42. Akira

CHAPTER 42

Akira

T hey were kept waiting in the corridor for twenty minutes before being called inside. Entering the opulent room while the meeting was already in session was an odd experience, and Akira's gaze snagged on the empty chair where he would usually sit when the Coterie had people appearing before it.

"Master Epsilon," boomed Omicron from his central position. "Mr. Randall."

Akira dipped his chin in brief acknowledgement.

Kyle looked a little wide-eyed, but then he seemed to gather himself. He swept into a broad, flourishing bow. " Your Majesties ."

Akira's lip twitched. The other Masters stared.

"It's an absolute honour to stand before you all," Kyle added smoothly, and Akira would have accused him of theatrics except there was no trace of guile on that earnest, perfect face of his. When Kyle was busy teasing you, he made sure you knew about it.

While Theta looked unconvinced, Omicron was lapping that shit up, beaming in his contented, smug way. The rest of them appeared equally charmed by Kyle, and Akira couldn't blame them.

"We heard about your arrest, Epsilon," Master Rho said softly, looking almost sympathetic. "We are relieved the inconvenience was brief, but will not allow the insult to stand."

Nu nodded, their lips pinched. "You are Coterie, and should be treated as such. Benedict Mackenroth will be strongly reminded that the respect his position affords him is not without its own...accountabilities."

Akira bit down on the sarcastic comment that threatened to bubble out of him, and offered a nod that he hoped appeared equally sincere.

"I thank you, Masters," he said instead. "But I am more concerned with his and his brother's threats towards Kyle. You recall I spoke about this in a previous meeting?"

A few inclined heads, a few dismissive shrugs.

"Kyle is an employee of House Epsilon," Akira reminded them sharply, "and was approved by all in attendance here today to manage its affairs. He may not have a seat on the Coterie itself, yet we hold a responsibility towards him when it comes to threats raised against him not as a Xerxian citizen, but House staff."

Omicron cocked his head. "You encountered Miles Mackenroth for the first time while working?" he asked Kyle, his voice rising on the last word to turn it into a question. "You do not associate with him outside of your House?"

"Yes to the first, and no to the second," Kyle answered dutifully. "I didn't even know who Miles was when we met."

"And he threatened you with slavery directly?"

"Not directly," said Kyle. Honest and open, the man emanated sincerity as naturally as he breathed, leaving no doubt he spoke true. "He returned to House Epsilon the following night with his brother, the mayor, to speak with Master Epsilon."

All eyes turned to Akira.

"In that conversation, I was offered a large sum of money to sell Kyle to them," he reminded them all, trying not to snarl out the despicable words. "When I refused, they attempted to take him by force. When that failed, my House was subjected to a series of violent attacks that have put both its safety and profitability at risk...as you know."

"Yes, it has become quite inconvenient," Sigma said irritably. "Our own Houses are being painted with the same unsafe brush, and business is down across the city."

"So we're in agreement that the Coterie must do something," Akira pressed, having even less patience than usual for the way the Masters liked to complain without purpose. "The question is what."

"A moment, Epsilon," Rho said. The rings on her outstretched hand glittered. "I wish to hear more about the original incident. Randall, the dispute began the night you met Miles at your House, correct?"

"Yes," said Kyle.

"And it was because he wanted something from you that you were not prepared to give?"

Akira wanted to reassure Kyle, to lay his arm across his shoulders or even brush the back of his fingers against his. But they stood too far apart.

"Yes."

"Yet he had paid you for your services?"

For the first time since their arrival, Kyle faltered, glancing at Akira.

"He'd paid the House," Akira cut in. "My staff don't earn directly from clients."

There were annoyed murmurs at that, a reminder of how House Epsilon did not follow the practices of the remainder of the Coterie. He may have been unorthodox in paying his staff salaries instead of a percentage of the money they brought in from clients, but it saved him from the cut-throat competitiveness he'd experienced at House Theta where the whores fought over the most high-paying clients and attempted to sabotage each other to win their fees.

"He'd paid," Omicron said flatly, and then looked directly at Kyle with something close to accusation. "You are employed to satisfy your clients' needs, are you not, or is that also something you do differently at House Epsilon?"

"I am," Kyle responded. His tone was cautious as he began to repeat Akira's rules. "If those needs are within our hard limits and do not cause harm to-"

"Hard limits," Master Lambda interrupted on a sigh. "For fuck's sake, Epsilon."

Akira felt a wave of familiar irritation. "You are aware of how I run my House," he said curtly. "If that will be used to justify why my staff should be abused and threatened, then I question why we have any-"

"We're just trying to ascertain whether there was any abuse, Epsilon," Rho cut in. "We... appreciate that you operate a little differently to the rest of us," she added, the emphasis on the word making it clear that appreciation was the furthest thing from how she felt, "but at the end of the day, the boy's employed as a whore. If we all started rejecting clients whose tastes didn't align with our personal preferences, we'd be left with very few clients and a wholly dissatisfied city."

Akira watched Kyle shrink into himself with each word, and seethed.

"Miles Mackenroth, was, of course," he hissed at them, "fully refunded."

"But he'd paid," Lambda repeated, to several nods from the others. As if that made the slightest fucking difference. "Are we to expect shopkeepers to refuse paying customers? Doctors to refuse paying patients? Stars, Epsilon, it's his job!"

"Look," Theta offered in a conciliatory tone, trying for a sympathetic smile at both Epsilon and Kyle. "What if we can fix this, hmm? Benedict has gotten a little carried away, but even he understands he can't just steal our people and destroy our premises when he doesn't get his own way. I'm sure I can convince him to drop the whole debacle, and we can put things back to how they should have been, no harm done."

The other Masters murmured enthusiastic assent.

Omicron beamed at Kyle. "There you have it," he said as magnanimously as if it had been his idea. "Master Theta will have a little chat with our mayor and set things to rights. How about that?"

Kyle fell into the trap of the man's easy reassurance. He grinned back at him, the tension easing from his body. "That would be great, sir, thank you-"

"What exactly does that mean, ‘ set things to rights '?" Akira asked coldly. "Or ‘ how things should have been '?"

Theta gave him a warning look. Akira ignored it.

"Do you intend to forgive Miles Mackenroth for his atrocious conduct? Have me welcome him back into my House as if he's done nothing wrong?"

"Epsilon, please-"

"We're trying to resolve this ridiculous dispute you two have gotten yourselves – and us – into," said Master Sigma over the top of Theta, her eyebrows folding into a single line. "That requires gestures of good faith on both sides."

"Gestures of good faith," Akira repeated, unimpressed. "You mean allowing powerful men to get what they want without losing face. You mean pretending nothing happened and expecting Kyle to service the mayor's brother" – Kyle fell still – "as though my employee was at fault this whole time. Is that what this Coterie is asking?"

There was a long silence as he faced down the other seven Masters, his fury swelling as he looked each of them in the eye.

But these weren't his staff, nor Xerxian lowlifes, and they didn't cower from him. They were people who had held their Masteries far longer than he, dominant personalities who had beaten down the pathetic odds this city dealt and come out on top.

"We're not asking," Omicron said tersely. "You'll excuse yourself, Master Epsilon, and we will discuss this matter free of bias."

Free of bias? Bullshit. All of them had vested interest in keeping Mayor Mackenroth happy. They'd said it themselves: the threat to Kyle and House Epsilon was only concerning because it was starting to impact on their own profits. What was the point in paying his cut to the Coterie, of having worked so damn hard to earn his seat at the table, when they were willing to throw him and his staff to the wolves at the first sign of trouble?

"We'll come back to you," Sigma said. She sounded like she'd already made up her mind, and Akira could only hope the rest of them weren't as cold-blooded, although that hope was slight. They were a bunch of monsters, and he was ashamed to call himself one of them.

Akira was a monster himself: he knew that. He'd killed, and hurt, and manipulated, in order to protect himself and those he loved. But when he made a commitment to someone – as he had to his staff, as the Coterie had to him – he damn well honoured it.

Kyle turned towards the door, but Akira didn't move.

"I need an answer before Friday," he told them. He was all too familiar with how long the Masters could take to reach a decision.

Theta, as astute as ever, was already frowning at him. "What's happening on Friday?"

Akira paused, half turning towards his…whatever Kyle was to him. "Could you wait outside for me? I'll only be a moment."

Setting his jaw, Kyle shook his head in firm refusal. "No. Whatever it is, I want to hear it." His voice softened as they locked eyes. "Please?"

Theta let out a faint yet disapproving murmur that rustled through the other seated Masters like a cresting wave.

It would make Akira look weak if he conceded.

But he also didn't care.

Yet before he could speak, Kyle seemed to realise the position he'd put him in. His expression turned panicked and he quickly bowed his head in submission. "Please may I be allowed to stay, Master?" he asked quietly, now properly deferential and demonstrating the respect that the Coterie would expect to be shown to one of their own.

Akira let out a breath and nodded curtly before turning to the others. "Benedict Mackenroth has invited House Epsilon to an event he'll be hosting up on the surface on Friday night. A reinvigoration of the parties he used to be so fond of."

Master Omicron made a kind of angry hissing sound and exploded up from his chair. "But Theta and I hold the contracts for the surface!"

When he was met with half a dozen raised eyebrows, he quickly retook his seat. "Obviously, that's not the point," Omicron muttered, and waved a gracious hand at Akira. "Master Epsilon, continue."

Akira would rather not. But he needed them all to understand the urgency, so he told them of how Mackenroth expected Kyle to be gift wrapped and delivered as part of the night's entertainment, his disappearance going unnoticed amid the revelry and excitement and various substances clogging the attendees' veins. He told them, although he doubted many of them needed the reminder, how the people secretly sequestered from such events, whether enticed away to a private room or drugged to the eyeballs with something that would allow them to be smuggled out limp and unresisting, were never seen again.

And then he told them that if any of them suggested he let that happen to Kyle, he'd cut off their fucking heads.

The Coterie was unsurprisingly unamused by that last comment, but although there were several sharp admonishments and a huff of exasperation from Master Tau – Epsilon , must you be so savage? – none of them dared to voice the sentiment he'd warned them from. His threat must have been suitably convincing.

And when Akira finally mustered the courage to look over at Kyle, he found not the fear he'd been expecting but a kind of deep-seated sadness that echoed through his slumped shoulders and hollow expression. Of course. The man was too busy feeling sorry for the others Akira had mentioned to worry about himself. Akira wanted to shake him.

And then fold his arms around him and kiss him, and never, ever let him go.

"Know that a refusal to assist means my resignation from the Coterie," Akira said coldly to the other Masters, and Kyle jerked in surprise at his side. "I will not be joining you if you choose to kneel to Benedict Mackenroth."

Even the implication of their submission was distasteful enough to have the power-hungry, arrogant Masters shift uneasily in their chairs. Hopefully it would be enough to sway their decision.

"We'll come back to you," said Omicron again, now a little weakly, and Akira had no more excuses to linger. He gave the briefest nod he could get away with, less amused this time at Kyle's bow because the pricks really didn't deserve it, and ushered them both from the room.