A Taste of Crimson

by Marjorie M. Liu

  Or at least, most of them did. Keeli thought about Michael’s apartment, the simple way he lived. Like a poor man. A man used to poverty. Working class, even.

  She touched her lips, remembering the taste of him.

  Dangerous, a voice whispered inside her mind. You’re walking the edge now.

  Walking it, crossing it, diving headfirst over it. She didn’t know what the hell she was doing.

  On the way out, she passed some lycanthropy meds. Crank stuff if it was over-the-counter, but she looked anyway. None of the assorted pills and injections promised to vaccinate—most of it was just treatment of symptoms. Live Like a Normal Human! promised the brand Anti-Ly. Your Friends Will Never Know.

  Yeah. Easier said than done. Infecting a human with lycanthropy—whether on purpose or by accident—was a major crime. Entire clans got punished—both with fines and by losing one of their own, usually permanently, to the legal system. And then there was the victim to deal with, who almost never wanted to leave behind his human life for the underground. It was worse if there were family involved. Kids just didn’t understand why daddy or mommy had to make all those changes in their lives—or why suddenly a parent went missing, without explanation.

  “Daddy had to go away,” a mother might say, bundling her kids off to live in another state. “Daddy loves you, but he’s different now.”

  Daddy can’t be here. Daddy’s a werewolf. Daddy might eat you for his supper.

  Daddy, Keeli thought sadly. Daddy, what happened?

  Keeli walked away from the lycanthropy meds, from the illusion of control. Control could not be bottled. Control could not be sold. Control over the wolf had to be earned, and then—maybe—you could live topside permanently. It just took time. Sacrifice.

  The wolf cannot be pushed aside. It must come out.

  Keeli shivered. She still tasted rage, bittersweet power, lovely and furious. So easy, to become trapped in that satisfaction. Too easy.

  It’s in your blood. Mad dog. Berserker. Red would be your favorite color if the others had their way. When the wolf is on you, it’s the only color they think you see.

  Yeah. That was the simple taunt, the most common joke. People had been telling that one for so long, it wasn’t even funny to them anymore. And now what would they say, now that she was working for the Man, and her partner was a vampire? A vampire who was the best damn kisser she’d ever met.

  And you still don’t think your life has unraveled? That’s a good one.

  Keeli paid for the sunscreen. As the clerk dug around the cash register for her change, she glanced down at a pile of local newspapers stacked on the floor. Her gaze was instantly drawn to the small indie paper, Howl, written exclusively for and by werewolves in the city community. On the cover, inserted just below the main headline (alerting the werewolf community to the ongoing political debates about the new FDA-required employee blood tests), she read:

  THE LAST SCION OF MADDOX IN JAIL—AND MAKING DEALS WITH THE POLICE? By Brian O’Dell

  Face it, my friendly furries, there’s a double standard around the town. We all know it. There isn’t a one of us who hasn’t been sniffed, prodded, or collared by the Man. But hey, at least it was an equal opportunity screw-down—no celebrity treatment for us wolves, right?

  Wrong. Just last night, Keeli Maddox—the mysterious granddaughter of Crimson City’s Grand Dame Alpha, and the sole survivor of a vicious attack that destroyed most of that infamous bloodline—was arrested for baring fang to a human. Sources verify our hotheaded Miss Maddox attacked a human man in direct response to an attempted rape. Go, girl!

  That’s where the story should end, right? That’s where it ended for all the other wolves languishing in jail. Not so for Miss Maddox! She only spent one night in a holding cell, and then was released to her clan bright and early this morning. Oh, the shame! Was Miss Maddox the recipient of preferential treatment because of her relationship with the Grand Dame Alpha? Would our esteemed leader stoop so low?

  Maybe. Little is known about Keeli Maddox, except that she has spent most of her life on the fringe of the werewolf community. Her own people have called her troubled, a reputation no doubt fostered by her family’s history of violent behavior. …

  The article went on, but Keeli stopped reading. She wanted to puke. It was highly unusual for the gossip rags to tackle her grandmother—the wolves usually had more respect, as well as a good dose of fear—but Keeli, it seemed, was fair game. And she was dragging her grandmother’s good name in the mud.

  Shit. It figures. Brian did see something in that file on Jenkins’s desk.

  But come on. The article practically accused the Grand Dame Alpha of violating clan trust to pull strings for her granddaughter. Keeli had expected her own reputation to go to hell for her actions, but not her grandmother’s. The only thing she was grateful for was that Brian didn’t seem to know about her participation in the ongoing police investigation, or her partnership with the vampire. The last thing she needed was to be called a fang-banger.

  Keeli’s cheeks flushed. Dammit. Maybe she already was a fang-banger. Just … without the banging.

  She waved the newspaper at the clerk. “When did this come in?”

  He shrugged. “About an hour ago.”

  Shoot me now.

  Keeli paid for the paper and left the drugstore. The little punks were gone. Jas stood in their place. Bastard had tracked her. Perfect.

  “I do not need this right now,” she said, blowing past him.

  “Too bad,” he growled. “I want to know what the hell is going on with you and that fang.”

  “None of your business.” Keeli marched down the street, pink hair blowing back wild from her face. People took one good look and got out of her way. She wanted to laugh. If she looked how she felt—and she probably did—then even Keeli would be making room for her on the sidewalk. Scary.

  Jas caught up with her, grabbed her arm, swung her around. “Tell me, Keeli. What does that fang have on you?”

  “What does he have on me?” Keeli threw up her hands. “You think I’ve done something worthy of blackmail? That I could be blackmailed? Thanks a lot, you jerk.”

  “Then why—” Jas stopped, abrupt. His nostrils flared. He made a strange choking sound. “You smell like him. Keeli, your breath—”

  Keeli’s hand flew up to her mouth.

  “You kissed him,” Jas hissed, leaning close. His hand, clamped around Keeli’s arm, squeezed so hard she fought not to cry out.

  “You’re hurting me,” she said.

  He looked as though he did not care, but his grip loosened and he stood back from her. The distance did not help. His body shook, the threat of violence washing over her senses; his scent, his eyes, the wolf hair pushing through his skin. All of him, screaming.

  “Are you his whore?” he whispered. His hand twitched. Keeli wanted to hit him. Instead, she bared her neck, twisting to show him her unblemished skin.

  “Satisfied?” Keeli leaned close. Her canines brushed her bottom lip. “You ever talk like that to me again, Jas Mack, and I will slap you down so hard they’ll be picking you up ten years from now.”

  Hurt flickered in his eyes, disappearing with a blink, a breath. “How could you do this, Keeli? I thought I knew you.”

  “Don’t give me that, Jas. You know me just fine. Don’t treat me like a criminal just because of the people I spend time with.”

  “They are criminals. Animals. How could you treat the vampires as anything else, especially after Emily—”

  “I’m sorry for that,” Keeli interrupted gently. “You know I am, Jas. But Michael isn’t—”

  “Stop. Don’t you dare.” His voice broke. The scar on his face stood out in sharp relief against his red face. He breathed, “Why?”

  And Keeli said, “I don’t know.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Keeli showed Jas the newspaper as they walked down the gritty sidewalk toward home. He read the article, grunted, and tossed it back at
her.

  “I don’t feel sorry for you.”

  “Thanks a lot. But that’s not why I showed it to you. This could get Granny May in trouble.”

  Jas raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I care? I’m close to challenge, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  Keeli narrowed her eyes. “I’ve known you since you were nothing more than a scrawny pimple-faced pup on Rollerblades, trying to impress the girls. You gave me piggyback rides on those skates, if I remember correctly. You’ve never been cruel until now. You’ve never shown my grandmother the kind of disrespect I saw today. You love her. Or at least, I thought you did. What happened?”

  “You already know,” he said. “I think you’re sleeping with one of my reasons.”

  “Screw you,” she said. “Tell me the truth.”

  “I am. It’s disgusting, these negotiations. Helping the vampires? We should let the humans take them out if they can. Save us the trouble.”

  “And then what?” Keeli stopped walking, craning her neck to look him in the eyes. “You know once they’re through with the vampires, they’ll come after us. Probably won’t even be any public opposition. At least the vampires have money and groupies on their side. We’ve got nothing but dirt, fur, and fang. We need this, Jas. Just as much as the vampires do. Maybe more. Shit. Even the ACLU backs off werewolf issues.”

  “I’ve heard of this Michael,” Jas said, moving past Keeli. “If you think sleeping with the vampires will help your grandmother get a good deal, then you’re banging the wrong fang.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “Keep talking. The irony is killing me.”

  She jogged to catch up with him. “You didn’t used to be like this, Jas,” she repeated.

  “That was before Emily.”

  Keeli looked away. “I heard there was some news about her, but I didn’t have time to stop by.”

  “We’re expecting our first child in May.”

  Her breath caught. “That’s wonderful, Jas.”

  “Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard. “But this vampire thing has gotten Emily really upset. I can’t stand to see her this way, Keeli. Not after everything she’s been through. I’m … I’m worried she’s going to lose the baby.”

  “Maybe I could talk to her.”

  “You stay away. She doesn’t know about your vampire yet. I don’t want her to know. Emily still likes you. I want that to last as long as possible.”

  Hurt blossomed in Keeli’s chest, along with new clarity, an agonizing understanding of the truth.

  “You’re doing this for her,” she said. “All of it. You would kill the Grand Dame Alpha just to see the negotiations fail. You would kill the vampires too, if you could. To make Emily feel safe.”

  “Wouldn’t you do the same,” he said quietly, “if it were the person you loved?”

  “I don’t know what I’d do,” she said, “but this isn’t right, Jas. What you’re stirring up with Granny May. The way you act toward me.”

  “And your vampire? How should I act toward him?”

  Keeli sighed, gazing up at the sky, silver with smog. “He’s not my vampire. And even I don’t know how to act toward him. What I do know is that he isn’t like the others. Or at least, he’s different than what I expected.”

  “Different enough that you’re kissing him? That’s some difference, Keeli. How long have you known him?”

  “Last night was the first time I ever laid eyes on him.”

  Jas looked stunned. “It took three weeks of dating before you kissed me.”

  Keeli just looked at him, and Jas shook his head. “You think a vampire is more attractive than a werewolf. Shit, Keeli.”

  “You started this.”

  “No. You did. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Right back at you. Please, Jas. Don’t challenge Granny May. Not over this.”

  “Will you stop kissing that vamp? Will you stop investigating our people for the murder of a vampire?”

  Keeli remembered the feel of Michael’s body pressed hard against her own. The liquid warmth of his dark eyes, the touch of his mouth. His courage, his comfort. So new, so dangerous. She thought of her promises.

  Deeper and deeper.

  Jas shook his head at her silence, lips pressed into a tight white line. “Okay, then. But if you run apart—”

  “Don’t you dare finish that,” Keeli said.

  “—you stay apart.”

  They reached the entrance to the tunnels, a steel grate door set in the ground at the end of an alley. It was placed behind a used bookstore, Share, a familiar haunt that tugged at Keeli’s heart as soon as she set eyes on its weather-beaten back door. She had spent wonderful hours in that place, hidden in the embrace of old dusty books.

  That had been another time, another place. Perhaps, even, another person.

  Jas lifted up the grate and held it open for her. She landed light on her feet in the tunnel below. The scent of damp concrete tickled her nose. Luckily, there were no other scents. Several times a week, cleaning crews from the clan went through the exposed portions of the tunnels to pick up trash or hose down the floor with bleach and water to erase the scent of human piss. It was amazing how often humans liked to use an open grate as a toilet.

  “Don’t let the others smell your breath,” Jas said, as they walked down the tunnel into darkness.

  “I didn’t think you cared.” When he remained silent, she sighed. “I don’t see how it matters, Jas. Their reactions can’t be any worse than yours.”

  “They can be worse, Keeli. Just … don’t.”

  She almost argued with him, but they reached the main break and took a left toward the core. There were more wolves here. Jas kept his body between them and Keeli; he refused to stop even when hands went up in greeting. More werewolves seemed to be happy to see her than not, although Keeli didn’t miss several hard stares, nor could she ignore the whispers that rose behind her like a cloud of mosquitoes, out for blood.

  Uneasiness filled her. Just how bad would their reactions be if they knew what she was doing with Michael, how deeply he was sinking into her life? Would they learn to accept her, or would it be too much? Did she face exile?

  Do you even have to ask? You know how unforgiving wolves can be. How deep the anger runs.

  Yes. She knew.

  “Do you know if it’s a boy or girl?” Keeli said, unable to stand the thoughts in her head, desperate for distraction.

  “It’s too early,” Jas said, “but we’re calling it a girl to make things easier. We’re still trying to decide on names.”

  “Do you know if she’ll be full wolf or mix?”

  Jas shook his head. Keeli would have asked more, but shouts rang out, echoing off the tunnel walls. She and Jas broke into a run, bursting around a curve in the corridor just in time to see a tall blond woman take a swing at a very familiar vampire. Several werewolves surrounded them, cheering.

  “Not again,” muttered Keeli, lunging forward. Jas caught the back of her shirt, yanking hard.

  “Remember what we talked about.” He tapped his lips. “I’ll take of this. Get that vampire out of here until things calm down.”

  “Thanks,” she said, but Jas gave her a hard look.

  “I’m not doing this for you, Keeli. Don’t forget that. As long as you’re with him, you’re nothing better than a whore.”

  Keeli was the kind of girl who made good on her threats, but she was still taken off guard, and could do nothing more than swing away from him, stung. She turned her face so Jas would not see her reaction, and met Michael’s gaze. That was enough to make her forget the pain for one precious instant. He watched her, even while dodging another blow to his healing face.

  The remnants of that wound made her remember his voice, his words: “I’m a firm believer in the beauty of symmetry.” A strange memory.

  “Symmetry,” she whispered, still hearing his voice inside her head. The property of being the same on both sides of a
central dividing line—in this case, the line dividing their two races.

  But we’re not the same, she thought, forgetting Jas’s advice and heading toward Michael. And that’s one big mofo of a line.

  Jas reached Michael, stepping between the vampire and the woman attacking him. When she turned, Keeli recognized her and quietly groaned.

  “Estella,” Jas said. “Back off.”

  Estella’s lips pulled back in a snarl, which did nothing to ruin the perfection of her face. “I don’t care what the Grand Dame wants, Jas. I won’t be questioned by this … this thing. He accused me of murdering a vampire!”

  “I did no such thing.” Michael’s voice was low, hard. “I simply wanted to know where you were last night and what you were doing.”

  “Knitting,” the blonde drawled, then glanced over Jas’s shoulder at Keeli. “Oh, you. Your company leaves something to be desired, Keeli.”

  “Take him and get out of here,” Jas ordered, turning his head to look Keeli in the eye. “Do it.”

  “Say please,” she snapped.

  “You wouldn’t like it if I did.” Jas glanced at Michael. “Wrong place, wrong time, fang. Get out now while the going is good.”

  “Fine. But I will need to question Estella later. You, as well.”

  A muscle twitched in Jas’s face. Michael stepped close. In a quiet voice he added, “We also have much to discuss about your habit of name-calling.” His gaze flickered sideways to Keeli, who blinked, startled.

  The two men stared at each other and Keeli wanted to say No, stop, not now—and perhaps they heard her. Or perhaps their own minds were thinking the same, though the rigid line of Jas’s spine and the darkness in Michael’s cool eyes said they were ready. But after a tense moment they stepped apart. Keeli released her breath, noticing the other werewolves, even Estella, quietly sighing too.

  Michael moved away from Estella, slow and unafraid. As though he was doing her a favor. He stood near Keeli. She smelled peppermint. Antiseptic. Mouthwash.

  “Later,” Jas said. Michael nodded, and then he and Keeli walked away down the long corridor, from the wolves staring holes into their backs.