fic: Living proof (2/2)

Mar 01, 2013 04:44


Master - Part 1 - Part 2 - Art Masterpost

After she loses track of Genevieve, Adrianne steps outside for fresh air. That, and to take down the license plate numbers of the cars in the lot.

On the off-chance that Genevieve is telling the truth, that one of this group she is supposedly tracking down is actually at tonight's party, and on the further off-chance that that person has actually been stupid enough to bring their own car...well, Adrianne will gladly make use of that information. She is not above being that creepy girl wandering the parking lot at the edge of the mansion in the dark, heels crunching in gravel. She does hope none of the hundred or so other cops inside notice her, but if she is confronted, she has a Lost Earring story on hand, at the ready.

But no one sees her, and after she's taken down plate numbers, she puts her phone back in her clutch and goes back inside for more champagne.

Forty-five minutes later, after Dr. Mark Sheppard from lab has engaged her in a nauseating yet enthusiastic discussion of new disease strains, and after the customary cake cutting, the lights dim in the main room and PR gives an introductory speech, thanking everyone for another quarter of hard work. During this all, Adrianne scans the crowd of faces of her fellow officers and their dates. Some people she knows better than others, but some she doesn't recognize at all. Any one of these people could be the person or persons Genevieve is looking for.

She spots Genevieve just as the mayor comes on stage to a hearty upwelling of applause.

Genevieve catches Adrianne's eye and the contact holds until Adrianne jerks her head towards the other end of the room. Genevieve makes her way through the crowd and they meet at the back, side stepping around officers and their guests.

"How about we track down more of that champagne," Adrianne says.

Genevieve gives her a knowing look. "You asking me out for a drink?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. I mean, it's free with the badge."

"Classy," Genevieve says, smiling something cheeky. "Lead the way."

There are seats at the bar but Genevieve moves them to a smaller room away from the crowd, where the conversation and music is quieter, the lights lower, twinkling. Genevieve sits delicately, her hair falling in waves over one shoulder as they move closer at a small table, their crossed legs brushing. Adrianne watches Genevieve's skirt ride higher on her thigh, and Genevieve doesn't tug it down, just sips her champagne.

Adrianne pushes a curl behind her ear, tearing her eyes away. "So, who's this supposed suspect?"

"It's always business with you," Genevieve says.

Adrianne loves how familiar her tone is, like Genevieve feels entitled to her. "Fine," she says. "Tell me more about being a succubus." Because it's a hilarious story, and it's not every day some girl tells you shit like that. They've got all night.

Genevieve totally takes it in stride. "Well...."

She isn’t just smart, she is hilarious. She keeps up the whole succubus story, telling Adrianne a good one about how her dad was from deep in the magic parts of the Appalachian mountains, and her mother born of bad dreams. They lived in the forest until she was twelve and she has an uncountable number of siblings, too.

"Fifty?"

"Yep. Around that many. I'm not exactly sure."

"Fifty siblings."

"Give or take a few. We're not human. I mean, not completely. Keep up."

Adrianne shakes her head, watching Genevieve sip her drink, place it back on the table. "Alright, keep going."

"I didn't ask to be this way," Genevieve says, like it's a lifelong argument. "I was born into my situation. You can't become a succubus like some people seem to think. It's not like one day you decide to have the ability to suck the spark from people, to need it to stay strong. My whole life, from the time I was a teenager, I was expected to seduce people and steal their life force."

"With your tentacle," Adrianne clarifies.

Genevieve gives her a weird look. "Yes. With my tentacle."

Adrianne sits back, appeased. "Ok, go on."

"I was taught that being a succubus was the only real thing I could be. No guilt, just the way things are. Trouble is, when the time came to make my first kill...." She trails off.

"You couldn't bring yourself to do it."

Genevieve draws a line in the condensation on her glass. "Imagine explaining to your parents that you don't really want to steal anyone's life force. So after that little identity crisis, I broke away from the clan, and I've tried to live a regular life ever since. I'm different but I've learned to deal with it."

Different. It's a poignant tale. Genevieve is a class A bullshitter, and Adrianne kind of likes it. She likes this woven tale of teen angst and appendages.

She thinks about this promised tentacle again while they sit in silence, sipping at their champgagne and people watching. Maybe it's the bubbles going to her head that are making her feel swimmy, and making her wonder things like where Genevieve would even keep it. The tentacle. Down a leg? Adrianne glances to the skirt of Genevieve's dress, checking for signs of any telltale bulge, anything to corroborate Genevieve's assertion. But there's nothing visible, nothing marring the flat of Genevieve's crotch.

"Anyway," Genevieve says, shifting.

Adrianne looks up to find Genevieve watching her.

Adrianne gives her the sunniest of smiles. "Wow, I really feel for you," she says, like they hadn't just paused. Like, no I was not just trying to locate your tentacle dick, the one that does not actually exist but which I've been fantasizing about for days.

Genevieve rolls her eyes and says, "Whatever. Anyway, I was the first one in my family to go to college," and that part seems true, genuine, and Genevieve gives a modest shrug when she says what school she went to.

"Hey, good for you," Adrianne tells her. "You know, it's not exactly the same as that, but sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I'd tried for a different career."

"You didn't want to be a cop?"

Adrianne glances around and says, "Dude, quiet down. No I mean, I love being a cop. I love helping people, love the paperwork even."

Genevieve nods and says, like someone confirming a sad truth, "Nerd."

Adrianne says, "But I always kind of wanted to be an actress, you know? Childhood dreams."

"Well, sometimes dreams come true." And the way Genevieve says it, it almost seems like she's trying to tell her something. "And sometimes reality isn't what you think it is."

Adrianne feels tugged at the core. A year or two back especially, she'd had these vivid dreams that she was living in Hollywood, getting by on bathing suit spreads and being the token hot chick in action movies. There, the only police uniform she ever wore was a Hollywood approximation of the real thing.

She laughs, shaking her head. "Yeah, I can see it really clearly, actually."

Genevieve doesn't respond. She's looking past Adrianne's shoulder, her eyes just a fraction wider than normal. Adrianne twists in her seat to follow the look. Two suited men are making their way around the edge of the room.

"Those men," Adrianne says. "They're not police."

"No." Genevieve shifts in closer to say in her ear, "They're who I've been tracking. They came in an hour ago. I think they'll lead me to the nest."

"Nest?" Adrianne says.

"Gathering place, whatever." Genevieve ducks her head and leans into Adrianne's space.

"What-"

"They're coming this way," Genevieve says, touching Adrianne's neck, gently positioning her so Genevieve's face is hidden. Their faces are close, so close that Adrianne's holding a breath, Genevieve's warmth radiating off of her and her perfume cloying like night flowers.

"Shh," Genevieve says to her. "Follow my lead."

Adrianne's heart does a slow beat that brings shivers out over the back of her arms, which only prove to intensify as Genevieve leans in that extra bit so their noses bump, and then brush together.

"Kiss me." Genevieve only breathes it against her lips, Adrianne hears nothing.

She doesn't have to be told twice. She closes the small gap, fits their mouths together and it's like waking up. Genevieve's mouth tastes like lipstick and something else, something warm. It's slow. Adrianne has this pretty fluttering of feeling, and when the kiss breaks, she presses in again, and then once more.

As if she suddenly really means it, Genevieve touches Adrianne's knee and slides her hand up to her hip and takes a fistful of Adrianne's hair in hand to tug her closer for a moment and kiss her once, deep, before they break apart.

"Are they gone?" Genevieve asks, sounding largely unaffected, while in the meantime Adrianne's body is burning up.

With effort, Adrianne looks to the doorway behind Genevieve where two jacketed backs are receding around a corner. "Yeah, they're gone."

Genevieve relaxes, and looks back at Adrianne's mouth. "Mm, well."

She leans back and away and Adrianne feels that stab of rejection, but she reminds herself that they are in public, at a classy party with waiters carrying silver platters of hors-d'oeuvres at shoulder level and an honest to god chandelier in the foyer. Everyone she works with is in the crowd in the next room, or walking around. Of course Genevieve isn't going to take her right there, and Adrianne shouldn't want her to.

But god she does. She's feels clammy everywhere, and only touching Genevieve seems to calm her down. She's suddenly aware of being uncomfortable with sweat, her dress slipping against her skin, one strap falling down her shoulder and her hair sticking to the back of her neck.

Genevieve asks, "You okay?"

Adrianne clears her throat. "Yeah," she says, feeling parched, like she's been out to the desert for far too long. "Totally good."

Genevieve touches her hand where it's lying uselessly in her lap, and Adrianne's answering smile feels cartoony, cheesy. Genevieve rolls her eyes but looks back for a second before saying, "Come on, slacker. I thought you were suspicious of those guys, trying to steal my leads or whatever. If you're going to work, work. Don't just moon around."

Adrianne feels smug when she holds up her phone. "Who's slacking?"

Genevieve looks appropriately impressed. "Pictures. Ok, nice work."

Adrianne slips the phone into her clutch and says, "I'll go in and run the pictures through the criminal database tomorrow. Or you could just tell me who those men are."

"No dice," Genevieve says, and then says, abruptly, "Hey, that's my cue." She stands up and Adrianne clamps down on the jolt of panic that runs through her at the thought of her leaving. She can't seem to shake off the shock of the kiss. She can taste Genevieve on her tongue, feels like she's mid-swoon. It's one hell of an aftermath, and she leans back against the wall, just for a moment, body feeling worried and numb,.

Genevieve says, "Stay out of trouble, ok?" and then slips away.

There's no way Adrianne is letting her go, but it takes her a full minute to get her bearings-champagne, probably-before she follows, grabbing her clutch and going out into the main room.

She makes it through the crowd, but is stopped just before leaving by a hand on her arm.

"Palicki."

"Chief."

He's smiling, a rare thing. "Can I have a word?"

Adrianne glances past to the door to the foyer, then back to the Chief, who eats a fancy oyster appetizer. Without waiting for her response, the Chief steers her away and back into the main room and to the table of fancy snacks so he can load more onto his plate.

"Palicki," he says. "I'd like to say how well this week has reflected on your character and respect for the force."

"Sir?" Adrianne asks. She'd normally love to have this conversation, but it's been almost five minutes and her one lead is moving away at who knows what velocity.

"That was some uncharacteristic restraint you showed, not following up on the case," he says. "I had a bet going-with myself of course, nothing illegal..."

Genevieve is long gone by the time the conversation ends, and the rest of the party passes in a blur.

When she's finally in the cab going home, city lights flashing past, Adrianne goes through the pictures she'd taken of the suited men. If Genevieve is correct, and they are somewhat responsible for the murders, she should find out their identities. It could prove difficult, but these pictures are invaluable. As she zooms in on their faces, she has a strange feeling like there's something familiar about one of them, but she can't quite pin it down.

She wakes up at 3AM, chest heaving, knowing exactly who it is.

Dr. Sheppard picks up the phone on the fifth ring of the third time Adrianne calls, and grumbles, "Seriously, Palicki?"

"Look," she says, too relieved that he's picked up to sound contrite. "I need you to run a few pictures through facial recognition."

"At three in the-"

"-morning, yes. Yes, it is very time-sensitive. It's about the multiple-homicide case. I will pay you in eternal groveling and also bring you coffee every morning for a month. Because it's that important."

Because one of the men pictured was in the Chief's office just last week, the assistant to the mayor.

"And I suppose you'll want me to keep this to myself," Sheppard says.

Adrianne looks at the clearest picture of the men. They're wearing twin blank expressions to go with their manslaughter. She thinks of the mayor, who has obviously unwittingly been employing them. And that meeting in the Chief's office means Morgan has been had as well. Adrianne thinks of how when you're too close to something you need to take a step back, how you can't make entirely rational decisions.

"Keep it entirely to yourself," she tells Dr. Sheppard. "Don't tell anyone, not even the Chief."

"Java chip frappuccino extra whip and we've got a deal."

So much of police work is trusting in a feeling, playing a hunch so far as it will take you. It works in Adrianne's experience at least ten percent of the time. A good ten percent. And when faced with a dead end, Adrianne has learned to turn back and reassess, to keep strong and stay steady of hope.

Facial recognition brings up a name and and state ID, after which Adrianne has Dr. Sheppard run the plate numbers as well.

"How-" Dr. Sheppard starts, but then mutters, "You know what? Don't tell me. I don't want to know. We have a match, by the way."

He runs some complicated satellite tracking program to approximate the location of the car in question within .5 miles and then hangs up on her while she's still thanking him effusively.

She gets dressed again, yanking on jeans and stepping over the dress pooled on her bedroom floor to slip into heels. She pulls on a jacket, then leaves the apartment and drives. She feels the thrill of anticipation, that spring before the leap, as she cruises silently down empty city streets, past dark storefronts and trash cans loaded to the curb. She drives until she reaches the docks.

She isn't going to do more than park and look in some windows. She really isn't. But she hasn't been big on self-restraint these past few days, and after she parks a ways away and finds the car in question, she cases the warehouses. They stand dark, looming up against the sky, the lake just past the dock. Adrianne moves softly around the first.

Everything is quiet. She steps around another side of the building, and when she comes across a door, she stands on her toes to look in the small window. It's only darkness, though. When she tries to see if it's unlocked, cold metal to her steady palm, she can't help but twist the handle until there's a soft snick of the latch and she flat palm pushes the door in.

It swings open easy. Adrianne immediately swivels to check behind her, but all she can see are crates and her car parked in the shadows, larger than life coils of sea rope piled beside it.

The dark of the inside just past the door yawns in silence and black as pitch, while behind her there's the sound of water lapping against wooden legs of the dock, white rush of far off traffic and the slap of small waves to dark boats tied and buoyed, jerking against their moorings.

She's not going to enter the building. There's nothing she'd rather do more, but she's come this far alone, and she's going to walk the perimeter and then call in.

She tells herself this. And she's all but decided when the soft of a footfall alerts her to the presence of someone else, but far too late.

Adrianne wakes up on cold concrete, in a cave or something, feet bare and numb against the floor. It's dark, black as pitch so she can't see a thing, no matter how wide and searching her eyes are.

"What the-"

Her lungs hurt, a dull, all-pervasive tightness, but it recedes as she takes deeper breaths, chest heaving to hack up dirt, the taste of mud against her teeth. She doesn't immediately land upon where she is, why she's cold, why her cheek is smashed against the grit of the ground rather than the cotton of her pillow case in a warm bedroom, but there has to be a reason and she'll arrive at it once her mind clears enough to think.

In the time that it takes for her eyes to adjust enough to make out differences in the colors of black in the room, Adrianne notices three things: first, the air smells like sawdust and cut wood. Her hair is dusted with it, and her face. Secondly, the room feels expansive.

And finally, she is in a cage.

That fact alone would be enough to send anyone into a panic. Adrianne suspects in a distant sort of way that she might be in shock, though, because at that moment all she feels is uncertainty.

After cataloging and moving each body part to make sure there's nothing immediately, noticeably wrong, she rolls onto her side, slow and tentative, waiting for a sharp pain or dizziness that never comes. She's stiff everywhere, feels almost like she's been there in the same position for days, her limbs coming awake with effort, rough and creaking.

Abruptly, she becomes aware of an ache in her lower back and throbbing in her right shin where she'd probably hit the ground. Her elbows feel bruised purple, and her shoes are gone and her jacket's gone, too. It pisses her off. That jacket was the first article of superfluous clothing she'd allowed herself to buy, first year out of the academy, an initiation present to herself. And now it's gone and she might never get out of here alive to buy a new one.

She's feeling more clear-headed by the second. She decides that the cage is in a warehouse of some kind. She tries not to let it freak her out, but she continues the search for her jacket, scraping around on hands and knees, she allows herself a couple good minutes of full-blown hysteria, hands covering her mouth so that no sound escapes, fingers pressing her eyelids until she sees red.

And when she's lucid again, after she's talked herself out the other side of panic because it's useless, she tries to first think of where she might be. After she knows that, she can figure out a way to send a message for help. She searches desperately for any sensory clues other than feeling like she's in a big building but can’t come up with anything.

Chances are, she's still at the docks. But really she could be anywhere. With growing dread, she remembers the Chief asking her, first day on the job, where she thought the best place to hide something was. She'd come up with some possibilities, but he'd leaned in and said, "Do you know how many warehouses, how many storage spaces, there are in the greater Chicago area?" and when she hadn't been able to answer that, he'd said, "Neither do I."

"Hello?" Adrianne whispers now, on her hands and knees and in the dark. It's dangerous, she shouldn't make any noise, she knows that. She should find an escape or, failing that, wait.

Her whisper is consumed by darkness, falls away instantly with no echo. There's no answer, but she might hear something, something quiet, and if it's not her imagination then it's just the faintest sound of rustling, movement, that feeling of displaced air when someone walks through the next room in a house, and she's only just feeling it.

She can't help but try again, louder. "Is anyone there?" Her voice still doesn't echo. The space is big, then. The ceiling must be far away, somewhere in the inky black above her.

It's impossible to know how long she sleeps, but she's never truly unconscious, always edging toward wakefulness with fear and hunger and the chill of the ground and the uncomfortable knowledge that she's in four cage walls but in the open.

And when she finally jolts out of her doze, there's a dull, orange glow, like the afterimage of a light when you close your eyes. She stays as still as humanly possible, arms tight around herself, eyes squinted so she can just see.

The light is coming closer, more distinct. She isn't imagining it. There's the unmistakable sound of footsteps now, a slow shuffle accompanying the movement, and Adrianne's never felt more nauseated with fear. Not during the bank hold up last year, not when she'd been run off the road by a member of the mob so that the nose of her car was hanging over the edge of a cliff, two hundred feet up. Her hurts with it.

Then someone whispers, "Adrianne?"

Adrianne can't breathe. She's shocked to the bone with adrenaline.

"Adrianne? It's Genevieve. Is that you?"

The orange light is at the bars now, and suddenly Adrianne is moving without thought. She stumbles to her knees, to her feet, and goes to the bars, standing back a half foot in case it's not Genevieve, but a hallucination or someone else entirely.

There's a jangle of what can only be keys, and the light becomes brighter as Genevieve apparently uncovers it with her hand.

Adrianne stands there, mute, shivering like she has been since whenever she got there, until there's the the click of the lock working, loud like a crack in the silence.

When Adrianne doesn't step out of the cage, Genevieve comes in. "Adrianne," she says, and tries again when Adrianne jerks back. "Look," she mutters, grabbing the front of Adrianne's shirt to pull her close. She's warm and Adrianne molds into her, pressing her hands between them. Genevieve whispers against her ear, "I'm here to get you out. Rescue you. We're going to walk out quietly, it'll be ten minutes tops, ok? But you have to be absolutely silent, and do as I say. They don't know I'm here. If they catch us, I'm not sure I can help you. You understand?"

"Yeah," Adrianne says, and it must be far too loud, because Genevieve clamps her hand over Adrianne's mouth.

"Not a sound," Genevieve whispers. "And under no circumstances can you let on that you have that charm."

It takes Adrianne a moment to understand what charm Genevieve's referring to, and when she does remember, Genevieve's warning seems stupid, and it makes her less credible. Adrianne nods anyway, but Genevieve isn’t looking at her. She's looking in both directions, making sure no one's there, like she can somehow make sense of the dark.

When she steps away, Adrianne grabs her hand. Genevieve holds her phone up between them again, so Adrianne can see her expression, which is impatient. "What?"

Adrianne leans in and whispers, feeling freaked out and shivery, "Are we going to get caught?"

"No," Genevieve tells her. "Let's go."

She tugs Adrianne along with her but doesn't shake her off. They pass cage after cage, each appearing suddenly in the blackness with the pass of the light, but they're all empty. Each one they pass is a new relief, and Adrianne tries to ignore the situation. She tells herself they're in a giant, empty room, with empty cages, even her own, and that they'll walk out of here and everything will be all right.

Feeling somewhat more certain, she moves to walk more steadily next Genevieve rather than being dragged along. As they are passing what must be cage fifteen, Adrianne says, "Gen?"

When Genevieve doesn't answer, Adrianne asks, "Why would they take my shoes?"

Genevieve's doesn't say anything for a long time, then says so low that it's almost impossible to make out, "Who knows what people might use shoelaces for."

"But they were heels," Adrianne says.

"Adrianne."

"What?"

Adrianne's started to shake violently, and Genevieve seems to notice then, because she slows her pace and slings Adrianne's arm around her waist before moving on. She rubs at Adrianne's side and doesn't answer except to say, "Quiet."

Her feet are numb, slapping against the cement floor. There are no other sounds, and the cages are all empty, eerie, until one isn't. Adrianne sees it just then, the body, and grips Genevieve's hand so tight she thinks she might break bones.

But Genevieve doesn't flinch, just keeps walking, even when Adrianne drags her feet and says, "Wait."

Someone's curled up in the center, as far away from the bars as they can be in a sad lump, unmoving. Maybe Genevieve hasn't seen.

"Wait," Adrianne whispers, louder, but Genevieve yanks her forward, away from the cage.

"Shut up," she says. "We'll deal with that later. We're leaving now."

"Why are you so calm about this," Adrianne asks. She's shivering harder, shoulders going tense. "Is this normal for you? Were you serious about your family? You think you're all succubi?"

Genevieve doesn't answer and Adrianne tries to get free, but Genevieve has her in a vice grip.

"Adrianne," Genevieve says, and slows long enough to step in closer and rub her thumb over the pulse of Adrianne's wrist. It sends a slow jolt of relaxation through Adrianne's body and Adrianne sees what is going on, suddenly, with clarity.

"Oh my god," she says again. She knows she should be quiet, but suddenly she gets it. Genevieve's involved. Adrianne needs her to stop touching her. "Is this like, your M.O.? Just kidnap people, torture them? Knock them out and leave them to die?"

Genevieve stops and turns so quickly that Adrianne has to take a step back. Genevieve jerks her against her and hisses, "Yeah that is it. That's our M.O."

"What," Adrianne says. Feeling brave, honest, nothing left to lose. " Are you going to seduce me? Fuck me and leave my body to rot?"

"If I was seducing you," Genevieve says. "You'd know it."

Adrianne stands her ground, glaring even though she can't see much of anything.

Genevieve sighs. "I'm serious Adrianne. Why would I sneak in, get you out of that cage, and try to sneak you out if I was with them?"

"You are one of them, you said-"

"I'm not part of the family any more, I told you." She's whispering harshly, close to Adrianne's ear, voice low and urgent. "I want to save you. I'm going to get you out of here, and after we're safe, we can bring them down, together, but there are at least a dozen of them, against two of us, and I'm not strong anymore, I don't feed like they do, and I won't be able to protect you. I can't have you hurt, ok? Please, Adrianne, just follow me, don't look at the cages, just follow me and everything will be okay. Please?"

Adrianne's breathing quick, trying to keep her head. She's weak, has been too long in the dark, and cold except for where Genevieve's holding her.

"Please," Genevieve says again, with an edge of desperation that makes Adrianne want to believe her.

"Ok," she says, and feels Genevieve sag slightly against her.

"Let's go then," Genevieve says, and twines their fingers together more firmly, comfortable this time. Genevieve is a monster, but she may be Adrianne's only salvation, so she follows.

There are more people in cages. If Adrianne wasn't so scared she'd probably throw up right then. She has nothing in her stomach though, and she feels weak. She looks away from another huddled form and closes her eyes. It's almost the same thing as walking with them open.

She thinks they should have been at the door by now, and says at much, and Genevieve explains she's taking them a long way.

"There are guards by the doors. It's how you got your ass caught when you tried to sneak in here. Don't worry, we're nearly there," she says.

Which is when Adrianne screams.

It's short, cut-off, but loud. Genevieve whirls and her hand tightens on Adrianne's shoulder so hard that pain shoots down her arm, but there are echoes.

Adrianne doesn't care then. She jerks away from Genevieve and runs to the cage in front of them and grabs on to the bars like she'll be able to force them open with just her hands. But of course it's no more easy to get in than it was in her own cage trying to get out.

It's Kristin.

She's barely recognizable, but Adrianne knew the second the light flashed over her. She has to squat down on her heels and squint to see that it's her, see how gaunt her face is in repose. It seems impossible to Adrianne that just a few weeks ago Kristin was healthy. She's never seen anyone living look like this.

"Kristin?" she says. Her voice comes out in a pleading whisper, squeaking at the end. "Kristin. It'll be okay, I'll get you out," she says. Assuring someone else of this, saying it out loud, makes Adrianne feel better, despite all evidence to the contrary. She reaches a hand in the bars but Kristin stays where she is, slumped in an unnatural pose, and pale.

"We'll be okay," Adrianne tells her. "I promise."

Genevieve hauls Adrianne up by the back of the shirt, and then drags her back when Adrianne struggles. "There's nothing we can do about her now."

"Please, just get her out."

"What do you want to do, carry her? We have no time, Adrianne. For all we know, someone heard you, we have to go."

"But-"

"Adrianne, there's no coming back from this. Look at her. Really look at her. They've fed off her energy too many times. She may as well be dead already. We have to go."

"What are you saying?"

"Look, we feed off of sexual energy, but especially orgasms, and you can be careful, not take too much. But whoever's been feeding off Kristin, off all these women, hasn't held back. Not only has she been almost completely drained, she probably hasn't eaten or slept in weeks. She's on the edge of death, and once the human body gets to this point, there's no chance of recuperation."

"So she'll die?" The words feel like a joke, the idea so foreign Adrianne can’t even begin to take it seriously.

"Yes."

"Do you not even care?" she asks.

Genevieve doesn't answer. It sends a whole knew feeling of dread rolling through Adrianne until she can't find steady footing. Genevieve catches her. She's weak and cold, and can't believe what Genevieve's telling her.

"You watch all these people die and you could stop it but you don't do anything," Adrianne says. "You know what that makes you? A criminal. A monster."

Genevieve grabs Adrianne by the arm and drags her away from the cage. Adrianne tries to put her heels down but she's just dragged across the cold concrete until she's stumbling along next to her, tripping over her feet.

"Let go of me!" she says. She can't see where she's going.

Genevieve shakes her a little, not slowing down. "Quiet."

"No. I'm not going with you. Give me your phone, I need to call my boss."

"You think I haven't tried calling out?" Genevieve laughs. "There's no reception here."

Adrianne jerks her arm and tries to pull away, voice getting louder in anger. "Get your hands off me."

"Adrianne, shut up."

"No, I'm-" Genevieve stops her with a hand over her mouth.

Adrianne tries to elbow her way out of the hold. She can’t manage anything more than struggling ineffectually against Genevieve, and when Genevieve hisses, "shut the hell up," in her ear, Adrianne stills completely with her hands gripping Genevieve's shoulders, nails digging in. Genevieve acts like she can't even feel it.

"Mmph?" she asks, breath hot against Genevieve's hand.

She can barely hear Genevieve's voice when she breathes, "We're not alone anymore."

There are cages of people slumped and half dead against the bars, but Adrianne doesn't think Genevieve means other prisoners.

There's the solid thunk of a closing door and then another, one after the another through the darkness.

"Um," Adrianne says.

Genevieve's hold has relaxed now, which Adrianne knows means the exact opposite of their being in the clear. She's given them up for trapped, Adrianne realizes.
"Genevieve?"

"We'll both be killed," Genevieve tells her, and there's a strain to her voice. "You know what packs do to the weakest link. Cut it out, put it out of its misery and protect the good of the whole. I'll be killed and so will you."

"There has to be something we can do," Adrianne says. She should never have left her house that night, should never have come in without backup.

"Look. When they catch me helping you, they'll know I'm not one of them."

There has to be a way around it. Through the fear climbing her ribcage, Adrianne remembers that she's excellent at what she does, excellent at problem solving and critical thinking.

"There's no way around it," Genevieve tells her. "They're going to find us, and soon."

They're going to find them. That's it.

"That's it," she says.

She can sense Genevieve's hesitancy to even ask, but she does. "What?"

The idea is terrifying. If what Genevieve says is true, then it's also dangerous.

And it just might work.

"Trust me," Adrianne says, and then opens her mouth and screams.

There's an immediate, answering pattering of footsteps, and Adrianne swoons against Genevieve's side, and says, "Just play the part."

The footsteps approach, and seconds later she hears them slow, and a man's voice say, "Well, well, well. What have we here?"

Genevieve straightens, and in a colder tone of voice than Adrianne has ever heard her use, says, "I'm Genevieve. A cousin. I'm bringing this one in." She drags Adrianne in against her side, and Adrianne molds to her.

"Oh!" he says. "Well, all right then. I wasn't aware we'd have someone else visiting. Do you need anything? Tea? Coffee? A knee pillow? These floors can get very hard."

If Adrianne wasn't so scared, she'd be irate, impressed. Genevieve says, voice softening, "No, thank you, but that's very hospitable of you."

"Any family, no matter how far removed... you know the deal. So, are you delivering or staying for a time? There are a few of us on watch, so holler if you need something. Here, I'll introduce you to Calvin." He yells, "Say hi, Calvin!"

There's an echoing yell from the other side of the warehouse, and he turns back to them. "Anyway, we're right on over there."

Adrianne keeps her eyes squeezed shut, head drooping against her chest.

"I'll keep that in mind," Genevieve says.

Adrianne doesn't open her eyes until the footsteps have receded to far off, comparatively.

"Genius," she whispers.

"Yeah," Genevieve says. "But now they'll be expecting me to feed on you."

Adrianne's pulse skyrockets.

"They'll notice if I don't," Genevieve explains. "I'm sorry but, you've given us the perfect excuse. It was really very smart, but also not well thought-out."

Adrianne is only half convinced this isn't some bad dream she'll never see the end of.

"If you feed on me," she says. "They'll let us go?"

"Not necessarily, but they won't watch us as closely. We'll have more chance to escape."

"Well."

She considers this, bleary and weak feeling. A dark part of her is excited at the idea, but most of her is terrified.

But there's nothing else to be done. Again, Adrianne doesn't waste time explaining. She gets her hands free because Genevieve's no longer holding her, and fumbles at her wrist, tugging at the clasp of the bracelet with shaking fingers.

There's a clinking as it falls somewhere and Genevieve freezes.

"What are you doing?"

Now that Adrianne's not wearing the thing, she notes that freaked out whispering has never been such a turn on. She can feel it now, the absolute difference. "The bracelet was cute but I don't think I need it right now," she says, just as her shivers turn to a full-body frisson. "Are we still in danger?"

"Yes we're still in danger," Genevieve says, dropping to her knees and searching around on the floor. The phone's skidded a ways away and Genevieve sounds so desperate when she says, "I gave the charm to you for a reason!"

Adrianne feels hot under the collar. She grabs Genevieve by the arm and urges her up against the cage, one hand holding hers to a bar. She presses her knee in between Genevieve's, hard, and mouths against her ear, "I'll put it on later if it means that much to you."

"No, it's not-" Genevieve struggles. "Adrianne, you don't want this."

"I really do," Adrianne tells her. Now that she's not wearing the bracelet, pleasure feelings are going liquid in her. She actually can't remember feeling the longing that she does at this moment. Ever. This is the best idea she's had, hands down. She's alone and anonymous and can act out any fantasy. And Genevieve wants it. She's just holding back for Adrianne's sake.

And if Genevieve's going to act all blushing virgin, Adrianne's going to have to take the reins. She's into that.

"Believe me," she says, and grabs Genevieve's hand and guides it down her stomach, past the low rise of her jeans and over her underwear, wet and in the way. She's moans against Genevieve's neck, pressing further into her against the bars while she works Genevieve's fingers awkwardly against her.

"Come on," she gasps. "They're watching, aren't they? Just go with it. You don't want to get us killed, do you?"

"Adrianne," Genevieve says, voice weak. But she doesn't pull her hand away, and it's a good idea, Adrianne knows it is, even if Genevieve doesn't want to do it.

"This is our only out, come on."

Genevieve moves against her, finally, and everywhere she touches Adrianne comes alive-her hips, her neck, the small of her back. Adrianne grips a cage bar as she slides the other hand up to Genevieve's shoulder to hold on.

"Come on," she says. "You won't hurt me. I trust you."

"You really shouldn't," Genevieve says, but she undoes Adrianne's belt and the top button of her pants quickly, with deft fingers, says, "Easy," when Adrianne trips on the back of her pants as she tries to get them off. Adrianne grabs the bottom of her shirt and pulls it off over her head. It's freezing in there, she knows that, but there's a sap of heat under her skin that belies the chill and Genevieve rubs a hot hand over the goosebumps on her back.

She's lightheaded, her breasts pressed against Genevieve's, Genevieve's fingers inside her, and she wants her so badly she could die. It feels like she might. She can't breathe well and when she tries to gather her bearings, she can't.

Genevieve stills. "Adrianne?"

Panic builds in her chest when Genevieve starts to move away. "Please," Adrianne says. "I'm okay. Please fuck me, Gen. Why would you stop?"

She tries to move in closer, for the heat and proximity, to get Genevieve moving, but Genevieve stops her. She's aware of Genevieve tugging her own pants down calmly.

"You might not like this," she tells her, conversational while she's slipping Adrianne's underwear down to her knees, then running warm hands down the back of her. "It's not your fault. This is just who we are. Don't feel too badly."

"What?" Adrianne chokes out. She has a moment of double vision, how this isn't who she really is. She's a straight-laced girl from Iowa, moved to Chicago to be a superhero, but here she is now with some monster's hands on her skin, begging to be fucked with her friend near death on the other side of the bars.

It's a moment of clarity, hits home. She tries to step away but Genevieve has her. Her body feels like it's on fire, and if she doesn't let this happen she'll be killed. She has no choice.

"Ok," Adrianne says. And she does want it, sort of. This time, when Genevieve grabs her leg under the knee, Adrianne goes easy. Genevieve's jeans are down around her ankles now, and she maneuvers Adrianne until she's the one propped up against the bars, and then presses two fingers inside her, three , and thrusts. Adrianne pushes into it, up into Genevieve's hand, beyond shame.

And suddenly there's the push of something else. It's doesn't feel like a hand. It's not a hand. Adrianne knows what it is. It rubs against her, and she moans in horror as it moves down the inside of her leg, smearing something viscous and slippery where it touches her skin.

It's warm and alive, and she tries to pull back but Genevieve tugs her in close. Adrianne tries to drop her leg. "I don't-"

But Genevieve shushes her, cupping the side of her face. Adrianne leans into it, feeling feverish, and Genevieve says, "Come on. You want this."

Adrianne does and she doesn't. There's something unknown pushing against her leg and she feels hot all over, flushed with want and compelled by something primal and urgent, but at the same time, she's scared out of her mind, shaking with it, and Genevieve's hands feel more like brands against her skin than they should. It's all too much, not what's supposed to happen and Adrianne starts sobbing, beyond any coherent thought, until Genevieve's nails dig into her leg and positions herself. She drags it over her, prods, seeking entrance. Adrianne should be thinking of a way out, but it's too late and she wraps her arms tightly around Genevieve's shoulders instead, just before Genevieve shoves it into her.

It's a tentacle, there's no doubt in her mind now. Everything Genevieve said was true, and it's all pain and big inside her. It's a too-much feeling, too soon, Adrianne's face pressed into the side of Genevieve's, tears smearing between them. Her arms are up around Genevieve's neck, fingers holding on to her own hair.

"I can't breathe," Adrianne chokes out.

Genevieve touches her, smooths a hand over her stomach, and her touch has the same sedative quality as it always has and Adrianne can breathe easier, the edge off the panic.

Before she's ready though, Genevieve pushes into her again. It's more directed, deeper, and hurts more, and it happens twice more before she can't hold back and gives in and follows it, jerking down so the tentacle pushes even deeper up inside her, and a ripple of pleasure pain shakes through her.

"Come on," Genevieve urges, and pulls out, leaving Adrianne empty and aching until Genevieve eases her to the ground.

Not able to control herself, Adrianne shoves Genevieve down and straddles her waist, knees hitting the concrete on either side of her, hard. She fumbles around and finds the tentacle-notices blearily that there are lumps along it, almost like suckers but not quite, a round tip, that it's an actual goddamn tentacle-and she gives it an unforgiving tug, the wetness of it sliding in her fist. She knee walks further up Genevieve's body and bears down until the tentacle forces inside her again and she feels that momentary good thing like she's lit up from the inside, before the feeling heaves out of her like an undertow and leaves nothing behind but despair.

It's Genevieve sucking power from her, she realizes. She can feel it, and knows without a doubt that that's what's happening. The more deeply Adrianne feels it, the more strength Genevieve is drawing from her.

Genevieve flips her over and Adrianne lands hard on an elbow. But the pain is a distant thing and completely forgotten as Genevieve leans down and takes her mouth in a frantic first kiss, open and hot, moaning when Adrianne bites her lip. Genevieve reaches between them to rub over her clit and Adrianne forgets the pain and falls dreamy over the kiss, all the nerves in her body going bright as Genevieve pushes inside of her relentlessly, kissing her with a mouth that tastes like mint. Maybe she was brushing her teeth getting ready for bed before she came to rescue Adrianne. Adrianne thinks about how Genevieve planned just to break Adrianne out, save the girl, save the day, but instead she's ended up fucking her into the floor of a warehouse in the dark with her tentacle.

Adrianne's shivering cold except where Genevieve's covering her, but there she's burning up. She doesn't care that Genevieve's hand is probably cramping, she just wants pressure and movement. She's aching for it, heels pressed into the cement. Genevieve's breathing comes out ragged and quick, and she's so close, just on the edge, when Genevieve tries to pull away, saying, "Come on baby, time to-"

"No," Adrianne says, because how dare she. "Fucking fuck me, I swear to god. If you don't, I swear-"

Genevieve pulls out and shoves inside her again, so hard and smooth that Adrianne slides up the floor, shoulder blades scraping against the dirt of the ground. The only thing Adrianne can do is crook her arms around her and hold on.

"Is it almost-"

"No," Genevieve pants. "No, I need to do this next thing."

Then, she pulls out slowly, drawing a moan out of Adrianne, who struggles up onto her elbows. Genevieve sits back on her heels, and Adrianne's finally able to get a good look at the tentacle.

It's pretty much just as she'd expected, dark and swaying between them, and it's so terrifying that Adrianne's certain she'll never sleep a full night again if they survive this.

Then everything gets worse.

"What's it-" she begins to ask, because the tentacle is lengthening. She watches in silence as it curls up to pull through a loop of itself and synch up tightly into a knot. And it doesn't stop there. It knots up again, closer to the tip. Genevieve's watching it as well, mouth half open, transfixed.

"No," Adrianne says, shaking her head like she has a say in this. "There's no way those things will fit."

"They will," Genevieve says. "They have to."

They do fit, both knots. It's impossible and feels impossible every second of the way. Genevieve pumps in and out of Adrianne slowly until she's coaxed the first knot in with the slick from the tentacle. It immediately swells to keep hold inside her. Genevieve explains this to her in short breaths but Adrianne can't concentrate fully on what she's saying because the second knot is worse.

When it's in, the tentacle plumps up more, and Adrianne already felt like she was splitting in two, but now she's spread out uncomfortably, uncertain of whether she's going to live through this. Genevieve's movements grow increasingly languid until she's braced above her, finally still.

"Relax," she says. "It'll get even better after this."

And Adrianne trusts her because she has to. She's in a horrible middleground of being more turned on than she ever has been in her life and having two large knots inside of her, pulsating. Genevieve ducks to kiss her along the jaw, and then her neck, slowly and for minutes until she reaches between them and Adrianne loses it.

Adrianne drifts back to consciousness to the wailing of ambulance sirens and the skidding screech of police tires in the distance. She's cradled against Genevieve's arm, clothed, outside on the street. The sky is pre-dawn blue, and under her toes she feels wet gravel and glass.

She sits up, tentatively shaking her head, trying to clear it. Genevieve moves away to give her room and leans back on her hands on the curb.

"We made it out," Adrianne says with real wonder. "How did we make it out?"

"You passed out after..." Genevieve looks at her sidelong. "And then I...well."

Adrianne stills, waiting for the other shoe. "Well what?"

Genevieve screws up her mouth, then says, "I put you in a trash bag and told them I was going to dispose of the body." She pauses. "It occurs to me that I should apologize for that."

"Oh."

"It was a good cover, believe me. It's actually pretty cool, every human has a lifeforce signature that dulls after you've knotted them. It dulls more the longer the knotting, so I had you out for at least half an hour to make sure. To the guys at the door, you read as a human who was no longer useful."

Adrianne feels vertigo at the thought, the ground swimming toward her. Genevieve must see it on her face because she backtracks. "Don't worry, your lifeforce replenishes. I'll explain it to you some other time, actually."

Adrianne remembers it all, suddenly. She remembers the cold and the dark of the warehouse, followed by that violent tug of lust that pitted her when Genevieve took her. She remembers how it felt like a lifetime of pain and need, and it's too much. She leans over and throws up onto the street, just as the ambulance pulls up to the curb.

"Palicki, you hurt?" Chris calls, jumping out of a squad car. Genevieve rubs Adrianne's back.

Adrianne is hurt. She feels weak and fucked out, and her elbows are bloody from where she'd dragged along the floor. Now that she's no longer numb with pleasure, she's sore everywhere, in every part of her body. She feels violated and also relieved, lighter than air, like she escaped scot-free. She could probably take a nap for a year after this and barely feel rested.

"Kind of dirty and embarrassed," she says instead of explaining any of this. "Being kidnapped and kept in a cage will do that to you. I need a shower."

Aldis shakes his head. "Yeesh. We don't say this enough: I'm glad you're alive."

Adrianne's directed to the back of the Ambulance by an EMT, and she calls over to Aldis, "Hey, the warehouse- At least two of the perps are in there, one named Calvin. I didn't see either of their faces-"

Aldis holds up a hand. "Woah, easy there. The Chief's in there taking care of it. Nothing to worry about."

"With some Feds," Chris says, frowning. "It's not even their case."

Adrianne feels cloudy. The EMT takes her blood pressure and does a brief injury assessment. Adrianne's dealt with a battery of injuries in the line of duty, from minor to bleeding out, and she's only been to the ER twice. This time though, she's declared "healthy, perfectly fine," and the EMT packs up his equipment and tells her she's free to go.

"I'm never going to trust medical professionals again," she says to Genevieve when she returns to stand by her.

Genevieve laughs. Adrianne watches police lights flicker over her face, noticing how she looks peaceful, now, less on guard. She's sure she should want to run as far from Genevieve as humanly possible, but she feels close to her now, joined by a common nightmare.

She clears her throat. "So what are your plans now?"

"I was thinking about staying in the area," Genevieve says.

"Oh yeah? You find a good reason?"And Adrianne catches it right after it's leaving her mouth. Genevieve shakes her head while Adrianne rubs a hand over her face.

"Not as bad as some of your other lines, but-"

"Hey, I was under the influence," Adrianne says, meaningfully.

"Anyway," Genevieve says. "I've been thinking about staying."

It's not the response Adrianne had been expecting; Genevieve seems like the type to cut and run.

She continues, "This thing's in the hands of law enforcement now, so my plan to keep it in the family is pretty much blown. But I don't know, I've been on the run a long time. And Chicago's starting to feel like home."

"Well," says Adrianne. "That's great."

It seems stupid to have a moment in the wreckage of the night before. But the survivors are being taken care of, and neither she nor Genevieve was killed. They got out by the skin of their teeth, and Adrianne thinks maybe she's allowed to take Genevieve's smile and hold on to it for a time.

The smile disappears though, seconds later, when a hand falls heavy on Adrianne's shoulder. Genevieve's looking up at the person in shock, and Adrianne whirls around.

But it's just the Chief. She lets out a deep breath.

"You're a real hero, Palicki," he tells her. His grin looks outrageous, right now. He seems like a caricature of himself. Adrianne's tired, the past few days are really catching up to her.

"Thank you, sir," she says, managing a smile back. "This is-"

"Genevieve, isn't it?" the Chief says.

Adrianne turns to see Genevieve hesitate, then nod.

"Do you two know each other?" Adrianne asks.

"We go way back, don't we?" the Chief says. "Genevieve, could I have a word?"

Genevieve doesn't answer, but she moves to go.

"Wait," Adrianne starts, because she doesn't want Genevieve to go. It's a gut feeling, shocking and probably some PTSD symptom, based on nothing logical.

She can't kick it though. She has the feeling that she's losing something right before her eyes, and the feeling's only magnified when Genevieve squeezes Adrianne's hand when she moves past.

Adrianne grips onto her fingers, and when Genevieve lets go, she is left with a thudding heart and a cold clutch of metal in the palm of her hand. The bracelet is like a weight, the octopus malicious in this light. She's still staring at it when Aldis joins her.

"So, you do realize you independently blew our running investigation out of the water in under a week," he says.

"You know I did." She tries to smile, but it feels weak on her face.

"Make us look bad." He chuckles. "But really, A, what were you thinking? Getting yourself into that kind of danger and putting the lives of those victims in jeopardy? The Chief is going to have your ass."

It's probably true, but Adrianne's not really listening. She's holding the bracelet tight, in a fist, and experiencing a welling of nausea as she watches Genevieve follow the Chief to his car. The Chief holds the door open for Genevieve and pushes her into the passenger side. Adrianne says, "I wasn't thinking."

Aldis nods. "Well, I'm glad you're ok."

He idles next to her, while she stands stock still, not sure of what to do, or how. Aldis sticks his hands in his pockets, whistling, and Chris says it looks like rain.

fic

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