The Conquerors Bloodline - Chapter 302: Aggravation

It was the early morning when Parc was drawn away from his slow mating of Blake’s borderline unconscious with pleasure body by the harsh rapping of knuckles on a door. It was harsh and reverberated loudly throughout the hollow confines of the building. His pumping motions halted, giving Blake enough reprieve to quiver and clamp her sodden honeypot around his girth before loosening and whining a wet whine.

Parc lifted his head, turned to the door then glanced to the window. The sun was beaming in with orange tones, it was early, too early for someone to just be coming out for no reason. There was another raucous of knocking which soon were followed by the muffled clapping of Kali’s door creening shut and her footsteps through the hall. She descended slowly down them, then at the door he heard her unlock it. Faintly, he could hear people talking.

Curious, he glanced down to Blake, recoiling from their morning session, he leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the lips then freed himself from her slippery walls. “We’ll continue this later.” He said, Blake, looking up at him with dazed euphoria.

Off the bed, he collected from his satchel a change of pants and a simple off black kimono top to warm himself up. Exiting the room, he cast Blake an apologetic whisper and shut the door behind himself, letting his favoured kitten rest her weary mind.

“…we were wondering if you’d seen a man. About a meter eighty tall, with short black hair and red eyes. He was last seen wearing a vest, dark red with floral patterns?”

Parc’s brow rose, it didn’t take a genius to realize this woman was speaking about him. He did have a penchant for vests and red. At the staircase, he glanced down, seeing just barely Kali’s back and over her, a woman, she dressed tightly in a white, almost militaristic uniform with red lines running down her thighs and gold accents all over. In silence, Parc whistled, she had quite the body, and the way those pants wrapped around her thighs and squeezed against her… he was amazed it didn’t leave a line down the middle.

“He was last seen around the Shallow sea area.”

“Right.” Kali replied, “that’s quite a bit away from here. I don’t know why you’d be expecting me to know anything.”

The woman’s brow rose, catching Parc’s feet at the top of the staircase she turned her head to try and see him but was stopped as Kali closed the door slightly and blocked her view.

“Well,” the woman began, a police officer, Parc presumed, “my partner here’s a tracker. She was able to follow his scent to this area.” Her expression tilted, the way Kali was acting had already put her on edge. She knew something about this elusive man.

“Uh-huh. Well, the only unusual person I’ve seen is my daughter. And that’s because, well, she’s my daughter.”

“Kali,” Parc scoffed and shook his head. He could last well long just watching her try and pretend she didn’t know they were there for him. She turned her head over her shoulder, she was dressed in a loose black and gold nightgown, and as she released the door and turned to face him fully, he saw how loose it was, almost revealing the inner part of her breast fully.

As he landed on the bottom rung, he said, “can you go prepare some tea for me while I deal without guests?” She narrowed but shrugged and nodded.

“Any preference?”

“Something…” he glanced to the woman in the doorway, tall, stoic red eyes and short black hair topped with sharp ears. He couldn’t quite tell what species, but he felt she’d like something sweet, “fruity, sounds nice.”

Kali didn’t linger much longer, letting Parc take her place by the door, she strode swiftly down the hall and towards the kitchen. Parc opened the door wider and as if presenting himself, stood with his chest puffed out and a smile on his face. The woman’s expression tilted with a frown, besides her, just a bit behind her, a floppy-eared canine Faunus flushed at his immediate arrival. The woman, the officer, followed his gaze and fell to her partner and sighed.

“Parc Evans.” He said coolly. “I do believe I’m the one who’s been causing all the havoc around town.” Not a hint of guilt to his tone. “And you are?” it was like he felt no shame. Those things he did to those women… the states he’d left them in. He was as unashamed as an ant was ripping off the leg of a cricket.

“Ilsa Roux. Detective for the Menagerie guard. This is Russet Morado, tracker. Am I right in presuming you have just confessed to what happened to those women?”

“You act like what happened to them was a crime.” He laughed.

“It was.” She hissed, “what happened to them was not only cruel but constitutes as ra-”

“How many said it was non-consensual.”

“Excuse me?” Ilsa gaped, pausing her thoughts.

“How many, said it was non-consensual?”

She drew a blank for a second before responding, “That has no relevance. I’m here about-”

“Consenting adults having sex? I don’t see the crime in that.”

Ilsa’s expression soured, “whether or not it was consensual is irrelevant. It was indecent as well.”

“Sex is rarely if ever considered ‘decent’ but we don’t go about locking up cows for mating in the fields, do we?”

“Animals are far from Faunus. They cannot comprehend decency and indecency.”

Russet darted between the two, the back and forth continued and with every calm retortion from their suspect, she could see the veins on her bosses neck bulging redder and redder. She wanted to step in, certainly, but that was bound to anger Ilsa, and Ilsa terrified her when angry.

“Enough.” Ilsa finally grunted. “I am not here to argue semantics about decency and the like. I am going to take you into custody to await a formal investigation as we await-”

Parc slammed the door shut, lingering just a shade longer behind it, revelling in the mere thought of the fury raising on the detectives face. Harsh knocks thumped against the wood and he reached for the handle and opened it. “Sorry. I got bored. Can I help you?”

By then Ilsa’s face had grown scarlet, her eyes bloodshot. “Parc Evans. I am putting you under arrest for the-”

“Come back when you have a warrant for that. And people who are actually willing to charge me with a crime.” Once more, the door craned shut, this time though, Parc didn’t wait. He could hear the click of the kettle finishing and the pouring of the water into the cast iron one Kali used to actually carry the tea. He crossed the hall and entered the lounge and descended onto the couch. Just as Kali entered the room, the rapid knocking on the door ended and Ilsa appeared in the window overlooking the room. Parc gave her a condescending wave, mouthing silently ‘Warrant.’ Which only made her even redder.

“You do know that you’re just annoying her, right?” Kali questioned amusedly.

She dipped down, setting the tray with biscuits and teacups down on the coffee table and lifting the cast iron pot, filled up both their glasses. Doing so in an experienced manner without letting even a single drop bubble out of the cup.

“That’s the fun part.” Ilsa’s knocking returned, sharper, with a glassy twang to it. He didn’t doubt she’d break the window if she wouldn’t get in trouble for doing so.

“Ilsa isn’t one to just give up because of something like a warrant.”

He didn’t even know if Menagerie did anything like warrants. Kali’s wording told him they did.

“You know her?” he took his cup, blowing the steam away with soft breaths and once it was cool enough, took a slight sip.

Kali rested on her thigh on the couch, glancing past him and towards Ilsa’s twitching face. For a moment, her lips curled up, “let’s just say she’s only this stuck up while on the clock.”

“And off the clock?”

She only smiled, “secret.”

Parc cocked a laugh and Ilsa practically slammed her fist into the glass, almost shattering it. He turned to her, rolled his eyes and said to Kali as he set his hand on her thigh. “Why don’t you close the sheers and we can have a little fun before Lady gets here.”

Without the barest hint of hesitation, Kali agreed. She stood and with graceful, womanly strides, approached the window. Ilsa stepped back, somehow expecting Kali to open the window to speak but only blankened as those translucent white curtains were pulled over. They did exceptionally little to hide what was opposite them, blurring at most. When Kali returned, she stood before him, facing him.

“You know she can still see us, yes?”

“Do you care?” Parc rolled his hand, knowingly smiling at the ex-chieftainess.

Of course, she didn’t. It was a stupid question to ask.

***

Ilsa’s hand hovered precariously over the pistol on her hip. So tempted was she to rip it out and smash through that glass that she was even willing to fire off a few times just to teach the man a lesson. She could smell the aura on him. He would survive, maybe without even a bruise.

“Ilsa,” Russet strained, her voice soft, almost a squeak. “Just, let it go.” She reached out, pressing into Ilsa’s arm, drawing the women gaze down to her.

“I’m not going to ‘let’ anything ‘go’ Russet. What this man did to those women was sick and wrong. Another human flaunting his power over us female faunuses. It sickens me.”

“But he’s not wrong,” Russet spoke, Ilsa’s eyes fell to cold half-moons that analyzed the red-cheeked and breathy retriever. “All of the women we spoke to have refused to give statements or even say it nonconsensual.” They all seemed bashful, more wrapped in guilt about being swept up in that odd scent.

“What are you trying to get at Russet? Are you trying to say what he did to those women was simply ‘fine?'” he voice turned grave, her hand flaring out to the house.

“No, nothing like that!” urgently, Russet defended herself, hands raising up as a sign of submission. “It’s just, we have nothing to hold or even charge him on. And that’s not even taking into account his connection with Kali Belladonna. I… I just don’t think it’s worth it to do this.”

“So we just give up then? Let something as sick as what we saw happen to those women go unpunished.”

“Was it that sick? We call it sick because we weren’t there, but we saw their faces. The way they laughed. It wasn’t sick to them. It was fun. You saw Hannah, and Alexi, they were smiling. They never smile.”

Ilsa crossed her arms, squeezing them tight she glanced back to the curtained room and twitched. She could see the Belladonna matron’s shadow, and his. She was squatted before his body, her head rising and falling undoubtedly between his legs. So nonchalant, so daring and rude, it was aggravating to know that not even her presence could make the man buckle. But she couldn’t deny it… Russet had a point, for once.

“Fine. Then let us regroup, think this over. I’ll let it go for now, but I’m not just going to give up. I’m certainly going to try for that warrant.” She scoffed, beginning her bellicose stride out the Belladonna yard.

Russet was quick on her heel, first falling to a jog to catch up then slowing to a walk once she was there. The girl squirmed, nose flaring, catching those residual scents of that man on the wind. She looked up to Ilsa but Ilsa noticed and looked at her. Russet wondered how she was so calm, so unaffected, but that’s when she noticed something else in the winds. A heated scent of lust, it wasn’t her own. She knew her own smile from a mile away, and it wasn’t Kali Belladonnas. She realized then, that Ilsa wasn’t wholly unaffected.

It didn’t surprise her, they’d figured out early on that this smell only the women could follow. Russet hadn’t been the first choice to track it, that had gone to Ashen Grove, the lead tracker in all of Menagerie, but even he couldn’t tell wind from man.

“I expect you to keep quiet about this, Russet,” Ilsa said, cool as could be; stride never once faltering.

“My lips are sealed.” Her lips actually curled up at the ends.

“Good…” as Ilsa’s words trailed off, her eyes darted left and right and she whispered hushedly, “you wouldn’t happen to know if the Atelier is open tonight, would you?”

Surprise dotted Russet’s face and she jerked her head around, facing Ilsa who—even though acted stoic—had a faint red flush to her cheeks. “I think it is. You… you go there?” she whispered, Ilsa didn’t seem the type.

“Not often…”