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Crimson City
By Liz Maverick
Dorchester Publishing
Copyright © 2005
Liz MaverickAll right reserved.
ISBN: 0-505-52622-0
Chapter One
Fleur stood in the hall before two enormous carved mahogany
doors leading to the war room, absently running the toe of her
boot across the supple Oriental carpet beneath her feet.
She'd waited outside for a while, now, turning away and
walking to the window whenever someone passed by, embarrassed
about her purpose here.
She looked up again, as she'd been compelled to do over and
over for the last twenty minutes, gazing at the top of the
doors. Carved into the wide portion of the top piece of
doorframe was the Latin translation of the same English
engraved into a brass plaque by the doors down on street level
where the dogs and more likely, the humans passed by: Come not
here if you do not belong.
The phrase seemed to mock her. To remind her that she didn't
fit in to the vampire world quite in the way that she used to.
Fleur sighed once more over the idea of fitting in. Fitting
back in. Her anxiety was such that she'd changed her outfit
three times already, from a gown back into training gear and
then into something that bridged the two styles in an attempt
to achieve just the right look for her purpose.
She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and thought about
her purpose. Her purpose was to convince Christian and Ryan
to give her a chance to exorcise the demons fromher past.
Her purpose was to make her peers want to forget about what
she'd done and to make them believe that the wildness she'd
exhibited that fateful night was something that could be
controlled.
She hadn't seen Hayden since the night she'd made him a
vampire. She remembered practically every detail, every word.
She remembered lying in his arms, their bodies entwined on
the bed. He'd told her he loved her more than anything. He'd
told her he couldn't live without her. He'd told her that
he'd kill himself if she didn't take him from the human race
and make him vampire, if she didn't make them of the same
kind. He wanted to marry her; he wanted to live forever.
She'd believed him, though she'd been warned time and again to
protect herself from those very words. From the words that
the humans would say to make you forget the one thing you were
supposed to remember: Vampires must not make humans into
vampires. It was against code. But she'd lost her
self-control in the heat of Hayden's words and the lust
between them. She'd sunk her fangs deep into his neck. And
then she'd lost everything.
Fleur squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on the idea
that all she could do now was to work on reclaiming what she'd
lost. And the first step was to walk into that room and show
that she was putting the past behind her and that she was
capable of taking on the kind of role in the vampire world
she'd been meant for.
The insistent tick of the nearby antique grandfather clock
measured time, driving home that the meeting should have been
over by now and they would be adjourning late. This wasn't
the first time she'd come to the war room. But the
humiliation her half-brothers had doled out to her last time
was enough to inspire her to be quite sure that she had solid
arguments to her advantage this time.
She knew they would patronize her, try to dissuade her from
her "silly" ideas, to find contentment in the riches being a
Dumont vampire could provide and forget her notions of
responsibility.
But Fleur had tried that. It simply wasn't in her nature. If
nothing else, she wanted to restore her good name and wipe
away the shame that followed her on whispers in corridors,
behinds fans and between puffs of cigar. She had something to
prove, and prove it she would.
Under her breath, she practiced once more.
"Christian ... Ryan ... I respect the work you've done, but I
want ..." Fleur stopped and frowned. She sounded too weak,
too uncertain ... too whiny. She tried again: "I should be more
involved in security matters." That was better, anyway. One
more time. "I should-"
The door opened and the members of the inner circle filed out,
giving her odd, surprised glances. Some even looked away,
refusing to make eye contact.
Chin up, shoulders back, Fleur slipped into the room as the
last participant filed out. Christian and Ryan still stood by
the conference table, leaning over to sign documents.
Identical twins, they were nearly indistinguishable with the
same black hair and pale features. Those who knew them knew
that Ryan was flashier, louder, more the life of the party.
Christian was the introvert and it reflected all the way from
his dress to his demeanor.
She waited quietly, knowing they could sense a presence in the
room. Ryan finally looked up, his expression faltering a
little as he saw who it was. "Hello, Fleur." Christian
obviously noticed the odd tone and looked up as well,
rewarding her with the same lack of enthusiasm. "Hello,
Fleur," he echoed.
"Hello. I was hoping to have a word with you both." She
could have sworn Christian actually cringed. It was the same
old thing. She knew they didn't think much of her. She also
knew that they feared her a little bit and referred to her in
private circles as "the wildcard" for more than one reason. A
little fear was good; she just had to be careful about how and
when she exploited it.
And it wasn't as if she was trying to take anything from
anyone. A power grab would only be destructive for the entire
vampire world. Fleur just wanted the opportunity to
participate, to serve ... and of course, to clear her name.
"Well, go ahead," Ryan said, still hunched over with his pen
in mid-air.
Fleur wanted to roll her eyes. This wasn't the sort of thing
one discussed in between autographs. But if this was as much
audience as they would offer, she'd have to take it. She
stepped further into the room and approached the opposite end
of the conference table. "I wanted to first thank you for
being so understanding over the last several years ..." She'd
barely managed to start her speech, when already she'd lost
their attention.
Lips parted in surprise, eyes looking past her toward the
windows along the back wall behind her, the two men froze.
Fleur felt the chill of fresh, cold air and noted the way the
brothers' hair rippled just slightly in a curious breeze.
Slowly, oh so slowly, she turned and looked over her shoulder.
Someone ... something had breached the tower in complete
silence. Someone knew where to find the war room. And that
someone was just standing there surveying the scene against
the backdrop of an open window.
If he'd just been a human, all three of them would have been
laughing. But he wasn't just a human. He was more.
"It's Ryan. I'm still in the war room. We have a serious
security breach. Human ... I think. Get forces to man the
perimeter of the building, get forces for the floor and
outside the room. But nobody comes in here," Ryan ordered
into the intercom.
Turning all the way around to face him, Fleur braced herself
for the possibility that whatever he was doing here, whatever
he had planned, he could maim and hurt even if he couldn't
kill.
Flew watched this superhuman's gaze shift in response to the
sound of fingernails against wood. The brothers must be going
for the holsters affixed under the table.
Backed up against the near end of the table, she was close
enough to have a good look at the intruder, at the metal
components that seemed to run in metal strips and piping and
plates around his neck then radiated down underneath his
clothing.
He didn't even appear to be armed at first glance. But that
was because he was, himself, the weapon. His forearms shone
with an overlay of polished titanium, bordered by bolts and
probably hooked up underneath to wireless circuitry. The part
of him that was mortal flesh looked real, but almost too
handsome to be that of a real man.
He raised his left arm, and as Fleur took a closer look, she
realized with horror that his arm had been converted into a
weapon. A weapon that held a cartridge filled with the
unmistakable purple-pink glow of ultraviolet fluid.
Fleur's mouth went dry. She had no knowledge of the humans or
anyone else successfully-or purposely-developing UV weapons,
much less using them in the field. "He's got UV."
"Fleur, don't move," Ryan muttered.
"He's got UV weapons," she said, louder now.
"Don't move!"
A gun discharged behind her and the bullet came whizzing over
her right shoulder. It bounced merrily off the intruder's
chest armor, and rolled across the wood flooring. The acrid
smell of gunpowder floated by, dispersed by the breeze coming
in through the open window.
"They've created a mech," she said. "He's a mech."
"Shut up, Fleur!" It was Christian this time,
uncharacteristically flustered. They were scared by what they
saw. And they had reason to be. Fleur had heard rumors that
the humans were developing something ... superhuman. Some sort
of man with mechanical components who could be manipulated
like the worst kind of weapon. They called them mechs, and
everyone had become convinced they were nothing more than a
rumor meant to create fear and questions in the vampire and
the werewolf worlds.
She stood there with the hard edge of the table digging into
her back, as Christian and Ryan unleashed a hailstorm of
bullets around her. Watching them bounce harmlessly off the
intruder and roll across the floor like a spilled bag of
marbles, Fleur recognized that she was looking at proof that
the mechs existed. And she was also looking at proof that the
humans had not only gone ahead and effectively "bottled" a
weapon that could kill vampires, but they were willing to use
it.
During the first battle between the species in Crimson City in
which her own mother had died, their methodologies had been
reactive, disorganized, crude. Everyone had worked hard to
broker the truce they were all currently enjoying. But
this ... this suggested the possibility that the humans wanted
to break the truce and launch a proactive assault on the
vampire world. This suggested a level of warfare
sophistication the humans had not been known to possess.
Weapons spent, now, the room went completely silent, the thin
curls of wafting smoke making Fleur tear up. Caught in the
middle, she wasn't quite sure how to react. If he wanted to
engage in hand-to-hand combat she had some moves at the ready.
If he wanted to execute her, she had no moves at all. But
with her back to the brothers, she couldn't get a read on what
they wanted. And as it turned out, it wasn't going to matter
what they wanted.
The mech cocked his head almost as if he'd been humoring them
all, waiting for the ammunition to run so those pesky bullets
would leave him alone.
"Fleur, I want you to get down on the floor and crawl to the
door," Ryan said.
"I can help," Fleur whispered. "I can help you."
"You'll only hurt," Christian said.
It stung, but Fleur recognized this wasn't the time to argue
with authority. She slowly knelt on the floor giving the rest
of the parties a clear shot at each other.
Pretending to inch her way toward the door for escape, she
trained her sights set on a wall cabinet she hoped still
contained some decent explosives.
Retreating from the conference table to a work desk at the far
end of the room, Christian screamed commands into the
intercom, while Ryan reloaded his gun and continued blasting
away at the mech. In the reflection of the cabinet's glass,
Fleur could see that he'd quickly run out of bullets. The
panicked vampire tossed the weapon at the mech where it
smashed harmlessly at his feet.
As she snaked one hand up and worked on the cabinet lock,
Fleur could hear chaos in the halls just beyond the wall.
Her hand shook and her sweaty fingers slipped on the locking
mechanism. Behind her, Ryan was begging for mercy, pleading
for his life.
The mech didn't answer. Maybe it hadn't even heard. To no
avail, Fleur jiggled the lock, now, not really caring how loud
she was and kept one eye on the glass reflection.
The mech took a step forward and looked at Christian standing
bolt straight. There was a weighty silence and then the mech
raised its left hand and gracefully curled its fingers. She
saw him wince as the bullet released from the mechanism fused
to his forearm and actually felt an incongruous moment of calm
just watching the gorgeous violet comet spiral through the
air.
Christian screamed as the bullet struck him in the chest. It
was a sound of pain unlike anything Fleur had heard before.
Blood bloomed quickly over his white dress shirt and he
crumpled to the ground, still screaming at the top of his
lungs. His body twitched and leaped for a moment, and then he
went completely silent, completely still
Ryan stared at his brother in a kind of catatonic state,
making no effort to run, to fight, to do anything but accept
his fate.
"Run," Fleur whispered hoarsely. She got to her feet and
turned to the door, but Ryan didn't move. "Ryan! You've got
to run!"
He couldn't move. She was nearly to him before the next
bullet struck him. His blood spattered across her face and
they fell together. Like Christian, he screamed in pain and
terror as the UV penetrated his body. Fleur cradled his head,
holding his face in her hands. "It's okay, Ryan. You're not
alone." But her helpless words of comfort were lost; he died
almost instantly in her arms, his pulse extinguished like a
flame.
Fleur couldn't quite breathe. Gasping and choking on her
fear, she looked up at the mech. With his arm still suspended
in mid-air he surveyed the room as if he were cataloguing the
contents and looking for anybody else. Apparently satisfied
there was just one person left, he cocked his head and studied
Fleur.
She swallowed nervously as he reached down toward his leg
holster. He swept his forearm down and arched it back up in
one graceful movement, snapping a new attachment on to the
metal rig of his arm. Fleur's heart pounded. So this was
what it was like to be at the mercy of a species you didn't
fully understand.
Ryan's head still in her lap, drops of blood tickling her skin
as they slid down her face, Fleur stared straight into the
mech's intense aquamarine eyes and waited.
Maybe she was seeing what she wanted to see, but in those eyes
she was certain she saw a flicker of something alive,
something more than just a programmed machine. But when she
blinked and looked once more, there was just a dull gaze in a
dead presence.
The mech raised his arm in a slow and calculated manner and
shot her.
Fleur screamed in surprise and pain and realized he'd shot her
with a conventional bullet. She wasn't going to die if they
got some blood back into her fast enough. Through the pain
and the pounding and the roaring in her brain, she could have
sworn the mech lowered his weapon and said, "Play dead."
"What?"
But the mech had taken a step backward, the same shuttered
look on his face. She clutched her arm to her chest and let
the red blood seep through her fingers, then collapsed in a
heap with her eyes closed.
She heard a series of clicks and hums ... then one last sound.
That of a boot on the windowsill, perhaps ... and then silence.
She was counting to ten when the door burst open.
The room was suddenly in chaos, medics rushing in, the other
Warriors of the defense force. All at once, as if everyone
simultaneously realized what she meant to them now, it seemed
like a million hands came at her, lifting and fussing and
protecting and defending ... "I'm fine," she whispered, opening
her eyes. She sat up so the medics could properly wrap her
wound before taking her to the blood banks upstairs.
But when Fleur looked over and saw them cover Christian and
Ryan with cloths embroidered with the Dumont crest, she leaped
to her feet. The blood banks would have to wait. As if the
same thought had occurred to them all at the same time,
everyone's face turned to her, one after the next.
Don't lose it. Do not lose it, Fleur. "It didn't get me.
I'm fine. It ran out of UV and shot me with a regular
bullet." She shoved their help away and stood up,
self-conscious to the extreme. The smell of the blood was
making everyone incredibly edgy and she was no exception.
"The humans did this," someone blurted out. "Where are the
cousins?"
The Protectors were already in the room. Marius came forward
and whispered into her ear. "This is your moment. But nobody
is going to give it to you. You'll have to take it."
Fleur glanced over at other two. "Take it, Fleur," Warrick
said. Ian nodded. "Take the power."
She opened her mouth to answer, but they stepped away.
Arguments were already flaring about next steps, with several
members of the other families already discussing the
transference of power and options for next steps. As the
medics attended to the bodies on the floor, the Protectors
stood in stony silence watching her. Fleur felt in danger of
being swallowed up, in danger of just disappearing.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Crimson City
by Liz Maverick
Copyright © 2005 by Liz Maverick.
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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