Red

by Tracey H. Kitts

  "I didn't."

  "Are you trying to tell me that Simon is no longer your lap wolf?"

  "Simon?"

  "Yes, Simon. I'm certain it was him I stabbed through the neck a few weeks ago in my back yard. But then again, you guys all look alike to me."

  "What did you stab him with?"

  "A shepherd's hook,” I said, matter-of-factly. “Now, back to the subject. What's going on?"

  "Your guess is as good as mine. I followed Simon to your house. I arrived just in time to see your big buddy dragging the body through the back door."

  "Why did you follow him? Did you want to watch him kill me?"

  "I told you,” he panted, “It wasn't me."

  "Who was it then, Marco? It's getting late and I'm too tired to play these games.” I felt him stiffen. “What's the matter? Have I hit a nerve? Losing control of your lackeys these days?” I toyed absently with his hair, my eyes never wavering from his.

  "Bade,” he said.

  "Bade Garren? Hmm, you're right hand man.” I caressed the front of his tight leather pants as I said, “I assume he stays busy?"

  He made a noise closer to a bark than a laugh. “I could answer your questions better if you didn't ... torture me like this."

  "Oh, I'm sure you could answer them better, but no doubt less truthfully. I wouldn't want to give you time to think up a suitable lie.” I looked at him then and felt the familiar burning sensation behind my eyes, letting me know they were bleeding to amber. “Don't make me take what I want from you, Marco.” He looked a question at me. I knew then he had no idea of the true extent of my abilities.

  "That's right,” I whispered maliciously, “I can read your mind if I have to.” I didn't bother to elaborate that it was only his emotions I could read. Only if those emotions were strong enough could I get any images from them. He looked terrified as I ran my hands up the sides of his neck, and through his hair, coming to rest on either side of his head.

  "Wait. I'll tell you ... if you'll take my word."

  I let my hands slide back down his neck and shoulders, leaning forward as I did so.

  "I'm listening."

  He gave me the rundown of goings on in the werewolf world. It seems he had been trying to convince his fellow werewolves that I was not their enemy, that their enemy was a government who didn't recognize them as people anymore. “Our rights have been stripped away, for reasons beyond our control,” he continued. “Bade disagrees.” A look of unmistakable disgust passed over his face when he mentioned Bade. “He thinks we're all animals, wants to form packs, like dogs. I'll admit, we're not exactly ‘human’ anymore ... but we are still people."

  I was surprised. “But, what about Simon? I'm pretty sure he had something to do with a group of men who attacked a woman at The Firestarter recently."

  "Yes, I know. And then you killed him."

  "I had no choice...."

  "I was going to offer you my congratulations."

  "Really? What was Simon doing running with a bunch of ordinary humans? They were ordinary humans?"

  "Yeah, they were human, but I don't know how ordinary you'd consider them. They were a bunch of Bade's followers. They take orders from him, in the hopes that he will turn them."

  "Werewolf wannabes?” I couldn't control my look of shock.

  "For lack of a better word, yeah."

  "You've gotta be kidding me? Why would anyone want to do this to themselves deliberately?"

  "I wouldn't deliberately choose what happened to me. But you ... I think you overlook the gift you have."

  "Gift?"

  "Hear me out,” he interrupted. “You have the strength and the heightened senses of the wolf, without being forced to take its form. You're ... super human, even if it was by accident. I think Garren may be trying to somehow replicate what happened to you. You got to keep the power, the beauty, without taking on the beast."

  I laughed bitterly as I slid from Marco's lap, turning my back to him. My fists clinched, nails digging painfully into my palms. I could feel my pulse racing, rage coursed through my veins like a living thing. I growled, a sound that was no longer human, as I snatched off my shirt.

  "No, Marco, I don't have to take on the beast,” I said, my back still turned. "I am the beast,” I roared. I turned to him and revealed not only my scars, but the way my muscles rippled beneath my skin when I flexed. My nails grew into razors that extended from my hands, and my eyes, burned wolf amber. “I can do this at will,” I said, flexing my horrible claws as I held them before his face. “And you call this a gift?” I began to pace in front of his chair.

  "You know, I could never stop monster hunting, BECAUSE I FIND ONE WHEN I WAKE UP EVERY MORNING! You're right, I don't transform with the full moon. This is as scary as it gets, and the only people to have ever seen this much before are dead. This is not a gift, Marco. It's a curse. I don't fit in either world. I'm not one of you, but I'm not one of them either. You think I'm super human, but most of your kind thinks of me as either Death, or an abomination. Everyone else, if they knew ... would think of me as a monster."

  I retracted my claws, picked up my shirt, and took the keys to the cuffs from my pocket. He said nothing while I released him and put the cuffs back in my purse. I turned to leave and before I could blink, he slammed me against the wall, holding me in place with his body.

  "You think I'm going to just let you leave?"

  "Yeah, I do."

  One long claw began to grow from the nail of his index finger as he stroked it gently across my throat. I did not respond. “You know, among my kind as you so colorfully put it, only the very powerful ... the ones who've been wolf the longest can do what you just did. It takes years to learn to control the change. I can change at will now also, but on the full moon, I am forced to change.” He seemed to consider something as he held me there. “Could you really read my mind, or were you just bluffing?"

  "I never bluff."

  "When did that happen? I don't know any werewolves who gained psychic powers when they turned."

  I gave him my most blank uninterested look. “I was born with it."

  He pressed against me enough that I could tell he was happy to be there. When I didn't respond, he retracted his claw and took a step back. I slumped forward without his weight pressing against me. “You're no fun, Red."

  "I've got a lot on my mind,” I replied.

  I left Marco's hotel room without another word. I was surprised to find no werewolf guards as I called a cab downstairs. On the ride back to pick up Kat's SUV, I found myself wondering how much of what Marco said could be believed. Through what powers I had available, I believed he was telling the truth. To have truly let down my guard in order to get the full brunt of what he was feeling would have been a mistake. I lied when I said I never bluffed. I did not want to be in Marco's head. That was something I could not handle then ... or maybe ever.

  When I entered the hotel room I was sharing with Kat, I was surprised to find her still awake, waiting on me.

  "Well?” she asked immediately.

  "Well, what?"

  "How was it?"

  "It sucked."

  "Come again?"

  "Nothing happened, but he did give me some things to think about."

  I could tell by the look on her face she was considering what I'd just said. “Ok. I know who he is, and that ‘technically’ he's the bad guy ... but you mean to tell me you haven't wanted to screw that man's brains out since you first laid eyes on him? You told me when you saw him years ago he looked good enough to eat!"

  I kicked my boots off beside the bed across from Kat's and began rummaging in my bag for something to sleep in. “I'm not saying it wasn't difficult to turn down...."

  "You're insane,” she interrupted.

  "And you're still drunk. Get some sleep Kat. I'll tell you what happened when you're sober enough to understand it.” I expected her to argue, but she flounced back on the pillows in a huff and turned on the television instead. I str
ipped down to my black lace underwear, pulled on an old t-shirt that said, ‘One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor’ and crawled into bed.

  I would like to say I slept well. But no one could rest seeing what I saw when I closed my eyes. Marco stood before me, smiling his come on smile, looking as appealing as original sin. I slid his shirt up as far as I could reach, letting him pull it the rest off the way. I ran my hands over the ridged muscles of his stomach, over his chest. I pressed myself against him, reveling in the way the hair on his chest felt pressed against my bare breasts.

  "Lilith,” he whispered. Lilith? Wait a minute! He'd never call me by my name.

  "LILITH?” Kat was standing by my bed shaking me.

  "Get up. We need to get on the road. And you need to tell me about last night."

  I looked at the clock. I'd had a whopping three hours sleep. So had Kat. “How is it you're so damn chipper this morning?” I asked, rolling out of bed and groping absently for my bag.

  "Chipper? I've got a pounding headache, I'm starving, and my mouth feels like cotton."

  "I've never had a hang over in my life.” I laughed. I was tired, but at least I didn't look as miserable as Kat did upon further inspection. Her dark hair stood out at odd angles, some of it curling, some straight, with remnants of last nights mascara smeared under her eyes. She had somehow managed to get herself in a sun dress which might have been cute, had she not looked so strung out. I pulled on a pair of old jeans with the knees worn out and a tight little t-shirt that read, ‘Pour some sugar on me'.

  "How do I look?” I asked.

  "Like you have a vendetta against the fashion police."

  "Bite me."

  "Which brings me back to what I really wanted to know—what happened last night?"

  I carried the bags downstairs. Kat got dizzy trying to bend over enough to pick hers up. Once we had checked out and were back on the road, I told her everything that had happened, right down to my dream.

  "Holy shit. So, maybe he's not so bad after all?"

  "Maybe. But, I still don't trust him."

  "Yeah, but wanting equal rights isn't a crime."

  "No, it's not,” I said, “but killing people is, and in the past, I know he's killed people just for disagreeing with him."

  She gave me one of those looks that said I had no room to talk.

  "I'm not judging him. I'm just trying to figure this mess out. If what he says is true, then he and Bade Garren are no longer on the same side."

  "And it was Bade who tried to kill you?"

  "Yeah. It looks as if Marco's pack has split right down the middle."

  "What would that mean exactly? Giving them equal rights, I mean,” Kat asked.

  "It's complicated. To be honest, I'm not completely sure myself. It's a crime to be infected, but it is also criminal to knowingly spread the virus. Most Hunters kill werewolves on sight, period, regardless of the situation."

  "That's gotta suck."

  "You've no idea."

  I told her what had happened in the parking lot a few weeks ago, and watched as the magnitude of the situation began to dawn on her.

  "They knew who you were,” she said softly.

  "Yeah, ordinary people, and they know who I am."

  * * * *

  When we arrived at my house, I invited Kat in for some coffee, but she declined, saying she had a bottle of aspirin at home that should do the trick. I walked into the kitchen and found Alfred waiting on me. It was still mid morning and the smell of coffee was a welcome treat. The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and chocolate. Alfred does most of the cooking. It isn't that I'm not capable. I'm actually a really good cook, when I have the time. It's just something Alfred enjoys, and I'm not about to stop an Italian from cooking.

  "It smells good in here,” I commented, pouring myself some coffee. I sat across from Alfred and took a deep breath. “Cinnamon and chocolate."

  "I forget sometimes what a sense of smell you've got.” He slid half of a chocolate bar across the table to me. “Use it to stir your coffee.” Well, that explained the chocolate smell. I took a piece of the chocolate and began stirring my coffee. I'm not sure if it was the coffee, or just being back in my own house, but I suddenly remembered I had a lot of things to tell Alfred, and I wasn't sure where to start.

  "You don't look like you had a good time,” he commented.

  "Something's happened that I need to tell you about,” I began. I told him about seeing Marco in the club, and everything he had told me about Bade, and werewolves wanting equal rights. Alfred sat quietly and listened as I went over the details of the evening, carefully leaving out the fact that I had actually picked Marco up. I also left out the part where I freaked out and ripped off my shirt in his hotel room.

  By the time I'd finally finished talking, I realized my coffee was cold and I'd only drank half of it. I was nervous. I couldn't figure out why I would be so afraid to tell Alfred what had really happened. The information was the important part, at least that's what I kept telling myself. He didn't need to know I'd left the club with a man known to be a werewolf, a man that my father and Alfred both regretted not killing when they had the chance. He didn't need to know how close I had come to accepting Marco's offer. I was honest enough with myself to admit I had wanted to leave with Marco for reasons that had nothing to do with interrogation. It wasn't until I was alone with him that I'd made up my mind what had to be done.

  I wanted to chain Marco to the chair and do things to him that would scandalize even Kat. But, I couldn't. For reasons beyond my explanation, I couldn't do it. I knew if I did, I wouldn't be able to come back and look Alfred in the face. It was my own damn fault. If I didn't always like the villain, I would probably never have gotten into a conversation with him in the first place. I have always been attracted to the wrong kind of man. That was one thing which helped convince me Marco couldn't be trusted. I could watch any movie for only a few minutes and tell you who the villain was, because he'd be the one I was most attracted to. That had always been the case with me, and judging from what I felt when I looked at Marco, he had to be evil.

  I knew there were werewolves present when I'd walked into the club that night. Lycanthropes were easy to hunt. I can walk into a room and point them out. They have an underlying current of sex and violence, barely contained sometimes beneath their human shells. What really seals the deal, is how they taste. Bitter sweet, warm, and full bodied, like a chocolate and vanilla swirl ice cream mixed with expensive coffee. Yeah, that's right, wolfmen taste good if you lick them.

  I've always had a thing for the ‘bad guy'. Normally, the worst case scenario is men who are great in bed end up treating you like shit. In my case, they some times ended up being monsters underneath their skin. Talk about being attracted to the wrong type of man. It's difficult to keep killing people you'd much rather have sex with. Just once, I'd like to meet someone who turned me on and wasn't evil. To be honest, I'd finally had enough of bad men, even if they did taste good. For the first time ever, I just wanted a nice guy.

  This brought me back to Alfred, still sitting quietly at the table across from me. Alfred was a nice guy. Was that why I'd never considered coming on to him before? Was he too nice for me? What sort of woman had I become when a man like Alfred didn't pique my interest? After living with him platonically for so long, I really wasn't sure how to bring up the subject. Not that I was going to bring it up ... but the thought had crossed my mind.

  "So, he just volunteered this information?” Alfred looked skeptical.

  I decided to tell half of the truth to ease my conscience. “I sort of tied him up with silver hand cuffs and asked him some questions."

  Alfred raised one eyebrow as he looked at me over his coffee mug. “Really? And he just let you do this?"

  I wasn't sure what to say and it must have shown on my face. After a minute of awkward silence Alfred said, “Is this a regular occurrence, you carrying silver handcuffs around to question werewolves?” He paused, then
stood up suddenly. “You know what? If it is, I probably don't want to know.” His tone had changed to something I'd never heard in Alfred's voice before. I heard him add in an undertone that I'm sure he thought I couldn't hear, “It would only make me jealous."

  Jealous? Of me?

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Four

  That night I had the strangest dream. I was inside of Alfred's head and for some reason, he was making light bulbs. The room was totally dark, that might have been why. As soon as I realized I was in his mind, I tried to escape. He turned to the far corner of the room, and I saw what looked like an opening in the floor. Beneath this opening, I could see a large body of water. It looked like we were in a room built over the docks of a lake or an ocean somewhere. He moved closer and as his toes touched the water, I ‘escaped'. I just suddenly appeared naked in the water. I remember thinking that I was tired, and didn't have time to play tonight. I started swimming away from him.

  Then all of a sudden, I was back inside his mind, and I saw myself through his eyes. I cannot describe how beautiful I was, but I will never look at myself the same way. I felt him enter the water to swim toward me, knowing he would sink. He thought sinking wouldn't be so bad if he were only closer to me when he went under.

  I woke up feeling overwhelmingly sad. Would Alfred really sink, just to be near me? I wasn't sure what to think, but I was too tired to analyze. It had been too long since I'd had a good night's sleep. Snuggling further down under the covers, my hand clutching the sheets beneath my chin, I sighed, remembering the dream. It had been an incredible experience to see myself as someone else did. Part of me wanted to thank him. But if he knew what I'd seen, he might also realize I knew he'd been aroused.

  * * * *

  Over the next few days, Alfred and I didn't speak much. He made a point of staying busy, and I threw myself back into training. But, my mind kept wandering back to the dream. It had been such an eye opening experience for me. Knowing the way he saw me was probably the best compliment I'd ever received, and I couldn't express my thanks. Through him, I saw all of me and I accepted it. I saw my imperfections, but didn't resent them. They were visible, but dulled by my glow. I had sort of an ethereal glow.