Fraudulent Death, Draft 01, CH 44 (Patreon)

Marlot woke to motion in the bed but didn’t move. A soft voice spoke a few seconds later, Trembor on his pad with his niece, or maybe nephew. Trembor had explained there was something resembling an order to the calls, but Marlot hadn’t managed to keep track.

He could stay in bed; Trembor would return once he was done with his calls. He might not even bother with his usual morning exercises after the evening they had. He grinned. At least they had managed to clean the kitchen, eventually. Even the blood had been bottled and stored in the cooler, although Marlot might have accidentally spilled some over his lion, that he had to lick off.

The evening had chased whatever was stressing his lion. He’d worked hard at hiding it, and the scents of the kill, the blood, and the sex had helped mask most of it, but Marlot had had his muzzle in Trembor’s fur even before they were naked. He was keeping something from him; the possibilities were too numerous for Marlot to begin guessing, from fear of his family finding out they were together again. To the trouble with his brother, the legal case, and how many other little things Trembor might not think to tell him, or want to.

As much as Marlot wanted to demand to know, so he could remove them for his lion, it wasn’t his place, or his job. If Trembor needed help, he’d ask. Until then Marlot would respect his privacy.

His pad buzzed, somewhere far—had he left his jacket in the kitchen?—the sound of a file arriving. He didn’t want to think about who else was awake at this hour. Other than Trembor, but it was a reminder he couldn’t spend the day in bed making love to his lion.

He found Trembor first, in the living room, doing stretching exercises, naked.

“No, that’s perfectly fine, you don’t have to do what your sister says, Gan. If you don’t want to play with her, just be polite and tell her so.”

Marlot watched him move, the muscles stretching the skin and making the short fur stand on end. He wanted to run his hands through it, push the lion down, and make him roar. He turned and headed for the kitchen to look for his pad. That was not appropriate to even think about while Trembor was talking to a cub.

He looked at his erection. Tonight, he’d made the lion roar again, then tomorrow night, and the one after that. He was going to spend every night with his lion from now on. He wasn’t letting one chance pass him by.

The jacket was on the counter, with splatters of blood. He’d have to stop him and change it. He saw his pants in a corner, coated with blood.

If he was going to spend his nights here, he needed to leave a few changes of clothing.

The message was simple. The list is ready. And the number was that of the academy’s central junction. Work was definitely calling. That was two things he needed to look into today, three if he included checking in on Hela’Han.

He dressed, the shirt being the only piece of clothing not covered in blood, somehow, and returned to the living room.

“No, Baw, your brother doesn’t have to play with you. I know he’s the only one there until you get to the academy, but he is his own person. You have to respect that.”

Marlot bent to touch the back of the lion’s neck as he lowered himself to the floor, leaning forward, legs stretched almost horizontally, much further than Marlot thought should be possible. It made resisting running a finger under the tail difficult, but he reminded himself a cub would hear everything.

“Baw, I’m going to give you a minute to really think about what you just said.” Trembor reached to mute the earpiece and looked at Marlot.

The wolf motioned to the lion. “This is utterly indecent.”

Trembor flicked his tail higher.

“You’re talking to a cub, Trem, don’t you have any shame?”

Trembor laughed. “Heading to work?”

Marlot nodded. “Yeah, I still have a body to link to its killer, and compile some sort of productivity on it for the bureau.” He kissed the lion, aimed for a light peck on the lips, ended up only breaking it once he was out of breath.

“Don’t let the bureau overwork you,” Trembor said, “you’re an RI, not that bureaucrat’s personal fetcher.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of energy when I come back tonight.”

“Marl, you don’t—”

Marlot kissed him again. “I want to. Trem, I don’t want to ever be away from you again unless it’s work dragging me away, and soon even that won’t separate us.” He turned and exited before the surprise passed and his lion could offer some sort of protest about it being too soon or something.

Once at his car, he realized he’d just stepped over Trembor’s desires again, but it was for the best, right? He took his pad out and messaged him. ‘Do you want me to come back tonight?’

The response came back quicker than he expected. ‘I do.’

Marlot felt much better as he drove away.

* * * * *

Marlot read the list of names, as he drank whatever this was, their years of enrollment, when they’d left, their rating when they graduated. He’d intended to kill two prey with one swipe by working on the file while watching the area where the body had been found, hoping the wolverine would walk by, but the file told him little by itself. Yes, on the whole, they all had relatively low ratings when they graduated, a probable consequence of spending their time with more in illicit activities than studying, since most also had multiple notes from teachers, advisers, and enforcers regarding where their interests lay.

He’d have to run it against the original file, then run both through his tracking program, which he couldn’t access from his pad due to it still being unsecured. Yet something else to do today, it should have been the first, since he’d gone home to change, but it had slipped his mind, as he hurried to drive to Hela’Han’s place, where Jesdan let him know she was doing better, calmer, but she wouldn’t come into work yet. That had been fine with Marlot. He’d already figured he wasn’t going to be at the office.

He put the bulky pad away and looked around. The morning crowd had lessened and he could see the other stores, eateries, and drinking shops. He was chasing a lost scent, he knew it. Nothing in the little he’d learned hinted that the wolverine even lived in the area. Hardir could have met him anywhere, except that as Marlot had noticed, the occupant of the building Hardir lived in hardly went anywhere unless they were escorted, and he doubted his death was something the wolf could have planned while his escort was around. So, this area had to be where the wolf and wolverine had met.

He went around the stores where someone had remembered the wolf, even if they hadn’t been able to give him details, and asked about a wolverine. None of them had answers for him until he asked the clerk at a drinks shop that also sold bakes sweets.

“Do you mean Kaspel?” the ferret answered when Marlot asked about a wolverine.

“Is that a customer?”

“No, he’s a coworker. He and that wolf spent time talking every so often.” She frowned. “Actually, the last few times it seems like he came here specifically to speak with Kaspel.”

“Can I speak to him?”

“He’s not in today.”

“Can I get his address then?”

She bit her lower lip. “I need to speak with my supervisor for that.”

A minute later, Marlot showed his ID to a thin gazelle, and she gave him Kaspel’s address.

The wolverine lived three blocks away from the shop, but across an invisible rating line as the buildings were better maintained on that side of the street.

The building was for singles, the apartment being a mix of studio one and two bedrooms. The wolverine lived on the seventh floor, a two-bedroom, the manager told him.

Marlot buzzed the door, and a wolverine opened the door. The scents were primarily of paint, and the brown fur had splotched of orange, purple, and green. He looked Marlot over, had a flash of defiance, then deflated.

“I knew it was just a question of time.” He stepped out of the way. “Come in.”

Marlot stepped into a living room cluttered with canvases with colors on them. Some resembled people, or buildings, maybe trees.

“Just ignore them. They do nothing for my rating, but I can’t stop trying.”

“You’re not surprised to see me.”

The wolverine shrugged. “Hardir was sure you’d never work it out, but you guys are known for getting the killers. Since his plan required leaving his body to be found, even without the mink showing up, I figured you’d be at my doorstep, eventually. It’s probably for the best, anyway. As little as they eat, I can’t keep feeding them on my salary.” The wolverine opened a door on the other side of the living room.

“Then you know I need to take you—what do you mean feed them?” Marlot looked in the room. More canvases, some without painting on them, others with. In a corner, a silver female wolf had made a next with blankets, and she looked at him, terrified. In her arms, a cub shared her silver coloring mixed with a familiar brindled pattern.

“Who are they?” Marlot asked, not surprised when Kaspel said.

“Hardir’s cub and its mother.”

“And what are they doing here?”

“Hiding.”

“From?”

The wolverine shrugged. “The same people Hardir wants exposed.”

Marlot leaned against the living room wall. He’d been asking himself why Hardir would do all of this. Now he had his answer.

“Do they know about the cub?”

“I don’t know. Hardir didn’t tell me much about them, other than to hide them until it was over. I know they met a few years ago as part of the work they did for them. Hardir didn’t know the cub was on its way until recently.”

Marlot banged his head against the wall. He didn’t need this kind of complication. He was an RI. He found the killers and handed them over to the bureau for them to figure out how they would repay the tax.

“You okay?” the wolverine asked.

“I take it neither have an ID?”

“She doesn’t, I don’t see how her cub would, she didn’t give birth in a medical center.”

Was there even a system in place for this kind of situation? How did you bring someone back to life?

Marlot straightened. He didn’t. He brought them into the city from somewhere else. Somewhere that had a system in place when someone without an ID wanted to join society.

“I need you to keep hiding them for a few more days,” he said. He was going to have to hack his way into the commune; fortunately, it wasn’t like they were on top of their network security. Working out how a predator was without ID even in a commune would be a little more difficult, but maybe he could simply start the process as them being sheep and cause a fault that would change the species to wolf? He didn’t have that kind of skill. Could he talk Afirna into doing it? She had the skill, she had the desire to fix injustices, which this was big time, but it would go against the contract ensuring she remained free.

The wolverine shook him. “Answer me.”

“Thinking.”

“Well think after you tell me what do you mean, keep hiding them? You found me, they’re your responsibility.”

Marlot shook his head. “I report them, and the people Hardir wants exposed will find out. I doubt they’re doing to be happy about it.”

“Exactly why you need to take them away from here.”

“I can’t, not until I’ve either worked out how to create new identities for them, or brought the entire organization crashing down, and I’m not holding much hope of that one happening.”

“Create new identities?” the wolverine asked after getting over the surprise. “Isn’t that like illegal?”

Marlot shrugged. “The legal thing get her killed, and the cub… I don’t even want to think of what happens to a cub born into serfdom. I doubt it’s good.” Fuck, they couldn’t be the first. Relationships happened no matter what else was taking place. The smart ones would be sure no cub happened, but—he glanced in the room. By all accounts, Hardir had been on the smarter side, and that still happened.

Marlot let out a breath. “I need a few days. In payment, I’m going to make sure you aren’t the one who killed Hardir.”

The wolverine narrowed his eyes. “That isn’t legal. I killed him, you know it I—”

“Are you confessing?” Marlot took his pad out, showed it was turned off. “I’m not recording anything right now. If you want to confess, I’ll turn it on.”

Kaspel looked at the pad, searched Marlot’s face. “Can you actually do that?”

Marlot snorted. “That’s basically what my first years as an RI amounted to. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but that’s my problem, not yours.” Worse came to worst, he could just keep the body in his freezer and take the productivity hit, he could afford it more than Kaspel could afford paying for the body.

The wolverine looked into the room. “Okay, I’ll do it, but if it’s going to be more than a few days, I don’t know what I’m going to do for food. I work in a drink shop.”

Marlot did not suggest the male stop buying paints. It would be like him not contemplating upgrading his computer. “If it takes longer, I’ll figure something out. Now, one warning. Don’t speak with strangers. I’m not the only one looking into Hardir’s death.”

“I know. He warned me about that part.”

“Good.” Marlot added causing a distraction large enough the organization wouldn’t have the time to look into Kaspel to his ever-growing list of tasks. But first, he needed to go visit Afirna.