there is no museum in City M. The vote stalled in the senate, just like it has every time it’s been brought up. And,” Ivy pointed out, “things are mostly loaned to museums from private collectors rather than owned. So if politicians ever decide to create a physical museum, you can always lend things from your collection. Open the next one.”

The purple present revealed the Lord of the Rings trilogy and a copy of The Hobbit. The digital card said it was from Aki, but didn’t have a long video. They weren’t a first or even an early edition, as they were in amazing shape, like they’d just been printed yesterday. Jack could smell the print and pages. Where had Aki found something this pristine?

A digital card by itself from Shane included a long video. “I didn’t buy you anything,” Shane told him. “I let Aki cover that. We’ll be over to help you install the case to protect your new collection.” The video of Shane vanished, replaced with a picture of a wide, glass-covered bookcase.

The video came back up with Aki on instead of Shane. “You have a year of book service. It’s a new company that produces limited print editions of classic novels. Each month you’ll get three to five novels delivered to your door. I remember reading real books, though it’s been a long time. Maybe you’ll let me borrow one sometime. Paris chose the shelf. Says it has all sorts of technical features that will protect your books and make you happy. Happy birthday, Jack.”

How was this real? No one had ever cared this much. To send him things, to make long-term commitments to being his friend. Jack wiped his eyes with the cuff of his shirt. Crap, this was supposed to be just another birthday.

“You ready for the one from me?” Ivy asked after a minute.

But there were no more packages, just the pot that Ivy had pushed aside.

“What…?” Jack began to ask, but Ivy leaned forward and kissed him soundly. Jack pulled away as if he’d been slapped, jumping out of the chair and tipping it over. His heart hammered with fear. Not really of being touched, but of the expectations that usually followed a touch like that. He liked Ivy. Hell, he sort of liked Shane, Aki, Paris, and even Candy. Would they still like him if they knew how different he was? He’d been trying to keep himself detached from them all for this very reason. “Sorry, sorry. You should probably go. Tell everyone I appreciate their gifts.” He headed to the door ready to let Ivy out.

“Jack?” Ivy hadn’t moved from the table. “Come back and have some cake, please.”

Jack swallowed back bile. “I don’t think I can. Whatever you’re expecting of me…”

“I’m not expecting anything.” Ivy got up and began to open cupboard doors until he found the plates, then the drawers until he pulled out a knife and a couple forks.

“I can’t eat that,” Jack insisted. “You should go.” This was why he didn’t do friends. Things always got weird. His head didn’t work right. He wasn’t like everyone else, and not just because he shifted into an animal.

Ivy set the stuff on the table and stepped in close to Jack again, breaching his privacy bubble. Jack took a step back but the wall hindered his escape. “Candy said you’re shy. But you’re not shy. It’s okay. I understand. We’ll have some cake and you can tell me about your favorite books. I admit to not being a big reader, but Candy reads a ton. He was telling me about the one he gave you. Sounds interesting.” He made his way back to the table and began cutting the cake into slices.

“They made a bunch of movies. You’re probably familiar with the story.” Jack began to relax a little, but he glared at the cake. Almost thirty years was enough time to overcome that memory, right? He sighed, picked up the chair, and returned to his spot at the table beside his new haul of print books.

Ivy slid a slice of cake in front of him and passed over a fork. He dished up his own piece before pushing the platter aside and taking a fork full of the dessert. He sighed and sucked on the fork. “So good. I have a horrible sweet tooth.”

Jack sliced his piece with the edge of his fork and scooped it up, wondering if he could somehow dump the whole thing without Ivy seeing. But Ivy stared at him, waiting. He sighed and put the piece in his mouth, expecting it to taste like sawdust to echo the churning in his gut… only it didn’t. It popped with sweetness, lemon, and strawberry; the top was overly sugary, but Jack could see the appeal. He hadn’t expected cake to taste that way. Almost like sunshine.

“Good, right? I was going to order just a vanilla cake but Candy suggested you might like something a little more flavorful. He special ordered this one since he knew you liked strawberries. The lemon is good too, though. Tastes like strawberry lemonade.” Ivy plowed through his piece of cake, then lifted the knife. “Mind if I have another slice?”

Jack shook his head and slowly ate. All these years and he’d been avoiding this. But Ivy had said this wasn’t the norm. Fruit in a cake sounded odd, but he liked it. Could do without the frosting top—too much sugar—but he cut around it just fine. “Thank you,” Jack said when he finally finished his slice. Ivy was finishing up his second piece.

Ivy picked up the pot. “Shane said you hate the winter almost as much as Aki does. So I thought this might help. You’ll have to put it near the window. And each time I come over I can help renew it if it’s not getting enough sun.” He cupped his hands around the pot, and a green shoot sprouted in the middle. It curled upward, growing like the images from a slow-motion camera played at warp speed, until leaves and branches sprang from the stalk. Then finally a single bloom, purple and white spilling together as though it was a watercolor painting, sprouted from the stalk. “It’s an orchid.”

Jack sat in awe. “It’s beautiful. Thank you. How did you…?” But he had always known, hadn’t he? Ivy was a psi. His eyes were multicolored, sky blue and apple green. He also had swirls of green lines etched into his skin, mostly invisible buried beneath his clothes, but Jack knew they were there.

Ivy gave him a tight smile and changed the subject, leaving the plant on the table. “Will you read to me for a while? My eyes get tired from all the words, but Candy reads to me and it’s nice. I can see the story in my head when he does different voices for dialogue.” Ivy boxed up the cake and set it on the counter beside the fridge.

Jack took their plates and put them in the dishwasher. “You won’t get bored?” Wouldn’t he rather be doing other things? Maybe watching movies on the vid screen or even seducing men at the brothel?

“Not at all.” Ivy dropped onto Jack’s couch and patted the seat beside him. “Come sit. The one Candy got you has pictures. I hope the story is as exciting as he was telling me. Swords, romance, and loyalty.” He sighed. “Sounds wonderful.”

“It was a very different world in nineteenth-century France,” Jack told him and took a seat on the couch, but left a foot of distance between them.

“There is no France at all anymore.”

“One of countless treasures lost to the world. All we have now are these.” He held up the book, which he’d carefully unwrapped. Despite being so old, the binding was still solid and the pages appeared to have been treated by something to help keep them from disintegrating. He could smell the chemical faintly. “History is one thing, but fiction shows us the hopes and dreams of those in the past. They were warring in their time, for not all that dissimilar reasons.”

Ivy slid closer as Jack opened the book, practically latching himself to Jack’s side so he could see the pages. Jack swallowed back his anxiety and began to read. He hoped the story would be engaging enough for Ivy. If not, he was sure he could find a few smutty romances the companion might enjoy, though he cringed at the idea of reading one of the many sex scenes out loud. As his voice filled the silence while the storm raged outside, Jack settled into the feeling of not being alone on his birthday, and was startled to discover he kind of liked the warmth of Ivy against him, listening to his voice.

Shane got Aki settled into their bedroom, pulled the blanket over him, and sat down to stare at his nauseous mate. The sickness was supposed to be over. Several months had passed without a glimpse of headache or memory loss. Only in the past few days had things changed.

Aki woke up, ate breakfast then threw up said breakfast. By the time his stomach stopped its dry heaves, he was too exhausted to do much else. Aki insisted it was just a virus, something that would pass. And the first day, that seemed to be true, since he’d popped out of bed just after noon and gone about his day as if nothing had happened. Except they were now on day four with Aki not being able to keep anything down. The strain on him was beginning to show.

“Maybe we should call Dr. Vitoric?” Shane prodded Aki for the hundredth time.

“I’m fine,” Aki grumbled. He put his hands in Shane’s scruffy dark hair and pulled him down enough to kiss him on the cheek. Aki sighed softly as he scraped his bare cheek against Shane’s ever present five o’clock shadow. “Just sleepy.”

Aki wasn’t fine. His already milky white skin was pale with bags under his sky blue eyes. Shane couldn’t recall ever seeing Aki with so little energy. Aki was make up and embellishment free. He hadn’t done more than comb his waist-length, platinum blond hair back into a tight braid the past few days. He had it wrapped so tight it was impossible to see the cerulean blue low lights that curled up through his tresses like a well-placed dye job. Aki’s hair was completely natural. Normally he had his hair styled to highlight the color, rings and swirls pinned in place with bobs and gems. But not today.

Today there were no pretty dresses, hair clips, or shoes. Just Aki in bed looking pale and thin. Nothing about this was normal. Aki was already asleep his fingers curled around the blanket as though still reaching for Shane’s hair. Shane leaned over and kissed Aki’s forehead gently, not wanting to wake him. Aki looked so small this way. Sure he was just a tiny thing compared to Shane’s 6’5, but usually Aki was so filled with vibrancy and life that Shane never noticed the difference.

Shane dry washed his hands over his face and into his hair. He needed a haircut. Since his PI business was slow due to summer vacations and overly hot weather he had time to spend doing normal things like get a haircut. He’d really wanted to take Aki to the west coast again for another trip to the beach. That wasn’t going to happen any time soon either. Not with Aki unwell. He sighed.

His phone rang. He glanced at the display and exited the room to answer Jack’s call. Jackson Taylor was a friend, mostly. They had an odd friendship which their lovers often teased them about as being a secret ‘bromance.’ Jack was a detective who investigated unusual crimes that were outside of the scope of the normal police department. Shane’s private investigation sometimes crossed into that territory, but he spent most of his time finding missing people, money, or artwork. Their work life was similar, but other than having small flamboyant lovers and both having the ability to shape-shift, they didn’t have much else in common. There was a great deal of trust between them, though. Enough that they often shared case information just to pick the other’s brain. They just weren’t the sit on the couch and watch sports kind of buddies.

“What’s up?” Shane asked.

“Can you accompany Candy to a brothel? He got word of one that’s really bad about forty minutes outside the city and wants to look for himself, but I’m knee deep in a new case.”

Shane frowned into the phone, not liking the idea of leaving Aki alone. “You realize Candy can turn into a dragon, right?” Candy was one of Jack’s lovers, the most well-known Dom of City M, the manager of Hidden Gem, which was the most well respected brothel in the north, and a sizable dragon when shifted. He didn’t really need a lot of protection.

Jack huffed. “A baby dragon. Compared to Aki he’s like a teeny mosquito of a dragon.”

And that was true, but “still a dragon. Lots of teeth and fire. I am a wolf. You are a tiger. Pretty sure dragons of any size could swallow us whole.”

“But he never comes across as intimidating. People look at him, see pretty, and think flaky and weak. Don’t tell him I said that. But I’d rather he not have to shift and set fire to people if just having someone along that makes people hesitate will stop anything from happening. Marc said he’d go, but he’s only one guy. And Candy sort of grates at him like they are rivals even though Ivy has no interest in Marc that way. They need a buffer. Someone reasonable. People look at you and hesitate.”

“What about the guards from the Gem?”

“You know we’re short staffed. I’ve got feelers out in seven different cities to hire more guards. If Paris wasn’t so damn strict on his requirements it wouldn’t be an issue. That and him taking half the guard to form a militia in case someone decides City M might be ripe for the taking again.”

Shane groaned. He was part of that militia, an officer who spent his weekends training the newbies. In fact, most of Paris’ former guard staff were now military officials on rotation. For Shane it meant he got a regular paycheck, but he wasn’t required to do watch duty like the others. Apparently having a couple of dragons wasn’t enough. It was overkill, but if the army of shapeshifting monsters lead by a couple dragons didn’t make anyone pause then they deserved to die.

“Aki’s not feeling well,” Shane finally confessed the reason he didn’t really want to leave the house.

“What? Are his headaches back? I should tell Candy.”

“No!” The last thing Aki wanted was everyone worried about him. He’d be upset if he thought everyone had dropped everything and run over only to find him sleeping. Though Shane thought maybe that would be okay. Aki always did well when curled up between Candy and Ivy when they could get time off of their companion work at the Gem. But Aki had spent most of his life unable to touch anyone for fear their memories would pass to him since he was post-cognitive. He had a better control on that now. Lots of practice and training. Maybe it was all those years he was making up for now. Shane didn’t care. If he could, he’d hold Aki every second of the day. “We think it’s just a virus.”

“We can’t get viruses, Shane.”

“Um, hello, we both had one that almost killed us last year.” Granted that virus had been manmade, but it had still been a virus. It had actually killed dozens just in City M alone. Both Shane and Jackson had been unable to hold their form, shifting back and forth from man to animal until they would have died if not for the support and tender care of their mates.

There was a beat of silence on the line. “Is he having trouble holding his shape?”

“No. Just nauseous and throwing up. Seems to mostly be in the morning, but he gets so worn out he sleeps half the day away,” Shane said. “So far no memory loss or black outs.” Thank the Goddess.

“Did you call Dr. Vitoric?”

“I will.” Because Shane would. He’d just decided in that moment. “Later. After he wakes up.” If it were like most days Aki would sleep four or five hours and wake up refreshed and ready to run around. It was odd, but gave Shane hope that whatever he had wasn’t serious.

“And you’re feeling fine?” He inquired because genetically didn’t they all have the same mutations, weaknesses, and immunity? Only the dragons were different. And the psis like Ivy too. Aki had never gotten the virus that Shane and Jack had nearly died from. And other than his previous migraines and memory loss issues, Aki was never sick just as Shane was never sick.

“Same as always.”

Jack seemed to think over that for a few minutes. “Let me send Ivy over. He’s off today anyway.”

“What if Ivy catches whatever Aki has?”

“Ivy is the healthiest person I know. I doubt he is going to get some stomach flu from sitting with Aki for a few hours. He says it’s part of his earth powers. Never even had a cold.”

It would solve the problem of leaving Aki alone while he slept, and Shane was a bundle of energy needing to get out and do something. He’d planned to go downstairs to the mini gym and work out while Aki slept, but then worried something might happen with him away. The computer would notify him, but he hated not having someone there if something happened. He glanced at the window and the vitals his computer security system showed. Nothing looked out of ordinary with Aki according to his regular baseline readings. If he was sick, shouldn’t something be off? It was so frustrating.

“What time is Candy leaving?”

“He’s in the process right now. I can call him and tell him to drop Ivy off and pick you up,” Jack sounded hopeful.

“Candy is driving?”

Jack snorted. “Unfortunately.”

Shane sighed. Candy had been driving only two months or so. He was better than Aki, but not by much. Both of them got distracted too easily. Ivy had no interest in driving, and Shane was sure Aki had only learned because Candy had goaded him into it. City M’s internal public transportation was under construction, adding smaller trains and street cars everywhere. Soon there would be no need for vehicles at all for anyone not leaving the city or not emergency personnel. Solar and wind powered, from trains, to buildings, to their renewable greenhouses. Everything about City M was changing. A few grumbled. Shane didn’t care. They had to be self-sustaining. Especially since the population was growing. Though he figured it meant that Aki would soon give up interest in driving altogether. The line down Main was already ninety percent complete. Which meant Aki would soon be able to just jump on the train and zip down to Just Shoes for a day of shopping.

The route from the Red Light District, otherwise known as Candy Land, was only about thirty percent complete, but it would be up and running by the end of the year. Shane suspected he’d see more of Candy and Ivy once that train was running. And Aki missed his nearly daily trips to Artie’s, which was also connected via the Red Light District line. Shane couldn’t wait. He never wanted to be in the passenger seat of a car Aki drove again.

“Set it up,” Shane said taking a long look over Aki’s prone form. Hopefully he’d be back before Aki awoke. “I’ll convince Candy to let me drive. Goddess, how have you not had a heart attack yet? I swear he slams on the brakes if he thinks a fly has crossed his path.”

“I’m never in the car with him. Ever,” Jack answered deadpan. “And thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. He better not set me on fire or eat me. Baby dragon or not, I’m not a chew toy.”

Jack laughed. “Not for Candy at least.” He hung up. And wasn’t that the balls truth? Aki could chew on Shane any day.