A Taste of Crimson

by Marjorie M. Liu

  “Yes, let them work,” Michael said, sweeping his gaze over the watching werewolves. They were all strangers, but he knew that to Keeli they were family, friends. Clan. He felt their uncertainty, confusion, and knew that such emotions could lead so easily to fear, and then hate. Hate for him, and by extension, Keeli.

  Are you going to be her hero?

  “None of you know me,” he said, turning in a slow circle. “None of you know the kind of person I am. Only, what I am. And that is fine. That is all I can expect. But you do know your Grand Dame Alpha, and what she is trying to accomplish by negotiating with us vampires. You know that, because she has told you, and you trust her with the truth. There might be a war coming, and no matter how much you wish it otherwise, all of us—vampires and werewolves—are involved. We need this alliance. This new waterline you’re building? The expansion of your clan? It won’t mean anything if the humans come after you. They will take it all, drive you out of the city. Or worse, just kill you. They have already started on my people. What makes you think you wolves won’t be next?”

  Michael looked at Jas. “You’re angry at Keeli. I understand why. But she is still a good woman. She does not deserve your contempt. Not when she is sacrificing so much to make sure this alliance is a success.”

  Jas said nothing, but Michael felt the other wolves stir within their ranks, tasting the echo of his words.

  “Let’s go,” Jas said, gruff. “I want to get Emily.” He threw a warning glance at the staring wolves. They went back to work.

  The two men walked down the corridor, side by side.

  “Nice speech,” Jas said.

  “I thought so,” Michael agreed.

  Jas grabbed his arm, swung him around. “I’ll do what I have to, to keep Keeli safe from you. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. You’ve … brainwashed her.” He sniffed. “And you’re having sex. God. Everyone must have smelled her on you.”

  “Brainwashed her?” Michael shrugged off his hand. “You don’t know Keeli at all if you think she could be … brainwashed by someone like me.”

  “I know Keeli better than you,” Jas growled, “and this isn’t her.”

  “Maybe it is.” Michael leaned close, savoring the anger seeping through his fraying patience. “Maybe you never looked deep enough to see it.”

  Jas’s eyes flashed into the wolf, his lips darkening, stretching back over sharp teeth. A thin sheen of sweat slicked his forehead.

  “Save it,” Michael snapped, baring his own teeth. “You can piss at me all you want, Jas, but not on my time. I have better things to do than listen to you whine.”

  Michael was glad of the iron collar he wore. He had used it in the past to deflect attempts to cut off his head, but it was just as good a defense against werewolves who wanted to rip out his throat and run away with it.

  Heartbeats passed; Jas settled back on his heels, his features smoothing into something more human. Michael did not relax. The immediate danger might be over, but not the anger, resentment. Jas had a vendetta without bounds. It was only a matter of time before it erupted into physical violence.

  They reached Keeli’s door; surprisingly, Michael heard the faint hum of voices through the steel. He wondered how much of their own recent activity had been audible to passersby outside her room. Jas froze, his hand poised to knock. Michael stepped close, listening hard.

  He heard Emily, her voice desperate, hard. Her desire. Her ultimatum—for him to kill the vampire who’d maimed her. Jas looked stricken. He glanced at Michael, and the men shared a moment of perfect unity. Perfect pain; helpless, horrified. Michael tried to imagine Keeli in Emily’s place, her vibrancy stolen away by one violent act, and felt his heart grow hard and cold.

  Jas opened the door. Michael watched Keeli spin; their eyes met and then he gazed past her to the disfigured woman gleaming pink and raw. Raw to the heart, raw to the bone. She gasped.

  “I’ll do it,” he said, without thought. Committing himself to the execution, to the death.

  “Michael,” Keeli breathed.

  “I will bring him to you,” Michael promised. “And then you can make him pay.”

  “No,” Jas murmured. “Emily, no.”

  Emily’s startled gaze turned to Jas. Her lips tightened. “I want this, Jas.”

  “The baby …” he began.

  “The baby will be as strong as his mother, and he will never ever live with my fear.” Emily carefully replaced her hat, fingers sliding over the wide pink brim. She kissed Keeli on the cheek, and then walked up to her husband, hands outstretched. He caught them without hesitation, though his conflict remained clear. Emily held his gaze, and then looked past him to Michael. “Thank you,” she said. “If you do this, things will be different. I promise.”

  Jas began to protest. His wife cut him off with a look.

  Michael stirred. “I am not doing this for payment. I am doing this for you.”

  Emily studied his face; slowly, she nodded. “Still,” she said quietly, ominously, “you’ll get what you deserve.”

  She began to leave. Michael touched Jas’s shoulder. The werewolf merely looked at him; there was no anger in his face, just resignation: startled and sad. Michael handed him the DNA test kit. Jas took the device and pressed the flat end against his arm.

  “Thank you,” Michael said, when Jas handed back the sampler.

  Again, silence. The werewolf held his wife’s hand and drew her away, down the corridor out of sight.

  Michael turned. Keeli watched him, her face tight and closed.

  “Keeli,” he said, but she turned away. He followed her, closing the door behind him. She sat on the edge of the bed, her arms wrapped around her stomach. He sat beside her.

  “It doesn’t seem right,” she finally said. “You can’t do this. Emily is the gentlest person I’ve ever known.”

  “She’s changed. Anyone would, under her circumstances.”

  “But Michael, if she does this—”

  He silenced her with a kiss. Keeli broke away and leaned her head against his shoulder. Michael’s chest relaxed, his muscles unfurling into easy warmth.

  “I like it when you do that,” he said quietly. “I keep thinking you will reject me.”

  “If I were going to reject you, I wouldn’t have had sex with you on my floor.”

  Michael began to laugh, but sobered almost instantly. He thought of Emily, and the way Jas looked at her. Like there was nothing to see but beauty. “How did they meet?” he asked.

  He felt Keeli’s sad smile. “Emily was a student at the local community college. Jas was there to get a degree in business management. It was love at first sight, though Jas waited forever to tell her he was a werewolf. She took it really well. They got married a week later.”

  Michael stared at his hands. “Has she ever thought about reconstructive surgery?”

  “It’s too expensive. They tried approaching some foundations, but the work that needs to be done is so extensive, no one is willing to do it pro bono. Being married to a registered werewolf doesn’t help her case, either. The doctors are afraid of catching something.”

  “Jas must be extremely careful with her.”

  “He is. He worships the ground she walks on.”

  Michael touched Keeli’s face. He kissed her mouth, gentle.

  “Trust your friend,” he said softly, against her lips. “Revenge may not be the best answer to her fear, but that’s something only she can learn. Otherwise, she will continue living her life through other people.”

  “You think you’re so smart,” she muttered, but without malice.

  “I’m a very old man.” He kissed her. “And you are so very young.”

  “Oh?” She smiled against his lips. “What is it with old men and their young girlfriends?”

  “They are sick.” Michael’s fingers moved under her shirt, tracing a path up her ribs. “Very sick.”

  “Sick is good,” she murmured, touching him through his pants. He began to reach und
er her skirt and she stopped him.

  “Not without a condom.”

  He blinked. “What if I pull out early?”

  She hesitated. He touched her breast, rubbing her nipple through the thin T-shirt. “That is so unfair,” she said, shuddering. “And this is stupid. Oh, boy, it’s stupid.”

  She unzipped his pants. He pulled off her skirt.

  Chapter Fifteen

  This time, they took it slow as they made love. When Keeli finally came, writhing naked and sweaty beneath his body, Michael increased his rhythm—tight, hard, fast—savoring the quick build. At the last moment, he pulled out. Keeli sat up, a blur, and then—shocking, unexpected—her mouth engulfed him, hot and wet, and he was still thrusting, and her hands brushed his balls.

  He came in her mouth and she did not pull away. Her nails dug into his hips, holding him to her as he poured himself down her throat.

  “Bet that was new,” she said. She grinned, wiping her glistening lips with the back of her hand. Michael could not answer her; he was still breathing too hard.

  They got dressed in increments, helping each other with bits and pieces, touching and kissing. Michael savored the intimacy, drew it in with each careful breath. He had never been so close to anyone—had not even imagined that a person could feel so much for another. It baffled him, but that was good; he could take confusion, as long as it kept him near Keeli.

  When they were finally presentable—or at least, as presentable as two people could be, smelling of sex in a den full of werewolves—Michael pulled out the remaining two DNA kits. Keeli sighed. Michael felt the same. This was not going to be easy.

  They went to Estella’s home, the last door at the end of a canary yellow hall. She answered on Keeli’s third knock. Her sparsely furnished home was filled with werewolves. Everyone looked very uncomfortable.

  Estella frowned. “You’re interrupting something.”

  “Too bad,” Keeli said. “This will only take a minute.”

  Estella’s eyes narrowed. She glanced over her shoulder at her guests. “All of you out. Jonathon, stay.”

  “You sound like you’re teaching an obedience class,” Keeli remarked, as werewolves shuffled past her out the door. Michael smelled the faint odor of musk, wet fur. Watched how the men and women avoided looking Keeli in the eyes. Paid attention to the flare of their nostrils, the careful neutrality of their faces. And yet, not one person showed disrespect, disgust, or scorn. Keeli noticed—he saw it on her face, the tentative surprise. The distrust.

  One person did not leave Estella’s home: a young man, tall and lanky, with a narrow pinched face. He looked like a scholar, but his hands were wiry and strong.

  “Jonathon,” Keeli said.

  “Is it true?” he asked quietly. He looked at Michael. “Are you going to find my mother’s murderer?”

  Word traveled fast in the underground, it seemed. Michael nodded and Jonathon sighed. He ran his hands over his face. “I don’t want to see him. Please. Whatever Emily has planned, don’t involve me.”

  “No stomach,” Estella muttered. Michael gave her a sharp look.

  “Don’t measure courage in terms of revenge,” Keeli said harshly. “The math will come out all wrong.”

  Estella snorted. “You don’t scare me, Keeli Maddox. You may have beat the crap out of Leroux’s Alpha, but that doesn’t make you strong enough to be our Grand Dame. Takes more than a little bloodlust to lead the clans.”

  “I agree,” Keeli said. “I don’t want to be the Grand Dame. On the other hand, I don’t want Jas to snuff my grandmother. I’m not in a very good position, Estella.”

  “You’ve made it worse with him.” Estella pointed at Michael. “You smell like you’ve been screwing each other’s brains out.”

  Michael frowned. “Keeli, did you see any brains?”

  “No, Michael. But then again, I was too busy being screwed to notice.”

  “Ha.” Estella stepped aside. “Come in. I don’t want anyone to see you lingering at my door.”

  “Why the hell not?” Keeli walked past her. “The entire clan was packed in here just a minute ago.”

  Estella did not answer Keeli’s question. Jonathon also said nothing. He studied Michael, and Michael studied him back.

  “Why are you different?” asked Jonathon. “I’m not scared of you.”

  It was the first time anyone had ever said that to Michael, and it took him off guard. “Thank you,” he said. “I do not want to be frightening.”

  “Isn’t that sweet?” Estella crossed her arms. “You’re like Ferdinand the Bull, or Casper the Friendly Ghost. The most snuggly little vampire in all the world.”

  “Yes. Snuggly.” Keeli pulled out the DNA kit and stuck it in Estella’s face. “Don’t argue with me about this. Just do it.”

  “Or what?”

  “Estella.” Jonathon gave her a hard look. The blond woman blinked, startled. Without another word she took the kit. Keeli stared.

  “What the hell was that?” she asked.

  “Respect,” Jonathon said, low and hard. “You’ve earned it, Keeli. You did the right thing today, taking down Leroux’s Alpha. You did better than any of us.” He reached for the other DNA kit. “That’s what everyone was talking about when you got here. What we should have done—how far we let Leroux go in abusing our own, just because of a scent. You shamed us, Keeli, even the wolves who weren’t there.”

  “She didn’t shame me,” Estella muttered, giving back her tissue sample.

  Jonathon looked at Michael. “Thank you. I don’t agree with Emily, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want this … vampire … off the street. No one else should lose family to him.”

  “I am the Vendix,” Michael said. “This is what I do.”

  “Yeah?” He stuck out his hand. Michael, taken aback, shook it.

  “Wasn’t so bad,” murmured Jonathon, a half-smile on his face.

  “No,” said Michael. “I just hope the rest of the negotiation goes as smoothly.”

  “Maybe it will.” Jonathon turned to Keeli. “Good luck on your investigation. I’ll … see you later.”

  Estella stared at him, her mouth hanging open. Jonathon grabbed her hand and pulled her away until Keeli and Michael left the apartment.

  “That was strange,” Keeli said, when the door shut behind them. “Strange, but good.”

  “I agree,” Michael said, watching her. “But we have the DNA now. Let’s call Jenkins.”

  They went topside to use Michael’s digi-encoder. They waited in an alley, in the shadows, and watched the sky darken into evening, the oncoming sunset. Keeli’s mood soured; it was clear to Michael that patience was not her strength.

  A patrol van finally pulled in. Jenkins was at the wheel, and he was alone.

  “I hate you,” Keeli said, when he got out of the car.

  Jenkins glanced at Michael. “Good evening to you, too. Not getting any sleep last night really caught up with you, didn’t it?” he asked her.

  Michael briefly closed his eyes as Keeli said, “No offense, but your idea of pleasant conversation makes me want to drive a power drill into my ears.”

  “Why would I be offended?” Jenkins smiled. “You have the kits?”

  Keeli tossed them into his outstretched hands. Jenkins glanced at the packets and withdrew a small white box from the deep pocket of his navy cargo pants. “DNA reader,” he said. “The latest tech. Those tissue samples you got started breaking down the moment they came into contact with the sampler. Now I just have to insert them in this thing and we’ll see if there’s a match with the werewolf markers we found on Crestin.”

  The first sample tested was Jonathon’s. He came up clean. Michael stepped closer as Jenkins inserted Estella’s sample. He glanced up and down the alley, but they were alone except for pigeons plodding on the ground near a pile of garbage. He smelled old vomit and car oil. Maybe some pizza on Jenkins’s breath.

  “Is there a reason for the personal visit?” Keeli asked. �
��You could have sent someone else. Or did you just miss us that desperately?”

  Jenkins placed a hand over his heart, though his eyes never left the DNA reader’s screen. “It’s true, kid. I can’t live another minute without you.”

  “Smart-ass.”

  “Punk.”

  “Weevil.”

  “Weevil?” He shook his head. “You can do better than that.”

  “I’m trying to be respectful.”

  “Yeah. I can tell.” He removed Estella’s sample. “She’s clean. Maybe third time will be the charm.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Murder never is.”

  But Jas was clean. Jenkins gathered up the tissue samples and gave them back to Keeli. “I’m supposed to keep those, but this investigation is already playing under the radar, so the rules are mine.”

  “Thank you,” Michael said. He studied Jenkins’s face as Keeli took back the kits, juggled them in her hands. Shadows and wrinkles lined the skin beneath the cop’s eyes. The corner of his mouth sagged. Jenkins caught Michael staring, and raised his brow in silent question.

  “You look terrible,” Michael said. “Are things that bad?”

  “You tell me,” Jenkins said. “I want to know what’s going on, Michael.”

  “You’ll have to get more specific than that.”

  Jenkins shook his head. “I can see right through you. Something isn’t right. Not with my bosses and the government brass, and not with you guys. All of you know something big. Shit, I’m lying awake at night, scared that the middlemen like me and my people are gonna get screwed.”

  “We’re all screwed,” Keeli said. “In various, increasingly unpleasant ways. We might as well tattoo it on our foreheads.”

  “You gonna tell me why?”

  “No,” Michael said. “This is for your own good, Jenkins. There are things going on that could destroy your career. Just leave it alone.”

  “Right,” he said. “Like I should leave alone all those UV lights that were installed last week, huh? The ones that got destroyed almost the same day they appeared? Or how about those two vampires who got gunned down by that mech? Or the mech itself? Don’t try to con me, Michael. I may not know everything, but the clues are there. I just want to hear it from you. The straight, honest truth. Between friends, no less.”