FIC: "Future Legend," (Part 7/7)
Title: Future Legend
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: NC-17
~
"Something kind of hit me today," Kris notes, licking his fingers clean. Danny looks at him inquisitively, chewing a mouthful of his own, and Kris smiles at him. "We're really lucky, you know? Life could have been so much harder for us."
Across the table, Allison takes a bone from between her teeth so she can laugh. She covers her mouth with her hand; so polite, for all her rock swagger. "Yeah, you think? Thanks, Obvious Man."
"Shut up," Kris grins, and throws a bit of gristle at her.
Alli shouts in protest, but before she can ransack her plate for ammo, Katie's birdlike hand comes down on her wrist. "Food fight later," she admonishes, but gently. "This is our feast."
"He started it," Alli smiles at her, the sharp edge of her teeth flashing bright.
Adam reaches over from his seat at the head of the table and takes Kris's hand. The deliriously stupid look of love on his face makes Kris blush, and the rest of the table cough and laugh. Adam loftily ignores them all and rubs his thumb over Kris's knuckles. "He always starts it," Adam says, not unfairly.
"Hard time with the follow-through," Emzieh notes, and there's an edge in his voice that makes Kris's hackles rise. They meet each other's eyes over the centerpiece, and sparks sizzle off.
But Katie's right. This is the feast. Kris bows his head and clasps his hands, and the others follow suit. "Dear God," Kris begins solemnly. "We scratched this food out of the ashes of our lives. We bled and sickened and died so we could fucking eat. Guess we were wrong about you, so thanks for nothing."
"Amen," the others chorus, and they all look up and smile.
Something is niggling at the back of Kris's mind, something important, but he can't pin it down. Interrupting his thoughts, Katy taps him on the shoulder. "Kris, I don't feel good. Did yours taste cooked?"
He looks at her, shining blond hair falling out in clumps. She's covered in sweat and boils, her eyes are hollow underneath, she's gray and thin and dying, and spit strings off her lip as she looks at him, unconcerned.
"Mine was great," Alli says. "I had some of the brain."
"That's good!" exclaims Katie, priestess Katie, and gestures to the centerpiece. "It'll make you smarter."
Kris doesn't want to look. He can't look. In the center of the table is something impossible. But his eyes are drawn anyway, and Anoop's head is destroyed, skull open and wet and so disgusting, the horror so familiar. Kris can smell blood and stink and nobody's paying attention, nobody can see it coming and he can't stop it, he never could have stopped it because it always happens every time -
He bolts upright in Adam's bed, covered in sweat and gasping for breath.
It takes him a few seconds to stop seeing spots. He doesn't know how long he hadn't been breathing, but it must have been at least a minute or two. He presses a hand to his thudding heart, holding it down.
Adam, sprawled naked beside him, stirs a little before settling back against his pillows. Kris bites down on the breathing, tries to even it out, and Adam is soon lost to the world, even when Kris slips from the bed and into the washroom.
It's a gorgeous luxury to wash his face in a sink, to be able to take a piss without a hiking trip, but his dream ruins it. All he can think of is how fast it'll rust, how nobody can fix the fucking plumbing without ripping out the walls and compromising the building's stability because they don't know what they're doing. It's bitter on the back of his tongue, and he tries to stuff the thoughts down.
Back in the bedroom, he pulls on a shirt and a pair of shorts. He lights a candle and picks a book from the shelves, some kind of mystery with pirates. Adam's desk faces the window, the moonlight and the dead black city, so Kris crawls into an armchair and hides his face behind the wing. He makes sure the light doesn't disturb Adam - it doesn't, he sleeps like a coma patient - and reads until he falls asleep in the chair.
~
Morning streams into his eyes as Adam kisses him awake, and Kris tries to wince and flinch and kiss back all at the same time.
It doesn't quite work out the way he means it, but Adam laughs and rubs his hair anyway.
When Kris is out of the bathroom, Adam hands over a steaming mug of something he insists is made of a type of roasted root. It looks and smells and tastes enough like coffee that Kris couldn't care less if it came from Hell itself. He burns his tongue on it, and it's amazing.
They get dressed for the day. Adam picks a vivid blue shirt, declaring categorically that today won't be a stain day. Charmed, Kris asks if there's a matching shirt or if he should just go looking for a blue jacket.
Adam has the good grace to look shamefaced.
Kris winds up in a plain old black button-down, almost gets back out of it again when Adam gives him a heated once-over, and then they make their way downstairs. The tank is full of people when they come in together - Alli, Anoop and Danny are all present, as are Brad, Lil, the preacher from last night and two women Kris doesn't recognize. There's a big breakfast spread, and Kris swallows hard before freeing his hand from Adam and going to sit beside Anoop.
The food is fantastic, rich and varied and great. There are fresh buns, still hot, ripe fruit and more of the root coffee. All these Kris inhales, though he avoids the meat. People break off into groups - Lil, Allison and Brad go to chat on the couches, Danny is deep in conversation with the preacher, and Adam is talking to the two women about some construction project. Anoop leans over to bump his shoulder against Kris's, and pitches his voice low. "Quiet today," he observes. "You okay?"
Kris shrugs, his throat closing. "Fine. Just weird dreams. But I'm okay."
Smoothly, Anoop nods. "I'm just saying, it'd be cool if you weren't. Some guys would be freaking out right now if they were you, y'know?"
Well of course, Kris thinks, before he realizes that he didn't describe the dream. It takes him a second to connect the dots, but when he figures it out, he can't help but laugh, the burn rising in his cheeks. "No, man. Believe me, there wasn't anything wrong with that."
"Dude, I don't get it," Anoop says, narrowing his eyes at Kris and making sure to keep his volume down. "You weren't gay for him Before, were you?"
Kris just shakes his head. He doesn't know how to explain that it was never much of an issue, that there was only ever Katy and when there wasn't, nobody else mattered. He doesn't know how to say that while he's never put his hands on another guy before, he's never put his hands on another girl, either - Adam might be a guy, but he's still about the most familiar sexy person on the planet to Kris. "He's just Adam," Kris says, appealing to what he's sure is incontestable. "How could anybody be freaked out about Adam?"
Anoop just shakes his head. "I don't get it, man. But more power to you guys. I'm glad you're happy." He lifts his fist, and Kris bumps it with a smile.
"Thanks."
They pick at the grapes for another ten minutes before the lobby doors burst open. The sound makes them all jump, and the shouts roll and echo off the marble. "Adam! Adam!!"
Everyone jumps out of their chairs and follows Adam out to the balustrade. He leans over the edge. "Here! What is it?"
It's the kid in the red jacket. A couple of kids are standing with him, out of breath, and one is running back out the door. Red Jacket leans heavily against his bike, which has tracked mud into the foyer, and he's wearing a dire look. "Sire. Hunters have grabbed two families at the Olympic overpass. They want to talk to you."
Adam goes immediately still. "Rahab, get my mask. Carmit, find Lee and Siouxzen and send them to me, then assemble an evac team. Make sure the rest of my people are safe."
One of the women is already off and running, presumably in the direction of Adam's mask. The other snaps off a smart yes, King and vaults over the balustrade to run down the marble banister and race out the door.
"Brad," Adam says softly. "I'm taking Lil. Can you take my friends?"
"You're the king," Brad replies, just as gentle and light.
Then, the boy in red interrupts. "Excuse me, sir, but your friends - they're the four that just came in the other day, right?"
Adam narrows a glance down at him. "So?"
"The hunters said that if those four new people didn't come with you, they'd kill somebody. They said that. Specifically." The kid is sweating, Kris can see it, and he doesn't blame him because the look Adam's giving him right now could probably punch through rock.
Kris steps up and puts a hand on Adam's arm. "Just the messenger," he says softly.
"You're not going," Adam grits out. "No fucking way."
Allison steps up, getting past Brad without too much effort. "But they'll kill someone. You heard what he said."
"They'll kill you," Adam shouts, rounding on her. "They only want you there so they can get a clear head shot, Allison, and then they're gonna kill those families anyway! These fucks have been stealing and raping and murdering people on my borders for years; I fucking know them, okay? I don't know what they want you for, but it sure as shit isn't a tea party!"
Undaunted, Allison walks right up to him and pokes her finger in his chest. "Did you or did you not just say that we're your people now? We're Dogs, right, just like everybody else here?"
Adam scowls down at her. "That's right. Which is why I'm not gonna let you-"
"Then," she interrupts stridently, "those families they got are our people too. We'll protect them like they'd protect us. So we don't have a lot of time, okay? We'll all listen to everything Siouxzen says, right guys?" She looks at the rest of them meaningfully, and Kris nods firmly. He's got zero desire to be a hero, here, he'll leave it to the professionals, but he'll be damned if he isn't giving those families every chance they can get. Beside him, Anoop and Danny nod as well.
Allison smiles at them beatifically. "Great, see? Now let's move out!"
Adam glares at her balefully, but he's really got nothing to say. The bunch of them head out to the bikes and follow the kid in the red coat, burning down the street and scattering people out of their way. Adam shouts at them to get inside, to hide, and they practically evaporate. Gone.
When they hit Westwood, Adam veers them into a crowded Mobil parking lot, full of Dogs on bikes. The windows of the station are done up with red, threatening eyes on the windows: we're watching. Kris and the others stay clustered together as the warriors make a loose circle and plot strategy. Kris listens as closely as he can, even though a lot of it doesn't make much sense to him. There's one thing, though, that comes across crystal clear.
"With Emzieh gone, I'm going to lead us. Siouxzen, that means you're on the roof. If anybody so much as points a gun at these four people, you take them out."
She knits her brow dubiously. "But if there's a standoff, you'll be looking down the barrel of a firefight. People will get injured."
"Not when we're looking for the same thing as you," Adam counters, and looks at the rest of the group. "Someone points a gun at these four, what do you do?"
A man with a thin black ponytail and weapons all over him smiles ruefully. "Hit the dirt and pray."
"Prayer optional," Adam nods, and pulls his heavy black mask out of a satchel. "Is everyone clear?"
There's a round of nodding, and they all check their weapons as Adam pulls the mask over his face.
"Anubis," says Anoop, just under a whisper. "God of the Dead."
Danny shuffles his feet, a scowl on his face. "It's creepy," he says, a bit more careless with the volume.
"I hope so," Adam says, coming over to them. "That's the idea. Now, you're going to be with Rahab. Do exactly what she says, when she says it, and if anybody points a gun at you-"
"Hit the dirt and pray," Allison interrupts, and Kris is taken aback at the seriousness in her tone, in her face. As Kris looks closer, he sees she's wearing sparkling gold eye shadow. He can't see past the sweep of her hair, but he suspects if he could see her ears, there'd be one of Lil's diamonds sparkling back at him. "We don't have any weapons," Alli adds, "but you probably want us to look scared anyway."
Adam stares at her for a second, silent, and then pulls her tightly into his arms. He squeezes her hard enough that she makes a little noise, and Kris knows exactly how he feels.
Behind them, Siouxzen clears her throat. "Time to move," she says delicately.
"Okay," Adam says, his voice husky. He lets Allison go and points at Danny. "You protect her," he instructs. "I want you by her side at all times."
"No problem," Danny instantly agrees, stepping up to put an arm around Alli. She rolls her eyes, but puts her arm around his waist to lock them together.
Behind them, the Dogs start patting each other on the shoulder, shaking hands. They keep saying a phrase that Kris can't quite make out until one of them steps up to Adam and whaps a hand against his back. "Try to wake up tomorrow, King."
"You too," Adam answers. "All you guys."
A couple of them wave at him, and then they're all racing out of the parking lot and up the street. There are maybe thirty Dogs out there, parting and flowing around the cars and buildings and disappearing into the cracks where the morning sun doesn't reach the street. They're gone in minutes.
Adam starts walking right up the middle of the street, and after a minute Kris has lost track of Rahab. It's just the five of them on seven lanes of blacktop, passing empty houses and lawns growing into the sidewalk. Adam's in the lead, and he doesn't say a word.
They cross Sepulveda and Adam turns to them. "Spread out," he says. "Arm's length. You make a better target clustered together. Stay behind me and let me do the talking until we know what they want. Okay?"
They peel apart and it's harder than Kris expected. Butterfly wings beat inside his stomach and ribs, and he can't stop chewing on his bottom lip. The urge to bring his thumbnail up is almost irresistible.
"Stay a couple feet back from him," says a low voice, and Kris turns to see Rahab's face peeking at him from an alleyway.
He squints at her unusual features, her exaggerated pout. "Where'd you come from?"
"I'm here," she says, and gives him a wide smile.
Kris knows as soon as he sees her teeth, though he couldn't say how. Maybe it's the shape of her jaw, the practiced and ladylike set of it, or the shadow of a bump just underneath, but he knows. Kris takes a deep, focused breath and drops back the recommended few feet.
The overpass comes into view gradually. People are on top of it, Kris can see that as they get closer, and they're all watching one another as they get closer. There's a high building on their left that throws a huge shadow across the ground, and as Adam emerges out of it and into the sun, he stops. Kris stops too, still hidden in the shade with the others.
There's a brief movement from the guys on the highway, and then one of them calls out. "Up to the intersection!"
Slowly, meaningfully, Adam lifts his empty hands and holds them open, up to the light, fingers spread. He stands there like that for a long second, only an stray bird breaking the silence in the street.
"Okay!" the guys finally call. "But if we fucking see a gun, we kill everyone!"
Adam's shoulders go tense, but he nods, nice and slow, the mask glinting in the sunlight.
A voice from the overpass, far more tremulous and feminine, shouts out: "They put their guns away!"
Adam puts one of his open hands behind his back, his fingers spread wide, and walks forward. Kris is about to follow when Rahab hisses from behind a nearby car. "Stay put! Only move when he closes his hand."
Kris nods, and puts his arms out to stop the others from moving. Up on the overpass, the people shuffle around, whispering among themselves before one lifts his voice. "Let us see them!"
Kris has to suppress a shudder of recognition. That voice is so familiar, and recently, too - if only he could place it. He's met so many people lately; maybe the guy who killed the snake back in Culver? No, that doesn't seem right.
Adam's hand closes, so Kris cautiously steps into the bright sunlight, the others following along. Adam raises his arms to either side as if to say, Here they are.
"Send them up!" the guy shouts.
Adam drops his arms and plants one closed fist at the small of his back. He takes a half step forward, crouching a little, like an animal.
All around them, starting with Rahab behind the car and slowly spreading off the walls and windows around them, a low, threatening growl starts to build. It's many voices, an unmistakably human sound, but Kris is pretty sure that if he didn't know there were thirty people out there snarling at the overpass, he'd be fucking pissing himself.
"Okay, fuck!" The guys on the bridge shuffle around some more, and Adam rises up to a normal standing position. The growling dies down, fading into the streets. A minute ticks by, and then the guy steps up to the edge of the bridge. He's still too far away to see properly, and it's killing Kris not to know who this guy is. "We're gonna come down!" he shouts. "All of us. And we're armed, so don't fucking try anything!"
Adam tilts his head to the side and stares at them.
The guy grumbles something that Kris can't hear, but the group makes its way to the end of the bridge and then down the hill. As they get closer, it gets easier to see them - military bearing, machine guns, organized and watchful. They're also tense and quiet, no cocky banter or smiling. They're scared.
"Pst," Rahab whispers from beside him. Another car. Kris doesn't look at her, but ducks his head to show he heard. Her voice is almost inaudible; he has to focus to hear her. "Whisper, quiet as you can. Tell Adam they left a sniper on the bridge, and our teams are in position."
Kris bites his bottom lip and raises his head. If he's careful, he can do it without moving his lips much. "Adam. Sniper on bridge. Dogs in position."
Behind Adam's back, his fist turns into a very brief thumbs-up.
There are two families of Dogs with them, as promised. They knot together, clinging to one another and scowling at their captors, and Kris can pick them out. There's a man and a woman with a little boy, the child locked in his father's arms. They're clearly Dogs, makeup on their eyes and diamonds in their ears. Even the boy has a diamond on a chain around his neck, and streaks of blue in his hair. His little face is furious, though he clings to his father's neck.
The other group is all kids, four of them, three girls and a boy. One of the girls looks angry, but the other three are all terrified. They're not elaborately costumed - they're wearing a little eyeliner and there are chains and spikes on their clothes, but nothing to really mark them as Adam's. They must be new, Kris thinks; they must be like him.
When everyone's down the hill, they come up to the intersection like a showdown. Their guns are pointed at the ground, but they're obviously ready to lift them if necessary. They herd their hostages forward, and when they're in place, the shouter pushes through the ranks and steps forward.
It's Bishop. It's Megan's boyfriend, the guy in charge of the base.
Kris has been pretty locked on the hostages, but now he scans the faces of the military guys - all familiar, all from back there. Toward the back of the group, one face makes his jaw drop. "Shit."
"What?" whispers Danny.
Kris doesn't want to talk, but he can't help it. "It's Mike," he hisses, as quietly as he can. "In the back, they brought Mike."
For the last year, Mike had been trying to suck up to the jarheads enough to get on a hunting team. Hunters, the Dogs said, killing and raping and stealing their way along the coast. And it had been going on for years. Kris thinks about the rations he ate back there, the food the teams brought in. He thinks about how they got it, who had to die and hurt so they could get it, and bile rises in the back of his throat to burn and choke him. He nearly throws up right there.
They must have told Mike it was a rescue mission, he thinks, trying to focus on something else. They must have told Mike they were kidnapped, that these were the horrible cannibals and Kris and the others would be eaten if they weren't saved.
"A simple trade, King," says Bishop, a sneer on his mouth. "Your people for ours."
Adam lifts a hand, his fingers held like a gun, and points it at the bridge. In the hidden places of the street, a couple of people with shotguns re-chamber. The sound clicks loud in the silence.
Bishop holds up his hand. "Wait, Jesus Christ! Sterling, come down! Gun up, nice and easy! Nobody wants a war, here."
Up on the bridge, the sniper slowly stands up with his gun held out to the side by the barrel.
Adam lowers his hand, and the tension eases. Sterling comes out and slides down the hill to join his team, and Bishop turns back to Adam. "Just a little insurance," he says, his voice placating even though he's still scowling. "You understand."
Adam says nothing.
"Whatever," Bishop growls. "Let's just bring each group forward and then switch. We both walk away, nobody gets hurt. Sound good?"
Slowly, Adam turns his face until he's in profile. He's looking back at Kris and the rest - specifically at Anoop.
Anoop's face is tight with tension. He steps forward, hesitant and nervous. "Um. With all due respect, Captain Bishop, I don't want to go back. I feel safer here and I don't... I don't think I'm what you want back there anyway. So, thank you for coming, but... no." He steps back into line quickly.
Adam turns back to the army guys and cocks his head again, just a hair.
"No way," Bishop barks. "I came for all of them and I'm taking all of them. It's my guys for your guys, that's the deal. I can't take the chance, leaving one behind."
Adam tilts his head the other way.
"They know a way under my defenses. I can't have them telling someone else. I have people to protect. So come on, you four, move it." He waves his arm, come on, come on.
"Wait," Danny says. "That doesn't make any sense. We could have already told somebody. And why wouldn't you just ask us where it was so you could close it down?"
"Danny," Mike says, his eyes wide. Kris can see the confusion on his face, the upset that Danny's arguing instead of just coming along the way he should, grateful to be rescued.
One of the guys next to him grits out something at him, probably dude, shut the fuck up.
Bishop makes an effort not to look too much like an asshole. "Danny. You guys. Come home. Everybody misses you guys, you don't belong with these freaks. Sarver's got a spot on the team, man, he's been working hard. You're our family."
Danny looks at Kris, then at Alli, who scowls hard at him. He shakes his head slow, frowning, and then looks back up. "Sorry, Captain. I'm needed more here."
Bishop rolls his eyes, and wipes a hand over his face. "Maybe I'm not making myself clear," he says, and with a lightning-fast lash of his arm, he grabs one of the young girls and hauls her forward. He picked the angry one, and she clamps onto his arm with her stubby green lacquered nail polish as he holds her against his chest with an arm and points a gun at her head.
Adam instantly makes fists, standing at the ready, and the growling starts up immediately all around them. Some of the Dogs are shouting, inarticulate sounds that mean go fuck yourself, let her go.
"I'm sick of talking about this!" Bishop shouts. "You don't even fucking talk! Just give me those two, Allen and Iraheta. You can even keep the other two, King, but I need those people and I need them now. I'm not fucking around, here!"
Allison comes forward, her hands held out to placate him. "I'll go," she says, her voice smooth and low. Adam tries to push her behind his back, but she fights him off. "I'll go! Just let her go, Bishop, okay? You can point that thing at me instead."
"No," Kris whispers. He means it to be louder, but he knows what'll happen if Bish points that gun at anybody but the hostages or Adam. He clears his throat and steps forward. "No, we'll go!"
Adam grabs his wrist hard. It hurts, bones grinding, and Kris winces.
"He said he'd go," Bishop smiles, sickeningly satisfied. "Come on, King. You can't win 'em all."
Allison reaches the pair of them, and Bishop goes to trade the girl in his arm for her. But just as he loosens his grip, the girl uses her green grip to lift his arm up to her mouth. She bites him hard, enough to make him shout, and when he lets her go she bolts. She crashes into Adam hard, gripping him around the waist and burying her face in his shirt.
Gently, with his free hand, Adam cups the back of the neck and hugs her to him.
Allison steps back, but she's too late. Bishop grabs her and holds her, his gun having skittered away when the little one bit him. Allison doesn't even struggle, and Kris's mind goes hot with blood and rage.
"Move it, Allen!" Bishop is shouting. His hand, the same one that puts bruises on Megan's face, is closed around Allison's throat. "No more little insurrections, no more fucking around with the civilians. I'm tired of all this bullshit! Don't I fucking provide for you? Don't I keep you safe from these fucking psychos?" He gestures at Adam and the little girl in his arms. "And now some of the little civvies back at the base, my base, decided to find some balls and question the way I do it! I have to lay down the law every fucking night just because you little pissants got bored and decided to fuck off on us? Well, fuck you, Allen! You can march your ass over here and straight back home, where you can tell everybody how fucking glad you are that the army came to save your ass again, and everything'll go back to the way it was. Move it or lose it."
His fist tightens on Allison's throat, and her eyes close in pain.
Kris rips his wrist out of Adam's hand and marches across the intersection. He goes straight to Bishop and grabs the fingers of his other hand, folds them back hard until he shouts in surprise. "Let her go! Right now!"
Bishop lets Allison go, and the second she's out of the way, he punches Kris in the face.
Pain splinters through Kris's head. He cups his cheek; the blow caught him right on the bone and it hurts like a bitch. There's a scuffling behind him, people shouting, and when he turns to look, Adam's in the middle of the jarheads, throwing people around like rag dolls. Bishop's on the ground behind him, shaking his head. Someone rips off Adam's mask and the look on his face is terrifying; Allison and Anoop and Danny are all in there with bare hands, punching and kicking, helping the man and woman hostages make a ring around the little ones. Dogs are running in from all sides, guns drawn. They're going to be okay.
And then Bishop drags himself up, pulls a knife, and lunges for Adam. The sight hits Kris in the gut, nauseating, because Adam's not looking. His back is turned, he's fighting three guys and they're all in the other direction. Bishop lifts the knife high over his head, and the sun flashes off the blade.
It's like being plugged into a socket, flipping a switch. Kris's body slams into action, and his mind is no longer necessary.
He tackles Bishop at the knees and they hit the ground together. Kris drags himself up, finds the heavy hilt of the knife with his fingers, raises it over his head and stabs down. The skin pops under the point, sickening and necessary, again and again until Bishop stops moving, stops screaming, until he isn't going to hurt anyone ever, ever again.
Kris's hands are hot and the knife is slippery.
"Oh, Jesus Christ," says a voice above him, too close. Kris rounds on it with the knife in his hand and his teeth bared - all of this has to stop, and Kris will make it stop.
Mike is looking down at him like he's never seen Kris before. He's horrified, that much is clear, and he backs off with his hands up. Quiet has spread through the intersection.
Kris looks around for whoever's left to fight. Some people are groaning on the ground, some aren't, but nobody is fighting anymore.
Rahab comes up to him. He remembers that he's supposed to be with Rahab.
"Highness," she says softly. "I think we're done here."
Kris looks at her for a second, then looks at Adam. Then he looks at Bishop's white, red-flecked face, blind and still. "Yeah," he says, pushing the knife into his belt and taking Rahab's hand. His fingers slip in hers, wet with blood. "Yeah, I think we're done."
She helps him to his feet, though he doesn't really need it. He thinks he should be shakier, and maybe he would be, but he can see Adam and he's fine. His friends are safe, too; there are no feathers or glitter on the people on the ground. Kris walks over to Adam with careful steps, but his legs are fine, not jittery at all. It's kind of surprising, actually.
He grabs Adam's lapel and drags him close, pushes his arms under the coat. At his fingers touch around the back, he can feel the hard leather holster that holds Adam's gun, there if they need it.
Kris grips Adam tightly, listening to him breathe: safe and sound.
Adam folds him in, holds him tight. He turns his head to murmur something to Rahab, and she starts shouting orders - tend to the wounded, get everyone home.
Behind Kris, Mike clears his throat. "Adam?"
"Hi, Mike," Adam says softly, not letting go. "How're you?"
"Not so great," Mike says, and he sounds on the verge of tears. "You're the, um, the leader of these... these guys?"
Adam nods. "Yeah, more or less. That was yours?"
"Bish?" Mike pauses; Kris would bet he's looking over his shoulder at the body. Mike was never did know when to pretend something wasn't there for his own good. "Yeah, I guess he was. Now... now I don't know."
Adam nods. "Listen, Mike. Whoever you pick - if he wants to meet me, great. We'll make peace. But if he doesn't, I'll keep on killing your people whenever I find them. As of today I'm annexing Santa Monica up to the canyons, and Venice to the canal, it's all my territory now. Your guys hurt anybody in there, they'll answer to me. You got that?"
Mike is silent for a minute. Kris can see the tight, angry face in his mind's eye. "Santa Monica to the canyons," says Mike. "Venice to the canal. Got it."
"Thanks," Adam says gently. "I hope we can work something out."
There's silence for a second. Kris tries to turn around to see if it's going to be a problem, a threat, but Adam presses him closer. Kris feels Adam's shirt sticking to his cheek where the blood is drying, and wonders if Adam's hiding him - one of the little kids might be afraid of him, if he's got blood on his face.
"What about the others?" Mike's asking. "I guess you're gonna let me go, but..."
Adam hesitates, then waves someone over. "How are the hostages?" he asks. "Unharmed?"
"They didn't have time to do much of anything," Siouxzen's voice confirms. "Just a little roughed up."
Adam nods. "Okay. I'm letting these hunters go. They can take their leader back for burial. Take all their guns and ammo, but leave them their knives."
Siouxzen pauses. "But, Adam..."
"I know. I'll explain later. Let them go."
There's another weighty pause, but Siouxzen walks away and starts issuing orders. Kris thinks about looking, watching the surprise on their faces as they learn they're not gonna die. He thinks about watching them go, and trying to feel something for them. For their loss.
Mike's never been a mind reader, but this time he doesn't do too bad. "You can't ever come back," he says softly. "Megan... she won't ever forgive you."
Adam's arms tighten, but Kris puts his hands on Adam's waist and shrugs them looser. He leans his forehead against the wall of muscle that is Adam's chest, and takes a deep, thorough breath. "So don't tell her it was me," he says, and turns his face to look at Mike. He knows what he looks like, and he's sorry for that, too. "Tell her it was a dog."
Nobody says anything. Adam's hand is warm against Kris's shoulder, and when Mike finally nods and turns away, Adam pulls Kris close again. They hug for a long minute, then pull apart with heavy sighs.
"I think I want to stop at the temple," Kris says. "Maybe for a while. Are you okay?"
Adam nods. "There'll be lots of people, but they'll clear out when they figure out no one's hurt. I kind of want Katie to take a look at that cheek. You're gonna have a shiner." He coasts his thumb along Kris's jaw, just under the bruise.
He winces, when Adam presses a bit close, and waves off the apology. "Come get me after. We'll go see Emzieh."
"We have to see Jonny, too. The harvest bash is tomorrow. And there's the annexation to figure out. I like to announce things, because it's really dramatic? But then somebody actually has to do work." Adam smiles, wide and charming.
Kris reaches out to wipe a smudge of blood away from the corner of that smile, and then they watch Mike pack up his guys and leave. A few Dogs track them out of the territory with their sheet-wrapped bundle, and a few have already gone back to report. Some take the hostage families home, except the green-nailed girl, who refuses to leave Adam's side until he asks her, very seriously, to go help Kris. Blessedly, she finds this duty acceptable. Adam takes a small detachment plus Anoop, kisses Kris goodbye and heads for Santa Monica.
When they're gone, everyone looks at Kris.
He doesn't even notice - busy trying to talk to his new valet, whose name is Tricia - until Allison nudges him. "They won't go until you do," she whispers.
Kris looks at them, faces he's learning the names for, some who won't look right at him. "Let's go," he says softly, and leads them down the road.
As promised, the temple is packed. People are talking excitedly everywhere, and as Kris crosses the grass toward the big heavy doors, a hush spreads across the crowd. The Dogs who were at the fight melt into the crowd and start whispering, but the blood all over Kris speaks for itself.
The high priest is at the top of the steps. He nods gravely to Kris as he approaches. "Highness."
"Hey, Patrick."
"Anyone injured?"
"Just dinged up a little," Kris answers, and holds up his red hands. "It's not ours."
Patrick nods. "That's good to hear. I'll ask Katie to come have a look at you."
"It's not really necessary," Kris protests. "I'm fine."
"All the same," Patrick says, as unstoppable as the tide.
Kris accepts fate and walks in. People hush again as he enters, though it's quieter in here anyway. Some people follow him in, even, and when he walks through the hall and out to the back fountain, people file outside with him. He walks up to the sparkling pool, kneels down and pushes his hands in.
Red clouds fade into the water, and Kris scrubs and scrubs. Under his nails, over his knuckles, every place that feels sticky or wrong. After a minute or two he takes off his shirt and starts on his chest and face and hair, and someone comes up to take the dirty button-down away. He doesn't notice, just washes and washes until he finally feels like he can stand up.
Katie is standing nearby with a white shirt in her hands. She hands it to him, waits while he puts it on, and then kisses his forehead silently.
There are people everywhere, all watching. Most are seated, even kneeling, and as Katie leads him back into the hall and to the infirmary, the people he passes reach out to touch his hand or his pant legs.
It's okay, Kris thinks. They're family now.
~
The sun is setting over the ruins of Los Angeles, and Kris is drying off on the back lawn of the audience hall. He's just got through playing a game of Touch with Siouxzen's security team, which is kind of like touch football except you play it mostly naked and cover your hands in paint, and the object is to put a full-on handprint on the other players. Three prints and you're out. Teaches stealth and vigilance, and is also wicked fun.
Good thing the paint washes off with plain water, because he's only got about a half hour before the ceremony's due to start, and he's still got to get dressed. Kris rubs the towel over his hair and then books it into the house and upstairs.
He and Adam share the dressing room. Adam was going to insist that Kris have his own, and it was a fight to get him to understand that Kris did not have and would never need even a tenth of Adam's wardrobe or makeup. Kris might be a Dog, but he's a mutt. The dressing room has the only thing he really needs anyway, draped on its dress form and glittering in the light of a lone candle. Kris doesn't bother lighting the rest for now; he pulls on a t-shirt and lifts his jacket off of plastic shoulders.
It's all black, his jacket. Since the fight, they've called him the black prince, and maybe it's because Adam's ceremonial robes are white, or maybe it's because Kris killed a man with his own hands, but either way it seems appropriate. They've studded it with diamonds, but there are also lines of rubies worked into the stitching. With the black backing, you can't really see them until the light sparks red along them.
Kris slides his arms into it and settles it on his shoulders. It's the same weight as it was when Jonny was fitting it earlier today, but in the dark it feels heavier.
He goes to the makeup table, lights the candles with one of the long matches there, and tries like hell to remember Brad's terse instructions. It takes him a while, longer than he thought, but he ends up looking something like he thinks he should and he still has time to get downstairs. It'll have to do, he thinks, and cups his hand around the first candle so he won't blow wax on the table.
As luck would have it, the first person he sees on his way to the throne room is Brad. "My God," he says, his lip curling immediately with disgust. "You just can't listen at all, can you?"
"Shut up and fix it," Kris squints.
Brad rolls his eyes and sighs heavily, but he draws Kris into an unused meeting room and uses his thumbs to force the makeup into whatever arcane configuration it's supposed to be in. "At least you got the hair right," Brad murmurs, and maybe it's a little less catty than usual. Kris looks up, high as his eyes will go, and waits patiently.
When Brad pronounces him as acceptable as he's going to get, the two of them head into the throne room. Brad goes first, swinging the doors wide, and Kris stands as he is supposed to, framed in the center. The room goes quiet, all eyes turning toward them.
"Adam," Brad smiles, calling it out to the head of the room, where the court is clustered around the giant steel and iron sculpture that serves as the ceremonial seat of the King of the Dogs. "There's someone I think you should meet."
The people split right down the middle, easing to the sides to make way. Adam is in his brilliant white finery, face serious and dramatic, because as he explained to Kris when they woke up this morning, their people need this. Without the pomp and circumstance, without the costuming and the titles and respective insanity, nobody believes. The throne room is theater, city hall and church, all in one go, so they sell it with everything they have.
Kris hopes the blood red streaks in his hair stand out. He hopes the jacket is as impressive as Jonny swore it was; he hopes Adam likes it. He hopes he can protect these people, can help them and make them safe and happy. He hopes things are changing.
Brad takes him by the hand and leads him down the aisle. He sets the pace and the tone, and Kris is happy to follow.
The faces near them are familiar now, nobody bothering to disguise the universal smile. Danny and Anoop are there, and somebody's given them feathers and leather to tie on. Danny gives him the thumbs up as he passes, and Anoop rolls his eyes, which makes Kris grin. They pass Jonny and his entourage, Siouxzen's crew, Cassidy and Mamazun with the hippies from the Garden. Up at the front, Allison's crouched beside Emzieh's chair. He looks great, if a little bandaged up, overseeing the ceremonies. Someone's clearly gotten to Alli, because her hair is bright fuchsia and her eyes and mouth are made up with the same color. She's wearing a diamond on a silver chain, and as Kris passes he sees her wiping the corner of her eye, regardless of the smile.
His heart catches hard against his ribs. Ouch.
At the front, Katie and Patrick wait beside the throne. She holds a needle in a pair of delicate pliers; he kneels beside a short table with a bowl and a bottle of 100 proof. They're both beaming at him like he just saved a building full of babies.
Finally, he lets his eyes settle on Adam. He looks like he always did, even Before: larger than life, confident and free and so determined to prove to the entire world that he can be all those things and not even break a sweat. His familiar, unshakable presence fills the room, and Kris clings to the sight of him like a life preserver. You can't be afraid, around Adam.
Brad lets go of his hand and gestures at him, though he addresses the throne. "This one is passable," he sniffs. "I wouldn't disapprove."
Then he slides off into the surprised and murmuring crowd. Kris hears a lot of conversations that mean the same thing: has he ever, I never heard him say anything like, it's the first time.
Adam beckons Kris up to the throne, and he climbs.
When he arrives at the top, Adam stands and regards him with total seriousness. "You've been blooded," he says, and Kris hears that day in his voice: the numbness and shock, the nausea and silence that Adam weathered with him, and the grudging acceptance of the necessity of it that followed. It sucked.
Kris nods, and Adam lifts his face to the crowd. "Will anyone speak against him?" he asks, voice ringing against the ceiling.
Kris was warned to expect the shouts and catcalls - tradition, said Katie, to let the friends you've made show support for you. Still, he turns to glare. Siouxzen shouts an order, and her people stream into the crowd, directly toward the shouters. Their knives flash silver, pressed against throats, which is rougher by far than tradition demands. The room goes silent as hands rise to the ceiling in submission.
"All right," Adam says, and faces Kris again. "Do you know the rules of the Dogs?"
"No thieving, no blood, no rape, and no lying to the King." Kris memorized them.
Adam nods. "And you're prepared to enforce those, and live as an example to others?"
"I am," Kris says, taking care to make his voice strong, make it carry.
"And will you treat any offense against my people as an offense against yourself?"
Kris nods, feeling good knowing it's the truth. "I will."
"Okay," Adam says, and gives him a lightning-fast smile, there and gone. He turns to Katie, who nods and holds her pliers out to Patrick. He pulls out a pristine Bic lighter and holds the flame up to the needle. It turns red quickly, and she lowers it into the bowl where it smokes and hisses. Then she holds it out again, and Patrick pours from the bottle. The smell of alcohol is instant and strong.
Katie passes Adam the pliers slowly, careful not to let the pressure go.
Adam turns to Kris, pliers in hand. "I'm your sponsor, so you'll need someone to stand with you. Is there someone you asked?"
Kris nods and turns to the crowd. Cautiously, the boy in the red jacket sidles between the people closest to them, and hurries forward.
His name was Steven in the Before, but he's since changed it to Star. He found the jacket in an abandoned store, and had to fight away thieves three times before he made it to the safety of Adam's borders, where they let him keep it. He doesn't know even now why he thought it was so important, except his father was a bellman at a fancy hotel, and his jacket was red. Star doesn't know where his parents are now, or his little sister, or his aunt and uncle. He's fourteen years old and all alone, and the first thought Kris ever had about him was: Wait, shouldn't he be dead? Only he wasn't, because he was here.
Star steps up beside Kris and looks Adam right in the eyes, and Kris puts a hand on his skinny shoulder. "He'll stand with me."
Adam lifts his eyebrow.
Kris feels Star shift a bit under that gaze, but he puts out his hand and holds his back straight.
Without a word, Adam gives him a light pair of tongs. Star, accustomed to the ceremony, takes them with reverence and turns to face Kris. It's a good thing he's tall already; he's at a perfectly decent height to set the silver rings against Kris's ear and squeeze, stretching out the skin to readiness.
"Last chance," Adam murmurs under his breath.
Kris, his head turned for best access, plants his feet and takes a deep breath. "Do it."
The push of the needle is sharp and then hot, throbbing red pain that jolts right through him. Adam takes the diamond stud from the table and guides it through after the needle, fixes it with a backing, and that's it. It's done.
His whole body is getting warm and it's really fucking hard not to touch his ear where it's heavy and hurting, but Kris manages to turn around and face the crowd without infecting himself.
Adam's hands land heavily on Kris's shoulders. "Dogs!" he shouts, in a voice like an animal, hoarse and deep. "Behold your prince!"
The shout that rises from the throats of his people is savage, loud and long. It flows out through the doors and over their land, washes through Kris's body. He sees his family with their faces raised, hears Adam's clear voice behind him, merging with the rest.
Kris lifts his head, and joins them.
~~
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: NC-17
~
"Something kind of hit me today," Kris notes, licking his fingers clean. Danny looks at him inquisitively, chewing a mouthful of his own, and Kris smiles at him. "We're really lucky, you know? Life could have been so much harder for us."
Across the table, Allison takes a bone from between her teeth so she can laugh. She covers her mouth with her hand; so polite, for all her rock swagger. "Yeah, you think? Thanks, Obvious Man."
"Shut up," Kris grins, and throws a bit of gristle at her.
Alli shouts in protest, but before she can ransack her plate for ammo, Katie's birdlike hand comes down on her wrist. "Food fight later," she admonishes, but gently. "This is our feast."
"He started it," Alli smiles at her, the sharp edge of her teeth flashing bright.
Adam reaches over from his seat at the head of the table and takes Kris's hand. The deliriously stupid look of love on his face makes Kris blush, and the rest of the table cough and laugh. Adam loftily ignores them all and rubs his thumb over Kris's knuckles. "He always starts it," Adam says, not unfairly.
"Hard time with the follow-through," Emzieh notes, and there's an edge in his voice that makes Kris's hackles rise. They meet each other's eyes over the centerpiece, and sparks sizzle off.
But Katie's right. This is the feast. Kris bows his head and clasps his hands, and the others follow suit. "Dear God," Kris begins solemnly. "We scratched this food out of the ashes of our lives. We bled and sickened and died so we could fucking eat. Guess we were wrong about you, so thanks for nothing."
"Amen," the others chorus, and they all look up and smile.
Something is niggling at the back of Kris's mind, something important, but he can't pin it down. Interrupting his thoughts, Katy taps him on the shoulder. "Kris, I don't feel good. Did yours taste cooked?"
He looks at her, shining blond hair falling out in clumps. She's covered in sweat and boils, her eyes are hollow underneath, she's gray and thin and dying, and spit strings off her lip as she looks at him, unconcerned.
"Mine was great," Alli says. "I had some of the brain."
"That's good!" exclaims Katie, priestess Katie, and gestures to the centerpiece. "It'll make you smarter."
Kris doesn't want to look. He can't look. In the center of the table is something impossible. But his eyes are drawn anyway, and Anoop's head is destroyed, skull open and wet and so disgusting, the horror so familiar. Kris can smell blood and stink and nobody's paying attention, nobody can see it coming and he can't stop it, he never could have stopped it because it always happens every time -
He bolts upright in Adam's bed, covered in sweat and gasping for breath.
It takes him a few seconds to stop seeing spots. He doesn't know how long he hadn't been breathing, but it must have been at least a minute or two. He presses a hand to his thudding heart, holding it down.
Adam, sprawled naked beside him, stirs a little before settling back against his pillows. Kris bites down on the breathing, tries to even it out, and Adam is soon lost to the world, even when Kris slips from the bed and into the washroom.
It's a gorgeous luxury to wash his face in a sink, to be able to take a piss without a hiking trip, but his dream ruins it. All he can think of is how fast it'll rust, how nobody can fix the fucking plumbing without ripping out the walls and compromising the building's stability because they don't know what they're doing. It's bitter on the back of his tongue, and he tries to stuff the thoughts down.
Back in the bedroom, he pulls on a shirt and a pair of shorts. He lights a candle and picks a book from the shelves, some kind of mystery with pirates. Adam's desk faces the window, the moonlight and the dead black city, so Kris crawls into an armchair and hides his face behind the wing. He makes sure the light doesn't disturb Adam - it doesn't, he sleeps like a coma patient - and reads until he falls asleep in the chair.
~
Morning streams into his eyes as Adam kisses him awake, and Kris tries to wince and flinch and kiss back all at the same time.
It doesn't quite work out the way he means it, but Adam laughs and rubs his hair anyway.
When Kris is out of the bathroom, Adam hands over a steaming mug of something he insists is made of a type of roasted root. It looks and smells and tastes enough like coffee that Kris couldn't care less if it came from Hell itself. He burns his tongue on it, and it's amazing.
They get dressed for the day. Adam picks a vivid blue shirt, declaring categorically that today won't be a stain day. Charmed, Kris asks if there's a matching shirt or if he should just go looking for a blue jacket.
Adam has the good grace to look shamefaced.
Kris winds up in a plain old black button-down, almost gets back out of it again when Adam gives him a heated once-over, and then they make their way downstairs. The tank is full of people when they come in together - Alli, Anoop and Danny are all present, as are Brad, Lil, the preacher from last night and two women Kris doesn't recognize. There's a big breakfast spread, and Kris swallows hard before freeing his hand from Adam and going to sit beside Anoop.
The food is fantastic, rich and varied and great. There are fresh buns, still hot, ripe fruit and more of the root coffee. All these Kris inhales, though he avoids the meat. People break off into groups - Lil, Allison and Brad go to chat on the couches, Danny is deep in conversation with the preacher, and Adam is talking to the two women about some construction project. Anoop leans over to bump his shoulder against Kris's, and pitches his voice low. "Quiet today," he observes. "You okay?"
Kris shrugs, his throat closing. "Fine. Just weird dreams. But I'm okay."
Smoothly, Anoop nods. "I'm just saying, it'd be cool if you weren't. Some guys would be freaking out right now if they were you, y'know?"
Well of course, Kris thinks, before he realizes that he didn't describe the dream. It takes him a second to connect the dots, but when he figures it out, he can't help but laugh, the burn rising in his cheeks. "No, man. Believe me, there wasn't anything wrong with that."
"Dude, I don't get it," Anoop says, narrowing his eyes at Kris and making sure to keep his volume down. "You weren't gay for him Before, were you?"
Kris just shakes his head. He doesn't know how to explain that it was never much of an issue, that there was only ever Katy and when there wasn't, nobody else mattered. He doesn't know how to say that while he's never put his hands on another guy before, he's never put his hands on another girl, either - Adam might be a guy, but he's still about the most familiar sexy person on the planet to Kris. "He's just Adam," Kris says, appealing to what he's sure is incontestable. "How could anybody be freaked out about Adam?"
Anoop just shakes his head. "I don't get it, man. But more power to you guys. I'm glad you're happy." He lifts his fist, and Kris bumps it with a smile.
"Thanks."
They pick at the grapes for another ten minutes before the lobby doors burst open. The sound makes them all jump, and the shouts roll and echo off the marble. "Adam! Adam!!"
Everyone jumps out of their chairs and follows Adam out to the balustrade. He leans over the edge. "Here! What is it?"
It's the kid in the red jacket. A couple of kids are standing with him, out of breath, and one is running back out the door. Red Jacket leans heavily against his bike, which has tracked mud into the foyer, and he's wearing a dire look. "Sire. Hunters have grabbed two families at the Olympic overpass. They want to talk to you."
Adam goes immediately still. "Rahab, get my mask. Carmit, find Lee and Siouxzen and send them to me, then assemble an evac team. Make sure the rest of my people are safe."
One of the women is already off and running, presumably in the direction of Adam's mask. The other snaps off a smart yes, King and vaults over the balustrade to run down the marble banister and race out the door.
"Brad," Adam says softly. "I'm taking Lil. Can you take my friends?"
"You're the king," Brad replies, just as gentle and light.
Then, the boy in red interrupts. "Excuse me, sir, but your friends - they're the four that just came in the other day, right?"
Adam narrows a glance down at him. "So?"
"The hunters said that if those four new people didn't come with you, they'd kill somebody. They said that. Specifically." The kid is sweating, Kris can see it, and he doesn't blame him because the look Adam's giving him right now could probably punch through rock.
Kris steps up and puts a hand on Adam's arm. "Just the messenger," he says softly.
"You're not going," Adam grits out. "No fucking way."
Allison steps up, getting past Brad without too much effort. "But they'll kill someone. You heard what he said."
"They'll kill you," Adam shouts, rounding on her. "They only want you there so they can get a clear head shot, Allison, and then they're gonna kill those families anyway! These fucks have been stealing and raping and murdering people on my borders for years; I fucking know them, okay? I don't know what they want you for, but it sure as shit isn't a tea party!"
Undaunted, Allison walks right up to him and pokes her finger in his chest. "Did you or did you not just say that we're your people now? We're Dogs, right, just like everybody else here?"
Adam scowls down at her. "That's right. Which is why I'm not gonna let you-"
"Then," she interrupts stridently, "those families they got are our people too. We'll protect them like they'd protect us. So we don't have a lot of time, okay? We'll all listen to everything Siouxzen says, right guys?" She looks at the rest of them meaningfully, and Kris nods firmly. He's got zero desire to be a hero, here, he'll leave it to the professionals, but he'll be damned if he isn't giving those families every chance they can get. Beside him, Anoop and Danny nod as well.
Allison smiles at them beatifically. "Great, see? Now let's move out!"
Adam glares at her balefully, but he's really got nothing to say. The bunch of them head out to the bikes and follow the kid in the red coat, burning down the street and scattering people out of their way. Adam shouts at them to get inside, to hide, and they practically evaporate. Gone.
When they hit Westwood, Adam veers them into a crowded Mobil parking lot, full of Dogs on bikes. The windows of the station are done up with red, threatening eyes on the windows: we're watching. Kris and the others stay clustered together as the warriors make a loose circle and plot strategy. Kris listens as closely as he can, even though a lot of it doesn't make much sense to him. There's one thing, though, that comes across crystal clear.
"With Emzieh gone, I'm going to lead us. Siouxzen, that means you're on the roof. If anybody so much as points a gun at these four people, you take them out."
She knits her brow dubiously. "But if there's a standoff, you'll be looking down the barrel of a firefight. People will get injured."
"Not when we're looking for the same thing as you," Adam counters, and looks at the rest of the group. "Someone points a gun at these four, what do you do?"
A man with a thin black ponytail and weapons all over him smiles ruefully. "Hit the dirt and pray."
"Prayer optional," Adam nods, and pulls his heavy black mask out of a satchel. "Is everyone clear?"
There's a round of nodding, and they all check their weapons as Adam pulls the mask over his face.
"Anubis," says Anoop, just under a whisper. "God of the Dead."
Danny shuffles his feet, a scowl on his face. "It's creepy," he says, a bit more careless with the volume.
"I hope so," Adam says, coming over to them. "That's the idea. Now, you're going to be with Rahab. Do exactly what she says, when she says it, and if anybody points a gun at you-"
"Hit the dirt and pray," Allison interrupts, and Kris is taken aback at the seriousness in her tone, in her face. As Kris looks closer, he sees she's wearing sparkling gold eye shadow. He can't see past the sweep of her hair, but he suspects if he could see her ears, there'd be one of Lil's diamonds sparkling back at him. "We don't have any weapons," Alli adds, "but you probably want us to look scared anyway."
Adam stares at her for a second, silent, and then pulls her tightly into his arms. He squeezes her hard enough that she makes a little noise, and Kris knows exactly how he feels.
Behind them, Siouxzen clears her throat. "Time to move," she says delicately.
"Okay," Adam says, his voice husky. He lets Allison go and points at Danny. "You protect her," he instructs. "I want you by her side at all times."
"No problem," Danny instantly agrees, stepping up to put an arm around Alli. She rolls her eyes, but puts her arm around his waist to lock them together.
Behind them, the Dogs start patting each other on the shoulder, shaking hands. They keep saying a phrase that Kris can't quite make out until one of them steps up to Adam and whaps a hand against his back. "Try to wake up tomorrow, King."
"You too," Adam answers. "All you guys."
A couple of them wave at him, and then they're all racing out of the parking lot and up the street. There are maybe thirty Dogs out there, parting and flowing around the cars and buildings and disappearing into the cracks where the morning sun doesn't reach the street. They're gone in minutes.
Adam starts walking right up the middle of the street, and after a minute Kris has lost track of Rahab. It's just the five of them on seven lanes of blacktop, passing empty houses and lawns growing into the sidewalk. Adam's in the lead, and he doesn't say a word.
They cross Sepulveda and Adam turns to them. "Spread out," he says. "Arm's length. You make a better target clustered together. Stay behind me and let me do the talking until we know what they want. Okay?"
They peel apart and it's harder than Kris expected. Butterfly wings beat inside his stomach and ribs, and he can't stop chewing on his bottom lip. The urge to bring his thumbnail up is almost irresistible.
"Stay a couple feet back from him," says a low voice, and Kris turns to see Rahab's face peeking at him from an alleyway.
He squints at her unusual features, her exaggerated pout. "Where'd you come from?"
"I'm here," she says, and gives him a wide smile.
Kris knows as soon as he sees her teeth, though he couldn't say how. Maybe it's the shape of her jaw, the practiced and ladylike set of it, or the shadow of a bump just underneath, but he knows. Kris takes a deep, focused breath and drops back the recommended few feet.
The overpass comes into view gradually. People are on top of it, Kris can see that as they get closer, and they're all watching one another as they get closer. There's a high building on their left that throws a huge shadow across the ground, and as Adam emerges out of it and into the sun, he stops. Kris stops too, still hidden in the shade with the others.
There's a brief movement from the guys on the highway, and then one of them calls out. "Up to the intersection!"
Slowly, meaningfully, Adam lifts his empty hands and holds them open, up to the light, fingers spread. He stands there like that for a long second, only an stray bird breaking the silence in the street.
"Okay!" the guys finally call. "But if we fucking see a gun, we kill everyone!"
Adam's shoulders go tense, but he nods, nice and slow, the mask glinting in the sunlight.
A voice from the overpass, far more tremulous and feminine, shouts out: "They put their guns away!"
Adam puts one of his open hands behind his back, his fingers spread wide, and walks forward. Kris is about to follow when Rahab hisses from behind a nearby car. "Stay put! Only move when he closes his hand."
Kris nods, and puts his arms out to stop the others from moving. Up on the overpass, the people shuffle around, whispering among themselves before one lifts his voice. "Let us see them!"
Kris has to suppress a shudder of recognition. That voice is so familiar, and recently, too - if only he could place it. He's met so many people lately; maybe the guy who killed the snake back in Culver? No, that doesn't seem right.
Adam's hand closes, so Kris cautiously steps into the bright sunlight, the others following along. Adam raises his arms to either side as if to say, Here they are.
"Send them up!" the guy shouts.
Adam drops his arms and plants one closed fist at the small of his back. He takes a half step forward, crouching a little, like an animal.
All around them, starting with Rahab behind the car and slowly spreading off the walls and windows around them, a low, threatening growl starts to build. It's many voices, an unmistakably human sound, but Kris is pretty sure that if he didn't know there were thirty people out there snarling at the overpass, he'd be fucking pissing himself.
"Okay, fuck!" The guys on the bridge shuffle around some more, and Adam rises up to a normal standing position. The growling dies down, fading into the streets. A minute ticks by, and then the guy steps up to the edge of the bridge. He's still too far away to see properly, and it's killing Kris not to know who this guy is. "We're gonna come down!" he shouts. "All of us. And we're armed, so don't fucking try anything!"
Adam tilts his head to the side and stares at them.
The guy grumbles something that Kris can't hear, but the group makes its way to the end of the bridge and then down the hill. As they get closer, it gets easier to see them - military bearing, machine guns, organized and watchful. They're also tense and quiet, no cocky banter or smiling. They're scared.
"Pst," Rahab whispers from beside him. Another car. Kris doesn't look at her, but ducks his head to show he heard. Her voice is almost inaudible; he has to focus to hear her. "Whisper, quiet as you can. Tell Adam they left a sniper on the bridge, and our teams are in position."
Kris bites his bottom lip and raises his head. If he's careful, he can do it without moving his lips much. "Adam. Sniper on bridge. Dogs in position."
Behind Adam's back, his fist turns into a very brief thumbs-up.
There are two families of Dogs with them, as promised. They knot together, clinging to one another and scowling at their captors, and Kris can pick them out. There's a man and a woman with a little boy, the child locked in his father's arms. They're clearly Dogs, makeup on their eyes and diamonds in their ears. Even the boy has a diamond on a chain around his neck, and streaks of blue in his hair. His little face is furious, though he clings to his father's neck.
The other group is all kids, four of them, three girls and a boy. One of the girls looks angry, but the other three are all terrified. They're not elaborately costumed - they're wearing a little eyeliner and there are chains and spikes on their clothes, but nothing to really mark them as Adam's. They must be new, Kris thinks; they must be like him.
When everyone's down the hill, they come up to the intersection like a showdown. Their guns are pointed at the ground, but they're obviously ready to lift them if necessary. They herd their hostages forward, and when they're in place, the shouter pushes through the ranks and steps forward.
It's Bishop. It's Megan's boyfriend, the guy in charge of the base.
Kris has been pretty locked on the hostages, but now he scans the faces of the military guys - all familiar, all from back there. Toward the back of the group, one face makes his jaw drop. "Shit."
"What?" whispers Danny.
Kris doesn't want to talk, but he can't help it. "It's Mike," he hisses, as quietly as he can. "In the back, they brought Mike."
For the last year, Mike had been trying to suck up to the jarheads enough to get on a hunting team. Hunters, the Dogs said, killing and raping and stealing their way along the coast. And it had been going on for years. Kris thinks about the rations he ate back there, the food the teams brought in. He thinks about how they got it, who had to die and hurt so they could get it, and bile rises in the back of his throat to burn and choke him. He nearly throws up right there.
They must have told Mike it was a rescue mission, he thinks, trying to focus on something else. They must have told Mike they were kidnapped, that these were the horrible cannibals and Kris and the others would be eaten if they weren't saved.
"A simple trade, King," says Bishop, a sneer on his mouth. "Your people for ours."
Adam lifts a hand, his fingers held like a gun, and points it at the bridge. In the hidden places of the street, a couple of people with shotguns re-chamber. The sound clicks loud in the silence.
Bishop holds up his hand. "Wait, Jesus Christ! Sterling, come down! Gun up, nice and easy! Nobody wants a war, here."
Up on the bridge, the sniper slowly stands up with his gun held out to the side by the barrel.
Adam lowers his hand, and the tension eases. Sterling comes out and slides down the hill to join his team, and Bishop turns back to Adam. "Just a little insurance," he says, his voice placating even though he's still scowling. "You understand."
Adam says nothing.
"Whatever," Bishop growls. "Let's just bring each group forward and then switch. We both walk away, nobody gets hurt. Sound good?"
Slowly, Adam turns his face until he's in profile. He's looking back at Kris and the rest - specifically at Anoop.
Anoop's face is tight with tension. He steps forward, hesitant and nervous. "Um. With all due respect, Captain Bishop, I don't want to go back. I feel safer here and I don't... I don't think I'm what you want back there anyway. So, thank you for coming, but... no." He steps back into line quickly.
Adam turns back to the army guys and cocks his head again, just a hair.
"No way," Bishop barks. "I came for all of them and I'm taking all of them. It's my guys for your guys, that's the deal. I can't take the chance, leaving one behind."
Adam tilts his head the other way.
"They know a way under my defenses. I can't have them telling someone else. I have people to protect. So come on, you four, move it." He waves his arm, come on, come on.
"Wait," Danny says. "That doesn't make any sense. We could have already told somebody. And why wouldn't you just ask us where it was so you could close it down?"
"Danny," Mike says, his eyes wide. Kris can see the confusion on his face, the upset that Danny's arguing instead of just coming along the way he should, grateful to be rescued.
One of the guys next to him grits out something at him, probably dude, shut the fuck up.
Bishop makes an effort not to look too much like an asshole. "Danny. You guys. Come home. Everybody misses you guys, you don't belong with these freaks. Sarver's got a spot on the team, man, he's been working hard. You're our family."
Danny looks at Kris, then at Alli, who scowls hard at him. He shakes his head slow, frowning, and then looks back up. "Sorry, Captain. I'm needed more here."
Bishop rolls his eyes, and wipes a hand over his face. "Maybe I'm not making myself clear," he says, and with a lightning-fast lash of his arm, he grabs one of the young girls and hauls her forward. He picked the angry one, and she clamps onto his arm with her stubby green lacquered nail polish as he holds her against his chest with an arm and points a gun at her head.
Adam instantly makes fists, standing at the ready, and the growling starts up immediately all around them. Some of the Dogs are shouting, inarticulate sounds that mean go fuck yourself, let her go.
"I'm sick of talking about this!" Bishop shouts. "You don't even fucking talk! Just give me those two, Allen and Iraheta. You can even keep the other two, King, but I need those people and I need them now. I'm not fucking around, here!"
Allison comes forward, her hands held out to placate him. "I'll go," she says, her voice smooth and low. Adam tries to push her behind his back, but she fights him off. "I'll go! Just let her go, Bishop, okay? You can point that thing at me instead."
"No," Kris whispers. He means it to be louder, but he knows what'll happen if Bish points that gun at anybody but the hostages or Adam. He clears his throat and steps forward. "No, we'll go!"
Adam grabs his wrist hard. It hurts, bones grinding, and Kris winces.
"He said he'd go," Bishop smiles, sickeningly satisfied. "Come on, King. You can't win 'em all."
Allison reaches the pair of them, and Bishop goes to trade the girl in his arm for her. But just as he loosens his grip, the girl uses her green grip to lift his arm up to her mouth. She bites him hard, enough to make him shout, and when he lets her go she bolts. She crashes into Adam hard, gripping him around the waist and burying her face in his shirt.
Gently, with his free hand, Adam cups the back of the neck and hugs her to him.
Allison steps back, but she's too late. Bishop grabs her and holds her, his gun having skittered away when the little one bit him. Allison doesn't even struggle, and Kris's mind goes hot with blood and rage.
"Move it, Allen!" Bishop is shouting. His hand, the same one that puts bruises on Megan's face, is closed around Allison's throat. "No more little insurrections, no more fucking around with the civilians. I'm tired of all this bullshit! Don't I fucking provide for you? Don't I keep you safe from these fucking psychos?" He gestures at Adam and the little girl in his arms. "And now some of the little civvies back at the base, my base, decided to find some balls and question the way I do it! I have to lay down the law every fucking night just because you little pissants got bored and decided to fuck off on us? Well, fuck you, Allen! You can march your ass over here and straight back home, where you can tell everybody how fucking glad you are that the army came to save your ass again, and everything'll go back to the way it was. Move it or lose it."
His fist tightens on Allison's throat, and her eyes close in pain.
Kris rips his wrist out of Adam's hand and marches across the intersection. He goes straight to Bishop and grabs the fingers of his other hand, folds them back hard until he shouts in surprise. "Let her go! Right now!"
Bishop lets Allison go, and the second she's out of the way, he punches Kris in the face.
Pain splinters through Kris's head. He cups his cheek; the blow caught him right on the bone and it hurts like a bitch. There's a scuffling behind him, people shouting, and when he turns to look, Adam's in the middle of the jarheads, throwing people around like rag dolls. Bishop's on the ground behind him, shaking his head. Someone rips off Adam's mask and the look on his face is terrifying; Allison and Anoop and Danny are all in there with bare hands, punching and kicking, helping the man and woman hostages make a ring around the little ones. Dogs are running in from all sides, guns drawn. They're going to be okay.
And then Bishop drags himself up, pulls a knife, and lunges for Adam. The sight hits Kris in the gut, nauseating, because Adam's not looking. His back is turned, he's fighting three guys and they're all in the other direction. Bishop lifts the knife high over his head, and the sun flashes off the blade.
It's like being plugged into a socket, flipping a switch. Kris's body slams into action, and his mind is no longer necessary.
He tackles Bishop at the knees and they hit the ground together. Kris drags himself up, finds the heavy hilt of the knife with his fingers, raises it over his head and stabs down. The skin pops under the point, sickening and necessary, again and again until Bishop stops moving, stops screaming, until he isn't going to hurt anyone ever, ever again.
Kris's hands are hot and the knife is slippery.
"Oh, Jesus Christ," says a voice above him, too close. Kris rounds on it with the knife in his hand and his teeth bared - all of this has to stop, and Kris will make it stop.
Mike is looking down at him like he's never seen Kris before. He's horrified, that much is clear, and he backs off with his hands up. Quiet has spread through the intersection.
Kris looks around for whoever's left to fight. Some people are groaning on the ground, some aren't, but nobody is fighting anymore.
Rahab comes up to him. He remembers that he's supposed to be with Rahab.
"Highness," she says softly. "I think we're done here."
Kris looks at her for a second, then looks at Adam. Then he looks at Bishop's white, red-flecked face, blind and still. "Yeah," he says, pushing the knife into his belt and taking Rahab's hand. His fingers slip in hers, wet with blood. "Yeah, I think we're done."
She helps him to his feet, though he doesn't really need it. He thinks he should be shakier, and maybe he would be, but he can see Adam and he's fine. His friends are safe, too; there are no feathers or glitter on the people on the ground. Kris walks over to Adam with careful steps, but his legs are fine, not jittery at all. It's kind of surprising, actually.
He grabs Adam's lapel and drags him close, pushes his arms under the coat. At his fingers touch around the back, he can feel the hard leather holster that holds Adam's gun, there if they need it.
Kris grips Adam tightly, listening to him breathe: safe and sound.
Adam folds him in, holds him tight. He turns his head to murmur something to Rahab, and she starts shouting orders - tend to the wounded, get everyone home.
Behind Kris, Mike clears his throat. "Adam?"
"Hi, Mike," Adam says softly, not letting go. "How're you?"
"Not so great," Mike says, and he sounds on the verge of tears. "You're the, um, the leader of these... these guys?"
Adam nods. "Yeah, more or less. That was yours?"
"Bish?" Mike pauses; Kris would bet he's looking over his shoulder at the body. Mike was never did know when to pretend something wasn't there for his own good. "Yeah, I guess he was. Now... now I don't know."
Adam nods. "Listen, Mike. Whoever you pick - if he wants to meet me, great. We'll make peace. But if he doesn't, I'll keep on killing your people whenever I find them. As of today I'm annexing Santa Monica up to the canyons, and Venice to the canal, it's all my territory now. Your guys hurt anybody in there, they'll answer to me. You got that?"
Mike is silent for a minute. Kris can see the tight, angry face in his mind's eye. "Santa Monica to the canyons," says Mike. "Venice to the canal. Got it."
"Thanks," Adam says gently. "I hope we can work something out."
There's silence for a second. Kris tries to turn around to see if it's going to be a problem, a threat, but Adam presses him closer. Kris feels Adam's shirt sticking to his cheek where the blood is drying, and wonders if Adam's hiding him - one of the little kids might be afraid of him, if he's got blood on his face.
"What about the others?" Mike's asking. "I guess you're gonna let me go, but..."
Adam hesitates, then waves someone over. "How are the hostages?" he asks. "Unharmed?"
"They didn't have time to do much of anything," Siouxzen's voice confirms. "Just a little roughed up."
Adam nods. "Okay. I'm letting these hunters go. They can take their leader back for burial. Take all their guns and ammo, but leave them their knives."
Siouxzen pauses. "But, Adam..."
"I know. I'll explain later. Let them go."
There's another weighty pause, but Siouxzen walks away and starts issuing orders. Kris thinks about looking, watching the surprise on their faces as they learn they're not gonna die. He thinks about watching them go, and trying to feel something for them. For their loss.
Mike's never been a mind reader, but this time he doesn't do too bad. "You can't ever come back," he says softly. "Megan... she won't ever forgive you."
Adam's arms tighten, but Kris puts his hands on Adam's waist and shrugs them looser. He leans his forehead against the wall of muscle that is Adam's chest, and takes a deep, thorough breath. "So don't tell her it was me," he says, and turns his face to look at Mike. He knows what he looks like, and he's sorry for that, too. "Tell her it was a dog."
Nobody says anything. Adam's hand is warm against Kris's shoulder, and when Mike finally nods and turns away, Adam pulls Kris close again. They hug for a long minute, then pull apart with heavy sighs.
"I think I want to stop at the temple," Kris says. "Maybe for a while. Are you okay?"
Adam nods. "There'll be lots of people, but they'll clear out when they figure out no one's hurt. I kind of want Katie to take a look at that cheek. You're gonna have a shiner." He coasts his thumb along Kris's jaw, just under the bruise.
He winces, when Adam presses a bit close, and waves off the apology. "Come get me after. We'll go see Emzieh."
"We have to see Jonny, too. The harvest bash is tomorrow. And there's the annexation to figure out. I like to announce things, because it's really dramatic? But then somebody actually has to do work." Adam smiles, wide and charming.
Kris reaches out to wipe a smudge of blood away from the corner of that smile, and then they watch Mike pack up his guys and leave. A few Dogs track them out of the territory with their sheet-wrapped bundle, and a few have already gone back to report. Some take the hostage families home, except the green-nailed girl, who refuses to leave Adam's side until he asks her, very seriously, to go help Kris. Blessedly, she finds this duty acceptable. Adam takes a small detachment plus Anoop, kisses Kris goodbye and heads for Santa Monica.
When they're gone, everyone looks at Kris.
He doesn't even notice - busy trying to talk to his new valet, whose name is Tricia - until Allison nudges him. "They won't go until you do," she whispers.
Kris looks at them, faces he's learning the names for, some who won't look right at him. "Let's go," he says softly, and leads them down the road.
As promised, the temple is packed. People are talking excitedly everywhere, and as Kris crosses the grass toward the big heavy doors, a hush spreads across the crowd. The Dogs who were at the fight melt into the crowd and start whispering, but the blood all over Kris speaks for itself.
The high priest is at the top of the steps. He nods gravely to Kris as he approaches. "Highness."
"Hey, Patrick."
"Anyone injured?"
"Just dinged up a little," Kris answers, and holds up his red hands. "It's not ours."
Patrick nods. "That's good to hear. I'll ask Katie to come have a look at you."
"It's not really necessary," Kris protests. "I'm fine."
"All the same," Patrick says, as unstoppable as the tide.
Kris accepts fate and walks in. People hush again as he enters, though it's quieter in here anyway. Some people follow him in, even, and when he walks through the hall and out to the back fountain, people file outside with him. He walks up to the sparkling pool, kneels down and pushes his hands in.
Red clouds fade into the water, and Kris scrubs and scrubs. Under his nails, over his knuckles, every place that feels sticky or wrong. After a minute or two he takes off his shirt and starts on his chest and face and hair, and someone comes up to take the dirty button-down away. He doesn't notice, just washes and washes until he finally feels like he can stand up.
Katie is standing nearby with a white shirt in her hands. She hands it to him, waits while he puts it on, and then kisses his forehead silently.
There are people everywhere, all watching. Most are seated, even kneeling, and as Katie leads him back into the hall and to the infirmary, the people he passes reach out to touch his hand or his pant legs.
It's okay, Kris thinks. They're family now.
~
The sun is setting over the ruins of Los Angeles, and Kris is drying off on the back lawn of the audience hall. He's just got through playing a game of Touch with Siouxzen's security team, which is kind of like touch football except you play it mostly naked and cover your hands in paint, and the object is to put a full-on handprint on the other players. Three prints and you're out. Teaches stealth and vigilance, and is also wicked fun.
Good thing the paint washes off with plain water, because he's only got about a half hour before the ceremony's due to start, and he's still got to get dressed. Kris rubs the towel over his hair and then books it into the house and upstairs.
He and Adam share the dressing room. Adam was going to insist that Kris have his own, and it was a fight to get him to understand that Kris did not have and would never need even a tenth of Adam's wardrobe or makeup. Kris might be a Dog, but he's a mutt. The dressing room has the only thing he really needs anyway, draped on its dress form and glittering in the light of a lone candle. Kris doesn't bother lighting the rest for now; he pulls on a t-shirt and lifts his jacket off of plastic shoulders.
It's all black, his jacket. Since the fight, they've called him the black prince, and maybe it's because Adam's ceremonial robes are white, or maybe it's because Kris killed a man with his own hands, but either way it seems appropriate. They've studded it with diamonds, but there are also lines of rubies worked into the stitching. With the black backing, you can't really see them until the light sparks red along them.
Kris slides his arms into it and settles it on his shoulders. It's the same weight as it was when Jonny was fitting it earlier today, but in the dark it feels heavier.
He goes to the makeup table, lights the candles with one of the long matches there, and tries like hell to remember Brad's terse instructions. It takes him a while, longer than he thought, but he ends up looking something like he thinks he should and he still has time to get downstairs. It'll have to do, he thinks, and cups his hand around the first candle so he won't blow wax on the table.
As luck would have it, the first person he sees on his way to the throne room is Brad. "My God," he says, his lip curling immediately with disgust. "You just can't listen at all, can you?"
"Shut up and fix it," Kris squints.
Brad rolls his eyes and sighs heavily, but he draws Kris into an unused meeting room and uses his thumbs to force the makeup into whatever arcane configuration it's supposed to be in. "At least you got the hair right," Brad murmurs, and maybe it's a little less catty than usual. Kris looks up, high as his eyes will go, and waits patiently.
When Brad pronounces him as acceptable as he's going to get, the two of them head into the throne room. Brad goes first, swinging the doors wide, and Kris stands as he is supposed to, framed in the center. The room goes quiet, all eyes turning toward them.
"Adam," Brad smiles, calling it out to the head of the room, where the court is clustered around the giant steel and iron sculpture that serves as the ceremonial seat of the King of the Dogs. "There's someone I think you should meet."
The people split right down the middle, easing to the sides to make way. Adam is in his brilliant white finery, face serious and dramatic, because as he explained to Kris when they woke up this morning, their people need this. Without the pomp and circumstance, without the costuming and the titles and respective insanity, nobody believes. The throne room is theater, city hall and church, all in one go, so they sell it with everything they have.
Kris hopes the blood red streaks in his hair stand out. He hopes the jacket is as impressive as Jonny swore it was; he hopes Adam likes it. He hopes he can protect these people, can help them and make them safe and happy. He hopes things are changing.
Brad takes him by the hand and leads him down the aisle. He sets the pace and the tone, and Kris is happy to follow.
The faces near them are familiar now, nobody bothering to disguise the universal smile. Danny and Anoop are there, and somebody's given them feathers and leather to tie on. Danny gives him the thumbs up as he passes, and Anoop rolls his eyes, which makes Kris grin. They pass Jonny and his entourage, Siouxzen's crew, Cassidy and Mamazun with the hippies from the Garden. Up at the front, Allison's crouched beside Emzieh's chair. He looks great, if a little bandaged up, overseeing the ceremonies. Someone's clearly gotten to Alli, because her hair is bright fuchsia and her eyes and mouth are made up with the same color. She's wearing a diamond on a silver chain, and as Kris passes he sees her wiping the corner of her eye, regardless of the smile.
His heart catches hard against his ribs. Ouch.
At the front, Katie and Patrick wait beside the throne. She holds a needle in a pair of delicate pliers; he kneels beside a short table with a bowl and a bottle of 100 proof. They're both beaming at him like he just saved a building full of babies.
Finally, he lets his eyes settle on Adam. He looks like he always did, even Before: larger than life, confident and free and so determined to prove to the entire world that he can be all those things and not even break a sweat. His familiar, unshakable presence fills the room, and Kris clings to the sight of him like a life preserver. You can't be afraid, around Adam.
Brad lets go of his hand and gestures at him, though he addresses the throne. "This one is passable," he sniffs. "I wouldn't disapprove."
Then he slides off into the surprised and murmuring crowd. Kris hears a lot of conversations that mean the same thing: has he ever, I never heard him say anything like, it's the first time.
Adam beckons Kris up to the throne, and he climbs.
When he arrives at the top, Adam stands and regards him with total seriousness. "You've been blooded," he says, and Kris hears that day in his voice: the numbness and shock, the nausea and silence that Adam weathered with him, and the grudging acceptance of the necessity of it that followed. It sucked.
Kris nods, and Adam lifts his face to the crowd. "Will anyone speak against him?" he asks, voice ringing against the ceiling.
Kris was warned to expect the shouts and catcalls - tradition, said Katie, to let the friends you've made show support for you. Still, he turns to glare. Siouxzen shouts an order, and her people stream into the crowd, directly toward the shouters. Their knives flash silver, pressed against throats, which is rougher by far than tradition demands. The room goes silent as hands rise to the ceiling in submission.
"All right," Adam says, and faces Kris again. "Do you know the rules of the Dogs?"
"No thieving, no blood, no rape, and no lying to the King." Kris memorized them.
Adam nods. "And you're prepared to enforce those, and live as an example to others?"
"I am," Kris says, taking care to make his voice strong, make it carry.
"And will you treat any offense against my people as an offense against yourself?"
Kris nods, feeling good knowing it's the truth. "I will."
"Okay," Adam says, and gives him a lightning-fast smile, there and gone. He turns to Katie, who nods and holds her pliers out to Patrick. He pulls out a pristine Bic lighter and holds the flame up to the needle. It turns red quickly, and she lowers it into the bowl where it smokes and hisses. Then she holds it out again, and Patrick pours from the bottle. The smell of alcohol is instant and strong.
Katie passes Adam the pliers slowly, careful not to let the pressure go.
Adam turns to Kris, pliers in hand. "I'm your sponsor, so you'll need someone to stand with you. Is there someone you asked?"
Kris nods and turns to the crowd. Cautiously, the boy in the red jacket sidles between the people closest to them, and hurries forward.
His name was Steven in the Before, but he's since changed it to Star. He found the jacket in an abandoned store, and had to fight away thieves three times before he made it to the safety of Adam's borders, where they let him keep it. He doesn't know even now why he thought it was so important, except his father was a bellman at a fancy hotel, and his jacket was red. Star doesn't know where his parents are now, or his little sister, or his aunt and uncle. He's fourteen years old and all alone, and the first thought Kris ever had about him was: Wait, shouldn't he be dead? Only he wasn't, because he was here.
Star steps up beside Kris and looks Adam right in the eyes, and Kris puts a hand on his skinny shoulder. "He'll stand with me."
Adam lifts his eyebrow.
Kris feels Star shift a bit under that gaze, but he puts out his hand and holds his back straight.
Without a word, Adam gives him a light pair of tongs. Star, accustomed to the ceremony, takes them with reverence and turns to face Kris. It's a good thing he's tall already; he's at a perfectly decent height to set the silver rings against Kris's ear and squeeze, stretching out the skin to readiness.
"Last chance," Adam murmurs under his breath.
Kris, his head turned for best access, plants his feet and takes a deep breath. "Do it."
The push of the needle is sharp and then hot, throbbing red pain that jolts right through him. Adam takes the diamond stud from the table and guides it through after the needle, fixes it with a backing, and that's it. It's done.
His whole body is getting warm and it's really fucking hard not to touch his ear where it's heavy and hurting, but Kris manages to turn around and face the crowd without infecting himself.
Adam's hands land heavily on Kris's shoulders. "Dogs!" he shouts, in a voice like an animal, hoarse and deep. "Behold your prince!"
The shout that rises from the throats of his people is savage, loud and long. It flows out through the doors and over their land, washes through Kris's body. He sees his family with their faces raised, hears Adam's clear voice behind him, merging with the rest.
Kris lifts his head, and joins them.
~~