In Absinthia Page 5

  Cage lay back against the pillows, staring up at her posed above him. After a few seconds, he beckoned her forward with a single fingertip. She crawled forward, leaning way over to capture the beckoning finger between her teeth. Her tongue slipped around the tip, then swirled up and down the length. The fluttering of his eyelids let her know her innuendo had not been lost. He offered her another and she suckled at both hard, getting them wet before he slowly pulled them away from her mouth.

  The room was dim, but Phoe saw the mischievous smirk as Cage dragged the tips of his fingers lightly down her belly. She inhaled with a sharp gasp as his knuckles brushed the swampy, exotic locales further south. She’d been waiting for ages to be with him and it was obvious by the slippery drops that had already alighted at the apex of her thighs.

  “Come closer,” he whispered. She obeyed, sliding higher until she was practically perched on his chest. His hand slid gently along the back of her thigh, and around to her sex. She closed her eyes, getting lost in the sensations as the tips of his fingers wove their way inside from behind and began to stir gently. He kissed her hungrily, letting his tongue mimic the movements of his fingers inside. Slow, deliberate circles drew out her desire, making her feel completely exposed as the hidden depths of her sex blossomed. Cage touched her deep inside, and she could feel her body reaching for him, clasping and tightening its grasp. He pulled back, dragging his fingers along her hip and up her side, leaving a cool trail of her essence in their wake. Finally, he brought his hand to her mouth. She lapped at the pads of his fingers, tasting the bittersweet flavor of her own desire.

  Cage’s hands grasped her waist, moving her downward to where his cock was hard and waiting. “Impatient?” Phoe asked.

  “Repressed.”

  She grasped him gently, sliding her hand up and down the length. She could feel it growing and throbbing. It made her feel powerful to hold him this way. It was almost like holding a loaded weapon, and the thrill went straight to her sex. She was deliberately slow as she guided his cock into her depths. She wanted to hear him whisper her name, desperate for release.

  Phoe began to move her hips in wide circles that drew him into her further. His hands on her pelvis guided the tempo. She wanted more, to push her body against his and take her orgasm hard and fast, but Cage had other plans. He wanted to make it last. He wanted to love her deeply, and Phoe was willing to comply.

  She wanted to feel him inside of her hours later whenever she sat or crossed her legs. To be reminded of this moment. He angled his hips as she pressed downward, his cock hitting that spot deep within that made her scream her climax against his shoulder and beg him not to stop until they were both utterly spent.

  Later, they lay together in the darkness, watching the flames from their fire throw shadows on the walls. “That was exceptional.” Phoe sighed, nestling under Cage’s arm. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before.”

  “Oh? Have my skills been lacking?”

  “Of course not, dinkus. I don’t mean only the sexy part. I mean everything. This place. It’s more than I could ever imagine.”

  “Oh, so the sexy time doesn’t even get an honorable mention?”

  Phoe turned and gazed up at him. “As always, you are a thorough lover.”

  He smiled and kissed the top of her head affectionately. They lay there in silence a few minutes more. One question was preying on Phoe’s mind and had been for quite a while. She was afraid to ask him, afraid to know the answer, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore. Now, while they were on holiday in Absinthia, it seemed like the best time to broach the subject.

  “Cage?”

  “Yeah?” His voice was slow and slurred. Phoe could tell that he was on the jagged edge of sleep.

  “Why did you tell everyone we were married?”

  “Why shouldn’t I? I mean, do you mind it? People thinking you’re married to an asshole like me?” He rolled over and offered a sly wink.

  Phoe giggled. “Of course not. In fact, I rather like people thinking I’m married to a dangerously sexy asshole like you. It took me by surprise, that’s all.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I should have said something to you about it first, but it was kind of sudden. I wasn’t exactly prepared to answer questions about us, and I don’t think we should be too forthcoming. After all, Derek Machine and Manticore control the colonies. This one included.”

  “No, I agree that we shouldn’t go around telling everyone we’re IU spies. But it got me thinking.”

  “About?” He leaned over and grabbed his tumbler off the nightstand and swallowed the last of his bourbon.

  “Do you ever…” She took a deep breath. It was now or never. “Do you ever think about us getting married?”

  Cage set the glass down hard on the bedside table. For a second he looked confused, as if he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her correctly. “Us? Married?”

  “Yeah, you know. Getting dressed up. Having a party with cake and champagne.”

  Cage disentangled himself from her and sat up. He pushed his hands through his hair, a sure sign that she’d shaken him. “Yes, I know what marriage is. Remember, I was married once.”

  “Well, do you ever think about it? You know, with me?”

  Cage’s expression was pensive. It was obvious that he was trying to choose his words carefully. “I do. I mean, as a concept. In the abstract.”

  “The abstract?” She sat up, pulling the sheet around herself. “What does that mean?”

  “I mean, I think marriage is a good concept and the thought of marrying you is not an unpleasant one.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m probably not explaining it very well.”

  Phoe raised an eyebrow. “No, not really.”

  Cage sighed. “Look, Phoe. I love you. You know I do. But I don’t understand why we need a piece of paper to declare our love for one another.”

  “Because that’s what people do, isn’t it?”

  “Some people.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips gently. “Look, love. I have every intention of spending the rest of my life with you. I don’t need a judge, or a piece of paper, or a priest to tell me it’s okay.”

  “But maybe I do. You know, I may have adopted this weird life of ours. Jet-setting to exotic places and assuming bizarre identities, but deep down inside, I’m still a simple girl from St. Francisville. You might think it’s silly, but I feel like marriage and family is what I ultimately want.”

  Phoe sat back against the headboard and crossed her arms. She was proud of herself. She’d spoken up for what she wanted. Two years ago, she’d have gone along with whatever Cage wanted, always afraid to give voice to her desires. But without knowing it, he’d taught her how to speak up. So really, this was all his fault.

  Cage, on the other hand, seemed at a loss for words. “Phoe, you don’t understand.”

  “Then explain it to me.”

  “I don’t know if I’m capable of marrying again.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “I just…” When he turned and met her gaze, his eyes were full of pain. “You have no idea how much guilt I carry for them. For Corinne. And for Lily.”

  “They were not your fault, Cage.”

  “I know that,” he muttered.

  “The only person to blame for their deaths was the murderer. You couldn’t help what happened.”

  Cage got up from the bed and jerked his pajama pants on. “I should have been there to protect them. I broke a promise to keep them safe. And I can’t live through that again. I don’t…I don’t think I deserve to.”

  Her heart broke for him. She hadn’t realized how much this preyed on his mind still, even after all these years. “Of course, you do.”

  “No. Every time I laugh with you or kiss you or even dare to entertain the notion that we might have our own children someday, I have this twinge in the back of my head telling me that I don’t deserve this. That I’m betraying Corinne and L
ily by being happy.”

  Phoe went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek to his back. She was ashamed of her anger. “They loved you. They would want you to be happy.”

  “I know they would,” he said. “Give me some time, love.” He pulled her into his arms and embraced her tightly. “I swear I’ll make you happy.”

  She kissed his lips and nestled into his arms. “Idiot,” she teased. “You already have.”

  Before he could respond, there was a terrible commotion coming from outside. “What in hell is that?”

  They rushed to the window. A woman was screaming on the sidewalk as her companion tried to console her. He seemed to be trying to shield her from something unseen in the alley that ran between the lodging house and the restaurant next door. “My God. What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered.

  A police whistle and a rustle of feet on the sidewalk out front drew Cage and Phoe, as well as the rest of the lodgers, out of their rooms and downstairs. By the time they arrived, numerous police were holding back a crowd of onlookers. The screaming woman was now weeping on the steps of the Alice & Ludwig. A cop stood by talking to the man with her.

  “What’s all this about?” Mr. Brown huffed, smoothing down the stringy strands of his comb-over as he pushed through the crowd toward the policeman standing at the end of the steps. “People are trying to sleep up there.”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, sir. But there’s nothing to see. You should all go inside now.”

  “Go inside? With all this ruckus going on out here?”

  The policeman was trying his best to diffuse the situation, but Brown was clearly not going to be deterred. Cage started toward them, but Phoe took his arm. “Let him get arrested,” she whispered.

  But all questions were answered as the screaming woman wailed a final time. “So much blood,” she exclaimed. “The Ripper got another one.”

  Seven

  Cage managed to slip away from the crowd that had gathered in front of the pension. From what he could tell, the police in Absinthia weren’t exactly prepared for crimes of this nature. The IU employed a police force for the colonies, but from what he’d been told, they were pretty much security guards. Certainly not equipped to deal with a heinous serial murder. Maybe he could be of help.

  He backed into a tiny alcove and emerged as a black tomcat. No one would notice yet another stray wandering through the crime scene. Besides, the guards were more interested in keeping the crowd behind the little barriers they’d set up while trying to keep up the Victorian charade. He slinked along the sidewalk and leaped easily over the yellow barrier and into the alley.

  Cage could smell the blood before he could see it. It made his mouth water. Cops, bystanders, and photographers were tramping through the scene. Within a few minutes, the crime scene was already so contaminated any evidence recovered would be suspect.

  A large spotlight had been brought in to illuminate the alley. What Cage could only assume was a body was lying on the ground in a pool of blood. The shape was almost indiscernible because of the damage inflicted upon it. As he got closer, he could make out several fleshy lumps surrounding the body in a ritualistic, concentric pattern. The victim was a woman, middle aged, wearing the tattered finery of an unfortunate. Cage thought it odd that there would be a human playing the part. Usually, the prostitutes on the colonies, especially this one, were cyborgs. But the slick, shining mess all over the ground and walls was most definitely blood.

  Scarlet ropes of intestine had been laid carefully around the head like a halo. The woman’s face was frozen in a rictus of terror, her tongue lolling out to the side. There were deep gashes across her cheeks and one of her eyes had been removed, along with one of her hands at the wrist. There was a long, open wound at her midsection that gave her the appearance of a frog laid open for dissection. Evidently the killer had harvested several organs that were used in the grotesque tableau that surrounded the body.

  Cage’s first thought was that this was not a random act of violence. Something like this would take time and effort. A common street thug wouldn’t bother, and there was too much blood left behind for a vampire killing. There was also the obvious ritual involved. Perhaps there was some meaning to the position of the organs. Something meant to be viewed from above.

  A police officer came through with a large bucket in his gloved hands. He shoved one of the photographers aside and began collecting the organs that lay strewn around and tossing them into one of the buckets. Cage’s eyes widened as he watched them completely destroy the crime scene.

  “What are you doing?” one of the men in the shadows shouted, stepping forward. The man was impossibly tall with a large, black overcoat and scarf. He wore a funny hat and walked with the shambling gait of a rusty cyborg. “That’s evidence.”

  “It’s a mess,” the officer griped, holding up a hand to indicate that the man should stay back. “And I got me orders to get it out of the street before daylight.”

  “What about the victim?” the man asked.

  “We got photos. That’ll ‘ave to do for now. Now please, sir. Don’t interfere or I’ll ‘ave to arrest ye. Again.”

  “This is ridiculous,” the man stated. “What kind of policeman are you?”

  “The kind who does what he’s told,” the cop replied, glopping more of the woman’s intestines into the large biohazard bucket.

  “Oy. Out of ‘ere, cat.”

  Another cop ran at Cage with a bucket of water and tossed it in his direction. His ears laid back and he hissed at the officer before running down the alley toward the garden that connected the alley and the pension.

  Everyone was still milling about out front. That blowhard idiot Brown was still arguing with the police, insisting that they be told what was going on. The cop was trying to be patient, but Cage could see him gripping the butt of his nightstick harder with each passing second. Phoe was standing at the back of the crowd with Eleanor. He slid through the gate and made his way over to her.

  Cage mewed from below, trying to get her attention. At first, she dismissed him, barely glancing down. It wasn’t surprising. Stray cats were a staple of London in all time periods. He wove in and out between her ankles, purring insistently. When she still didn’t respond, Cage extended his claws and took a swipe at her knee.

  “Ow,” Phoe shrieked.

  “Poor thing,” Eleanor said, reaching down to pick Cage up by the scruff of the neck. “Sweet little puss. Did you get abandoned?” She made kissy noises at Cage and scratched him behind the ears. Perhaps he should have chosen a more threatening form this time.

  Cage put up with Eleanor’s fawning for a few seconds before yowling in Phoe’s direction. She petted him absently, still not paying much attention. He kept up the yowling until she turned, and he was able to force himself into her arms.

  “My goodness,” Eleanor chuckled. “The little thing seems to have taken a liking to you.”

  “He certainly has,” Phoe concurred, scrambling to shift Cage into her arms without dropping him.

  Cage’s mind raced. He would have to find a way to signal Phoe that it was him before everyone went inside. Surely, she wouldn’t carry a stray cat into the pension, and then he’d be stranded. Unless, of course, he wanted to shift back to his human form, naked, in front of a crowd of onlookers. He began to lap at her hand. His inserted his tongue between her fingers to tickle them, and then licked the back of her knuckles.

  “What in the world?” Phoe giggled. She nudged Eleanor. “Look at this cat.”

  “You’d think you had opened a can of tuna,” Eleanor said. “Or that he knew you.”

  A scrawny policeman in an ill-fitting uniform blew his whistle to get everyone’s attention. “For the last time, folks. Please go inside. We can handle it from here. The detective will be inside shortly to question you. I would advise everyone to stay put for the night.”

  Cage glanced up at Phoe and understanding flashe
d in her eyes. She pulled him close and started in behind the other guests. The horrible Miss Abecrombie started to protest, but Phoe turned a deaf ear and started up the stairs. She rushed into the bedroom and placed Cage down on the bed.

  His body contorted and lengthened until finally he lay naked and panting across the bed. “Damn that fucking sucks,” he grumbled.

  “What are you doing?” Phoe asked. “Why are you shifting here? I thought we agreed.”

  “I needed to get into that crime scene,” he explained.

  “Why? They have police here.” Phoe opened the wardrobe and threw clothes at Cage. “Police that are waiting downstairs to talk to everyone in the hotel. Including you, Mr. St. John.”

  “Calling those men police is a bit of an overstatement,” Cage huffed. “They’re wearing uniforms with big brass stars on the front, but they are hardly policemen. More like idiots.”

  “Why do you say that?” Phoe helped him button his shirt. She knew right after a shift that his muscles were always tense and clumsy.

  “They destroyed that crime scene.”

  “How so?”

  “The body was completely ripped apart. The murderer had taken out several of her organs and arranged them strategically around her body. Except for a hand and an eye, which were missing.”

  “Oh my God, Cage. I thought it was a joke. A show for the tourists.”

  “Sadly, no. That’s real blood.” He held up a hand. There were streaks of blood left from where his paws had padded over the street. “Whatever is going on here is not theatre.”

  Phoe took his hand and examined the bloodstains on his fingers. She tasted it with the tip of her tongue. “It tastes like blood, but it isn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it does, but there’s something mixed in. A chemical of some kind.” She offered up his hand and he sniffed. His heightened senses immediately picked up what she was talking about. The coppery scent was there, but it was somehow cleaner, like it had been disinfected. Cage tasted the blood and gagged.