Bad Seed Page 12

  “Fucker,” he heard Sean say.

  Dane grinned, leaned forward, and kissed him viciously again. The sides of Sean’s eyes were wet and his face was flushed. When Dane finally pulled back, Sean still looked good in his completely-fucked state. Dane left him where he lay, limply strewn over the stairs, and went in search of something to wash away the taste of condom. Dane brought back the wine, poured, and extended Sean’s glass to him.

  “Going to make it?” he asked.

  Sean groaned and leaned up enough to take the glass.

  “I think half my back is rug burned. Thanks, asshole.”

  “And your asshole?”

  “Took a not-unwelcome pounding. You push a man hard, Dane.”

  Dane grinned, drank his wine.

  “No one’s ever let me fuck them on the stairs before.”

  “I’m not surprised. If we do it again tonight, just bend me over and fuck me gently.” Sean took a drink of his wine. “Glad to have you back here.”

  “Glad I’m good for something,” said Dane. He couldn’t bring himself to actually tell Sean he was glad to be back here, too. It was almost home.

  Chapter 19

  Sean half expected to be woken in the middle of the night, but Dane must have been more tired than he let on, because Sean woke at four-thirty like normal, rolled over, and went back to sleep, all with Dane snoring beside him in bed. When he woke again at seven, though, Dane was gone. Sean yawned, pulled on a robe, and winced as he got up.

  It was good they hadn’t had sex again. His back felt raw, and Dane having fucked him hard while his ass had been clenching meant Sean still felt it now. It wasn’t painful, but it was noticeable.

  And it kind of turned him on. Shit. He hadn’t thought himself the kind of man who would be so into something like that, but here he was, walking down the stairs to what smelled like French toast being cooked for him by a man with tattoos and a side job killing things. Sean liked it and he decided he wasn’t going to question it.

  “You should clean your coffeepot more often,” said Dane as he flipped wedges in a pan.

  Sean yawned again.

  “I run it through the dishwasher every load,” said Sean, and Dane cringed. “Shit, what?”

  “Not the carafe—look, you can just run some vinegar water through the machine, but if you don’t it’s going to get moldy. I did it for you today, it’s on a just-water rinse now, but hell, professor. I misjudged you.”

  “I take it that’s why there’s no coffee yet,” said Sean. He was somewhat surprised at Dane’s cleanliness, even considering he ran Crypt Coffee. “Guess I misjudged you, too.”

  “Not by much. I’m not replacing my coffee with a smoothie.”

  “But you might replace some of it with alcohol,” said Sean, eyeing the plate Dane was flipping food onto. He topped the wedges with bananas from another pan and nuts. “What are those?”

  “French toast made with angel food cake. Figured that ought to handle your sugar fix for about an hour or so.”

  “Ouch,” said Sean, but he wasn’t going to complain much.

  Dane made only enough coffee for two cups and only had one piece of the french toast, but he did top it with whiskey as well as the bananas. Yeah, he was definitely not the kind of person to have a relationship with. But damn, Sean did not want to live without these breakfasts.

  “Can I tempt you with a quick fuck?” asked Dane.

  Sean was loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counter. Sean took a breath, finding his cock liked the idea, but he had a feeling if he succumbed to Dane’s offer they’d get nothing done and he’d be stuck another week without getting any closer to solving Bethany’s murder. Since BigFroot was closed on Sundays, they had to drop by today.

  “Only as a reward for choking down a smoothie. We really ought to find out if that was what killed her before the trail gets any colder.”

  “Fucking professors. You don’t know how to procrastinate.”

  “It only leads to problems.”

  “It’s an art,” said Dane. “A fucking art. Art never leads to problems.”

  He complained, but he was ready to leave by the time Sean was, and by the time they pulled into the BigFroot Smoothies lot, he seemed calm enough. Sean was nervous, though. If it wasn’t the Cauldwells, perhaps a serial killer was operating out of the BigFroot, and Bethany had been his type. They could be walking into a dangerous scenario. When he voiced that to Dane, though, the younger man laughed.

  “This isn’t some shitty cop drama,” he said. “Got your order ready, professor? I’m allergic to spinach.”

  Sean frowned at him, but Dane grinned and got out of the car. He led the way into the tiny building, where there was a line full of people all looking like the sort to feel healthy buying a pricey smoothie. Sean gaped at the prices as Dane examined the staff behind the counter. Dane grabbed Sean by the arm and pulled him out of line to a corner.

  “What?” hissed Sean, shaking his arm out of Dane’s grasp. As much as he liked being with Dane, he didn’t appreciate looking like they were having a relationship spat in public, especially over something like smoothies.

  “It’s run by a Bigfoot. Dammit. Should have guessed.”

  Sean glanced at the man behind the cash register, tall and white and immensely hirsute, everywhere except his forehead, really.

  “I bet he’s fun at parties,” he said, then as Dane’s words sunk in, “wait—a Bigfoot? As in they’re real?”

  “Of course they’re real, jackass. How long have you known about supernatural shit? Now that I look at him, I wonder if he’s only half Big. Normally they’re a lot taller. And wider. And hairier.”

  Sean gaped at Dane so he wouldn’t stare at the man behind the register. He’d bet his overpriced smoothie this was Big Frank, too. He grinned at every customer and spoke to the smoothie mixers as though he wasn’t actually annoyed he was here serving picky people. Still, nothing was going to happen muttering in a corner, so Sean got back in line. Dane followed, buried in his phone, and Sean hoped he wasn’t using the business’ wifi to look up anything about Bigfoots. Or Bigfeet. Or whatever the hell they were called in the plural.

  Sean rarely felt so out of his depth as he did now, having no clue what was going on and being the next in line. He stepped up, gave a small smile, and ordered something with blueberries and kale in it. The man was very polite and ran his card efficiently.

  “And we’ll be mixing that up for you now,” said the man, then turned to Dane. “Now, what can I get you, sir?”

  Dane looked up from his phone and pointed a thumb at Sean.

  “I’m with him,” he said, and Sean cringed. This was almost as bad as Dane telling Hazel they’d fucked. Dane leaned in toward the cash register. “So, you’re a Big, right?”

  The large man laughed.

  “Hah! The name’s Big Frank, and I guess technically I’m a Bigg. Real name’s Frank Bigg.”

  “You’re joking,” said Dane as Sean held back a groan. “Family name?”

  Big Frank’s smile faltered slightly and he began to examine Dane more closely. Of course he was suspicious—why wouldn’t his surname be a family name?—and Sean felt he had to intervene.

  “I think he’s just interested you’d then be Big Frank Bigg,” he said.

  Big Frank’s eyes, intensely green beneath the overhanging brown hair of his eyebrows, fixed on Sean. Shit. If this man was a Bigfoot—or part Bigfoot—Sean had a feeling he could snap either one of them in two if he wanted. Thankfully, he just rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t like to bring it up, but yes. I prefer the Big at the front. Makes you feel at home.”

  “So you’re not a Big?” asked Dane.

  Sean nearly tore into him, but Big Frank turned back to him first.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

  Dane opened his mouth, but Sean grabbed Dane’s arm around an impressive tattoo and yanked him away.

  “Cows in the Kale with blu
eberries,” said the smoothie mixer.

  Sean released Dane before he got punched.

  “That’s mine.” Sean grabbed the cup and stared at the two straws poking out the top.

  “He’s with you,” said the teen, then turned back to make the next smoothie order.

  When Sean looked up, Dane was slinking away to go question Big Frank again. Dane protested all the way out to the parking lot.

  “I had more questions to ask that asshole,” he said. “What’s with the straws?”

  “One’s yours. Let’s take a walk.”

  Dane grudgingly followed Sean along the sidewalk but refused to help him with the smoothie. It was all right, mostly blueberries, kale, and some sort of milk product, but nothing Sean would really want a repeat of. Dane kept a good distance away from the mixture.

  “I think we got distracted.”

  “I swear that Frank’s part Big,” said Dane. “I don’t understand why the Order has his place listed as low priority. Normally Bigs who try to mingle with large groups of humans get into trouble.”

  “Is it Bigfoots or Bigfeet?” asked Sean.

  Dane ignored him.

  “Of course, maybe that’s the human part of him at work…though fuck, he blew me off good. I’d almost think he’s telling the truth, that he has no idea what I’m talking about, but come on. No one’s part Big and doesn’t know it.”

  “Could we focus on Bethany’s murder for a moment?”

  “You think the Bigfoot did it? I don’t have anything that’ll properly handle him on me. Well, except for the fucking gun.”

  “I think,” said Sean, frowning at Dane, “We should take a walk around the block, wait for everything to clear up, and go back in to finish the questions we came here to fucking ask.”

  Dane grumbled but agreed to it as long as he didn’t have to have a smoothie. By the time Sean reached the bottom of his he was near gagging—definitely he preferred to eat his fruits and vegetables and keep his drinks to variations on coffee. They re-entered BigFroot Smoothies, and this time the line had cleared. Big Frank, however, eyed them, and Sean realized he’d have to be the one to guide the conversation. He walked up to the register.

  “Back, I see,” said Big Frank. “Another?”

  “While it was delicious, we’re full,” said Sean. “Actually—and I know this is awkward—I remembered one of my former students used to come here. Bethany Becker? She opened her own herbal sort of business, I think…”

  Big Frank nodded, but his expression turned solemn.

  “Yes, I remember her. Just died in a car crash, which is unfortunate. She was a good customer. My condolences. Were you close?”

  He shot a look over Sean’s shoulder at Dane like he was suspicious.

  “She and I didn’t—not that way,” said Sean. “I was wondering…it sounded like you were one of the last people who saw her. Was she acting any different that day?”

  Big Frank’s eyes lowered and he wiped at something on the counter. The backs of his hands were almost entirely hair.

  “Nah. Her usual, upbeat self.” He sighed loudly. “I miss her, I do. Wasn’t as rushed as most people. Kept up a little conversation. She was going to bring by some soap for me to try—I practically have to shampoo my entire body, an actual soap that would work sounded good—but she never managed to before…”

  “Yeah,” said Dane from where he stood, arms crossed. “Her building burned down.”

  “Did she have a normal smoothie?” asked Sean, wanting to leave here without Dane picking a fight with a Bigfoot. Fuck if that sounded like a colossally terrible idea.

  “She liked to switch it up by season,” said Big Frank. “Brought her own additives, though. We have a wide selection available, but she was into growing her own herbs, so she had a mix she’d give us.”

  “Really? What was in it? Was it a liquid?”

  “Of course not.” Big Frank eyed him. “She never said what was in it, so I can’t make you any, sorry. But it looked like a blend of herbs and seeds, ground. Not that strange—we have chia and such you can add here, and she was a bit of an herbalist.”

  “You got any left?” asked Dane, probably the most useful question he’d asked all day.

  “No, sorry.” Big Frank seemed genuinely apologetic, like he figured they wanted it only for decent purposes. “Police dropped by a few days ago, very interested in her, too. I gave it to them.”

  Chapter 20

  “The fuck does any of this mean?” asked Dane, pissed. He sat on the floor across from Sean, eating Chinese takeout he was surprised Sean had actually agreed to. Maybe he let himself live a little on Saturdays. “Witches, now a Bigfoot? And why hasn’t the Order said a damn thing to me about either?”

  “Well, they both were in the database,” said Sean, annoyingly eating everything with the chopsticks first try. Dane was irritated—he’d assumed the professor wouldn’t be able to handle them. “You just didn’t look.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “After we’re done eating.” Sean grabbed the bottle of rice wine Dane had opened and set in the middle of the floor, raised it to his mouth, and took a drink. “This really should be warm.”

  “Do I look like a five-star restaurant?” Dane grabbed the bottle and took his own drink. “Who do you think did it? The witches or the Big?”

  “You’re just itching to get in a confrontation with someone.”

  “I’m trying to do my duties,” said Dane, frowning. And Sean was too close to the truth. Sure, murder where the spirit passed on wasn’t really his thing, but he wanted to get into something, and Bleu Falls had been otherwise dull as hell. If Sean gave him reason to start something he could end, well, Dane wouldn’t feel too bad about it. He’d make his excuses to the Order, who’d make their excuses to anyone he’d offended.

  “Yeah, I believe that. Big Frank was listed as low priority. What are the odds he’s in on a murder he couldn’t even benefit from? Bethany was paying him for smoothies.”

  “But she brought her own shit to put in it. That could have been insulting. And maybe the Order are unaware he’s part Big—he should be listed somewhere, with some group. All nonhuman persons are required to be—”

  “Whoa, why?” asked Sean, looking very concerned. He’d stopped eating. “Groups and organizations keeping track of each other I get, but making people be listed in a category-specific thing…”

  “You got a social security number, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Look, I agree with you,” said Dane. He’d been put off by this, too, when he’d first heard it—even familiars had to be listed. Part of the reason why he’d rather send Ned on than declare him. “It’s unethical or something. What’re you going to do about it? I’m supposed to be reporting you to have your mind wiped. The Order’s fucked up.”

  “But…”

  Dane stabbed at his noodles, not wanting to get sidetracked.

  “You want to have a say, you gotta join the Order and make your way up the ranks of political nightmare. Have fun with that.”

  Sean sat there for a while, then went back to eating.

  “It’s wrong,” he said.

  “It’s nothing we can do anything about right now. So eat your fucking food and help me figure out this other problem first.”

  “I’m supposed to want to help you beat the shit out of someone?”

  Dane gritted his teeth. This wasn’t going well.

  “As the Decrypter stationed here, I get pretty free reign. And while I’m eager to piss off some witches, I’m not going to do anything not in self-defense. You need to let the other orgs know their fucking place sometimes. Killing’s sanctioned by only a few of them, and Guild of Green Growers isn’t one. We keep watch on each other. That’s all I’m doing.”

  “And if you decide someone’s guilty? You’ll report them?”

  “Promise,” said Dane. “Technically I’m supposed to have evidence or a confession.”

  Sean consider
ed for a while, then had a drink. This wasn’t a good time for him to get squeamish, anyway. He had to know Dane didn’t always do things that were necessarily the most fair or legal. Hell, just the fact he’d messed with graves and headstones should have proven that to the professor. And it wasn’t as though Sean wasn’t above doing things not quite lawful.

  “You going to crap out on me for this? You’re not exactly clean, professor. Remember that house you helped me burn? Arson wasn’t a problem for you with the right motivation.”

  Sean set the bottle down hard.

  “All right, you win. I’ll help you. I’ll probably do some terrible things.” He paused. “How do you sleep at night?”

  “You know,” said Dane. Both their eyes strayed to the bottle, then Dane tore his away, looked at Sean’s face. Sean was older, yet the professor reminded Dane of himself when he was younger. He’d been a lot more idealistic at first, too, excited to discover there was a whole second world out there, full of cryptids and mages and killers. It had seemed wonderful, a purer alternative to the other world. A secret society had a noble feel to it, better than standard government—only it turned out, put the right people in power, things were pretty much the same everywhere. No amount of lake monsters or flying pigs changed that.

  It was one of the most depressing realizations Dane had ever stumbled on.

  “Not the Big, then,” he said, to change the subject. “I’ll try to get away with not reporting him.”

  “That’s what you’re doing with me. I appreciate it.”

  Dane shrugged. It sounded like Sean actually thought he was a decent person. He was not looking forward to when he let Sean down, which was coming. Dane always let people down in the end.

  “Yeah, I’m selfish. I like fucking you. And Ned’s all right to have hanging around.”

  “Ned, too?” asked Sean, then returned to the situation. “Sorry. Thanks. And no, I don’t think it’s Big Frank. He doesn’t really have motive, unless there was something else we missed.”

  “So, witches. Knew it. Witches are b—”

  “What’s bothering me is it doesn’t match up,” said Sean, back to eating again. “Cauldron Cosmetics sells poison as a liquid. But Big Frank said Bethany had a dry mixture added to her smoothie. Then there’s the problem of how it got in there. And if it was even the smoothie…”