Series of Death, Draft 02, CH 16 (Patreon)

Marlot landed in the chair the bear threw him in, his breath catching as his injuries used the impact to remind him they were all still there and waiting for him to get them looked at.

“Do you have any idea the kind of trouble you’d be in right now if Belric hand’ walked by the monitory room and saw what you were doing? You’re lucky he shut down the recorders when he did. The little I saw before I went in there and kept you from killing that moose could mean your license.” She sat on the edge of her desk. Her mass making it creak and fixed him with her gaze.

“I wasn’t going to eat him,” Marlot snapped.

“That’s what I’m afraid of. You looked ready to rip him apart and redecorate the interrogation room. You’d have had to pay for something you couldn’t even eat. What has gotten into you?”

“Into me?” Marlot was on his feet, glaring at her. “Do you have any idea what that male’s done? Who he—” He stopped, common sense slamming through his anger.

Bahamel looked at him expectantly.

Marlot forced himself to breathe. The scent of anger in the office didn’t help him calm down, but he needed to think, to watch what he said, and he couldn’t do that while screaming like a maniac.

“He’s a suspect in the death of a wolverine, I was questioning him.”

“You drove him to near terror induced coma,” she replied, “what kind of technique causes that?”

“It’s an act,” Marlot said dismissively and cursed himself for it.

She stared at him. “I was in that room, Wolf, I smelled it. The fear’s so thick in there I might start using it so the most hardened criminals I deal with will break down at the first whiff of it.”

Marlot rolled his eyes. It hadn’t been that bad, and it had been fake, anyway. He should have searched the male; would have, if he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his anger and need for answers.

“He ran from a body, so I need to find out why.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And you brought him here? The precinct is a little far from your territory.”

Marlot cursed silently, happy the anger was the main scent in the room now. It would make his distress for a while, hopefully long enough he could appease her. If she reported this, whoever’s territory he was in would take over, and he’d lose his chance.

“And what’s there to ask about? The moose accidentally killed the predator, it happens.”

“It wasn’t accidental.” He cursed again. He needed to clear his head.

“What’s going on, Marlot? As big as they are, moose don’t go out looking to kill. They’re prey.”

“This one did.” How could he explain this without giving her the scent of the truth? There was a paradox. Truth didn’t have a scent, lies did.

She sighed. “Marlot, you know prey isn’t wired that way. They run until cornered, they fight until they can run again, they seek shelter. Do you have any idea how hard of a time we had in the Protectors getting prey to fight? How few of them actually make good soldiers? Something like sixty percent fail the first test, and that’s basically an angry predator dropping through a skylight unannounced. That moose of yours certainly wouldn’t have passed that. The instinct is so deep that as soon as they’re out of the Protectors, they go back to being just prey.”

“He’s the exception,” Marlot said, trying to remember if his program could pull that detail off the network. He didn’t remember ever having chased someone who had been a protector. “I saw him do it.”

“You saw him stalk and kill?” she asked in disbelief.

“He’s too clever for that,” Marlot replied. “He tricked her into stalking him. When he’d led her to an isolated area, he killed her.”

“An isolated area you just happened to be in?” she asked, suspicious now. “Alright, how exactly does a moose get a wolverine to stack him without them realizing that?”

“I don’t know.” How had he done it? Was artificial fear enough? He couldn’t remember that in the street.

“But you know he did it.”

He had to. Otherwise, it was a coincidence that she’d stalked him when he was planning to kill her.

“Alright. He gets the wolverine to stalk him until they’re alone, and then he what? Drops on them? Wolverine at tough people. They’ll take injuries that’ll bring down bigger people and just keep going. How did the moose do it?”

“I don’t know,” He snapped. “It was over by the time I got there.”

“So you didn’t actually see how it happened.”

“I heard them fight. I got there she was on the ground, broken neck, he saw me and ran.”

“That’s what you based his intent to kill her on?” she asked in disbelief.

“He ran,” Marlot insisted.

“He’s prey, Wolf. It’s what they do!” He rubbed her face with both hands., “What’s going on here. Did this even happen in your territory? There’s no way that wolverine stalked him through two territories after you became aware of it. Even they aren’t that stubborn. Where’s the wolverine’s body?”

“In the trunk of my car.” He winced at the memory of having to carry two bodies to it. The looks he’d gotten on the street had been amused and impressed. “I wasn’t going to leave her there to rot.”

“Scavengers would have gotten to her before that, I’m sure.”

Marlot snorted. “If they were that good about it, I wouldn’t have a job. All the unpaid bodies would be for the Missing Person’s bureau to deal with.” He tried to relax, the tension was making his wound throb.

“So you have the body; you have him. Explain to me why you’re here and not at the Revenue Processing center? That’s what your job is unless they changed its description in the last few days.”

Marlot looked at the floor, but caught her sniffing the air. The anger was thinning enough she was getting hints of the other scents. Did Enforcers have to go through cross-species scent recognition courses?

How could he explain it? How could he impress on her how important this was without mentioning the other bodies, without saying the moose was a hunter? He couldn’t have other people involved. He needed to show Trembor he—”

“Marlot, I know the lion leaving you was—”

“It’s got nothing to do with Trembor!” he snapped and she smirked. His ears folded back. “Okay, it might have something to do with him, but it doesn’t change what that male did to Radima.”

“How do you know her name?”

Fuck. How did he explain that? Right. He reached in his pocket and pulled out her ID. Now, why did he have it? “I took it off her once the body was in my car and checked it. Reflex, I guess.”

Her nostrils flared. She wasn’t buying it. “Fine,” she said, her tone even. He’d only heard her use that on her children when one tried to screw with her. “Let’s say that, as you said, he somehow arranged the entire situation so he could kill her. Maybe she cut him off in traffic. I don’t know, and it really doesn’t matter, does it? The only thing that should matter to you is if he pays the tax or not. The whys of her death, of him killing her are irrelevant. Aren’t they?” He fixed him with the kind of stare he’d seen make Belric squirm. And Marlot wasn’t tougher than her son.

Fortunately, her beeping pad made her look away and he could breathe again. “Corniel Ironhooves,” She read off it. “Construction worker. been with Jetick for fifteen years. No criminal infraction, a few traffic violations, but no one cares about those. Meat waiting to happen. From what I see here, the only thing keeping him alive is his scary size and the strength moose are known for. Sure, he’ll scare your usual predators, but explain to me how that, leads to him being someone who plans to kill a wolverine. More importantly, why we should care, if he’s willing to pay her tax.”

He was the hunter. He had to be. How else did he explain any of it? The obvious one was that it was an accident. They happened. There was a hunter out there. He couldn’t doubt that, because he had the ID cards as evidence. Did that make the moose it? What was more believable, that Radima had gotten hungry, gone to chase down a meal in an area she knew and it had turned badly for her, or that somehow, the hunter had arranged some elaborate plan to get her to come after him when he’d never done anything like that before? Marlot had asked the moose what made Radima special. What if the answer was nothing; because this wasn’t what the hunter had planned to do.

He hadn’t been able to confirm if the previous bodies had been killed in their homes because hacking into the system required to find that out would have meant breaking Trembor’s precious laws, so he’d made an assumption and followed it. Followed it beyond where the evidence pointed into what he’d wanted it to be.

Fuck.

“Marlot?” Bahamel asked, her voice gentler.

He sighed. “Just mulling over the kind of idiot I’ve been.”

He let out a breath. Could the moose be the hunter? Of course, he could be; Anyone could be anything. How likely was it? Maybe the construction part was also an act, but could a hunter driven to kill maintain it for fifteen years? Marlot didn’t think so. The research spoke of hunters as people driven to move. They were called hunters because the chase and kill were more important to them than eating the meat it produced.

“And what kind have you been?” she asked kindly.

The kind who shouldn’t let someone else’s beliefs box him in, he thought darkly. If not for wanting to show Trembor he could follow the law in doing that, he’d have gotten all the information he needed to know the moose couldn’t be it, instead of relying on his impaired judgment. Unfortunately, he could tell Bahamel that.

“The kind who let his emotions and personal problems get in the way of his investigation.” At least that wasn’t a lie. He let out a breath. “I need to speak with the moose.”

“Wolf,” she snarled, “Did I just wasted my—”

“Send Belric in with me,” he said, raising his hand to placate her. “Keep the camera and recorders on. I only need to clarify a few things for myself.”

“Marlot, if you do anything in there, I won’t be able to help you. Making sure what you’re already done never gets smelled is already stretching my abilities. If this is about you being angry, don’t stretch it out, kill him, pay his tax, and move on.”

“He’s not who I’m angry at.”

She checked her pad. “He’s been moved to room eight. If we’re left him where you put him, he’s have choked on his own fear. The recorders stay on, Wolf,” she warned.

He nodded and exited her office. Crossing the bullpen to reach the interrogation rooms, he felt the eyes on him; The judgments for another RI barging into their territory, making a mess of their workday. It didn’t matter they had the authority, they should have the respect not to do it. Maybe they didn’t think that. Maybe other RIs had down worse, but Marlot had crossed a personal line that was too reminiscent of his hometown.

The moose stood, eyes growing wide as Marlot entered, the despair in the room filled with fear again. Marlot raised his hand as he moved to the furthest corner from the moose.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you,” Marlot said, watching the male eye the door. How had he thought this was an act? That there was such a thing as an artificial fear scent? “Can you walk me through what lead to Radima’s death? The wolverine,” he added at the moose’s confusion.

The male swallowed and slowly moved to the opposite corner of the room. Marlot should tell him to sit down, but now he wanted the truth more than procedures. Or his own satisfaction.

“I noticed her in a reflection. Then I caught her scent. I caught it again when I changed street and I knew.” His voice shook. “I tried not to run, I know what happens if you run from a predator. We’re taught not to do it. But I just wanted to be away from her. I just wanted to be safe, to be home.” He hugged himself. “Why can’t you just leave us alone? I got lost, I forgot where safe was. Then she was in front of me and I just wanted her to not be there. I ran, I wanted to be past her to go back where I thought safe was. But she stopped me. I could smell how hungry she was. I tried so hard not to be food. I work so hard. She wouldn’t let me pass. I don’t want to be food. I—” He shook. “Then I saw you. I smelled your hunger, and I was going to be food again, but I could run now.” He fell silent. Looked utterly defeated. “I don’t want to be food.”

He looked like prey, smelled like it. Marlot should have seen that, not a way to win Trembor back. He read a date from his pad; when Brakan Goldeneyes died. “Do you remember where you were?”

The male shrugged. “Work. Work is how you stay from becoming food. So I work as much as I can.”

Marlot nodded. Construction work was low rated unless they were in the offices, and he didn’t sound like he could do that level of work, so being as productive as he possible would keep his tax higher.

Marlot stepped to the table and the moose tensed. He placed Radima’s ID on it. The male looked, his eyes going wide. The fear was back.

“I can’t.” He looked at the door and Marlot backed away, unsure what had him afraid this time. “I work with predators, bears, tigers, big, strong, hungry. They’re going to find out. They’re going to eat me for it. I don’t want to be food.”

Could he explain predators didn’t think that way? Could prey get that they were similar in that? Death came, it came for any of them. There was no point in getting angry once it had come. You just made sure it didn’t come for you.

Marlot took the card back. “If you’ll let me keep the body, I’ll pay the tax.” She might be too expensive for him, but he couldn’t let her go unpaid. It would draw whoever the RI in whose territory he was in was. They’d go after the moose, and he’d been terrorized enough already. “As far as the system I concerned, I’ll be the one who killed her. The system doesn’t care about that part, just that the tax is paid. No one has to know what happened.”

Hope filled the moose’s eyes, then grew suspicious as he eyes the closed door.

“You’re free to go.”

The male was out the door before he was done speaking.

Marlot wondered if the moose would make it home. He hoped so, but prey running scared could make predator chase him. Even he wanted to. His shame at what he’d put the moose through was the primary thing keeping the instinct in check.

He looked at the camera, gave Bahamel a small smile. Hopefully, he’d redeemed himself in her eyes with this. A little good compared to the bad he’d caused. Now he needed to deal with the body, pay for it, get it processed, and finally enjoy real meat.

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