Shades of Red

by T L Christianson

  His eyes lingered on my hair, then my thin white camisole. “We need to play it safe.” Turning the light off, Alexei pulled his clothes off and settled into the bed beside my own.

  I picked at the mosquito netting, settling it around the mattress, creating a false sense of protection. As I lay there wide awake an idea floated through my mind—I’d need to let it marinate, then talk to the Russian tomorrow.

  My eyes drifted back to where he lay. I could see perfectly in the dark of our room. He lay on his back, his slate gray eyes open as he stared at the ceiling.

  “You can’t sleep?” I asked.

  “No, you?”

  “No, but I don’t sleep much anyway,” I told him.

  “Talk to me, my phone’s dead. I need to get out of my head,” he said in a moment of vulnerability. “Are you married? Do you have kids?”

  His questions threw me off guard, so I laughed, licking my lips before answering. “I’m not married, and I have no kids. You?”

  “Never been married, and I don’t have kids either. How did you become a moroi?”

  “Love…I fell off a bridge.”

  “Love is for fools…” He turned in his bed, and I felt his eyes on me. “Okay, tell me about that.”

  “What? No. You just said love was foolish. Haven’t you ever been in love?”

  “I loved Victor—not romantically, but he was my friend.” He furrowed his brow, his words beginning a heavy ache inside my chest. “Tell me about it.” He let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Well…love is a personal thing. I wanted to make sure you understood that. It’s not something to be bandied easily about.”

  “No, you’re right. Talk to me.”

  “Okay,” I hesitated, my mind whirling back to memories of Leo. So handsome in his—cringe—military uniform, Nazi uniform.

  “I met Leo in 1932 when I was 16. My Oma, grandmother, lived on the border between France and Germany with her 3rd husband, Karl. Leo was his son and had taken time off from university to help the older couple out.

  “My father had sent both my aunt Helene and me on a ship to take care of Oma. She’d fallen and broken her foot.”

  His rich voice interrupted me, “I’m not a historian, but what about World War 2?”

  “No, we weren’t worried about that yet. But yes, the fallout from the Great War had been devastating. Germany had been thrown into poverty, and there was a great deal of suffering. Both my Oma and Karl were German, but Karl had inherited a farm inside France from a great uncle or something like that…. it was a long time ago, and my human memories aren’t as sharp.”

  “When I look at you, it’s hard to believe that you’re over a hundred years old.”

  I turned onto my side, facing Alexei. “Can you really see me in the dark, like a moroi? I feel as if you’re looking right at me.”

  His laugh broke our whispered exchange, “I am looking at you.”

  “What? No.”

  “Yes, you’re lying on your side, one arm under the pillow, the other on your hip, and you’re looking at me. I told you, I’m different, my father is moroi.”

  I blushed and pulled the lone sheet over my hips. I’d removed my shorts believing he couldn’t see me in my lacy underwear. “You should’ve told me! I undressed in front of you!” I scolded him.

  More laughter, “You watched me when I took my clothes off.”

  I gasped but had no excuse, so I turned away.

  Exasperated, he shifted in his single bed, still looking at me. “Does it matter? We’re both adults, remember? You can look at me; we’re still talking.”

  Shifting in his direction once again, our eyes met. Alexei’s muscular frame in only boxers sent a shiver of desire through my body.

  “I won’t look at you if you don’t want me to. Besides, it’s too hot to sleep with a sheet on.” He shifted again, sitting up. Pulling the netting open, he stood and headed toward the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get something to eat.” Sighing, he turned to me, “Do you want anything?”

  I sat up. “You’re hungry again?”

  Alexei shrugged. “I’m always hungry.”

  “I’ll come with. I need some juice,” I told him.

  Eyeing me warily, he motioned for me to stop. “You aren’t…” Using his fingers, he imitated fangs, “Thirsty, are you?”

  Shaking my head, “No, I’ll be okay for at least two more days. I just want juice.”

  Following him toward the screened-in porch area, I swatted at mosquitoes and wondered if I could get malaria.

  Alexei hesitated near the spot where Viktor had died. His movements would’ve been imperceptible to a human, but I noticed.

  The Russian had excellent night vision and followed the silent movement of a small bird as it skittered between buildings.

  What other moroi-like traits did Alexei have?

  Inside the kitchen, I pulled out a bottle of fruit juice from the pantry along with two glasses. The room brightened as the bounty hunter lit a gas lantern and set it on the counter.

  “You never finished your story, what happened to Leo?” His question caught me off guard.

  Leaning against the counter, I twisted the lid off the juice until it cracked the plastic and opened. “Well…” I emptied the bottle, filling both cups. “He died in the war.”

  “Were you human back then?”

  I nodded, watching his movements. Lighting the stove, Alexei turned the knob, and the burner lit up with blue light. He poured a bit of yellow oil into the pan, before scrubbing a potato with water from a pitcher. With deft strokes, he sliced off thin strips and dropped them to sizzle in the pan.

  “Yeah. I’d fallen off a bridge in New York. Aurev saved me.”

  His head jerked up as he stirred the pan. “You jumped?”

  My mind went back to that night. “No no no. I fell.” I gulped the yellow juice and examined my cup. “Oma had sent me a letter. Leo had been killed in action.”

  The bounty hunter’s shrewd gaze narrowed on me. “For France?” He gauged my reaction and growled, “He was in the German army? The Nazi army?”

  Exasperated, I shook my head. “It’s not like that. He wasn’t like that.”

  “Wait, you said that six years before this he was going to a university. He must’ve been at least a captain.”

  Blinking, my eyes stung a bit. I was over this, wasn’t I? Leo was ancient history. “You don’t get it. He was drafted. He had to serve. The Nazi’s lied to their own people. Do you think the regular public knew what was going on? They didn’t.” I huffed out, pacing the small space. “Leo was a good man. Besides, I’ll never know what he knew and what he didn’t know. Once the war started, communication was difficult. I heard snippets from Oma, a letter got through here and there. Things she’d heard, gossip between neighbors.

  “Then when her letters stopped, I knew it was bad.” I shook my head, “That’s …that’s all in the past. What matters is that I loved Leo—he was a good man.” Pursing my lips, I pointed to the pan. “Don’t burn your potatoes.”

  Scraping furiously, he flipped the slices before cracking and dropping two eggs on top.

  When his eyes met mine, they shimmered like molten silver. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

  The sizzle of the pan and the loud staccato of jungle bugs filled the room.

  “It’s fine.”

  Adding salt and pepper, he scrambled the eggs. “I was in love…or I thought I was in love a few years ago.”

  “What happened?”

  “It wasn’t meant to be. We lived together for four years. I traveled to Ukraine for the family business, and when I came home, her things were gone. There was a note.”

  “Did she explain why she left?”

  He nodded. “She didn’t understand my family, my Clan. I think she thought we were mafia or something. That… and she just didn’t ‘feel it’ anymore.”

  “Wow. That sucks.”

&n
bsp; He scooped the egg and potato mixture onto a plate, “You sure you don’t want any?”

  I shook my head. “It’s hard to mix moroi ways with a human. Humans just don’t understand.”

  “It’s the moroi I struggle with,” he said, giving me a sideways glance.

  “Has your clan made several new members in the past few decades?”

  He nodded. “We have permission from the Global Council.”

  I nodded, pursing my lips. “The Butcher, Amy, was always ranting about both the human and moroi populations growing too large.”

  Alexei’s mouth twisted, “My father says that he’s never been worried about getting sick or being killed until she came along.” His eyes bore into me, in that unnerving manner he had. “You know he blames you for letting her go…Well not you specifically, but your Clan, Chronos, Aurev.” He said each word between chews.

  “Yeah, I don’t fault him. I blame myself for Amy’s escape.” That heavy burden of guilt weighed down on me. “I set up her living quarters. I underestimated her.” Shaking my head, I wasn’t going to make excuses.

  When Alexei’s warm fingers skimmed over my shoulder and down my arm, I looked up again. “No,” He said, “You weren’t alone. Where was your head of security? Who agreed to this location?” He held my hand in his. “You’re an attorney…”

  I cut him off, “I’m not even that anymore. I’m starting fresh, I’ll have to reapply to schools and get a new degree.”

  “You know what I mean. I know Karsten, he should’ve been more diligent. He should’ve known better.”

  I shrugged.

  “But he was distracted, in love.” He released my hand. “You see? Love is foolish.”

  I laughed, “I can’t tell if you’re kidding or being serious.”

  A smirk curved the corner of his lips, he said, “I’m dead serious. It’s nothing but trouble.”

  As we stood in the kitchen with the symphony of the jungle around us, my heart, and my stomach, dropped.

  The Russian had set down his fork, gaze darting between my mouth and eyes. Flushed from the heat and maybe a bit of arousal, he licked his lips.

  I stepped back, my hand hitting the empty juice cup and knocking it over, breaking the spell.

  “You should get back to sleep,” I told him.

  “I can’t sleep. I’m sure Maria and Roman will come back soon.”

  Shaking my head imperceptibly, I wondered if this was just wishful thinking. “I hope so.”

  Raising one eyebrow, he whispered, “They’ll be back soon.”

  Patient hunger filled his expression. He’d made his desire clear to me, but was it what I wanted? Alexei, although rugged and attractive in an Indiana Jones, Jack from Romancing the Stone way, was still a complete stranger to me.

  Claiming to be the child of moroi?

  Russian. Russian mafia?

  None of what I knew of him made sense. He was either a compelling liar or a zebra amongst horses. Until I figured that out, I needed to keep my distance.

  There was one thing he was right about though. Karsten should’ve known not to keep Amy in that office building, but he was either distracted by Sarah or swayed by her relationship with the girl. I doubted I’d find the answers to that, but it was a relief to ease that heavy burden of what the Butcher had done since escaping from Chronos.

  Laying under the mosquito net, I began going over everything I’d experienced since I’d stepped off that plane in Iquitos. There were a few things I was sure of:

  1. Moroi had killed Viktor and taken Rodrigo, the lodge’s owner.

  2. Amy hadn’t been to the camp.

  3. More people were going to die unless I did something.

  An idea had been circling my brain, a plan to put a stop to all the killing and all this death. A plan that if it worked, would make the Butcher, Amy, come to us. However, the thought of what I needed to do turned my stomach. As an attorney, I’ve been called a liar, scammer and cheat. These words never hurt me until now because now they would be true.

  But I had always been the one to do the hard thing.

  The right thing.

  The hard thing.

  Chapter Seven

  We’d each taken turns through the night watching over the camp. Alexei sat in one of the hand-hewn chairs in front of our little cabin, and I in the hammock. Brave or stupid, the Russian didn’t even have a gun, only a machete that he sat sharpening. When he nodded off around two in the morning, I pushed on his back with my foot until he stood and stumbled inside to his bed.

  Listening to the cacophony of jungle sounds around me, a prickle of fear danced up my back. I picked up the large knife and held it in my hands as I scanned the courtyard and listened for anything out of the ordinary. After several minutes and nothing happened, I relaxed and sat back in my hammock, machete in hand.

  When the sun began to brighten the sky, I heard Alexei wake with a start. Turning, I peered into the window, where he stretched. His back muscles rippled up through his raised arms under his pale skin. A tattoo of Russian words and symbols ran across his body. What did it say?

  As he turned around, our gazes met, his lips were drawn and eyes bloodshot.

  “Any sign of them? Anyone pass nearby?”

  I shook my head, “No.” I hesitated, “No Maria, no Roman. I’ve been thinking, this could be the work of another clan. Someone going after the bounty might want to get rid of the competition.” I tilted my head, “One of the scent trails seems familiar, but I can’t place it.”

  “Who does it belong to? Someone you know?”

  I gripped the railing to stop my hammock from swaying slightly. “No. It’s someone who I’ve run across. Chronos holds people all the time in our detention center for the Global Council. We’re their designated liaison in the States.”

  Pulling a tee-shirt over his beautiful chest, he grunted in reply.

  Shaking my head, I released the railing.

  Viktor’s death hung over Alexei like a raincloud, but I wished he wouldn’t take it out on me.

  “Are you suspicious of everyone, or just because I’m moroi?”

  “I’m a human in a moroi world—what do you think?”

  The door creaked, then slammed closed as he strode through the courtyard, through the entry, and into the kitchen.

  Wow! This had been a different morning than I’d expected. What about some spicy banter when he caught me looking at him? Or steamy exchanges?

  Great. Sighing, I eyed the wood underside of the roof above while thinking about the chemistry between the bounty hunter and me. My mind began analyzing how a relationship with someone like Alexei could work. But what caught me off guard was the lying. Either he was very good at deception, or he actually believed his birth father was a moroi.

  Moroi couldn’t have children. If we could have children, I’d have heard of it by now. I’d lived and worked in my Clan for almost a hundred years.

  We have roughly five-hundred-thousand moroi in the city alone, not to mention all the outlying areas. I worked with two others at Chronos as an in-house attorney, alongside two detectives. We were the fixers of the clan. We created, substantiated and supplied the entire group with new IDs every twenty-five years. Not all at once, but on a staggered basis. I knew every clan member by name, not once had I heard of such nonsense—a moroi and human child—pfft!

  Not possible. Ridiculous…but Alexei seemed so sure, so honest about it.

  Glancing at my phone, I groaned. No service here in the middle of the fricking jungle.

  The smell of something cooking made my stomach growl. Making my way to the dining room, I caught a conversation between Alexei and Evy.

  “I cook! You—you no cook!” Her English was actually impressive.

  “I am cooking blinchiki, like pancake... No, wait! Let me!”

  Hurrying through the kitchen door, with a smile I tried unsuccessfully to hide, I took a position between the two. They continued to argue at each other in Spanish and Russian until
I addressed the young woman in Spanish.

  “Good morning!” The smile growing on my lips, “Is he bothering you? Would you like me to translate and tell him to go away?”

  She examined me cautiously. “Thank God! Yes. Tell him to leave! He’s made a mess! He got grease all over the place! He’s never cooked in my kitchen before, why is he cooking now?” She continued on, in her rapid dialect that I struggled to understand. I raised my hand to her to stop so that I could think.

  Turning to the exasperated bounty hunter, I translated what she said. The errant corner of my mouth twitching to laugh. This was such an absurd situation.

  “Fine. I’m leaving.” Alexei threw his hands up and ducked his head under the low doorway on his way out.

  Whirling back to the cook, she started in on me again. “Where is Viktor, where is Maria? Roman? Where is Rodrigo? Why is it so quiet here?”

  Licking my lips, I sucked in a deep breath. “No one was here when we arrived yesterday—except you,” I told her, my hands braced on the doorway.

  Evy shook her head and crossed herself. “I don’t like this. That wild dog was a bad omen.” Laying out some slices of ham in a pan, she clicked her tongue. “After this, I’m leaving and not coming back until I see Rodrigo.” Her sparkling dark eyes locked with mine. “You tell him that.”

  I groaned inwardly and headed out to find the Russian. What kind of mess had I walked into?

  “Alexei?” I called out, then spotted him doing pushups on the porch of our cabin.

  He glanced my way while continuing to exercise and count in Russian. The image warmed my insides and quickened my breath.

  I stopped a few feet away, unable to rip my eyes from his bulging arm muscles and nice rear end. After a moment of watching, he gracefully leaped to his feet.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that? Evy’s crazy. I didn’t think she would come back after yesterday. I thought you compelled her,” he told me while wiping his palms on his pants.

  “I compelled her to think a wild dog ran through the place, not to leave.” Beads of sweat had formed on the bounty hunter’s hairline from the heat, humidity, and exercise. “What do we do about Rodrigo? Evy said that she isn’t coming back until she speaks with him.”