A Taste of Crimson

by Marjorie M. Liu

  Michael stared at the spit clinging to his boot. “I’ve had worse reactions, usually from vampires. At least our two peoples can agree on something. There’s hope for us all.”

  The cart’s last stop was at the entrance to the Maddox tunnels. The giant gears set in the wall in front of them groaned to a halt. Keeli and Michael jumped off. There weren’t many other wolves around—while the Maddox clan suffered from the same economic downturn, the Grand Dame had found jobs within clan territory for many of the men. Construction, mostly, on a pay scale that wasn’t quite as high as topside work, but that still paid enough money to keep a family going. No one paid rent in the underground, but there were still utilities to chip in for, as well as food.

  “Are all clan territories maintained like Maddox?” Michael asked, studying the brightly painted cement corridors, which were also decorated with the occasional large painting. Interspersed between them were framed drawings by the clan’s children; there had been a school art fair only two weeks before.

  “As much as they can afford to be,” Keeli said. “We’re large, so we draw in more money from topside than the other clans. We also have more connections because of the Grand Dame Alpha.”

  Michael paused to study a crayoned interpretation of a werewolf transformation. Jagged black spikes stuck out from the contorted stick figure, which had two very long fangs hanging down to its chest.

  “That’s hair,” Keeli said, pointing at the spikes.

  “Yes.” Michael smiled. “I can see that.”

  Two clan members walked past Keeli and Michael; they stared at Michael with hostility, but at Keeli, their gazes turned confused. She realized at the very last moment what it must look like: heads bent together, shoulders brushing. Smiling.

  Keeli met their eyes, daring them to say anything. They did not. Michael watched them leave. He said, “Perhaps we should not stand so close together.”

  Keeli sucked in her breath. “Standing’s not a crime.”

  His eyes flashed; hard, dark. “Your reputation—”

  “Is not your concern. Just let it go.”

  Michael’s jaw flexed. “Fine, then.”

  Keeli said nothing else. She led him down a network of winding corridors that alternated between stark gray walls and bursts of vibrant color. They passed large arches that led into comfortable common rooms. Keeli smelled popcorn. Teenagers slouched on battered couches reading comic books. An old television played in the background.

  Past the common rooms were the residential areas. Every fifteen feet they passed heavy steel doors. Rectangular spy slots were centered at eye level in each door. Below them, numbers.

  “Homes,” Keeli explained. They took a left and the corridor widened. “And this is the Alpha core.”

  She swallowed hard as they approached her grandmother’s rooms. There was no way to predict the Grand Dame’s reaction to Keeli bringing home a vampire. The chances of it being a warm welcome were severely limited.

  Her grandmother, however, was not home. Keeli used her spare key to open the door and led Michael inside. He made a small noise when he saw the sitting room, and Keeli smiled to herself. It was a beautiful place, the lush decorations rich with Victorian and Asian influences. Music played softly; an opera. Aida, maybe.

  Keeli poked her head into her grandmother’s darkened bedroom, calling out her name. It was empty, but she couldn’t imagine the old woman would be gone for long. A hot teapot sat on her rosewood desk, along with a large pile of paperwork. Keeli glanced at the top sheet; it was a note from First Union & Trust, the largest bank in Crimson City.

  Keeli’s eyes widened. A fifty-thousand-dollar deposit had been made just that morning into the clan’s trust account. No mention of the source, but Keeli couldn’t imagine any of the wolves in Crimson City having fifty thousand dollars worth of change to plunk down for the clans.

  “What is it?” Michael asked. He stood a polite distance away, not close enough to read over her shoulder.

  “It’s nothing,” Keeli said, setting down the note in the exact same position she had found it.

  Nothing normal, anyway. Maybe we’ve got a rich benefactor. It was Crimson City, after all, home of celebrities, movie moguls, and loaded plastic surgeons. Might be that someone with money to burn had a thing for wolves.

  The gas fireplace had been left on. Keeli crouched before the flames, soaking up the gentle heat. After a moment, Michael sat beside her, his gaze still roving over the room. She felt his attention settle on her, but it was difficult to look at him, so she pretended to be engrossed by the fire.

  “Your Grand Dame has excellent taste.”

  That made Keeli smile. “This is her sanctuary. She has many demands on her time, but this place makes her feel safe. Strong. She does most of her work from these rooms. I believe she’s even holding the negotiations here.”

  “She trusts you,” Michael said. “You have a key.”

  “Oh … well, yeah.” Keeli wondered if she should tell him exactly who she was in relation to the Grand Dame. Michael ran his fingers through the thick rug covering the wood floor; she watched his hand, burnished gold in the firelight.

  “About the murders,” Michael said. “Do you think the Grand Dame will help us?”

  “Yes,” Keeli said, her gaze traveling up his wrist, his arm, to the hollow of his throat. She did this fast, hoping he would not notice, but when she looked into his eyes she found a quiet hunger that made her think he had noticed. Her cheeks warmed.

  “Yes,” she said again, proud of her steady voice. “The Grand Dame has no love for the police, but she does know how these murders have upset the balance between vampires and werewolves. If there isn’t even an attempt to solve them, we can’t expect any good faith between our two peoples. Not enough, anyway, to build an alliance on.”

  Keeli’s words, not her grandmother’s. She suspected the old woman did not give a rat’s ass that some vampires were dead, but if it meant keeping the clans safe, she would pretend to care even if it killed her. That was something Keeli could count on, and the only reason she had taken the chance to bring Michael here without first asking permission.

  “And there hasn’t been any hint, not one rumor, about who could be doing this?”

  Keeli frowned. “You’re assuming it is a werewolf, and not just someone trying to frame us.”

  “True, but before the bodies turned to ash, the cause of death appeared to be consistent with an animal attack.”

  “You’re assuming a lot, Michael.”

  “I’m not assuming anything, but the only evidence we have suggests a werewolf, so I am asking about werewolves.”

  “Fine. And the answer is no. No rumors, no nothing. The Grand Dame has had the Alphas questioning their people ever since the first death. It’s bad business having a werewolf go feral, especially in this city. All of us get blamed. We’re just lucky that it wasn’t a human who died. No offense.”

  “None taken. I remember the last roundup.”

  The last time a werewolf went on a rampage. Keeli ground her teeth. “The police grabbed every registered werewolf, including the Grand Dame, and imprisoned them. All the unregistered wolves had to hide out in the subtunnels, or topside in abandoned buildings. We had to live like that for three months until they found the murderer. He wasn’t even a member of any clan. Just an exile from another city. The city never apologized. They called it an unfortunate incident.”

  “Where were you?” His voice was low, almost as quiet as the flames.

  “In the subtunnels for a while, and then on the street. I was seventeen at the time, so it wasn’t so bad. I was old enough to take care of myself. But there were entire families put out, and that was bad. Especially during the full moon. We took to chaining ourselves in bolt-holes, or in sewer drains. Anyplace where we wouldn’t be seen or heard.”

  “I did not know the transformation was involuntary.”

  “Only when the moon is full. It’s the price we pay, our bargain with the
wolf. One night a month the beast gets to play, and we can’t interfere, just prepare. It’s hell on the ones with jobs topside.”

  Michael looked thoughtful. “The next time could be worse, Keeli. If this trend continues, the humans won’t need an excuse.”

  “I know.” Keeli wrapped her arms around her knees. “It frightens me. All this crazy stuff happening—not just to us, but the vampires. Sometimes it feels like everyone hates us.”

  Michael stared into the fire. “I have seen terrible things done in the name of fear and ignorance. It seems to be part of the human condition.”

  “Not just humans.” Her throat ached.

  They sat awhile longer, quiet and still. The silence felt good. After a time, though, Keeli found herself blinking hard, struggling to keep her eyes open.

  You didn’t sleep last night. You’ve been running on adrenaline.

  She swayed and her arm brushed Michael’s sleeve. He said, “You’re tired. You should rest.”

  “I can’t,” she said, but her eyes drifted shut and her head felt impossibly heavy. “This is ridiculous.”

  She fought, pinching her cheeks, digging fingernails into her palm, but she was just too tired, and here in her grandmother’s rooms she felt safe. Even with a vampire at her side, she felt safe.

  Michael said something, but Keeli could not keep her eyes open against the firelight, the world so heavy on her body, and she sank and sank until the last things she felt were gentle hands on her wrists, holding her upright. …

  The next time she opened her eyes, she thought of wrists. She thought of Michael, too, because he still held her—cradling her entire body snug against his own—and it felt so good. Too good.

  Keeli snapped to full consciousness and began struggling against Michael’s hands. For a moment she froze inside his dark gaze; there was a story there, a new history only they shared.

  And then she sensed movement, a shadow, and a dry voice said, “Well. Now this is interesting.”

  Both Michael and Keeli looked up.

  The Grand Dame Alpha did not smile.

  Chapter Eight

  “Hello,” said Michael, as he untangled himself. The cuts on his face throbbed almost as badly as his tattoo, though the pain was nothing to his embarrassment at being caught holding Keeli.

  “Hello,” echoed the Grand Dame Alpha, an odd look on her face as she watched Keeli struggle to sit up. Concern, shock, affection—Michael could not tell which was the strongest emotion on the woman’s face. He was not even sure he cared. Keeli felt warm in his arms; despite the situation, it was a struggle not to keep her close, to savor her fierce heat. But that would be wrong—maybe—and they had a witness who would most certainly not approve.

  Control is good. You need that. Keeli can’t be allowed to suffer any sort of condemnation merely because you want to touch her.

  The problem was that Michael wanted to do more than just touch Keeli. A lot more. That cheap release in the shower might as well have been a breath of air for all the good it did him. The moment he left the bathroom and found Keeli waiting for him by the window, the low hard ache had begun again, curling tight, making his fingers itch for her body.

  And it was wrong. So very wrong. Especially when her grandmother was standing right there, giving him a hard look—peculiar, knowing—that made him wonder if she was a mind reader, too.

  You are in trouble. Yes, and not just because of the Grand Dame. Keeli deserved better. She deserved more than Michael could ever dream of giving her, and after everything he had seen and heard, he knew he could do nothing less than preserve what she had. Keep her as safe as possible against all the terrible voices that would condemn her for even associating with him.

  You should walk away now. Tell Jenkins to attach a human to the case. Give it all up and leave the city.

  But as Keeli shifted against his body, he knew he would not. That despite all his silent promises, he did not have the strength to do the one thing that would keep her truly safe. He could not leave her.

  Keeli defended me against her own people. A vampire. And for what? I never gave her any guarantees. She does not even know me.

  All she had was the strength of her convictions, her own moral code of right and wrong. Michael had never met anyone is his life with that much honor. For the first time, someone cared if he lived or died. Someone … cared. It did not bother him if it was superficial or temporary.

  Michael forced himself to meet the Grand Dame’s gaze. It was harder to do than he imagined. There was power sleeping beneath her skin, a translucent energy masked in elegance. Vampires had all their years to accumulate knowledge, strength of character, and none could compare to the aged woman who stood above him with her keen eyes and lilting voice. Oh, what a boon if she had been an immortal. Oh, the danger.

  Keeli looked dazed, flushed, her pink hair smashed flat. There was a very large tear in her striped stockings. Michael held out his hand—instinctual, unplanned—and a thrill of shock ran through his body when Keeli took it. From the look on her face, he was quite sure she didn’t realize what she had done. But Michael saw the Grand Dame’s eyes, sharp as dagger points, and he suddenly feared for Keeli, for what trouble might come of such a simple act. He helped pull her up, and then immediately let go.

  “Would you like to explain this?” said the Grand Dame, and for a moment Michael thought she meant the brief contact of hands. But then she added, “My guests, especially vampires, usually announce themselves before entering my home. And why”—she fixed Michael with a pointed stare—“are you still concerning yourself with my granddaughter?”

  Ah. He had suspected this—here, finally, confirmation of their relationship. But the tone of her voice was a clear warning: Stay away from her. Stay far away.

  “You know each other?” Keeli stared at them both. She looked terrible, worn to the bone. Michael felt an urgent desire to find her a quiet place to curl up and sleep, to stand above and protect her precious rest.

  The Grand Dame tilted her head, cool. “This vampire came to us last night with news of your arrest. He is the reason Jas was at the police station this morning, with money for your fine.”

  “But I thought …” Keeli looked at her grandmother, and then Michael, an expression of bewilderment passing over her face. “I guess I don’t know what I thought. But someone should have told me.”

  “You didn’t give Jas a chance, or so I heard.” The Grand Dame turned away and walked to the small rosewood desk, delicately carved with birds. There were papers and folders stacked in neat piles on its polished surface; a teacup perched close to the table’s edge. The Grand Dame poured hot water into the cup.

  A thick Persian carpet cushioned Michael’s feet, the intricate designs easy to appreciate in the golden glow of antique lamps scattered throughout the room. The air was kept warm by the fire burning inside the deep fireplace. Just within the ring of flickering light sat two thick chairs, green as peas, with faded red pillows. Beyond them, to the right, an open door led to another room, where Michael glimpsed a carefully made bed. Books were everywhere.

  Michael had always thought that werewolves were opposed to the aesthetic life, that they viewed luxury, and those who appreciated it, as weak and contemptible.

  So much to learn, it seemed.

  The Grand Dame sat down at her desk, and cradled her teacup in her palms.

  “I would ask you to leave me with my granddaughter,” she said to Michael, “but I don’t dare let you loose in our tunnels without an escort. And right now, I don’t wish to explain to my people how—or why—a vampire is in my quarters.”

  “Granny May,” Keeli began, but stopped when the Grand Dame flashed her a hard look. A shocking thing—even Michael, with all his years and memories, felt a thrill of fear. He swayed toward Keeli, and forced himself still.

  You are a guest here, and an unwelcome one at that. You are not hunter or executioner. Do not bring any attention to yourself.

  The Grand Dame said, �
��You almost killed someone last night. A fatal breach of our agreement. You told me you could control the wolf.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Keeli said, low.

  “We will make time,” snapped the Grand Dame. She set down her tea and curled her hands together, knuckles white. “Last night could have turned out so much worse for you. Do you understand that, Keeli? Do you?” She shook her head, mouth pressed into a hard line. “I should never have let you leave. The wolf cannot be pushed aside, not for you or me. It must come out, and if not in a controlled, safe environment, then out on the streets, where people can get hurt.”

  “She saved a woman’s life,” Michael said, when he saw that Keeli wasn’t going to take up for herself. It pained him to see such emptiness in her face, all her vibrancy sucked away into a pale mask.

  The Grand Dame’s eyes glittered in the firelight. “As she should have. But that is not the point, and frankly, it is none of your business.”

  “It might as well be,” Keeli said. Some color returned to her cheeks.

  Stubborn, thought Michael.

  “We’re working together now.” Keeli raised her chin. “With the police. A vampire’s been murdered on Maddox land, and they needed a liaison.”

  The Grand Dame sucked in her breath. “You are working with the police? You are … you are partnered with this … this …”

  “Michael,” he said.

  “Michael,” she ground out. “I thought you said there would be no debt.”

  For a moment, Michael was unsure of her meaning, but then her gaze flickered toward Keeli and he understood.

  “Keeli agreed to this of her own free will. Until late last night, I never even thought I would see her again.” Which came out sounding more plaintive than he intended. He shut his mouth and glanced sideways at Keeli. She frowned at her grandmother.