Bad Seed Read online

  He didn’t. If the police were treating Bethany’s death as suspicious, they hadn’t mentioned it anywhere Sean could find through an easy search. But he hadn’t noticed any other deaths that could be considered suspicious recently.

  Cyanide poisoning, he searched next, and came upon symptoms ranging from nausea to seizures. Sean stopped where he was, in the dwindling flow of the students late for their classes, and blinked.

  “That’s it,” he muttered to himself. The suspicious death had to be Bethany’s. Nothing else made sense to him. “But how could she have…”

  Sean grabbed up his things and went to his car, ready to go drop by Crypt Coffee with the new information when it struck him he couldn’t do that any longer. He stared, feeling numb, for several minutes before removing his hands from the wheel.

  Shit. He and Dane were through, and he didn’t even have a mind-wipe to help him deal with it. He was excited again—truly excited—after his little eavesdropping session and he desperately wanted to do something with that energy. He wanted to do it with Dane. Probably the Order had a list of hitmen who used cyanide or something like that, and it would be simple enough for Dane to locate someone to intimidate. It might even be one of the witches. In fact, the more Sean thought about it, the more that made sense.

  Witches did things with plants and presumably could distill whatever they wanted. The Cauldwells had been Bethany’s rivals, and their Guild as well as the Order hadn’t been moving fast enough for them. Sean wanted to bring this to Dane so badly…even if it got him in trouble.

  He swallowed. Maybe especially if it got him in trouble. Dane might find it easy to pick people up, but Sean had had no one but his own hand since that night with Dane. And if he gave the Decrypter some good reason to go after the witches he seemed to detest…

  Sean debated driving over, then calling. Dane had dumped all of his calls into messaging before and he doubted anything different would happen now. Sean decided on texting first, then driving over, just in case Dane didn’t look at what Sean had sent, or had changed his phone number.

  Have a lead that points to the witches, sent Sean. He pulled out and got on the road, pushing aside thoughts that it was more likely Dane would turn Sean in to the Order for this than it was he’d be grateful enough for a quickie in the Lair. Sean was going to dream as long as he could, and really, after a hellish few weeks he was sure he’d rather not remember any of this at all than to deal with his current state.

  At a particularly long stoplight he noticed Dane had texted back.

  I told you to fuck off.

  Sean grinned, the contact with Dane feeling good. He couldn’t be that pissed with Sean if he replied.

  On my way now, sent Sean, and ignored everything else Dane sent as he drove.

  Chapter 16

  “I’ll be in the basement going over paperwork,” said Dane, pocketing his phone. Shit. Shit. He was supposed to have dealt with Sean by now. It had been a week and he’d put off reporting him, and now the man was coming back here to Crypt Coffee. Dane had really hoped somehow Sean would have dropped everything, realized this was all for the better. Moved on. But really, what could he have expected from someone who led as boring a life as Sean did?

  He was screwed, and there wasn’t anything Dane could do. The more Sean interacted with Dane, the more likely the Order would realize Sean was there, and deal with him their way.

  “Yeah, sure,” said one of the baristas.

  Dane retreated to his Lair to hide from Sean and make a hard decision on how to handle him. Maybe they could just be fuck buddies—he could call Sean up after the wipe, act disbelieved when their relationship wasn’t remembered, and then spin a tale about how they’d hooked up.

  Fuck, that seemed like a lot of work.

  He was drinking from one of his half-empty bottles when the door opened. Sean appeared at the foot of the stairs, blue eyes lit up and expression closed off.

  “I let myself in,” he said as Dane choked on his alcohol and swore. It was good to see Sean again, he felt everything from satisfaction to horniness, and he hated himself for it. What was it about this asshole? Could it be just that he was a civilian with the drive of a Decrypter? That was an alluring quality…

  “I can fucking see that,” said Dane, replacing his bottle on the shelf. If he channeled all his emotions into gruffness, maybe Sean would leave. “Now why don’t you let yourself out?”

  “Because we have unfinished business,” said Sean, taking a few steps closer.

  Dane rolled his eyes and closed the distance between them, hoping he looked aggressive.

  “No we fucking don’t, Sean,” he said.

  Sean beamed.

  “I didn’t think you’d forgotten me. Not after all the shit we did. And I noticed your Order never showed up to blank my mind. Maybe you’re all talk and they can’t do that after all.”

  Dane gritted his teeth. Sean was going to get himself killed if he didn’t take these things seriously. How Sean could be so stupid irritated Dane, although the fact that he was finding it difficult not to push Sean down against the steps and kiss him so hard it hurt was causing him greater frustration. Normally Dane ran through the usually short course of things before breaking from a person, but Sean—he had unfinished business with Sean. And his ass.

  “Are you always this stupid? They must let anyone become a professor.”

  Sean laughed, one short, smug burst, and Dane grabbed his arms. The smugness infected Sean’s eyes, and he leaned in until his face was centimeters from Dane’s.

  “I knew it. You never reported me, did you?”

  “Fuck you,” said Dane, pushing him back. Sean went without resisting. “I’m not talking about this.”

  He kissed Sean, hard, and pushed him down to the stairs like he wanted. Sean groaned under him as the wood edges pressed against his back, but Dane was straddling him now and had no intention of letting him up. Dane doubted Sean wanted up, what with how he was trying to get his hands under Dane’s shirt. Dane’s cock strained against his jeans, hard and hot with excitement, and he caught Sean under the jaw with a hand to better direct the kiss.

  Sean undid the button on Dane’s jeans and he pulled back.

  “Seriously? You want me to fuck you on the stairs?”

  “You’re surprised? Or you don’t have a condom?” Sean’s chest heaved as he looked up at him, and Dane swallowed. Dane wanted very, very much to fuck Sean roughly on the stairs and send him on his way. “What? You’re not going to tell me you don’t want—”

  “The more time you spend with me, the more chance they find you out.”

  “Don’t tell me you broke up with me to keep me safe, Dane. You’re a selfish bastard.”

  Dane ran a hand through his hair, not wanting to have to talk about this when they could be fucking instead. It took him only a few seconds to decide they might as well have their fun—Sean was already here, after all, and incredibly willing.

  “Yeah, I’m the one who’s shit,” he said, leaning back down again and reaching for Sean’s pants. He tugged the tucked shirt out. “Only reason you’re here is ‘cause you finally got a young guy to fuck you.”

  “Just do it already,” said Sean, bulge in his nice pants visible. Dane palmed him roughly and leaned forward to kiss him again, devouring Sean’s groan. He looked forward to sending Sean away with a sore back and a satisfied ass, true, but he also liked kissing Sean, feeling his response under his hands.

  Abruptly Sean froze, tried to pull back. Dane let him go and glanced in the direction he’d turned his head.

  “What the hell, Ned?” asked Sean.

  The ghost was a few feet off, kicked back in midair, watching. Dane figured he’d only been there a few moments, and his presence didn’t bother Dane any—he’d probably have sex in front of a whole room of people if he really wanted the sex, though he doubted he’d admit that to anyone—but Sean was clearly turned off by an audience.

  “You don’t have to stop on my
account,” said Ned.

  Sean pushed Dane back, the motion carrying so much force that Dane went with it. Apparently Sean found ghosts to be a mood-killer. “Not a problem for me what you do. If you had any idea what kinds of things I’ve witnessed…”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to think about that,” said Dane.

  Ned grinned. Dane began to wonder if Ned watched him otherwise, when he was bored and blowing off a bit of steam masturbating.

  “And you can still smile?” asked Sean, tucking his shirt back in his pants.

  Dane stalked over to his bottle selection again. If he couldn’t get laid, he’d get tipsy. He chose vodka.

  “I’ve been around a while,” said Ned. “There are only so many variations humans can come up with. The really inventive stuff is in the afterlife, I’ve heard.”

  “So it’s all Hell,” said Dane around the bottle. “Damn.”

  He laughed. Sean shot him a look that was not at all sexy. Damn again. Dane was not getting any now.

  “To say it’s all Hell is imprecise. There really isn’t much in the way of Hell, the way you talk about it.”

  “Yeah, you know so much about it, never having been,” said Dane, and if he didn’t know better he’d think Ned actually bristled at that. But the ghost’s voice was smooth when he responded.

  “I have good sources.”

  “Care to enlighten me on who or what those are?”

  Dane started as Sean grabbed the bottle of vodka from his hand, took a drink, then, two, and shoved it back. The professor ran a hand through his hair, pointedly not looking at Dane, crotch nearly back to normal size. Just for that Dane had another drink. Fucking ghosts.

  Ned raised an eyebrow.

  “Should have ambushed you at your shitty apartment,” said Sean, wandering over to the shelf to look for something that was more to his tastes. He grabbed the brandy.

  “Because I would have let you in,” said Dane. “You should have just moved on.”

  “To what?” Sean had a drink and replaced the bottle, then sat in the chair looking miserable. “You’ve seen my life. I can barely believe you’re still interested in—”

  “Fucking, Sean. I’m interested in your ass.”

  Sean laughed, shook his head.

  “Ouch,” said Ned.

  Dane whirled on him.

  “Fuck off before I send you on. Whatever you have to say can wait.”

  Ned vanished, leaving them to stare awkwardly at each other.

  “Sex?” asked Dane.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Look, I like getting pounded, Dane, but I’m back here because I overheard something important at the college.”

  “Which is?”

  Sean looked up at him sharply, clearly surprised Dane bit so fast. He grinned, had another drink. The vodka settled him some, and he did like talking with Sean. He might as well take what he could get, considering everything. Sean had to know what he was getting into by now.

  “An officer showed up to ask Dr. Miles questions, and I…eavesdropped.”

  Dane’s grin widened at how uncomfortable Sean looked to admit it.

  “Point, professor.”

  “He didn’t outright mention whose death, but I’m sure it was Bethany’s. I think she was poisoned.”

  “Poison, perfect.” Dane returned his vodka to the shelf before he had more than was wise, even for him. It wasn’t even night yet and he had to deal with all this shit.

  “Specifically, the cyanide found in things like cherry stones. Poisoning can cause, among other things, seizures.” Sean stood, caught up in what he was saying, eyes alight. Dane couldn’t look away. “It makes sense: Bethany was poisoned, gets in her car, has a seizure, and crashes. The murderer was probably hoping the crash would have killed her, since that would look least suspicious, but the cyanide would work just as well.”

  “And you needed to tell me this why?”

  “Damnit, Dane, you want a reason to go after the Cauldwells, right?”

  Dane stalked off across the room. Yeah, he did want a confrontation with those witches, and he knew he shouldn’t. But Bleu Falls was so fucking boring, and he hated feeling like the Order was punishing him by sending him here. A problem, a real problem that he could shoot or behead, sounded just about as good as screwing Sean on the stairs.

  But he knew he couldn’t get away with anything without evidence.

  “So she was murdered,” he said, turning back to Sean and shrugging. “Fine. Doesn’t mean the witches had anything to do with it. They used proper channels, the boring kind. Order wouldn’t condone me going after them.”

  “Unless they did it?” Sean looked smug now. “I think this is some good evidence. They were Bethany’s only enemies. Poisoning is a witch’s style, isn’t it? And they’re plant witches—how much evidence do you need? Obviously they found some way to distill the poison into a potion or spell or however that shit works.”

  “Even I need to go through the chain of command. Minor shit, cryptids and the like, the Order basically gives me free reign.” But Dane was still a basic Decrypter, never promoted, and he had little freedom when it came to it. He decided Sean didn’t need to know that. “When you get to other humans, though—I can’t just do whatever the hell I want. Witches seem weak, but their organizations are almost always older than the Order. They have power.”

  “Then we’ll get the evidence and take them out.”

  Dane stared at him. Sean seemed so sure of this.

  “What makes you think we’re doing anything together again once you step out of this room?”

  Sean crossed to him, got right up in Dane’s face. He felt himself getting turned on again and pushed the feeling away.

  “Because you need a partner, asshole, and I’ve got information.”

  “I don’t need—”

  Sean leaned in, kissed him. Dane relented immediately and kissed back before pushing back, breaking them apart.

  “No promises,” he said, “but I’ll try you out.”

  And they’d deal with the Order later. He hoped. Sean grinned.

  Chapter 17

  Thursday. It was still Thursday. Sean’s heart pounded with relief and building excitement. Dane had taken him back for good, as far as he was concerned, considering “for good” with someone like him was about the same as a trial period anyway. It was enough to make Sean forget about everything else he had going on in his life, so he reminded himself it was Thursday and groaned in disappointment.

  “What?” asked Dane, hovering above Sean as he searched the Order’s databases from the comfort of the chair. “My cock’s not down your throat, so the hell are you moaning about?”

  “It’s Thursday.”

  “So?”

  “I’ve got class tomorrow. Shit.”

  Dane started laughing, and Sean turned in the chair to glare up at him.

  “I know you want to get back to my place, professor, but we can put it on hold until tomorrow.”

  “Your place?” Sean’s stomach turned at the thought. There was probably something growing in Dane’s sheets. No, somethings. He did not want to end up there, naked, getting who knows what kind of mold pounded up his ass. “No. Mine.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Gives you time to pack a bag,” muttered Sean, turning back to the tablet.

  “And you time to clean. Admit it, your place is filthy when you’re not expecting company.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “At least I’m not going to have to teach a room full of little assholes tomorrow.”

  “No,” said Sean, “But you’ll have to serve them all Plague of Beans, two shovels, soy blood, and a drizzle of cadaver caramel all day.”

  “Fuck you,” said Dane.

  But Sean had what he was looking for.

  “Here,” he said, pushing the tablet where Dane could see. “This is the official list of what Cauldron Cosmetics and More is legally allowed to produce and sell under Guild of Green Growers law. A bunch of plant
s, licensed for some amount of magical exposure that you probably understand more than I do, beeswax products, certain kinds of animal products…”

  “Yeah, I’m not fluent in whatever measurements witches use. ‘Three source turns’? Bullshit.”

  “I take it that’s not how the Order measures magic influence.” Sean sighed when Dane didn’t reply. “I take it you don’t actually know how the Order measures magic influence.”

  “Not my specialty.”

  “Right. You just shoot and slice things. So that magic well we ran into back at Bethany’s house—you have no idea how strong that is? Because we might not be looking at just the witches here as culprits.”

  “We’re looking at the witches,” said Dane, sounding impatient. He leaned forward to poke at the tablet. “You said it yourself with that list of shit, the reasons why it’s them. I believe you.”

  “Good thing, too—look what’s on this list under their highly restricted products: cherry pit extract, apricot pit extract, and apple pip extract.”

  “The fuck is a pip?”

  “This is the cyanide, Dane. This stuff here.” Sean shook his head. It seemed so easy, that this would be listed in a database any Decrypter could access. Would the Cauldwells really be so obvious? “How much do they know about you?”

  “What?”

  Dane wasn’t following, but Sean was worried. He’d never worked out a murder before and he had no idea whether it was usually the kind of thing that was very straightforward, or more like one of those mystery shows with three twists and turns. If he looked at it wrong, he could get them both killed. The only thing he knew for certain was that anyone who killed once could certainly kill again.

  Sean pushed his chair back and prepared to calmly explain his thought process.

  “It seems strange to me that this information would be so simple to get—all you have to do is access your database. Of course, you’re not the kind of guy who would—but do the Cauldwells know that? In other words, did they know you well enough to assume they could murder Bethany with poison readily traced to them and you wouldn’t look, or did someone else kill her?”