Read Phoenix Rising Online

Authors: Theo Fenraven

Tags: #Gay, #Romance, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Suspense

Phoenix Rising (5 page)

“Charismatic,” Rachel said decisively, watching over his shoulder.
Even on a YouTube video, Talis’s voice resonated with a quality that sent chills down Artemis’s spine. This song had an Eastern influence behind a dark, driving bass that heated his blood. Artemis hadn’t expected it to be this good. He liked the music immediately. “You said they were popular.”
“Very. Their first CD, released two years ago, won a shitload of awards and went platinum. They’ve been touring off and on ever since, though I think this is their first visit to the States.”
“Talis speaks English like a native. I wonder what his country of origin is?”
“You can ask him when you go after the DNA sample.” She moved toward the door. “But right now, time to rejoin the lady from Interpol. Speaking of which, I thought those people were supposed to be mysterious and spooky. She’s about as interesting as my Aunt Alice, who wears housedresses and cans veggies.”
Grinning, Artemis clicked the video off and followed her out. “Only in movies, Rach. In real life, they look like anyone else.”
Liz was waiting for them in Numbnuts’s office. They got back to work.

Chapter Seven
Talis

Where does discontent start? You are warm enough, but you shiver. You are fed, yet hunger gnaws you. You have been loved, but your yearning wanders in new fields. And to prod all these there’s time, the Bastard Time.

—John Steinbeck

T
HE
band was tight. After a couple years of intermittent touring, they knew their stuff. Talis felt bad this would soon end, but Ammon would take care of them. There was plenty of money. They could start again with someone else, because after this week, he was finished. He would not sing professionally again.

Rehearsal proceeded smoothly and wrapped just after 4:00 p.m. After Talis set the mike down on a stool, he hopped off the stage and crossed the room to where Ammon awaited him.

“What is it?”

“Detective Gregory has requested to see you as soon as possible.”
“Did he say why?” Ammon handed him a bottle of icecold water, and Talis drank it.

“He did not. You had planned to see him this evening.” “Yes, to take the tickets and backstage passes to him.” Talis set the empty bottle on a table. “Just as well he comes to me. What did you tell him?”

“Seven p.m., your suite.”
“Excellent. I wonder if the fair Rachel will be with him?” He brushed damp golden hair back off his face. “I’d rather he was alone.”
“Perhaps that can be arranged….”
Talis raised an eyebrow. “If that is possible, do it. She is an unwelcome distraction.”
“I will see to it.”

B
ACK
at his hotel, Talis showered and prepared for Artemis, dressing in clothing he knew made him look good. The scent he applied was made of the rarest elements and could not be purchased anywhere, and his hair was perfect.

He smoothed the silk arm of his shirt, reveling in its slippery coolness, and then he stroked the back of his hand, which was warm, the blue veins under the skin pulsing with life. He enjoyed this body and what it allowed him to do, what it let him
feel
. After nearly one thousand years, feeling was important to him. Love, lust, hate, fear… he fully embraced every emotion, every experience in a way most humans did not. They needed their various walls to protect themselves from others; Talis remained completely open to his world.

Three years ago, when he’d begun the quest for his soul mate, he’d transformed for the first time. He’d been frightened at the shift, and then, very shortly, exhilarated. He’d taken to being human as if he’d been born that way, and in a surprisingly brief time, he’d become addicted to it. Someone had to die once each month so he could continue in that form. The moon kept track of time for him. A steep price, to be sure, but with so many people in the world, was it really so much?

His human self was beautiful, as beautiful as his other form. Looking at himself in the mirror, he stroked his thick hair, seeing the red streaks among the silver-blond. He traced his golden eyebrows with gentle forefingers and looked into amethyst-colored eyes. He had seen civilizations rise and fall, gazed upon the many wars waged by man against himself, watched humans fly, first in planes and then to the moon, wept over the ongoing destruction of a planet straining under so many bodies, and still… still he wanted to live and see more.

His hunger for life continued unabated. He wanted another thousand years, and another thousand after that. He wanted to live forever, and now that he’d found Artemis, there was a good chance he would. It had been foretold by the ancient pharaohs.

In the mirror, he stuck out his tongue and slowly licked his bottom lip, imagining it was Artemis’s tongue that did it. That man would appreciate Talis’s beauty but would not be swayed by it. This was about their souls and the connection between them. Did he feel it? Was he aware?

Talis placed a hand on his chest, over his heart, and felt it faintly beat against the pressure.
Of all the people in the world, since my time began, you are the only one for me. You are my savior, my sun and silver stars, my key to eternal life, and in return, I will give you the same.

T
ALIS
was waiting in the living room when Artemis arrived promptly at seven. Ammon was in his room. The detective was accompanied by another man who was introduced as Barry Martin with the CSU.

Talis invited them in, smiling to hide his disappointment that Artemis wasn’t alone. “Where is your partner this evening, Detective?”

“Elsewhere.” Artemis gestured toward Martin. “He’s going to take a DNA sample. Simple process. He’ll swab the inside of your cheek. You don’t mind?”

Talis hesitated. He had never before been asked for a DNA sample. What would his show? Would it look human or contain odd chains from the other? Regardless, they would match it to what he’d left behind at each murder and come to arrest him. The evidence would be circumstantial but overwhelming, and they would try to put him in jail. Try, and fail, so in the end, what would it matter? “Proceed.”

Martin pulled on gloves, stuck a Q-tip inside Talis’s mouth, stroked it against his inner cheek, and dropped the swab into a plastic tube. It was sealed, labeled, and put away. “Thanks. I’ll get this over to the lab.” He backed to the door, ready to leave.

Talis stepped forward, reaching out involuntarily, searching Artemis’s eyes. “Stay?”
The detective’s eyes widened in surprise. “I… can’t.”
Talis laughed softly. “I promise I won’t kill you.”
That
startled him. His lips parted, and Talis caught a glimpse of tongue. He wanted to suck on it.
“Artemis….” It was only a breath of sound, a nearly silent entreaty.
The detective shook his head as Martin, hovering with the door half open, gave them both curious looks. “No.”
Talis ached to touch him, to show him who he was, to tell him who he would be, and to feel the energy pass between them again. Mustering all his self-control, he dropped his hand. “Tomorrow, then.” He stepped back, raising his chin, an external sign of the internal bolstering of his emotional muscles. “I have something for you.” On the small table beside the door was an envelope. He handed it to Artemis. “Concert tickets and backstage passes.”
“Mm.” The detective turned, hesitating at the door. “Thanks for the sample, and the rest.” He glanced back at Talis. “Don’t leave town, blah blah. Got it?”
“I have a show to do, Detective. I will not leave.”
Yet.
And then he was gone, following Martin out, the door closing quietly behind them. Talis pressed the fingers of his right hand against the flimsy barricade keeping him from his love, listening to their steps go down the hall and fade. Laying his cheek against the wood, he flexed his hips against the door, feeling his cock fill and strain against tight pants.
Tears pricked his eyes, despite his resolve. Talis had found him at last, but Artemis was intent on proving he’d killed those young men when Artemis should have been kneeling at Talis’s feet, worshiping him with his beautiful mouth.
He retreated to his bedroom, tearing off his fine clothes and throwing them aside as if they were rags. Anger washed through him, making his movements harsh and abrupt.
Artemis had been within arm’s length of him, and he’d held back.
Held back!
Talis’s head swam as he sat on the edge of the bed, his erection jutting from between his legs. He’d never wanted anyone more. Curling one hand around his dick, he stroked hard, watching as a drop of precum appeared in the slit, shimmering in the lamplight before a second drop shoved it into a silver slide down the engorged head. He caught it on a finger of his free hand and brought it to his mouth, tasting himself. His breathing quickened, his hand moved faster along the shaft, and a fire began to burn inside him.
This
fire did not kill, not like the other one, but after breaking him down to a straining, gasping, trembling heap of quivering need, it swept through him wildly, cleansing him of stress, relieving him of want, purifying him in a way nothing else could.
What a shame the effect was only temporary.

W
HEN
Ammon came in two hours later, Talis was sitting up in bed, reading. The PA paused near the door, and Talis raised his eyes. “You want to know how it went.”

Ammon nodded.
“He arrived with another man, who took a DNA sample from me. Rachel was not with them.” Talis smiled. “Thank you for that, though it did not matter. After his business was concluded, they departed.”
“I am sorry.”
He sighed. “I am, too. But I will see him tomorrow, and after the concert… we go home, and he comes with us. I will exercise patience.”
Ammon nodded and left.
Talis tried to continue reading but eventually admitted failure, closed the book, and turned off the light, attempting sleep. Eventually, during the still hours of early morning, he managed it. His dreams were full of smoke and feathers.

Chapter Eight
Artemis
The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next. —Ursula K. LeGuin

A
RTEMIS
woke to light rain that Saturday, but by the time he’d showered and dressed, it was already passing. As he drove to Queens to lunch with his mother, the sun was struggling to break through thin cloud cover.

He didn’t really have time for this, but Mom had made a special request. Rachel called when he was still several miles from his destination.

“Thanks for letting me duck out last night,” she said, sounding sleepy and happy. “The play was great.”
“I’m glad you had a good time. Shit, one of us needs to engage in a social life sometimes.” Someone had dropped tickets on her boyfriend, Steve, at the last minute. Like Artemis, she worked hard and didn’t have much of a personal life. “Got the DNA sample, no problem. In and out in minutes. I dropped it off last night on the way home, put a rush on it. We should hear something by tonight.”
“And then we take him in?”
“We take him in. Meet me at the Park at three.” “See you then.”

J
AN
G
REGORY
hadn’t been quite the same since her

husband died of a heart attack. Although left comfortable financially, some of the life had gone out of her, as if a part of her had been buried with Thomas. She looked tired when she opened the door to her son.

“Thanks for stopping by, Artie.” She hugged him before leading him back to the kitchen. “I made your favorite.”
She was the only one who called him that. He wouldn’t allow anyone else to. Smiling, he sat in his usual place. “You always do, Mom.” The kitchen smelled of fresh coffee, and on the table were bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches on toasted white bread. He’d never had the heart to tell her he preferred seven-grain or sourdough. “There’s something you want to talk to me about?”
She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes as she sat opposite him. “I thought you should know.” She put a sandwich on a plate and handed it to him. “I’m getting married. I mean, I’m getting married again.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to hear“Lawn mower’s broken, can you fix it?” or “Help me move that old wardrobe into the garage.”but this was a surprise. “To whom?”
She kept her eyes on the table. “His name’s William Hersey. He was a friend of your father’s. You met him a time or two.”
He remembered. An average-looking, quiet man with stooped shoulders. Artemis recalled him stopping by once to help Dad build something in the garage. Another time, he’d been part of a group playing poker. “He seemed nice.”
“We’ve been in touch off and on since…. Well, recently, we started going out to dinner or a movie.” She took a bite of her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “I like his company, Artie. When he asked, I said yes. You don’t mind?”
She wasn’t his biological mother, but he’d never gone in search of the one who’d given birth to him. He’d loved both his parents and was thankful they’d adopted him. “Why would I?” He half stood to kiss her cheek. “When are you doing it?”
She beamed, relieved at his easy acceptance. “We thought maybe this fall. Something simple, considering we’ve both been married before.”
“Sounds fine. I’ll be there.”
He rather liked the idea of someone taking care of her. It relieved him of the guilt borne of spending so little time with her lately. He had good intentions, but something always got in the way. Hell, it was the job. It took up every waking minute, and lately it had occurred to him there were other ways of earning a living, other lifestyles that might be worth exploring. He didn’t have to be a cop his entire life, or maybe he could be one somewhere else. Some small backwater town might love to have a New York City homicide detective run their police department. Instead of dealing with heartrending murders and heartless killers every day, it might be a nice change to break up pot-smoking parties in the woods or chase down a missing dog.
He’d be thirty-four in a couple of months, and what did he have to show for it? He had a rental he spent little time at. He had no car, because parking in the city was a bitch. He had no lover because, as Richard had been so fond of telling him, “You’re married to the goddamn job. I don’t stand a chance in hell of getting your attention for more than ten minutes at a time.” Thinking of Richard while his mother sat across from him, glowing with quiet happiness, was a mistake. His chest burned with the pain of Richard’s absence, but he surprised himself by wondering if it was Richard he missed so much, or not having someone to love.
He picked up his sandwich and resolutely continued eating. “Are you going to continue on here or move in with him?”
“We’ve been discussing that. He has a nice house, so I thought I’d give this one to you.”
He shook his head vehemently. “No, Mom. Sell it and stash the money for a rainy day.”
“Are you sure, Artie? It’s been your home since you were fourteen.”
What would he do with a house? It wasn’t like he would marry, have children…. He stopped himself. He
could
get married, if he ever found the right guy. It was now legal in New York. Children? Never thought about it, but what if his mythical partner wanted one?
He was getting ahead of himself. He didn’t
have
a partner and, given the nature of his job, might never have one. Some asshole could shoot him tomorrow, and this house would just be sitting there. “Sell it,” he said again, finishing his sandwich. When she tried to give him another, he refused. “Just coffee, Mom.”
She looked at him. “I don’t want you to end up alone, Artie. That’s no life for anyone.”
He plucked nonexistent lint off his knee. “I agree, but it’s the one I have right now.”
“It’s not enough,” she insisted. “You need to make room in your life for someone special, or the years will pass and before you know it, you’re old and alone.”
“Gee, that’s comforting.” His attempt to make light of the situation failed.
“I don’t care that you’re gay. Doesn’t bother me.” She drew in a deep breath. “Whatever makes you happy makes me happy. What does bother me is that you only have time for work. Artie.” She glared at him and said again, “It’s not enough.”
He spoke softly. “I know, Mom. I’ll work on that, I really will.”
“Good.” She stood to fetch him more coffee.
His visit with her ended as it usually did, with him feeling slightly guilty about all the things he wasn’t doing to please her.

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