Post by pendrag0nknight on Dec 20, 2011 18:20:40 GMT -5
Impatiently, he drummed his fingers against the chair arm. Those same fingers began to inch their way up to his handsome face, to a particular scar that revealed an 'un-handsome' truth beneath it. As was his habit, Xerxes began to scratch at the scar that cut across his profile, glaring out the window across from him.
Why? Why was he even frustrated to begin with?
The parody of a smile twisted across his features, and he bit the corner of his lip with hidden frustration, nearly scratching hard enough to take off more skin before he forced his own hand down.
No, no, no. He was not a man to lose his composure. Xerxes was in control. ALWAYS in control. Of everything. Himself and the others around him. Regardless.
Taking a short breath, Xerxes straightened up. He was untouchable. He was unrufflable. He was—
“So~o, I’m here to repo~rt.”
His heart slammed hard against the inside of his chest, and sharply Xerxes turned in time to see her. Instantly, he recovered himself, forcing a well-practiced smirk onto is lips as he stood with all the calm in the world (that he wasn’t feeling inside). He walked around the chair that had previously been his perch, letting a hand slide across the back of it with the utmost casualness.
“Ah, so the little spy finally appears. Late.” He made himself pause, examining his nails with the airs of utter boredom. “You know, I do not appreciate tardiness.”
From the corner of his blood-colored metalman eye, he watched her sharply, secretly. She didn’t seem to notice his flippant attitude. Instead, her tail-tip flicked playfully in a way that sent a shudder
A twinge of irritation rippled through him, the corner of his carefully pasted smile twitching barely visibly.
“Anyway,” she became all business at that moment, arching neck up while angling her head to the side, regarding him in a bored way. “I have the information you need. I’m here for a trade. So don’t take up too much of my time.” She let herself slip into that siren’s aura again, one shoulder raised and leading her lean to that side, curvaceous hips swinging out the opposite way. She hugged herself suggestively, as if cradling whomever was the lucky man tonight….
Xerxes clenched a fist behind the chair backing. “Oh?” his voice was complete calm, though the said hand’s knuckles had turned white with hidden emotion. Xerxes was always in control. Always. “Have other plans for tonight then?” he continued in an almost halcyon manner.
Her dark eyes cut over him. “Ah-ah-aaah, now. That would be telling,” a tanned finger came up to wag at him slowly side to side, as if tracing itself over his chest from across the distance of the room. “I’m only here to trade a certain set of information.” She smiled at him, but the smile was predatory, like her hybrid half. “Now, let’s get to business, shall we? What’s the deal with the Pits?”
He watched her tail curl about her legs, hugging her thighs, sliding away, twisting to curl into itself, then swinging back the other way. He chastened himself and turned his attention back to her pointedly.
“You know how it is,” he replied, his own voice rumbling low in his throat. “You have to give me what I want first. Then I’ll tell you what you want.” If only she could actually give him what he wanted…
Sighing with what was obvious frustration, the hybrid turned her shoulder to him while crossing her arms, affording a curvaceous profile. “Fine—” she said shortly. “I have the schedule for ‘visits’ along trade routes. It’s here—” and she began to list off what she had memorized as a series of numbers.
Xerxes resisted an annoyed twitch, but he was appreciative of the tact all the same. It was something he would do. She was cunning as well as attractive. The numbers—they must have been coordinates for latitude and longitude based on the position of the constellations at different times of the year. She was sharp in astrophysiology, it seemed.
He memorized the information the moment she relayed it to him, and returned the favor by telling her the conditions of the pit fight arenas. Yet when he was done, she frowned.
“That’s not fair,” was the soft purring whine, her eyebrows angling away and down from her eyes, cheeks pinching up to show her displeasure along with a full-mouth’s pout. “I can’t do anything decent with that information. Give me something more!”
He was hitched on that ridiculous pout, and found his hot-coal eyes burning over it. Xerxes resisted setting his teeth on edge. Not fair? Life wasn’t fair. How could she expect everyone to treat her so perfectly well? She should be fair to him and consider him once in a while. She seemed to willingly throw her arms around any man but him.
Struggling inside with himself, Xerxes found his own carefully smug expression turning sour at the corners of his lips. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. This was against his own policy. She couldn’t make him do this—he was always in control. Always….
“Something more?” he echo’d aloud while all this internal turmoil was going on, hidden beneath the hardened shell of the metalman. “Alright, miss. If you whine any louder you’ll give us both away.” He had to be snide. He had to. Because he’d lost. She’d gotten to him. Xerxes vanished behind the shadows of the room for a brief moment, then returned clutching a rolled scroll of paper. He took his time leisurely crossing the distance between them to stand within arms length of her. “Here,” he held it out to her.
And was rewarded by her eyes lighting up brightly as a claw-tipped hand snuck out to snatch hold of the map. She tugged it to herself, and found him still holding the other end. Her expression became uncertain, and he allowed himself the delicious moments of leaving her in that state. At least he had that much power over her. He would always have something she wanted.
“Only because I’m feeling unusually generous tonight. Since it seems to be such a special…occasion, for you. But,” he smiled at her, the smile of a devil. “I expect the generosity to be returned.”
It wasn’t a question so much as a statement.
“Fine,” replied the hybrid feral, her tail swishing with eagerness she couldn’t hide on her otherwise stern features. She tugged again experimentally, and this time Xerxes allowed himself to come forward with the map.
He saw her bristle a bit, then twist it out of his grip and shift back. He allowed the map to come free of his hand, unable to completely curtail his scowl. There it was again. She was retracting from him. Wretching from his closeness. He grit his teeth silently.
“Now get out,” he retorted shortly. “I have other things on my agenda tonight as well.” His voice was as hard as his metallic personality, and he turned his back to her, moving to his seat by the window. He didn’t look at her again, but stared at the reflection of the room in the window, watching her silently vanish into the shadows.
He clenched the chair arm so hard the old wood cracked in groaning protest. Going off to the arms of some other man, no doubt.
◊0◊
Leilah Talbot shot through the streets, shuddering to herself. “What a creeper,” she muttered softly to herself, leaping from one rooftop to execute an expert somersault and land on the pad of one foot on the slanted point of the roof of some human abode near the wall. She let her eyes slide across the silent street, black-leopard’s night-vision allowing her to easily locate the secret exit to the Outskirts. She slid down the roof, the sound easily being mistaken as the rustling of leaves in the wind by any passers by, then leapt the 10 meter distance to land lithely in a crouch behind the crates in an alleyway.
Her shadow was thrown against the grimy mortar’d blocks of the wall she was close to, the silhouette originally that of a tanned and curvilinear woman beginning to blend and twist. There was sharp pain—sweet pain—as bones cracked and reformed, muscles tore and bulged, skin prickled and fur pushed forth. The shadow of a large jungle cat was now where the sneaking woman’s shadow had been, but only for the barest moment. Then it was gone, out of the ‘City of Humans’, as her adorable little sister-like hybrid called this dump. The black leopard smiled, (the caricature of a smile, if one could call it that) revealing sharp teeth, as the cat rushed homeward.
The route home was a well-practiced one, and she found herself nodding to the guards as she loped silently past them to the large dome ahead. Upon entry, she allowed herself a little roar of greeting, surprising some of the more skittish hybrids. Their panicky reactions put a wan, toothy grin on the black leopard’s cattish features. Others who were more or less used to this roared or cawed or growled in answering.
“Back with the information we needed?” boomed a bossy voice from the dais.
Leilah transformed back, leisurely standing back up to her full height. “Here it is,” she waved the rolled paper. “I already double-checked. It’s the blue-prints for the Pit-Fighting Ring where the metalmen are keeping the rebel humans.”
“ ’bout f***ing time,” the owner of the bossy voice strode over in a manner similar to his tone. Lionel took the paper from his younger sister’s smaller hand, but not in a mean way. “Thanks,” he added gruffly as an afterthought, already unrolling the paper.
She smiled. This was just his way of saying she’d done well. He didn’t quite know how to express himself. She giggled, turning her eyes on her usual target—her older brother’s right-hand-hybrid.
“Did you hear that Idris?” she asked in a purr, swaying towards the golden cobra, who was astride with Lionel and looking over the opened map. “I did good. So…” she slipped her arms around his shoulders, pressing up against him. “…where’s my reward?”
The male hybrid tensed slightly, catching hold of the slim tanned hands in his golden-tanned one, peeling them off firmly but gently. “Nadia,” he summoned, as he steered the leopard-hybrid off of himself. “Give Leilah a hug for her efforts.”
An ivory-colored rustle of feathers danced towards the group, stars vivid in amber eyes. “Of course!” she honked happily, tossing winged-arms around the other woman. Leilah sighed at Idris’ usual reaction (and Lionel’s lack of reaction when she chased after his best friend and partner), but nonetheless accepted the hug from the cutie.
Nadia smiled back at the other hybrid. They were the same age and same height, but total physical opposites. Though yin and yang, both were beauties in their own ways. “How was the rest of the night, Leilah?” she asked pleasantly.
“Fine, Na-na. Y’know, just that that creeper was eyeing me again.” Leilah tossed her obsidian hair over her shoulder carelessly.
The trumpeter swan nodded sagely. The movement was enchanting in its gracefulness. “A lot of males look at you that way,” she added the obvious delicately.
Producing a smirk on the latter’s features. “Yeah, they do,” she purred, pleased. Her tail tip began to dance back and forth in time with some invisible tempo of excitement.
“We need to move quickly then—” the soft hiss of strong suggestion came from behind the two women, making them turn around to observe the head males glaring at the blueprints. Lionel slammed a fist on the table, and a soft crack was heard from the stone.
“Your d*** right we do!” snarled the leader of the Patrol Faction. “These stupid humans think they can rebel? I’ll show them what a f***ing rebellion is going to do for them! Ba****ds!” he spat aside.
“What seems to be the problem?” The cold voice of the black pantheress slid into the air the same way its speaker appeared into being from the shadows.
“Kipling,” Lionel’s eyes flashed over her, his irritation still evident. “You patrol the f***ing alleyways tonight. What the hell are you doing back here so soon?”
“Reporting,” was the smooth reply, as Kipling let her fingers play along her many daggers, periwinkle hair blowing in the soft night breeze. Her eyes reflected red, like many of the other predatory cats in the dome around them. “Got word from the pet adoption agency head at St. Bartelby’s.”
“That raccoon?” Lionel confirmed. “Safya, right?”
The sharp nod unsettled short periwinkle locks momentarily. “She says that many more pets are being adopted by those living near the edges of the Outskirts, but that the humans are breeding again. She was tied up with a particularly annoying boy human, some Alphred or another. That Red Light District is creating more unwanted infants.”
“We don’t need them f***ing each other! There are too many f***ing humans infesting this world as it is!” Lionel snarled, gnashing his sharp white teeth. How many had fallen to those incisors, and yet more would. Especially the humans. “I thought I told them to put that d*** strict anti-breeding program in place!”
“They are humans, Lionel,” Idris, ever the calm and logical one, put in. “Dirty, filthy, humans. They don’t have brains. That is why they are not animals.” The cobra hybrid turned in a silent shifting of scales to face the pantheress. She didn’t flinch under his golden gaze. She was one of the very few who didn’t. “Thank you for your report. You are dismissed. Please return to your prowling. As for you, Nadia,” he turned to face the young swan, who became promptly attentive. “Go and meet with my younger brother. He is our liaison for the Whitestag jailhouse. Speak to him about the issue and have them implement their usual persuasive techniques to dissuade further breeding.”
Smartly nodding, the swan turned to the rocky ledge for take off, leaping easily up the distance of nearly two stories. As she reached the top, Leilah’s voice made her pause.
“Idris! You’re sending that darling little Ms Swan out by herself to that pen we keep the humans in?!” the purr was an aghast one.
Golden eyes blinked, the expression unchanging. “Of course. I usually do.”
“How could you?!” demanded the black leopard next.
“You usually do not have a problem with—” but he was not able to finish, for Leilah had already climbed the rocks to stand abreast with the swan hybrid.
“Well, I actually care about her well being, so I’m going to go along with her. Isn’t that right, Na-na?” Leilah turned pretty glowing eyes on Nadia.
“Ah, alright,” Nadia tilted her head in acknowledgement. It was strange, since she usually went alone and Leilah didn’t have a problem with it before.
Both forms vanished, one turning into a large white swan and gliding away, the other becoming a dark shadow and fading into the grounds—both as swift as the wind.
Meanwhile, Idris, who had been staring contemplatively after the two, narrowed his eyes so the poison-green centers shone iridescently in the darkness. He sighed, a soft hissing sound like the wind through leaves. “She is going to meet a male,” he muttered, recognizing the behavior instantly.
Lionel’s eyes dilated as he spun around to face his right hand snake. “SHE WHAT?!?!”
◊0◊
Leilah giggled softly to herself, moving with swaying hips down the hall of the Whitestag manor. She’d been waiting ages for this moment! Now, if she could only corner him…. <3
His scent came through the doorway to her, and with ears flattening back and tail swishing in pleasure, Leilah rapped on the door softly, before pushing it open.
“He~y there, handso~me,” she purred.
Sheer glanced up from an easel he was putting the finishing touches of paint on. He blinked a bit blankly, his white-tiger eyes reflecting the dim lighting in the room. “Oh, Leilah,” he replied. “Hello.” Then he turned back to his most recent masterpiece.
The black leopardess was undeterred. She prowled across the distance of the room to stop just behind Sheer, whom she threw her arms around, pressing herself up against him. “How‘ve you been?” she continued.
He paused, mid-stroke, because he couldn’t concentrate with her holding down his arm. “Fine,” returned the male, glancing over his shoulder to her. “Just trying to finish this painting…”
Gray-green eyes flickered over current project appreciatively. “Whoa, it’s beautiful!” her arms loosened a bit and she leaned in to him in the easel’s direction, to better look over the texture of the water-color/acrylic portrait of the Whitestag landscape.
Sheer nodded, pleased. “I hope so.” Then he squirmed a little in her grip. “I have something for you,” he added, still with little expression. Leilah leapt off of him after hugging him tighter, round ears perking forward with excitement.
“Oooh! What is it?” She clapped her hands together, unable to resist a smile.
Sheer was up and rummaging through a small pile of art supplies and bumped the record-player he had going in the corner. The track jumped cacophonously, making the singer “eek” in the midst of a lovely soprano ballad. Sheer didn’t openly winced, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a frown. Undeterred, he continued looking. “It’s here somewhere,” he muttered, then rummaged for a moment more. “Ah—”
Turning around, he presented the portrait of Leilah to said subject of the painting. The gorgeous strokes were lifelike, capturing the leopardess’ beauty as she lounged beneath a tree of golden flowers. With care, Leilah eased it out of the painter’s hands to twirl it around happily, squee-ing with excitement. She hugged the painting carefully, then turned cattish eyes on Sheer to consider tackling him.
“I love it! Sheer! Thank you!!!!” she purred. Leilah placed it down on the table nearby, deciding to go with her plan. She’d no sooner turned in position to pounce him, than did another knock on the door halt her from beginning her nightly play.
Sheer Austin stood up and moved to the door with a sigh. He opened it, and found himself looking down to spot the little golden interruption.
“Hesso, sssSheer.”
“Good evening, Sheer.”
“Oh, how are you Ibraheem? Swan-girl?” the white tiger-hybrid asked calmly.
Leilah came up behind him, curious as always, and let her arms slide around the slightly taller male’s waist. “We~ll! If it isn’t little-Idris! How are ya, cutie?” she purred.
Ibraheem colored slightly. “F…Fine, thanksss,” he replied, clearing his throat and resisting picking at the lace of his sleeves.
“You keepin’ him busy, Na-na?” Leilah asked next, eyeing the taller of the two hybrids in the doorway.
Nadia shook her head at the playful suggestiveness. “We need the documents, Sheer,” she glanced to Ibraheem to continue.
Leilah’s ears flattened a little. “Are you sure we can talk about this in front of—” and she pointed her chin in the direction of Ibraheem’s pet, “Gold”, the golden-haired and blue-eyed human boy who stood back from the group, wearing a forced-pleasant expression. “—the ‘pet’?”
“Nicholassss?” Ibraheem turned to look at him side-long.
The human boy jumped smartly to attention. “Yessir?” he asked standing straight and awaiting orders.
“I can trussss you sssoo be quitssse abousss thiss?” Ibraheem asked, looking over the boy.
Nicholas nodded with grace. “Yes, Ibraheem. I would never betray you,” he replied in earnest.
Ibraheem nodded, satisfied. “Good. Sssen, we will consinue.” He faced Sheer and Leilah again. “The papersss and documensasion are necessary, Sssheer.”
Ibraheem had been placed as head of the Whitestag house, but the acting head was actually Sheer, the white-tiger hybrid. Though Ibraheem pulled all the strings from behind the scenes, using his pet Nicholas as a liaison between the humans that the hybrids were carefully keeping under control, the young golden cobra was not…intimidating enough a presence to rule over the very self-conscious Whitestag sector. And he just wasn’t the right color.
So Sheer had to sign off on the various documents and records that were kept in the house. Most of the work and reviewing was done by Ibraheem in reality, but the very house itself they worked in was all about the upkeep of appearances.
“And these documents are…?” she asked from over the tiger’s shoulder. Leilah’s tail lazily swished over Sheer’s surprisingly defined abs, (for a painter) and curled about his arm. The white tiger remained unmoving, but glanced at her.
“The latest on population control, and methods that are being designed in Silverhollow to reinforce the control more strictly,” Nadia supplied softly. She resettled her arm feathers. “It is a careful political dance.” Her eyes lingered to Ibraheem.
The golden cobra boy nodded, tugging at the lace of his collar now. “We need ssoo keep sseh humansss occupied,” he continued officiously. “Ssay are ssso ssay divided.”
The ingenious plan was made by Lionel and Idris, along with help from an unexpected quarter—the metalman, Xerxes.
“I wish I could give you the documents,” Sheer began to rub the back of his neck thoughtfully. “I actually passed them along to the Twins. They needed to verify the numbers,” he looked at Ibraheem “on the Red Light District and Pit Fighting Rings.”
Ibraheem blinked, then began to bite his lip and fidget. He’d forgotten about that. They needed those records verified before he could give them to Miss Nadia to take back to his older brother…. He was going to let his brother down! Ibraheem gave a hissing sigh of fearful disappointment.
Sheer seemed to catch the jist of this, because he began to mess up his hair, rubbing clenched fingers through silver-white locks with annoyance. Leilah caught his wrist in a small, tanned hand, slowing the rough movement. “Arrrgh,” Sheer growled. “Now my mood’s off…”
Her own ears fell. Sheer was impossible—if he wasn’t in the mood for something, then he would never be convinced into doing that something. In irritation she struggled to keep hidden, Leilah smoothly released Sheer and squeezed between him and the door.
“There’s no helping it, then,” she muttered. “I’ll go get the documents,
Nadia gave a flustered honk, her feathers ruffling, while the poor cobra had turned from gold to ruby. Nicholas gave an annoyed huff at the idea that master Ibraheem would have time for anything but his duties, and being a good master to Nicholas.
Leilah vanished, a shadow shifting to leopard form and dashing away from the Whitestag sector to its neighboring Goldsbloom one.
◊0◊
She’d no sooner made it to the gates of the Goldsbloom manor and had leapt the 10-odd meter wall enclosing the gardens, than did she land with a sword pointed at her throat. The black leopard’s claws were out, intercepting the blade swiftly, but the eyes of its owner locked with hers, and both withdrew their weapons.
“So sorry, ma’am,” the metalman guard, Braid Dee Harris, bowed her head stiffly in apology, re-sheathing Balthazar, her broad sword.
Leilah played it off with a purring laugh. “No problem, no problem. You and your charge must be having late night tea?” Her tail swished soundlessly against the grass, shaking off some dew that wetted her tail-tip.
Braid started walking back towards the white wicker table where a slightly tense Lillian sat. “Yes, we are.” She then looked to said charge.
“Would you like to join us?” prompted Lillian pleasantly, realizing it was only a hybrid, and not a pesky human, that had invaded the garden.
“I’m on a tight schedule,” replied the leopardess as an excuse. The sooner she could get that file the Sheer and that cute little mini-Idris, the sooner she and Sheer could have some grown-up time.
Lillian tucked back a stray strand of brown hair. She went through great pains to dye it that color, as opposed to its natural blonde, which she detested. Too sunny and cheerful. “So you must be here to talk with the Larose sisters?”
“It’s hybrid business,” Leilah replied, “No offense,” she added quickly, raising a hand up and letting her brows slide back at an angle, emphasizing the harmlessness of her comment.
“If it’s about the humans, and keeping them under control, then don’t you think that as metalmen, we’re entitled to know something?” Lillian attempted another angle, also unaggressive.
“Aren’t you still mostly human?” prompted the hybrid female, a raised brow as she skirted the table, eyeing the sweet tarts and cakes.
The noble lady felt her fingers brush her eye patch, covering her remaining human eye. She resisted the insult and the consciousness it brought. “I am more metalman,” replied she, proudly. Her single visible metal eye, with its copper sclera and red pupil, readjusted to take in the hybrid beauty.
Leilah shrugged, snatching a treat. “Right. But I still need to see the twins.”
“They are with their…” Lillian began searching for the polite term, twisting her bracelet , then related in a sigh, “…pet. But we can take you to them.”
Braid stood first, and Lillian slid out of her chair, gathering her skirts and sashaying towards the foyer of the Goldsbloom manor, their leopardess guest in tow. The metalmen of the house of Goldsbloom were the force of the twin coyote sisters, keeping the rest of the humans of the house in line. Both coyotes represented the house as their heads, also elected for the position by Lionel to keep the humans of that house in check.
And Leilah found herself at their door in moments. Braid knocked at the set of double-doors politely but firmly.
A muffled “Who i~s it?” came almost sing-song from behind the wood.
“A messenger, come to see you,” Lillian called idly, fixing her gold-trimmed, scarlet dress sleeve.
“—put him away, Colette!”
“—just a sec—I haven’t even started! It’s my turn tonight!”
There was a thud. “Just go get the door!” then the knob jangled a bit, before the door finally opened and an annoyed Siobhan Larose, gray coyote ears flattened back, poked her head out. “What?” then she spotted Leilah and her attitude did a 180. “LEILAH!” The leopardess was dragged inside, and the door was shut behind the two, dismissing the metalmen ladies outside.
The two leapt at each other to hug, Siobhan’s tail wagging a little. “Is Leilah here?” came a cheery voice from further in the room. Colette rushed away from the closet door she’d been shutting firmly to join the group hug.
“How are ya, Bibi?” Leilah prompted, snuggling the taller, blonde hybrid, then turning a smile on the two of them. “Where’s your pet?”
Siobhan’s smirk warmed, her auburn-orange eyes glinting. “I put him in the closet.”
Colette’s ears flattened back a little, and she pouted pointedly. “An if we keep him in there too long, he will come out, so I won’t be able to play!”
Which only preserved Siobhan’s smirk. “I like playing with him better, anyway.”
“
Everyone seemed to have some fun plan for the night, except Leilah. Twisting her tail in ire, the leopardess decided she would push to get those documents in a hurry, so she and Sheer could have some fun, too.
“So, ladies,” Leilah interrupted the two squabbling. “I need to get those documents that were sent over here from Whitestag. If you could just po~int them out to me,” she smiled, “I’ll be on my way, and I won’t interrupt you any longer.”
“Umm…documents?” Colette began twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger, and starting to eye the closed drawers across the room.
Leilah didn’t miss the instant warning flag that the coyote-hybrid’s habits warned of. “Please tell me you have the documents.”
“Well, we did,” Siobhan began, nonchalant, as she pushed her taller sister aside to sit down. The messes that Colette made when she needed to be occupied—honestly! “But we sent it over to Silverhollow through that messenger, y’know, the ‘Tri’-hybrid.”
“Why?” the leopardess resisted a groan, pretty Brazilian-tanned cheeks flushing with annoyance.
The paler twins glanced at each other. Siobhan waived to her fidgety sister, allowing the latter to explain so she would be occupied. “Go on, explain,” and she wandered up away from the foot of the large king-sized bed in a devil-may-care way.
“Ah,” Colette took a breath. “So we sent them over to Silverhollow because we’ve been keeping an eye on the Red Light District, where most of the human orphans are coming from—”
“Just like our contact at the St. Bartelby’s Home for Pet Adoptions, Safya the Raccoon, has reported from,” Leilah interrupted, sighing. Her throat would hurt if she had to go through that lengthy explanation. “She says that the orphans for adoption by the Human Humane Society are increasing by a good bit this time of year.” And, Leilah thought, my brother and Idris are not happy about that at all…
The blonde coyote nodded vigorously. “Right. So our contact at the Red Light District, the metalman Jax Slang, told our guard head Braid and her charge, Lillian, about the recent numbers of orphans to be born, and the influx of customers because of the toughness of the times with this human ‘rebellion’ that’s being planned and causing job-boycotting—” Colette took a deep breath, getting up to pace now. “—So he and Marina, our representative in the Pits, gave us the info to add to the report documents, and we did. Then Siobhan and I started to talking about what we can do, because there’s getting to be too many humans this year and we’re straining the population limit, so we contacted the ‘Tri’-hybrid to send the data to Silverhollow.”
“And though the humans there are annoying,” Siobhan’s voice filtered into the conversation from somewhere near the closet door, where muffled pleas were being sounded within, “we sent the report to the head human liaison, Arianna, and her right hand, Saleim. They have a scientist, Moki Sorreson-whatever, crunching the numbers. We need them to invent something to subtly push the humans into doing what we say.”
“Yeah,” Colette agreed, pacing in a circle, tail swishing. “Just like the plan.”
“The plan,” Leilah echoed, thinking it over. Xerxes, Lionel, and Idris had drafted the plan to keep the human rebels in check. They created the Inner City, filling it with the remaining humans, in order to keep them under control. Then, to stop them from uniting in a full-frontal effort against the hybrids—too many casualties there—they devised three different houses to further divide the humans into. Keep them split up against each other, as petty rivalries between the houses of Goldsbloom, Whitestag, and Silverhollow.
The next step was creating rules allegedly by humans to be enforced by humans on other humans. But the hybrid heads of the houses were actually behind those rules, with the support of the metalmen to enforce them subtly. Let the humans think they are in charge of their own lives and own destiny, so long as they are within the Inner City.
Then they created the ‘Underground’, to be run by Goldsbloom, since they were the police force, so who better to run the scam and turn a blind eye to it now and again? The alleged illegal activities that were constructed there gave those humans who had a desire to rebel against authority a place to vent. Let them think they are being risqué and breaking their own human-imposed rules by being a part of the underworld’s activities. The Pit fights put human-against human, and occasionally (just for cruelty) human against hybrid, to see if a human could survive. This kept the population in relative control with constant deaths—the flip side of that coin was the Red Light District, the other half of the underground. It added new lives every time the preventive measures at the ‘Gatto Nero’ and other houses of the like were not taken properly, and children were born.
They could be sent for adoption by the HHS, to hybrids who had time to kill or just wanted pets. That was the story of Nicholas Amery Whitestag, who that softy Ibraheem had saved from St. Bartelby’s and thus gained a loyal pet ever since. A useful one, too, as he was good with swaying human crowds.
So this system continued. But the most rebellious house was by far Silverhollow, where there were few hybrids. The metalmen mostly frequented that house to keep it under control, but Silverhollow was infamous for inventing everything—including anti-metalman weaponry. That would bring trouble in the future. And that annoying Saleim Silverhollow seemed to have teamed up with Arianna of late; the two of them were causing disruptions and delaying inventions. If there were a place where the rebel humans may have a hide-away, that sector was looking prime.
“We did it to push for more inventions to keep the human population under control. The campaign ideas were supposed to be added to the report and then sent to Whitestag to convince the poors and middies and all the other humans to go along with them,” Colette, paused in mid-pace, tail flicking and ears twitching, looking to Leilah for approval.
The feral leopard hybrid gave a lazy nod, eyes flattened beneath dark lashes. “Right.”
“Brainwashing—y’know, the kind of thing those Whitestag-ers are good at,” Siobhan replied glibly from where she was by the closet door. There seemed to be a whine from behind it, and she gave the door a viscous kick. The tone behind the door suddenly changed to a deeper one, and the mumble from behind it sounded a little like a threat. Siobhan grinned at the change, inclining an ear toward the door.
“Ooooh!” clenching both fists and pumping them down, Colette gave a whine. “Not fair! Siobhan!!!! You made him come out! Now I won’t be able to play with Oscar!”
The grin seemed to be a ‘too-bad-so-sad’ one from the other twin, though not in a mean way. “Guess he’s mine for tonight~”
“Not fair!!!” Colette cried again, moving towards the closet door as well.
Leilah sensed it was time to go. Why two perfectly beautiful hybrid sisters would want to tussle with a human male didn’t sit right with her, but whatever. It was their choice. And hey, there was no mess, since mix-breeding never resulted in actual offspring. The same was the case for hybrids breeding with other hybrids not of their species. Natural population-control, one could call it. It was what Leilah kept in mind during her…nightly ventures—when choosing company for the night. No mess, no clean up, no unnecessary by-products.
“I’ll go to SIlverhollow then,” she said loudly, turning to face the window for the fastest exit.
“—stop! Oh, ah, by Leilah! See you soon?” Colette turned from tussling with her twin.
“—Yeah, drop by again,” Siobhan called with a smile.
Leilah left the two, in black leopard form once more, to make the quick journey to the third sector—the Silverhollow house.
◊0◊
At the gates, the figure of the ‘Tri’-hybrid was settled with his back against the tall iron bars, his flowing and slightly tattered roqulare shifting with the breeze. He looked up upon sensing Leilah’s approach, but didn’t bother to do more than straighten up, as was gentlemanly.
Part human, part metalman, and supposedly possessed by the spirit of a wolf—the Tri-hybrid, Leilah recalled. “Busy night for you, Zah-roche?” Leilah asked politely, peering more closely at him to try and spot him under the slightly tattered hood.
“Nothing too interesting, Miss Leilah,” he replied. He’d turned away that annoying poor, Laurence Faust, who was hanging around the gates, after Arianna again. That, and his delivery tonight—nothing else of interest. But he believed in not simply spreading information. “Are you going in?”
“Don’t worry about getting the door,” she purred, suddenly leaping over the 14-meter high gate to land, lissome, on top of one of the doors. “I’ll find my way in,” she finished, then blurred away.
The night would have gone more smoothly if those two hadn’t given her the run-around. It seemed to be true—she would have to tell Lionel that his suspicions were confirmed—both Arianna and Saleim were being flighty and vague, subtly refusing to give her the report. They had a hundred excuses, and basically led Leilah to the door.
So she did what any good feral would. She pretended to leave, then slipped around the side of the house to sneak in to the room that would have been Saliem SIlverhollow’s office. She’d just unlocked the latch on the window and stepped in the room itself, when she instantly caught a familiar scent. And grimaced.
“Looking for this?” a disembodied voice came from the chair back that was turned so the one occupying the seat wasn’t visible to her. An equally disembodied manila envelope poked out, just enough so that the hand holding it also wasn’t visible.
“What are you doing here?” Leilah asked, purring, despite her instant annoyance.
The Silverhollow custom leather chair swiveled around, and a familiar metalman sat in it, smirking devilishly. “That’s not a very nice way to greet the man who did you a favor,” Xerxes admonished tamely.
Leilah held out her hand. “C’mon, give me that folder. Those documents are ours,” she replied evenly, tactically attempting not to seem needy.
His eyes moved over her slowly. That same shudder came back. The same one every time he saw her. The shudder that shouldn’t exist. Xerxes settled back into the custom chair more comfortably (for it really was a nice chair) and looked her over once more. Then he undid the top few buttons of his shirt carelessly, and slid the manila folder in. “Come and get it.”
He was pleased to see her reaction chase across her face, those entrancing gray-green eyes flashing at him, dilating in an animal way. Then she began moving, prowling, toward him. Each footfall was perfectly silent. He stilled a shudder, watching her with care, and standing. He was not fool—she could be fierce in combat; it was in her blood line. He shifted so that the two of them were pacing each other. His grin never once left his face. Xerxes would wait for her to make the first move.
“How did you get in here?” she demanded, her voice rich as her exotic features.
“The same way you did,” he feigned. Xerxes wasn’t a man who liked to give away information for free. There was always a price. Always.
He watched her tail twitch, poised as it was to give her balance if she chose to spring. They continued to circle. Then he became suddenly aware that she’d stopped so that his back was towards the balcony window she’d slipped in through.
Leilah leapt forward, clearing the space between them in a single bound. She caught his shirt collar, making a tight fist around the material, and Xerxes caught her wrist, twisting his body aside. His smile didn’t falter.
“We’re going a little too fast. We should slow this relationship down,” he mocked, locking eyes with her.
“You know,” Leilah purred, suddenly partly-veiling her glowing eyes with thick lashes. “You have nice abs—for a metalman.” Her other hand was pressed lower on his torso, then slashed at the front of his shirt, forcing it to fall open and exposing the manila folder, which she snatched at.
No sooner did she have hold of it, than did Xerxes catch her other wrist and pulled her closer to himself to stop her from escaping.
“That was a low blow,” he sneered, surprised by her quickness—by his falling for it. She was more dangerous up close, but he couldn’t deny himself the burning feeling of risking that closeness.
She tilted even closer to him without warning, so their noses brushed. Xerxes froze. And Leilah, laughing, dropped both wrists together, making a movement to cross her arms while turning so that she fell out of his grip and rolled to slip between his legs and out to the window. The leopardess landed on the sill of the window, pausing for a moment to turn and look at him fuming at her. She blinked those shining eyes at him, and he swore he heard her purring from the window sill.
“Y’know, you’re not half bad,” she said softly, winking at him and turning to blow him a kiss. Then she leapt off of the sill, and into the night air.
His body was on fire, even as he ran to the window, glaring out into the night, smile gone. No, no, no. He was not a man to lose his composure. Xerxes was in control. ALWAYS in control. Of everything. Himself and the others around him. Regardless.
Except for now, this moment, when that woman was concerned. Somehow, she made reactions happen in him that shouldn’t occur—feelings that did not have his consent. Somehow she was in control of him, whenever they crossed paths. Always.
Well, he wouldn’t let it end like this. He would see her again. He would make sure he was needed.
◊0◊
