10. Did You Want Trauma with That?
Did You Want Trauma with That?
T he weather breaks, making refreshed promises as I do the same.
My work consumes me. I meticulously examine documents on my tablet and even bring it home for evening activities to distract myself from thoughts of Ghost. I’ll prove to him I’m not that kind of killer by taking down Bill Roman the right way.
“I need more files,” I say, placing my tablet down on Killian’s desk after spending a week on the first set he gave me.
“Woah. Look at you. Reading like a big girl,” James teases. “Cathy would have killed to see this.”
The dark jest lands hard, making my chest tighten and my lips pull into a frown for a moment before I manually correct the expression. But not before James notices.
“You good Blackwell?”
“Sorry,” I mutter, shaking my head and doing my best to remember what it’s like to be mateless. Dark humor and violence, that’s how we cope. “All this adulting must be fucking with my sense of humor.” I chuckle, trying my best to remember how I used to be.
“Here.” Killian holds my tablet out with a curt smile. “Have a go at some of the technical terms.”
I take the tablet back to my desk, sitting down and diving straight into the new files before I can fuck up any more interactions that should be easy to navigate.
When I open the first folder, I see a chaotic mess of strange symbols and code and finally understand what Killian meant by technical terms. I look up at Killian, but he is busy studying files on his own device.
Rather than risk another scene by asking questions, I glance back down at the unfamiliar words on my screen.
Cathy would have waited just to see the look on my face.
In the labyrinthine recesses of my mind, I have unearthed a revelation that transcends the boundaries of conventional morality and scientific orthodoxy. Behold, the unholy communion of complementary DNA segments, a symphony of genetic discordance that beckons me into the abyss of discovery.
The foundation of this heretical doctrine lies in the precise alignment of nucleotide sequences, each a testament to the boundless potentiality of molecular manipulation.
Within the tangled helices of DNA, I have glimpsed the faint whispers of genetic destiny, encoded within the very fabric of existence.
It is a revelation that threatens to consume me whole, yet I embrace it with fervor akin to that of a zealot embracing divine revelation.
But what of the euphoric ecstasy that awaits those who dare to traverse the chasm of genetic convergence?
Ah, it is a siren song that beckons me ever closer to the precipice of madness.
I postulate that this euphoria arises not from mere neurotransmitter release, but from the transcendence of mortal limitations through the fusion of complementary genetic deficiencies.
As I stand upon the precipice of revelation, I am reminded of the immortal words of Prometheus, who dared to steal fire from the gods themselves. Like him, I shall defy the constraints of mortal wisdom and seize the flames of enlightenment for myself.
Let the annals of history bear witness to my audacity, for I am the harbinger of a new dawn, where morality bows before the altar of scientific progress. Behold, as I descend into the abyss of genetic convergence, for there can be no salvation without first embracing damnation.-AL
That is the first document, and the closest to something akin to words. The following dozen pages consist of symbols and sketches along with formulas written in the margins. They didn’t teach this type of science in the school I graduated from.
I rub a hand over my eyes, hoping to scrub some words from my mind just to think straight again.
Glancing up, I notice it’s almost lunch, a welcome reprieve.
A ding sounds from my tablet, catching my attention rather than watching the slowly tickling clock on the wall.
An e-mail from the forensics department.
My throat tightens and I swallow hard, staring at the notification.
His name could be in there. I could be one click away from finally knowing my soul mate’s name.
“Kira.” I jerk at the sound of my name and find Killian looking at me. “Lunch,” he says, pointing toward the clock on the wall.
Captain’s door swings open and he heads through the station with a determined gaze, out of sight in mere moments and without a word. I look back at the email notification, my fingers itching to open the file.
“Looks like he’s got plans for lunch. What about you, princess?” Killian asks, but I don’t look up from the screen.
“I’m good here.”
“I was hoping to snag lunch out today,” Killian adds.
“Here.” I grab the cruiser’s key and dangle it in the air between us. “I assume you know how to program the autopilot.”
“You feeling alright, Blackwell? First, you’re reading, now you’re offering to let someone else drive the cat?” James asks, making me look up from the notification.
I pull the keys back to my chest. “I was just testing everyone. Gotta make sure I’m still your favorite source of entertainment since the hive raid has gotten so much attention.
” The answer feels vaguely like something I would have said, but it takes James a few moments before a lazy smirk stretches across his lips.
“Like we could ever forget your dumpster fire existence,” James says in a loving tone before heading to the door to go get lunch with Tommy.
“Did you have someplace in particular in mind for lunch?” I ask, turning to face Killian. His mirrored glasses stare back at me, his lips pressed thin. He didn’t know exactly how I acted before the fuckery of my mate affected me so much.
“Do you like sandwiches?”
“Sure,” I shrug, powering off my tablet with a heavy sigh. The email will have to wait for now.
“You don’t have to drive me around.”
“We’re partners.” I give him a small smile. “Besides, no one drives the cat but me.” I smile wider, feeling a bit more like my familiar self. “But you can still program the autopilot for me.”
Killian stares at me for a moment before deciding to drop the topic and gets up to head for lunch.
“Find anything interesting in the hive files?” Killian asks at the exact moment I take a giant bite out of my turkey sandwich.
I roll my eyes and try to make quick work of chewing. “There was a handwritten note. I’m pretty sure an insane person wrote it.”
“Ahh, yeah. That’s Roman’s little mad scientist. I’d be surprised if you found a single coherent thought in those ramblings.” Killian gives me a lopsided smile before taking a bite of his burger.
“He was talking about Prometheus and defeating a god or some shit.”
“Sounds about right,” Killian says as he chews. “The hive collected a lot of information from all over Arkadia. This morning I read a five pager on optimal transportation routes for vegetable deliveries.”
“Oh, that sounds riveting.” I laugh.
Killian takes a sip of his soda and then clears his throat. “You haven’t deleted anything yet. I’m thinking you and James made that part up to get me to be your tech bitch.”
“It will happen one day, when you least expect it. If Cathy was here, she would tell you.”
“You really miss her, don’t you?”
“What kind of question is that?” I bite back. “Of course I miss her. She was the closest thing I had to family.”
“What was she like?”
“Cathy?” I sit back, slowly finishing my bite and taking a minute to figure out how to describe Cathy. I see her bright smiling face in my mind and my heart clenches in my chest. “She lit up the room.” I smile, keeping my lips together, unlike the beaming smile Cathy would have given.
Killian wears a lopsided smile while he patiently waits for me to give up more details.
“She was flirty and fun. The absolute queen of spontaneity. There were a lot of times when I would not have gotten out of bed if it weren’t for Cathy dragging my pathetic ass out. She was my partner and my best friend.”
Killian sits in silence for a moment, seemingly in thought. “Have you ever wondered what’s the point of it all?”
“The whole meaning of life?” I raise my eyebrows, skeptical that he really means to have an existential conversation.
“Life,” Killian says, giving a forlorn look at his lunch. “Everything in this society revolves around mated couples. Have you ever wondered why?”
“Because that’s the natural order of life. Find your soulmate. Live happily ever after.” I can’t help the bitterness in my tone. Or at least that seemed like the purpose of life before Ghost came crashing into mine. Of course I would have a difficult soulmate.
“And when one mate dies?” Killian asks.
“Then you try to be useful while you wait for your own death.”
“Is that what you’ve spent your life doing? Just waiting for death?”
I’m taken aback for a moment. Thoughts of Ghost distract me, and I struggle to find the answer the old me would have said. “Something like that.” I shrug, feigning indifference.
“Why did you decide to become a police officer?”
“Because they get all the cool toys.” I am confident in my well-used answer while holding my personal reasons close to my chest, just as I always have.
It’s fast-paced work that gives me a rush.
Killian simply stares, reflecting my smirk through the lens of his glasses, and giving away nothing in his thoughts.
“While we’re on the topic of deep bonding questions.” I straighten in my seat. “What’s up with the glasses?”
Killian reaches up, lifting the frames and takes them off. In place of his left eye, the skin is marred and sunken. His other eye is a warm brown with an inner ring of amber, boring into me.
“What happened?” I ask, otherwise stunned.
“Tried to get myself off this rock, remember?” Killian smiles tightly before putting his glasses back on.
“Looks like you almost succeeded,” I mutter.
“I found her,” Killian starts, his tone thick as he directs his gaze toward his plate. “In the bathtub. I opened the door and saw a gun on the floor. It wasn’t until I looked in the tub that I realized what she had done.”
“I thought you said your mate died in a car accident?”
Killian raises his head slowly. “I lied. People do that when it’s about the most painful day of their life.”
“Damn.” I pause, letting my mind fill in the details of Killian’s words. His soulmate chose death over a future with him.
Killian glances down to grab a fry to push around the plate.
“Katherine struggled with depression her whole life. I had hoped I was enough to pull her out of it. She did well for a few years at the start. I thought she was doing better.” The fry breaks in half and Killian tosses it down.
He takes a deep breath, releasing it with a long sigh. “That’s why I wear glasses.”
I clear my throat before reaching for my glass of soda to push down the lump. I could use something stronger right about now.
“But you, princess.” My heart pounds slowly in my ears while I wait to hear the next part of the story he wants to share. “You had to live for just you. You got to decide what you wanted and why you wanted it. What do you live for Kira?”
“I’ve lived because the alternative is not living,” I say, allowing the words to pick themselves before flying from my mouth.
“Not living doesn’t feel like a valid option.
I don’t know what happens after I leave this world.
” I pause, thinking over the belief set shared by most of the mated individuals.
They believe the purpose of this life is to find your mate so you can spend the afterlife in isolated bliss with them.
“Religion isn’t really my thing. But I’m here. Might as well make the best of it.”
“What’s your version of the best? Going to work and coming home to an empty house, day in and day out?” Killian scoffs and shakes his head. “Going to the clubs every weekend for a quick hookup?”
“Hey,” I object. “Just because you’re having a hard time finding your place doesn’t mean you get to judge the rest of us.
The mateless are treated like outcasts because, apparently, we aren’t enough running solo.
So yeah, we do what we want and who we want.
Whenever it suits us. Because it’s all we have. ”
“You’re free,” Killian says in a hushed tone.
“What?” The word slips through my lips despite having heard him.
Killian pushes his plate to the end of the table before getting up. “You’re free. Free to do and act and think whatever you want. Your life is yours and yours alone.”
I take a last sip from my drink before getting up and, without a word, start for the door. Killian follows, and we share a silent trip back to the station while I drive.
Killian heads to his desk and I go straight for mine, remembering the email waiting for me.
I take a seat and look around at the rest of the station.
James is at his desk, head bent, while he looks through something on his tablet.
A quick glance Killian’s way shows me he is also busying himself with his tablet, frowning at the screen. Captain’s door is shut.
I look back at my tablet and click the notification for the email.
Officer Blackwell,
The sample submitted yielded two (2) sources of DNA. One set tested female and was not run for identification per case instructions. The second set was identified as male and was run through identification but yielded no exact match. A relative match was identified; however, the person is deceased.
“Fuck,” I say under my breath while fighting the urge to throw things.
I type a quick e-mail back to Zac asking for the information on the deceased relative. I’m not sure if it will help me find out who Ghost is, but I will take any piece to the puzzle that I can find for now.