Obsidian Heat

Chapter Two

After wrapping up at the crime scene, despite not being able to rid his traitorous nostrils of that peculiarly enticing odor of cinnamon, cloves and ocean breeze, Detective Isme Gallagher ended up at the bar a few blocks away from his apartment. He sat alone at the counter and ordered a beer. He'd just have one and then go home to contemplate the absolute wreck of his life.

Professionally, things were fine. Personally, not so much. Maybe it was grief leftover from Duncan breaking up with him. Two years down the toilet. Isme was something of a relationship junkie, jumping from relationship to relationship until he wore the other guy out. Before Duncan there was Shiloh for about a year, then Reese, then Vincent, then... God. All of them broke up with him, right when he was getting too clingy. "You're such a nice guy, but..." But. There was always a but. They wanted something more that he couldn't give them and he couldn't figure out why, other than smothering. They all said he was too needy, or different variations of that.

That's all this was, his weirdness with the private investigator. The ramblings of heartache. He sipped more of his beer and watched a baseball game on TV without really watching it, grabbing peanuts from a dish on the counter. A few moments of this passed, lost in his own thoughts, until he felt a presence slide into the barstool next to him. He grunted a greeting at his friend.

"Veronica," he said, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

His friend, a cop at another precinct who had worked with him before, was wearing jeans, a tank top and a khaki corduroy jacket. Her brown hair, streaked with blonde highlights, was pulled up into a bun, tendrils sneaking out to tickle her neck. She clinked her shot glass with Isme's beer glass and scrutinized him. He squirmed.

"Why the long face, Isme?"

He shrugged. "I'm not in the mood for a therapy session, Veronica."

Veronica Gaston smirked and settled into her stool. "Ben didn't work out?"

"Duncan," Isme frowned. "And no. But that was like, six months ago. Keep up."

This time it was her turn to frown. "Six months? Shit, Isme," she said. "You've never been single this long before. It's like, a new record."

"Oh, shut up."

"I'm proud of you, actually. I thought you were allergic to being single," she scoffed. "But maybe it's what you need right now. It wouldn't kill you to..."

"I said I didn't want to talk about it," Isme insisted with hooded eyes.

"All right, all right. Testy tonight, are we?" She put up her hands in a "mea culpa" gesture and downed her shot, waving down the bartender for more drinks. "What happened at the crime scene with that private investigator?"

Isme stilled as his hand curled around his glass. "How do you know about that?"

"A little mouse told me." Her mouth quirked in a smile. "Not putting him in your sights for your next conquest, then?"

"No!" Isme had to admit he was a little too defensive as he colored. "Nothing like that. It was just... it was just weird."

Veronica scoffed. "Yeah, whatever," she said. "He figure out your big secret then?"

Isme frowned and sighed. "I've heard it before, the alpha bullshit. It's all bullshit, though. I don't know what they're talking about."

She considered him, her head cocked. "Did you smell anything unusual from him? I've heard that's like, a thing."

"How do you know this?" He side-eyed her and took another gulp of beer.

"I may have a little hobby on the side. Creature fanfiction," she smirked at him. "I don't know why you're so standoffish about it. Loosen up once in awhile."