Series of Death, Draft 02, CH 42 (Patreon)

His pad buzzed, and Marlot hesitated on seeing Gorrek Shiningpelt’s name on the display. “Hello,” he answered in a bored tone.

“Good morning, Mister Blackclaw. How was the meat?”

“It was edible,” he replied, filling another box of the report he was filling. It had been good, better than even what Jale’i baked. He’d only eaten it because he couldn’t afford to throw away meat, as much as he’d have preferred dropping it at the lion’s doorstep. He didn’t know if the cougar knew about Gorrek’s other lovers, or who provided the meat he ate.

“Edible,” Gorrek replied with a chuckle. “You must be quite the discriminating eater.”

“Not really,” he replied, trying to recall what the address had been. He’d just looked at it before the lion called. “Meat’s meat. What can I do for you, Mister Shiningpelt?” He looked away from the report. He wouldn’t be able to focus on it until the lion was done.

“I thought you might like an update.”

Marlot straightened. “What, you saw the hare I mentioned?”

The lion chuckled. “I’m afraid not. What I have to report is that me and Davan had a wonderful morning of sex, he is so tight and—”

“I don’t need to hear about your sex life, Gorrek. I don’t want to hear about it. So you didn’t see the hare?”

“No, no hare with fingers light enough to lift my ID.” He paused. “Tell me, how light are your fingers?”

“Excuse me?”

The lion laughed, a rich, deep, and throaty sound. Marlot smiled.

“Maybe we can meet after work,” the lion purred, “and you can show me what you can do with those fingers, you know, other than lift my ID.”

The accusation was light, in jest, but that along with the implication of what the lion wanted to do with him removed the smile of his muzzle.

“I didn’t take your ID,” Marlot stated.

“Oh, I believe you,” Gorrek said, his tone contradicting him.

“Why would I have returned it?” Marlot demanded.

“Marlot,” the lion purred, “don’t play it this way. I’m not offended. I’m impressed, really. No one’s ever gone to these lengths to get my attention, but you have it now. You can stop stalking me and pounce on me.” The lion moaned softly. “I will make it worth your while.”

“I’m not—” Marlot rubbed his temple. “I’m not stalking you. I’m waiting for the thief to strike again.” Maybe going to with the pickpocket as his excuse hadn’t been well-thought-out.

Gorrek laughed, and a shiver ran down Marlot’s back. “Then let him try. I’ll catch that hare for you, then you can thank me in person for the help. Of you could simply join me now and thank me for the pleasure I’ll grant you.”

“I am not—have a good day, Mister Shiningpelt. I have work to do.” He disconnected to the lion’s deep laughter and had difficulties focusing on the report as the echoes of it continued to make him shiver.

* * * * *

“The body’s a raccoon,” the ermine in uniform told Marlot, reading from her pad. “In her fifties, based on visual observation. I don’t know if this one’s yours, though. Her pants are ripped. My guess is that she was raped.”

“Unless whoever killed her paid her tax, she’s still my responsibility. I’ll Coordinate with vice if the rape is confirmed.” He looked down the alley where the body had been found. It was past the turn, and the alley opened onto a lightly used sidewalk. A good ambush place. Snatch and hide. Many predators preferred ambush over a chase, sexual or otherwise.

He looked for cameras, but this was a low productivity area. The buildings weren’t maintained, closed stores with apartments over them one housing complex further down. Not somewhere the city was interested in investing money. He’d have to rely on someone being willing to talk to the enforcers who’d canvas the area.

Someone waved at him from the other side of the cordon, and Marlot frowned. What was Gorrek doing here? The lion smiled at Marlot once their eyes met and motioned for him to come over.

With a shake of the head, Marlot headed into the alley to look over the body.

* * * * *

“… examiner will confirm the death if the result of the gash on the side of her head.” He paused, took a picture of the bloody brick on the ground. “The included picture is of the most likely cause of death. The frost indicates it hasn’t been moved since the temperature dropped below freezing around the time I estimate the death happened. The position of the body in relation to the brick leads me to think she fell and hit her head, rather than someone hitting her with it.”

“Doing my job for me?” Jaxca asked, approaching, rolled tarp under his arm. The red frog was bundled in a thick jacket with the lined hood pulled so tightly over his head only his eyes and end of his muzzle were visible.

Marlot chuckled. “It’s not that cold yet.”

“Get shaved, Marlot,” Jaxca replied bitterly, “only then you can tell me it isn’t that cold.” He dropped the tarp and crouched next to Marlot. “There was a lion in the crowd who wanted me to give you this.” He handed him a piece of paper.

Marlot read the time and address on it. The time was dinner, and the address wasn’t the lion’s.

“Moving on?” Jaxca asked.

Marlot crumbled the paper. “No. I’m not—”

“None of my business,” the frog said.

Marlot pulled his pad and sent Gorrek a message. Not happening.

“I agree with your assessment. On visual inspection, it does look like she fell and hit her head. What does your nose tell you for the time of death?”

“In the night, not long before the temperature dropped. But that’s based on the blood having ice crystal in it, it wasn’t dry when the cold started.”

“I’ll have something more precise once I’ve examined her. Can I move her?”

Marlot unrolled the tarp. “I have what I need from the scene.” He helped the frog move the body on it, then carry it to his car.

At least Gorrek wasn’t there to distract him.

* * * * *

The box on his doorstep was marked with the name Zerto’s, and the address under it was the same that had been on the note. A search on the network told him it was an expensive place. Tucked under the box was a card. Marlot looked around to make sure the lion wasn’t there before taking it.

Since you couldn’t make dinner, I had them deliver your plate. I hope this will be more to your high standard.

He glared at the note as he called the lion. “What are you doing?”

“Well, right now I’m busy with—”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

The lion sighed, then the voices were muffled. After a silence, Gorrek spoke. “I’m demonstrating that I am a good provider. Was the meat to your liking?” the voice echoed differently, so he’d moved to another room rather than asking his partner to leave. Marlot looked at the time. It would be the cougar.

“I just arrived; I haven’t eaten yet.” He kept himself from asking who the lion had eaten with since that would who’d paid for the meat in the box.

“You should hurry. The box is insulated, but with the cold, there’s no telling how warm it is now. The hotter the better for this meal. Call me after you’ve eaten, let me know what you thought.”

“No.” He unlocked the door. “Gorrek, you have enough males to pay attention to already.”

“Oh, Marlot, you are sorely misjudging my ability when it comes to paying attention to my males. I will not let you feel left out, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Gorrek, I’m not—”

“Don’t worry, Marlot,” the lion said softly. “I’m not going to push. I know you’re in a sensitive period, with what Trembor did to you. Just know that I’m here. That I’m going to be patient. You’ll see that I can be very good for you.”

“Goodbye, Gorrek,” Marlot said, biting off the words. How dare the lion bring Trembor into this? It was like he thought that just because they’d both experienced the same thing at his hands meant they were already in a relationship. Not pushing indeed. Shared pain wasn’t a way to build a relationship.

Maybe shared revenge? He wondered, taking the box and going in the house. Only he didn’t want to hurt Trembor, he just wanted…

He leaned back against the closed door.

He wanted his lion back. He wanted to understand why he’d walked out. He wanted to be held, comforted.

He opened the box and the rich aroma wafted out. Meat cut thin, draped over a variety of roasted vegetables, drizzled with a sour-smelling sauce. It was too fancy for him, Marlot told himself, there was too much green for this to be healthy, the best thing to do was to get rid of it.

He wiped the drool off his muzzle.

Only, if he didn’t eat this, the meat in his cooler would run out one meal earlier, and he wasn’t to where he was confident he’d win his next hunt. He had to eat this, he decided, but only because it was the practical thing to do.

* * * * *

“Don’t crash,” he told the computer as he ran the program again.

Another error message appeared.

Stalker 2.0 just didn’t like Gorrek and Al’garinam. A predator who got others to feed him and a prey who stalked. If Marlot hadn’t had first-hand experiences with both, he’d agree with the program’s reaction.

He had a new version on his home computer, but he’d realized he needed more hardware before he could finish building it. His office system definitely couldn’t handle version three. Although he wasn’t sure he could call what it was turning into a stalking program.

A knock on the door and Hela’han entered, holding a box. Marlot couldn’t make out the name on the side with how fancy the lettering was. “This was just delivered, for you.” She held her trunk under an arm, away from the box. “It smells like meat.”

He took it, and the card that came with it, already knowing who this was from.

You didn’t call, it read. Did the meat measure up?

It had, but he wasn’t telling that to the lion. He didn’t need anyone providing for him. He could handle that himself. Well, he would once he was fully healed.

Once alone, he opened the box. He was surprised at how much smaller the meal was than the box. Half a dozen rolls of thin meat with a paste in the middle that smelled of blood and sugar.

There was a card next to the serving, I expect a male like you forgets to stop for a midday meal, so here is something light to tide you over until I feed you properly.

He shoved the box away. That was it. He was done eating the pretentious lion’s gifts.

* * * * *

Marlot eyed the empty box on the passenger seat as he parked in the lot near the clinic. The meat had been too good and filling. The sweetened blood had been the most surprising; light and whipped to a velvety texture more than a paste.

He rolled his eyes, grabbing the box and crushing it. Why was he thinking about consistency? It was meat, nothing more. It wasn’t even that. It was a bribe from the lion, some sort of partner for hire.

No, not that either. It was meat one of Gorrek’s partners had paid for, and he was certain they didn’t know who had eaten it. He angrily dumped the crumpled box in the trash. He never left food-related leftover for Hela’han to deal with. She wouldn’t complain, but she shouldn’t have to deal with meat.

He slowed as the door to the clinic became visible. He looked around, his hackles raising. On the other side of the road, he caught sight of a black mane, an expensive jacket. Had that been a smirk, before pedestrians obscured the lion?

Was Gorrek stalking him? He wondered, searching for him again, but he’d used the crowd to leave without being seen. Like Marlot needed that, on top of the gifts of meat. He was no one’s prey, and certainly not that lion’s. He headed for the clinic again, without hurrying. Prey hurried when they realized they were being stalked. He wasn’t prey.

Marlot smiled and recalled his youth; the games he and his friends had played. The times when he had been stalked through the town. Being caught hurt, because they’d all agreed that for the game to feel real, there had to be a cost to being caught. And it had worked; when Marlot was chased, he’d been afraid, but not only of the pain. The idea his father might find out he was playing at being prey made his fear even more real.

What that had taught him was how predators could behave, how a smart prey to take charge of the hunt. He sourly remembered the rat and his friend. He should have remembered those lessons then. He walked past the clinic. Gorrek was still there, trying to hide. Marlot was certain of it. All he needed to do was to force him to make himself visible.

He picked up his pace, not a run, not even something that would make someone think he was trying to flee, he was just in a hurry. He was running late for a meeting. He caught the lion on the other side of the road out of the corner of his eyes as he shouldered people out of his way to keep up. He was clumsy.

Marlot could bolt, trigger the chasing instinct the anti-predation advocates claimed weren’t needed anymore. Lead the lion into the alleys. Marlot knew the area; he’d familiarized himself with it because of how often he came to Jaxca’s clinic. There were many places where he could turn the table on the lion, make him the prey, bring him down.

And ruin himself in the process, he reminded himself. Gorrek was way out of his price range. Of course, it wasn’t what the lion was after. If Marlot caught him, the lion would force a different activity. As much as he missed being held. Marlot wouldn’t be one of many.

He kept the pace until he approached the intersection, making sure the lion kept up. He was smoother in his stalking now, stepping around people rather than through them. As a group moving in the opposite direction crossed Marlot’s path, he ducked until they hid him and turned to keep pace with them.

By the time the lion realized what he’d done, he wouldn’t be able to tell where Marlot had gone. He might be able to pick up his scent, but Marlot didn’t think Gorrek was that good of a predator anymore.

He entered the clinic and wished the lion a fruitless hunt. That would teach him to try stalking Marlot.

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