slow.”
“Sure, I’ll see you there.” Once he hung up, he asked Paris, “Is there a place at the mall called Poison?”
Paris was sitting cross-legged on the bed, the open pizza box beside him, a slice in his hand (pepperoni and olive). He took a swig of beer to rinse down the bite he’d just taken, then said, “Uh-huh, it’s one of those trendy young adult emo gear stores. Why? You need a nipple ring?”
“That’s where Marley works.” He sat down on the bed beside him, and grabbed a slice of pizza from the box. Paris handed him a beer, and while he almost refused it, Roan figured, fuck it. One of these beers wasn’t 64
Andrea
Speed
going to affect him, and frankly, after that scene at Tweaks’s place, he could use a beer.
Paris gave him a lopsided grin. His hair was still damp, still clung to his face in a way that had to be deliberate; it made him look like a model in some kind of pretentious perfume ad. “Oh joy. You’ll love it there.”
“You think I don’t know sarcasm when I hear it?”
“When we leaving?”
“She said after seven-thirty would be good, so—” Suddenly he realized that that was around sunset. “—um, I guess I’m going solo.”
Paris’s humorous smile collapsed like a soufflé in an opera house kitchen. It was so sudden it was like he’d never been smiling at all, and he got a slightly distant look in his eye. “Oh… yeah… good luck with that.”
He tore into his pizza slice like it was a hunk of crusty bread.
Paris only had a couple hours until his transformation. Roan wasn’t going to leave him this time; he was going to make sure he got down to the basement in time and was safely contained. There’d be no chances of an accidental release this time; he’d make sure he was safe.
Roan reached over and touched Paris’s face gently, brushing his fingertips over his cheek; Paris closed his eyes and leaned against Roan’s hand, just for a moment.
“I always miss you when you’re not with me.” The frightening thing—well, frightening as far as Roan was concerned—was that was almost always true. It was like his world had been monochrome before this vibrant, Technicolor man had come into it. Paris was everything he wasn’t, and filled a void he hadn’t realized he had. Of course he drove him absolutely crazy sometimes, not in a good way, but that was the really weird thing about love. What attracted you could eventually irritate you, and vice versa. He wished things were a bit more orderly and logical, but they never were.
Paris glanced at him, lips curving in the slightest hint of a smile, and he teased, “Why detective, that sounded almost sappy.”
“Don’t push your luck,” he warned with mock-sternness.
The phone rang then, totally ruining the mood. The mood was killed even more when he glanced at the caller ID: Sikorski again. He gulped down half his beer in two swallows—he just knew he was going to need Infected: Prey
65
the alcohol—and only after he was ready answered the phone. “Did you put out an APB on me?” Roan was only half joking; he was an infected at a crime scene. It didn’t matter that no transformation happened that fast; he’d be a natural suspect.
“I think you’re in the clear,” he replied, but all the lightness was missing from Gordo’s tone. Roan knew that was a major warning sign.
“We got a partial bite mark from one of the bodies, and it didn’t match any... except one. One we got very recently.”
Roan felt his stomach fall, turn to stone. Oh God, his first suspicion was right, wasn’t it? “You don’t mean....”
“I do.” Sikorski sighed heavily. “The same cat that killed DeSilvo killed these people. We have a kitty serial killer on our hands.”
66
Andrea
Speed
9
The Humanity Underneath
“THAT’S impossible,” Roan pointed out, rubbing his forehead. He could just feel a headache gathering there, somewhere deep within the confines of his skull. “Cats don’t have
“Sure, I’ll see you there.” Once he hung up, he asked Paris, “Is there a place at the mall called Poison?”
Paris was sitting cross-legged on the bed, the open pizza box beside him, a slice in his hand (pepperoni and olive). He took a swig of beer to rinse down the bite he’d just taken, then said, “Uh-huh, it’s one of those trendy young adult emo gear stores. Why? You need a nipple ring?”
“That’s where Marley works.” He sat down on the bed beside him, and grabbed a slice of pizza from the box. Paris handed him a beer, and while he almost refused it, Roan figured, fuck it. One of these beers wasn’t 64
Andrea
Speed
going to affect him, and frankly, after that scene at Tweaks’s place, he could use a beer.
Paris gave him a lopsided grin. His hair was still damp, still clung to his face in a way that had to be deliberate; it made him look like a model in some kind of pretentious perfume ad. “Oh joy. You’ll love it there.”
“You think I don’t know sarcasm when I hear it?”
“When we leaving?”
“She said after seven-thirty would be good, so—” Suddenly he realized that that was around sunset. “—um, I guess I’m going solo.”
Paris’s humorous smile collapsed like a soufflé in an opera house kitchen. It was so sudden it was like he’d never been smiling at all, and he got a slightly distant look in his eye. “Oh… yeah… good luck with that.”
He tore into his pizza slice like it was a hunk of crusty bread.
Paris only had a couple hours until his transformation. Roan wasn’t going to leave him this time; he was going to make sure he got down to the basement in time and was safely contained. There’d be no chances of an accidental release this time; he’d make sure he was safe.
Roan reached over and touched Paris’s face gently, brushing his fingertips over his cheek; Paris closed his eyes and leaned against Roan’s hand, just for a moment.
“I always miss you when you’re not with me.” The frightening thing—well, frightening as far as Roan was concerned—was that was almost always true. It was like his world had been monochrome before this vibrant, Technicolor man had come into it. Paris was everything he wasn’t, and filled a void he hadn’t realized he had. Of course he drove him absolutely crazy sometimes, not in a good way, but that was the really weird thing about love. What attracted you could eventually irritate you, and vice versa. He wished things were a bit more orderly and logical, but they never were.
Paris glanced at him, lips curving in the slightest hint of a smile, and he teased, “Why detective, that sounded almost sappy.”
“Don’t push your luck,” he warned with mock-sternness.
The phone rang then, totally ruining the mood. The mood was killed even more when he glanced at the caller ID: Sikorski again. He gulped down half his beer in two swallows—he just knew he was going to need Infected: Prey
65
the alcohol—and only after he was ready answered the phone. “Did you put out an APB on me?” Roan was only half joking; he was an infected at a crime scene. It didn’t matter that no transformation happened that fast; he’d be a natural suspect.
“I think you’re in the clear,” he replied, but all the lightness was missing from Gordo’s tone. Roan knew that was a major warning sign.
“We got a partial bite mark from one of the bodies, and it didn’t match any... except one. One we got very recently.”
Roan felt his stomach fall, turn to stone. Oh God, his first suspicion was right, wasn’t it? “You don’t mean....”
“I do.” Sikorski sighed heavily. “The same cat that killed DeSilvo killed these people. We have a kitty serial killer on our hands.”
66
Andrea
Speed
9
The Humanity Underneath
“THAT’S impossible,” Roan pointed out, rubbing his forehead. He could just feel a headache gathering there, somewhere deep within the confines of his skull. “Cats don’t have
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