Series of Death, Draft 02, CH 04 (Patreon)

Trembor’s office was small, but he didn’t mind. He never needed much space; just enough for a desk, computer, and cooler. He used the precinct lunchroom to reheat his meals. The shelving unit that came with it he might do something about in the future; if he decided this became his permanent place of work.

He rested his head in a hand, the other holding the pad to his ear. “Yes, I need you to look through your records and see if you had any tigress living there four years ago.” He did his best to keep the sigh from escaping.

“I don’t know,” the male said, “I don’t think I can tell you that even if I look.”

The sigh did escape. “You can, and you have to. I’ve given you my Registered Investigator number, this is an active investigation into an unclaimed body.”

“But that’s four years old.”

“There are no statutes for unclaimed bodies. New information came up about the one that was found in your area, so I’m looking into all lodging buildings. By law, you are required to keep your records for ten years, so I need you to go through them and let me know what you find.”

“Oh,” the male said, sounding disappointed. “Alright, but I don’t know how long it’ll take me.”

“That’s fine.” He paused and decided the male needed a form of encouragement. “How about this? If you don’t get back to me within a week, I’ll drop by and help you look for what I need.”

The male croaked something unintelligible before disconnecting. Trembor smiled. A prey, he decided, not that predators were immune to the suggested threat a visit brought, but a predator wouldn’t assume Trembor was one too, there was more prey out there and they could be in a position of power just like everyone else.

But this would ensure Trembor got his information earlier rather than later. He added this case to the ‘waiting for information’ and looked through the list of people he needed to hear back from on the other two cold cases, as well as the current ones, and touched base with one of them, the vehicular database was more extensive than one lodging building and she was still searching.

Placing his pad down, he noticed it was low on power; he’d forgotten to put it on its charging plate again. Marlot would rip into him for—he shut down the thought. He was done thinking about the wolf. He looked through the desk drawers; he knew there was a charging place in the office somewhere, he’d seen it when he moved into it.

He found it on a shelf, under papers the previous occupant left, and plugged it in. With his pad on it, he returned to work. His most recent body had been found within a construction site, and one of the sets of tires hadn’t matched any of the construction vehicles there. The enforcer’s tracking department hadn’t started on his request to identify the threads; it was fifty-eighth in the queue. Was this one worth throwing his RI weight around to move it up?

A knock on the door and it opened. Sounds of enforcers working, talking, and moving about the precinct entered with the uniformed hyena. “Trembor,” she said, “the drug squad just got back with bodies, we’re all pitching in to pay their tax, it’s going to be lunch, you want in? They’re in the medical wing and you can cut off whatever part you prefer.”

“I brought lunch,” Trembor replied. “I’ll eat later; once I’m done with this work.”

She closed the door, cutting off the outside sounds, and leaned against it. “You can’t spend your days in here, sulking. Come join us, I’ll spot you for the meat if your finances aren’t stable yet.”

“I’m good,” Thanks.” He replied, ignoring the sulking comment. He wasn’t sulking, he was busy.

She sighed and opened the door, letting in the sounds of laughter, an argument over something Trembor couldn’t make out. Sounds of people, of life.

“Derimak, wait,” he called as she closed the door behind her. She was right, he was sulking in his office, and he needed to stop. The meat in his cooler could wait until tomorrow if he didn’t bring it home and eat it there. He hadn’t died because of what the wolf had done to him, so why was he acting like it? Wasn’t staying in here handing him the victory? He stood. “You’re right, I’ll—” his pad buzzed with an address, species, and time of death, he showed her the message. “I’m going to have to pass, body in my territory. But I’ll do what I can to grab a piece if there’s any left by the time I make it back.”

* * * * *

The precinct was mostly empty by the time Trembor returned, past dinner time.

The body had been a middle-aged bull. The witness report said an argument had gotten out of hand; which meant the killer hadn’t meant for it to happen and had fled because of it. Unfortunately for them, once Trembor caught them, they’d have to pay. The law didn’t care if the death had been on purpose or not, the tax needed to be paid.

“Officer Goldenmane,” a deep voice said, “catch.”

Trembor turned in time to catch the package the tiger lobbed in his direction. “Captain?” the package was wrapped in what had been an old jacket and smelled of copper and iron. There was a large meal’s worth of meat in there based on the weight.”

“Since you were called out, we decided to wrap some of it for you.”

“You didn’t have to, I’m sure one of the others could have made use of it.”

The tiger smiled. “The bodies were nice and big. Plenty of meat for everyone; and the medical staff hates it when we use their coolers to store our leftovers. That’s elk, by the way, clean too. They didn’t kill anyone who sampled the good.”

“Thanks.” Trembor turned it over to make sure nothing was leaking out. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the tiger replied. “Think of it as a welcome back present from all of us. It’s good to have you back among us.”

Trembor smiled at the tiger, who had been his squad leader when he was an enforcer. “It’s good to be back.” The smile faltered. “I guess I shouldn’t have left. Live and learn, right?”

The tiger nodded. “The alternative isn’t exactly helpful. The offer’s still on the table, same as when I made the previous time.”

Trembor shook his head. “I appreciate it, but I don’t want him dead either. I survived before, I’ll do it again. I’m mostly angry at myself for not seeing the signs until he shut me down hard.”

That was what hurt the most. No, that he still wanted Marlot was. He wanted to believe it had been a one-time thing, but that was how it had started the previous time, he’d learned the patterns, he had gone through therapy and courses. He knew better than to let himself fall for that trick again.

“They’re not all as blatant as that one. Some know to lay on the charm until their claws are deep into you. Just remember you got out of it before that happened this time.” He motioned back to his office. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

That was the problem. Trembor couldn’t see any times when Marlot had laid down the charm. There had been innocence, nervousness, skittishness; those were what he’d noticed about the wolf on first seeing him, in that meeting with all the other RIs, staying away from everyone. He’d looked like prey surrounded by a pack, and Trembor has immediately wanted to protect him. Working with him chasing after Roxul he’d fallen for Marlot’s shy smile and his determination.

He wanted to believe that Marlot couldn’t be an abuser, not after seeing the town he came from and how he was treated there, but abuse bred abuse, he knew that. Wishful thinking couldn’t change the truth.

The wolf was what he was, and Trembor wasn’t having any of that.

* * * * *

The deer looked lost as Trembor brought him in; he’d been easy to find. A handful of called while eating and he had a name and address. As Trembor suspected, the death hadn’t been intentional. A disagreement over the latest game of hunt, of all things. Claims one team had cheated, and hormones turned the argument physical. A shove, a punch, a head-butt, and the bull was down, unmoving, dead.

The deer spent the drive to the holding block of financial processing pleading he hadn’t meant to, hadn’t wanted to. He couldn’t afford the tax, it would ruin him.

Trembor let him talk, reminding himself it wasn’t his job to care. The facts were the deer had killed the bull, so he had to pay. They’d assign him a financial representative and they would look through the options. That was the privilege they’d afford him since Trembor believed him about the death not being intentional. There were lending companies who might be interested in taking his burden, or was that handled by the government directly now? There had been something about it on a kiosk, the last time he and Marlot had—

He wasn’t thinking about the wolf.

He signed the deer over to financial holding, got the case number, added that to his report. At this point, his case was pretty much closed, although he needed to wait for the payment resolution to be official before he could close it. If no other options were available for the deer, there were always the work details.

It was too late for the office and filing the report, so he headed home, stopping to get a bottle of alcohol to replace the one he’d finished the night before. He trimmed the elk meat down to a more reasonable meal and roasted that with vegetables.

The blood he had while baking as well as the one while he ate he cut with two fingers of alcohol. He ate slowly, doing his best to ignore the silence, the memories of the wolf laughing as they are, or covered with blood when they’d gorged themselves on a body. He’d looked so damned tasty then.

Once he was done cleaning the meal, he’d had a third glass and wandered to the living room with a fourth. He pulled an album from the bookcase and sat in the old recliner. He looked through the pictures in it, smiling at the antics of his brothers, his sister, himself. His parents had loved to catch them in the most compromising situation and immortalized it. There were pictures of births, nephews and nieces. His first kill, the picture taken by Sarene, who had been so proud of him, even if he hadn’t been in a condition to walk afterward, let alone carry his kill.

The one where he showed off his Identification, proclaiming him to be of hunting age. The hug his father buried him in, with utter horror and betrayal as Trembor realized his mother was poised to take the picture. He smiled at his naivete. So full of the belief he knew what it meant to be an adult.

The smile died on the next page. One picture, centered. Trembor and him, his first love, his abuser.

Gorrek Shiningpelt had been amazing. Tall, strong, confident, full of life, of vitality and virility. Sex had been one of the big factors in Trembor’s attraction to the male. He hadn’t been inexperienced at that point, but he hadn’t had the breadth of knowledge Gorrek had on the subject. Trembor had learned a lot at the other lion’s hand. Not all of it unpleasant, he’d been able to admit, once he’d begun healing emotionally, and physically.

Everyone in his family had loved Gorrek, at first, and when Trembor had moved in, they’d approved. The change hadn’t been immediate, but quick enough a more experienced Trembor would have noticed it. He’d put a lot of the blame for what happened on himself for years. Initially, it had been house rules, what Trembor could and couldn’t do there; innocent enough, at first. Trembor was in charge of the dishes, of preparing the meals, of cleaning the house. He hadn’t minded the duties, he’d been raised in a family where everyone pitched in.

It was the punishments that were out of proportion to the infractions.

A glass with spots left after washing and drying would result in Gorrek screaming at him. A mirror with a streak and more shouting. The scent of duct in the air when the lion returned from work and the screaming would rattle the walls. Within a few months, Trembor doubted his ability to do anything right.

Then came that first blow.

You didn’t leave me any choice. Gorrek’s favorite phrase, blaming for the act entirely on Trembor. The rules had been clear, and he hadn’t followed them. He couldn’t remember the first infraction, there had been so many, and now he knew it hadn’t mattered. Gorrek would have found another excuse, if not that. The lion liked to hit. Trembor was already cowed by the screaming by that point that all he’d been able to do was take it. He’d been no more than prey for the other lion, being played with until time came for the kill.

Only it didn’t come.

After one more hospital stay than he could endure, Trembor fled to his parent despite the shame he felt, and they’d taken him in. Sarene had protected him, like she protected each of them, when Gorrek came demanding his return. She would have killed him if Trembor hadn’t begged her not to. Gorrek didn’t deserve to die for Trembor being the one who always fucked up.

The picture was a reminder of what had happened. A reminder of how easy it was to be taken in by a smile, charming personality, and hot sex. He’d kept it so he’d know never to let that happen again.

He turned to the last page with pictures on it.

Him and Marlot in one of the bedrooms at his parent’s house; the wolf on his lap, the two of them kissing passionately. Marlot had been overwhelmed by the number of people at the family dinner; how boisterous the conversations had been, the incessant questions. He’d needed some quiet, so Trembor had used the excuse of showing him the house to take him to his childhood bedroom, now redecorated into tasteful neutrality for guests, and they’d sat on the plush chair.

He didn’t know who took the picture; probably his mother. She’d have been the first to notice the two of them were missing. It had arrived from the family account. He’d printed it and added it to the album. The first in a series he’d hoped would document the deepness of his and the wolf’s love.

He threw the album across the room.

How could have been such an idiot?

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