One Last Lead [Commission]
Cal gets to the bottom of a case, and meets an old flame.
Commission for Carrow
One Last Lead
Written by Limewah
Commission for Carrow
18+ only
"The Imperial Hotel!" the seal blubbered as blood bubbled from his broken nose. "That's where the deals happen!"
"The Imperial Hotel, huh?"
Cal took a moment to enjoy the mouth-feel of the word, like a fine glass of neat scotch. The komodo dragon gave the left corner of his mouth permission to rise in a half-smile that bared a little glitter of glimmering teeth. His orange eyes glowered beneath his fedora like he was hiding lit cigarettes inside them. His eyes were one of the few things that was clearly defined in the dark, dingy office that smelled and looked like it had just been unearthed from a swamp. Cal had Smiley Ronson's lapel and tie bunched up in his fist like it was a winning betting slip. In a way, he had gotten his jackpot.
The detective just finished up a long dance through the premises of Ronson's Packing Co, the last known whereabouts of the contraband he was sniffing out. The dragon could dance a mean, violent tango, and his dance partners found themselves unable to keep up or keep their big fat bodies from wrecking the place when Cal sent them flying. They may have had fists like sledgehammers thanks to their years of loading and unloading crates, but they lacked the finesse to keep their momentum from being used against them. He hadn't even had to throw a punch.
That meant his knuckles were itchy, and Smiley Ronson's face was just what he needed to scratch them. Smiley gave him the perfect excuse when he fumbled for his gun and let it flop into the floor like a wet fish. After giving the seal a few whacks, Cal maintained his grip and loomed forward, pushing the punch-drunk seal back onto his desk like he was laying him out on an operating table; he would start operating before long if he had to.
"Yeah! Yeah, I swear that's where I sent him!" the seal simpered and whined. "It's where I told 'em all to go! That's... that's all I know, I swears to ya!"
"All of 'em, huh? So a few rich boys have seen fit to give away most of their worldly possessions? Not just my client?"
Smiley's barely visible Adam's apple dropped straight down into his stomach. Cal loved it when they said something they shouldn't have.
"Thanks for the tip. You sure there isn't anything else you wanna tell me?" Cal clenched his fist a little tighter and raised it again. "Judgin' by the way your eyes are dartin' around the place, I think your train of thought might be in danger of slipping off the tracks. I can knock it back onto the rails for you."
Smiley gave himself a quintuple chin as he tried to angle his face away from the detective's still-balled fist. His face was already daubed with big blue bruises that made him look like he'd walked into every door he'd come across in his life.
"I-I-I-"
Cal feinted a strike, jerking his fist towards the seal's face. "C'mon, pal. You think I can't tell when someone's holdin' out on me?"
"I swear, there's nothing!"
Cal bared his fangs in a grin that had absolutely no mirth or warmth to it.
"Do you know how venomous a komodo dragon's bite is, bucko?"
"N-nuh, no..."
"Do you wanna find out? It's a pretty slow process, believe you me. Someone with a weak constitution like yours might be paralyzed for weeks. But I'm sure your boys will be more than happy to take care of you, feed n' bathe you till the sensation returns to your body. As long as they don't find out you've been underpaying them."
Cal took a breath in and started to open his mouth into a wide needly chasm. Before he could move in for the bite, the poor idiot cracked. That bluff always worked.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Smiley Ronson sputtered, the words shooting out of him like a poorly fitted faucet. "There's more, I swear there's more, just... l-lemme go please, you've made your point!"
"I don't think so." Cal smirked and tugged him so close they could have kissed each other. The only part of Cal's body that had a taste for another man's mouth was his fist. "Keep talking."
"O-okay." the seal got another chin as he folded in on himself like a deflating balloon. "I'm gonna regret this, but... I've never met the fence in person. I don't know who they are. But I know the meetings happen at the same time of day each week. Every Wednesday evening. S-so you might find 'em there..."
"Uh-huh." Cal grunted. "Thank you. You don't mind if I have a look around?"
After the first three words left the dragon's mouth, the seal's eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped backwards in a dead faint, which was probably the closest thing to a 'yes' the sap would ever manage. Cal didn't bother to ease his fall, letting him drop to the floor like a sack of garbage that wasn't good enough for the dumpster.
With that dealt with, Cal rifled through Smiley's desk. Mostly he found crumpled cartons of cigarettes and some lewd magazines that were so wrinkled that they aged the models by at least 20 years. Clearly he wasn't getting that big of a cut if he couldn't afford new smut.
Cal wasn't deterred of course. There was always a secret compartment in a desk or a cabinet that would give him exactly what he was looking for.
Or it would just be there in plain sight, in a ledger marked 'Smuggled Contraband.'
It almost seemed too good to be true. Part of him wondered if this was a trap. Everything he was looking for was there. Smiley Ronson wasn't good at hiding his tracks, but he was very good at writing about them. Every missing asset was there. Mr. Xerxes' motorcars, his statue collection, and his antique furniture had all passed through Smiley's packing company before getting shipped all over the world. Judging by the list, a lot of the city's high society had been struck with the same urges as his client.
Mr. Xerxes wouldn't be happy to know that they were all headed to different places; one box went to Timbuktu, another one went to Miami, another one still went to some little corner of Ireland that seemed to be named after a condiment. They were definitely long gone by now.
But Cal wasn't getting paid to retrieve the goods. His job was mostly done.
Mr. Xerxes had came to his dingy little smoke-box of an office with a potent cocktail of anger, desperation and shame. The brown-bear socialite was not wearing his usual dazzling smile, the one that overpowered everyone else in every cocktail party photo he appeared in. His whole upper-east-side penthouse had been picked clean of his belongings; including all his clothing.
"I don't know how it happened," Mr. Xerxes said. "I was out for a morning walk in the park, then suddenly I woke up in my empty apartment, with everything gone!"
"Maybe you shouldn't have been having a drink on the jog," Cal quipped in return, earning a slammed fist that left a deep crack on his desk. That was a mistake. He had forgotten Mr. Xerxes was a tee-totaller who detested the very idea of any sort of mind altering chemicals entering his system. Cal kept his legs resting on the corner of his desk, not wanting to show any signs of weakness. Confidence was key in order to getting the best offer out of his clients.
"I. Don't. Drink." Mr. Xerxes had said, driving the point home in case Cal was in any doubt. "But I did wake up feeling like I'd had a good night's sleep...
"You don't say." Cal wondered why that sounded familiar to him, but didn't comment on it. The bear continued.
"When I talked to my accountants and my assistants, they told me I signed everything away - I donated them all!"
"You're a charitable man," Cal drawled. "But not that charitable I take it. Do you have anything left?"
"Plenty of liquid assets," Mr. Xerxes said as he pulled out a well-leafed checkbook and stabbed at it with a little marbled pen. "I'll give you 100 dollars up front, and another 100 if you can locate my items. If you can get me the names of the people who did this to me, I'll triple your payout."
"Want me to bring 'em in for you too? That's extra."
"No. Once I know who they are, I can take it from there. I'll make an example of them."
The advance Cal had been given was already enough to set him up for a month. Six hundred dollars would let him treat himself to a couple of fine cigars. And all it would take was a little bit more reconnaissance.
The Imperial Hotel was well out of the price range of a gumshoe who spent most of his payouts on rent and cigarettes, what with its golden cubist architecture and its small army of busboys and butlers dressed in burgundy uniforms. Every person who stayed here, dined here, or drank here had probably never faced a single hard day in their entire lives.
Cal knew he was going to stick out like a sore thumb, like a dirty little rat sneaking into a queen's banquet. But he still had the petty cash advance burning a hole in his pocket, so he could treat himself to some top-shelf whiskey at the hotel's lounge.
It was quieter than he anticipated; there were various socialites and tourists having themselves some little evening tea-parties, and the bar was completely empty. Not his scene at all. He went to light a cigarette, before the bartender cleared his throat with the precision of a magnum. Cal didn't even need to look at the cursive sign that the barkeep was pointing to. Smoking was a force of habit for him. He extinguished the match and stuck the unused cigarette back in his pocket.
The waist-coated marten behind the bar didn't bother trying to hide his contempt for the detective's scruffy appearance, and scoffed at his order. He had a voice that sounded like he was born with a chilled plum in his mouth. Cal hated highfaluting types; he was hoping at least the barkeep would be on the level.
"You do know Gillicutty's 6 dollars a glass, sir?"
"I do indeed," Cal said as he slid him 10 crisp one-dollar bills. The barkeep stuffed them into his pocket, looking at the detective with a conspiratorial eye.
"Thank you ever so much for the kind tip," he said with an exhausted 'not-this-again' tone before pouring a neat shot of amber fire-water into a crystal glass tumbler. "What else can I get you, good sir?"
"I'm here on behalf of a client," Cal said.
"This hotel is a fine establishment," the marten said. "Not a place for infidelity."
"That's not why I'm here," Cal said. "No, I'm here to meet someone on my client's behalf. Discussing some... donations."
"I am dreadfully sorry, sir, but I don't know anything about that. Whatever conversations our guests have are strictly confidential-"
Another five dollars slid across the table. The marten put his paw atop of Cal's scaly claw as he palmed the money quickly like it would catch fire under the lamplight.
"Look," the marten said, the plum-voice replaced with one that sounded like he'd been chewing on pinecones. "There's a lady who comes by basically every week. You knew that already, otherwise you wouldn't be here. She has dinner with some guy, goes off wrapped around his arm, and that's that."
"Hmm. And what does this lady look like?"
"A cold-blooded one like you. Kinda alligator coloured. Big ears. Nice eyes, and nice body to boot. You'll know her when you see her."
Cal's already cold blood turned to ice. He was quite sure he already was well acquainted with her. He didn't even have time to second guess himself before a familiar breathy coo met his ear-hole, and the scent of coffee and caramel met his nostrils.
"You really are underdressed for this place."
Cal didn't look at her just yet. He knew better. He could smell smoke, too, and watched as a plume of it bloomed past him, towards the bartender.
"The usual, darling," the woman said. Cal angled his head away, but spied a look at the mustelid's eyes. His eyes had turned pale white, with thick rings of black and red flowing through them like a multi-coloured fondue fountain. His lips curled into a tightlipped smile as he nodded sleepily and turned away to make the lady her drink. Poor sap was wrapped around her little finger, and Cal wagered at least half the hotel staff was too. The lizard lady had a way with people, especially mammals.
"Lacerti Cherida." Cal said. "I thought you'd gotten out of the game."
"You know how little good thinking does when I'm around," Lacerti crooned. Cal still refused to look, though he did see a slender green-scaled hand resting on the counter close to his drink. Her claws drummed a slow tarantella, daring him to join in like they did the first time their paths crossed.
"Don't worry, I haven't been doing anything illegal. Just what I need to do to keep myself warm and ful"
"I'm not a cop. I couldn't care less whether you're breaking laws or breaking hearts, I'm just collecting info."
"I'm sure you are." Lacerti's hand slid further into his view, clutching a long, thin cigarette between two slender, clawed hands. It was being proffered to him. "Perhaps I might be able to help? One old flame to another?"
He couldn't refuse a lady's request, even a lady who could melt your mind six ways from Sunday and leave you naked and cold in the street without a penny to your name. He was a chivalrous lizard. He pinched it off of her, taking great pains not to let his scales meet hers. A touch like that would be equal parts electric and magnetic.
He knew it wasn't laced with anything; she'd already taken a few deep puffs, and from his recollection she handled poison and knockout drugs nowhere near as well as she handled her liquor.
He recalled the look of gratitude in her bloodshot eyes after he managed to suck the viper's poison from her slender neck, years before. The eye of the tumultuous storm that was their relationship.
"Thanks," he said as he returned the cigarette, letting the pale grey cloud tumble from his mouth and roll out onto the mahogany bar. Cal didn't take his eyes off the glass, though he did spy the distorted silhouette - the facets gave her a sort of squat opera-singer physique, but that hardly stopped her from being a heart-stopping dame.
Cal would have cursed his luck, but he made a habit of never cursing in front of a pretty woman. Even one as treacherous as Lacerti. He should have known it wouldn't have been that easy to collect the extra payment. He never would have guessed she would have some involvement, though. He thought . Now he had to choose what he said - and where he looked - very, very carefully. The barkeep clearly made that mistake a while ago, though judging by the swirling puppy-dog eyes he barely thought of it as a mistake anymore, if he had any thoughts at all. Instead, Cal focused on the whiskey in his glass, and the wide distorted view of the frilled lizard woman sitting to his side.
"You're looking as dishevelled as ever, Cal."
"I guess old habits die hard. Seems the same is the case for you.""
"I'm one sixteenth cat, honey. I've got plenty of lives left to live."
"And by the look of things, you're making sure this one isn't going to waste. Got a fancy date tonight?"
"I suppose so, yes. A lot of lonely rich men enjoy a bit of company. Mostly conversation in fact. They simply enjoy my sparkling... personality."
Lacerti's finger was tracing circles on the table, scratching a little whirlpool spiral. Cal's eyes naturally were drawn to the way it traced, and how he remembered but he knew better than to let it distract him. He wouldn't let himself fall for those old tricks, not again. His mind and his heart were like a safe that had been covered in concrete.
"Do I detect a hint of jealousy?" the wobbly image of Lacerti flashed pink as her tongue flitted out and scented the air.
"Dream on," Cal scoffed. "Don't waste your time. I've gone cold turkey on dames like you."
"And that's why you have the whiskey to keep you warm instead. Thank you, darling."
A glass of red wine was placed next to Cal's whiskey, and the slender green hand took it. Cal didn't watch, but he could sense Lacerti shifting over the table, her fingers scratching under the barkeep boy's chin as she pulled him in for a long kiss. The kid sounded like he was creaming himself just from that brush of lips against lips, judging from the muffled moans and the way his hair got stiff and pointy like the wires of a hairbrush.
Cal got a look at the side of Lacerti's face. She looked as though she hadn't aged a day, as slender and sinuous as a serpent. Her frill was relaxed, draped down either side of her neck like a feather boa. She was dressed in a black slip, her arms covered with silver bangles. Her eyelids were daubed with dark mascara, which made her rippling hypnotic eyes pop out-
Cal averted his eyes. If he looked for longer than a fraction of a second, she would have noticed and he would have fallen. Coming so close to the edge reminded him just how easy it would be to fall off the wagon. And how good it would feel. He downed his whiskey, letting the sweet burn shake him back to reality.
"Have a good night, Lacerti," he said in a low, husky tone, as he stood and turned to leave
The electric touch came when Lacerti's thin dagger tail wrapped around Cal's like a rope around a tree trunk. He stood his ground and tried to ignore the pleasurable touch- but how was that even possible after the intimacy they'd shared?
"Hang on a moment, Cal. You don't know what you're getting yourself into."
"Story of my life."
"Come, now, Cal. Come sit with me. We've got a lot to catch up on, and you're here to stake things out anyway. You'll blend in better with me."
"A scruffy private eye sitting with a ..." he resisted the urge to call her beautiful, even though the word was pounding on his vocal cords like they were a jail cell's bars. . "...prim and proper lady? The only way I'd stick out more is if I was on fire."
"No one pays me any heed, darling. Not unless I pay them heed first."
Cal turned cautiously, his gaze downcast, still aiming to avoid her face, her frills and her eyes.
"What've you got for me?"
"All business, as always." Lacerti sighed. She took a slow drink before leaning her elbow on the bar, one leg crossed over the over. Cal kept his eyes off the prize. "I won't bother asking what you know, you wouldn't tell me after all. But you probably know the basics. Rich members of high society being convinced to part with their belongings, sign them away and have them 'donated' to the highest bidder. And I've been here enough times to see exactly who's behind it all."
"Keep talking," Cal said.
"I will, and you'll listen."
The words filled Cal's mind with a nostalgic fuzz, the memory of those sounds playing back in his mind like a broken, skipping record.
"We have some time before they arrive. Let me just check the time." Before he could say anything further, he caught sight of the pocketwatch that slipped from between the fingers of Lacerti's clenched hand. It dangled just in front of her thigh, twisting and swaying in the light. It was his old pocket watch, the one she'd stolen from him as a parting gift. It had been polished to mint condition. As she lifted it up, his eyes followed it. Even though he knew it was not a good idea, it was already too late for him. The weakness had returned in full force, and the ticking siren song guided him back to his seat as the watch was held at eye level.
Lacerti's eyes were a brilliant green. Her slender face smiled a tender come-hither smile, and Cal felt his lips trying to return the favour.
"Can you see what time it is?" Lacerti asked, her voice sweet like a honey-covered mousetrap. "Would you mind telling me?"
The watch was revolving on its chain and swinging from side to side. Cal tried to follow it. But he couldn't quite catch sight of the little gold whiskers on the watch. The hour hand was at 6... or 7... or 5... and the minute hand was... where was it?
Gravity pulled his mouth down and unrolled his tongue like a carpet. His pupils dilated and shrank like a camera trying to find its focus, and rocked from side to side like a newton's cradle.
"You can't follow it, can you?"
"No," Cal murmured, as did the barkeep.
"Scoot off, little boy," Lacerti said, waving her hand at the bartender to wave him off. "This is between me and my old flame here."
Old flame...? It was shocking to hear that coming out of her mouth. Pleasantly so, as a matter of fact.
"Now, keep trying, Cal. Keep trying to follow the watch as best you can, darling. And once you see what time it is, you'll know just how much time we have to catch up and reconnect. There's so much lossst time to make up for, and you and I both know we'd like to make up."
Her eyes alighted on the watch as it turned towards her. "Good. We have an hour. That's more than enough time."
Cal was leaning forward towards the watch, slumped like a drunkard in his barstool.
"Finish your drink, dear." Lacerti leaned in, snapping her fingers close to Cal's ear-hole. He took a long, compliant drink, the sweet burn soaking his mind as the familiar sensation of being hypnotised bubbled inside him.
"Follow me," Lacerti commanded with another finger snap. Cal nodded sluggishly and obeyed, even as his brow furrowed at a not-even-quarter-assed attempt at resistance. That made her smile the smile that made his heart stop beating for just a moment. A little death, as his resistance died with it.
Lacerti moved like water, her hips gliding from side to side with each slow step backwards she took. Her tail beckoned, curling slowly like a crooked finger. Step after step he followed, his sluggish muddy shoes barely leaving the carpeted floor. The watch dangled before him the whole time, tugging him forward and shining like a distant beacon, bringing him home. He had forgotten how much he missed 'home'.
"As you follow me, you get sleepier. As you obey me, you feel better. You're feeling sleepier."
She snapped her fingers again, and Cal's eyes fluttered like the cameras found their focus and were taking paparazzi-style snapshots.
"I'm getting sleepier," he murmured softly, his normal gruff tone relaxed into a soft sigh.
"You're getting sleepier," Lacerti repeated, and so the tennis match continued. Each time Lacerti spoke and Cal responded, she punctuated with another finger snap. The sweet scent of the perfume on her thin scaly wrist reminded him of those dark nights they'd spent wrapped in each other, resting on a dingy mattress that smelled of smoke, and of the things she whispered into his neck.
Cal didn't notice if anyone stared. He had lost his usual head-swivel instincts entirely, fascinated by his watch and the woman it was attached to. She had kept that part of him, and now used it to win back the rest of him.
Time became like the band of a slingshot, stretching out and then suddenly snapping forward almost violently with each snap of the lizard's fingers and with each chime of the elevator. The world was a watercolour smear except for the perfect clarity of the swinging pocketwatch... and the eyes behind that, two deep green seas that he couldn't avoid drowning in.
Snap.
The dragon found himself wandering through a doorway into a lusciously luxurious penthouse suite. His baggy slacks were already starting to fall down around his ankles, and his belt was coiled in a helix around Lacerti's tail. His boxer shorts underneath them were tented; every part of him wanted her. Every part of him needed her. And she wanted him right back... didn't she?
The watch was snatched out of sight, and Lacerti turned away. Her slender back was bared for him. He stared with a dazed, dopey look, not a hint of resistance left on his face or in his body.
"Would you mind unbuttoning me?" she asked. The little buttons of her sheer dress took some time to remove, especially considering how sleepy and sluggish Cal's hands were. But once the first few came off, she shrugged it off like she was shedding her skins, before she reclined herself on the cloud-like velour bed. Her legs spread wide, and her hand slid between her thighs as she stared up at him.
"You're as ravishing as ever," she said, her tongue flitting hungrily at the air before her lips parted into a soft o-shape. Her fingers opened her nether lips and slipped inside, and her body arched. The way her torso rose and fell with her breath would have made him fall for her regardless of whether he was hypnotised or not. But the way her eyes now rippled with colour certainly helped.
"Don't get undressed," she hastened to add, even as her tail tugged down his underwear to let his own shaft bob out into the open air. "Leave your coat and shirt on... do you remember that time in that little dive-bar on 68th? Mmmnh... Then again, you don't remember or know much of anything now, do you?"
Cal nodded in a daze. Her eyes were so beautiful. Red and black rings of hypnotic colour flowed through white pools like two sweet melting candy-canes. Her frills opened, framing the eyes with a pale green shimmer. Her head tilted to and fro, and he followed. His hands remained by his sides, his mouth wide and drooling, his body like a puppet held up by a single string. The shaft throbbed in time with the rhythm of the pulsing eyes, as always. Slipping back into this role felt like slipping into a warm familiar bath. It was easy. Relaxing too. Cal had forgotten about his job, and where he was, and everything but her and the gorgeous eyes.
She reclined back, one hand still massaging between her thighs, and groped for something on the dresser next to the bed while keeping eye contact. She didn't want to look away from him, as infatuated by his mesmerised stare as he was by her. When she reared up again, a collar dangled from a hooked finger, held just in front of her right eye like a monocle. It was the sort of collar you'd stick on a very, very large attack dog. Big enough for Cal's throat.
"I think this would look good on you, detective. Just underneath your shirt collar and tie. Hidden away. Just a little memento of me."
Cal moaned and nodded in agreement.
"But first..." Lacerti pulled her glistening fingers free, and used them to coax Cal forward. When he was close enough, they slipped into his mouth, the sweet taste melting on his tongue and melting him with it.
"Take me," she murmured, angling her hips towards the waiting sword-tip of his shaft. It slid into the warm scabbard, and Lacerti cried out with pleasure, her walls hugging him tightly as her legs and tail pulled him in. Cal toppled forward like a statue, his hands landing on either side of the lizard's head. The komodo dragon thrust into her, still licking and suckling on her fingers with the same single mindedness he pursued a lead. It was better used this way.
Her free arm wrapped around his shoulders and neck, and she kept pouring those colours into his mind as he pressed her into the soft bed.
"Mmnh... just as I remembered," Lacerti mewled, pulling her now-wet fingers away from her lover's maw before pulling him closer to kiss his mouth. Her eyes pulsed endlessly, the black and red bands in the sea of white tugging him into her, drowning him in the familiar pleasure of his deep conditioning. Cal was breathing heavily through his nose, snorting like a mindless beast - the mindless part was true, at least.
Each thrust fucked an extra stream of colour through those eyes, and like a glutton helping himself to a bigger portion, Cal thrust harder and more forcefully. Lacerti almost asked him to slow down, but that pace, the weight of his broad body upon her, the scent of his body, and the dazed swirling look in his eyes made her decide against it. She kept her eyes on him, her eyes wide and pulsating rapidly, melting his mind away to nothing. Lacerti's climax came and went without him even noticing. Even though she screamed out with pleasure and her walls tightened like a torturous vice, he did not stop thrusting for a moment. Too obedient to stop.
His orgasm was approaching after a time, but he knew better than to cum without permission. That had been trained into him. The leather collar brushed against his throat, still gripped in the lizard's hand.
"When this collar goes around your neck..." she managed to gasp out in a staccato rhythm, the words forced out of her with each thrust. "You're going to cum. Harder than you've come in years. Harder than the last time you came for me. And it's going to bring you right back to me. Bring us back together. As we should be. We should never have been parted, and now we never will be..."
Cal stared dumbly, thrusting away without a care in the world, too infatuated to need to respond.
"Let me hear you say it... we'll never be apart..."
"We'll..." Cal drooled. "N...never be.. Uhhpaart..."
"Never."
"Neh...ver..."
"Never."
"Neh...ver..."
The smooth leather slipped around his throat as her shaky hands worked to wrap it around. When it pulled tight, it snapped into place. His mind snapped like a bundle of twigs and his eyes rolled right up into his head, the eyelids fluttering with the quick-shutter pace. He emptied himself into her, and with it, what remained of his will. The collar choked him tightly, choking out his thoughts and any vestiges of the grizzled gumshoe he pretended to be. He was back where he belonged now, with Lacerti. Deep for her. Deep inside her.
"Mmmnh..." Lacerti's hands stroked his face even as he continued to piston inside her, riding out the climax as white fluid started to pour from her overflowing womb. She gasped loudly, shuddering and squeaking as a little climax slipped through her once more. Her fingers scratched long trails along Cal's slack jawed face, as she reached for the bedside table and checked the watch again. Cal could see her doing so, but he saw the world through crimson and monochrome.
"Mmm..." Lacerti tutted. "My next 'donor' can wait a little while. Perhaps, now, dear... you can tell me all about who hired you, and if he's got anything more to give me."
Maybe if she'd spilled the beans earlier, Cal would have gotten wise and known to leave before she could weave her spell over him. But it was too late now. He was her lover once again. Her lover, and her accomplice. His career as a private eye was already ruined, even though he didn't know it, or care. He would turn over a new leaf, a much darker leaf, with his old flame. Exactly where he wanted to be.
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