Bloodlines (24 page)

“You love me,” Edwin said, cutting off a piece of the meat and sliding it onto Redford’s plate for him to try.

“Yes, well, you are very demanding,” Randall replied blandly, squeezing Edwin’s shoulder as he finally sat. He’d found some tea, and he took an experimental sip. Not fantastic, but at least it was drinkable.

Anthony slowly tipped over to lean slightly against Randall’s shoulder. He never did that; he never let himself appear weak. Randall knew all of them were keeping it together by pretending the worst wasn’t actually happening. That if they simply didn’t talk about the nightmare, that meant it wasn’t occurring. But Anthony looked tired, his fingers shaking as he tried to cut his meat. He wasn’t even jumping into the conversation to tease Edwin about his eating habits. Without a word, Randall pulled Anthony’s plate over in front of himself and sliced the sausage into bite-size pieces, then pulled the chicken off the bone.

With a thick lump in his throat, he slid the plate back into place like nothing had happened. Turning, he pressed his lips to the top of his brother’s head, taking a slow, shaky breath. It was going to be okay. Everything was going to be fine now. The Gray Lady had decided to let them stay. Randall had done everything his research told him to do, so it
had
to be fine now.

“Thanks,” Anthony muttered lowly. He sounded frustrated—not at Randall’s help, but the fact that he needed it. “You weren’t in the cabin when I woke up. Where’d you go?”

Randall looked over at Victor, a quick glance, before going back to his breakfast. Edwin was pretending he wasn’t listening, but he’d moved his chair close enough to bump knees with Anthony, cutting little looks over at the two of them in between bites. Even Redford and Jed were watching Randall over the top of their newspaper. Randall shrugged off his sweater and wrapped it around Anthony’s shoulders. “It’s cold,” was all he said.

“You two fucking?” Jed asked casually, waving his fork between Victor and Randall.

“What?” Randall spluttered, color hitting his cheeks. “No! Why on earth—”

“You just looked hella guilty.” Jed shrugged, returning to his eggs. “Figured it was that or you did something your big brother wouldn’t approve of. Wash lights with darks or something.”

“Your mind goes straight for the gutter,” Victor said blandly. “Not every situation involves someone’s genitals. Really, Journey, keep your nose out.”

“Don’t call me Journey.” The protest seemed so automatic that Jed wasn’t even paying attention when he shot it back at Victor.

Redford was tentatively trying the raw venison, clearly intrigued by his own taste for it. Randall would admit that fresh meat had a vastly superior flavor. He just wasn’t comfortable eating it in mixed company. It seemed rude to be bloody around those who might not find such a look appetizing. Knievel seemed just as content with the uncooked food, however, purring loudly as she attacked her own serving.

Jed poked his fork at the raw meat on Redford’s plate, glancing up at him. Then Jed cut himself a bite and shoveled it in. Edwin chuffed out a laugh at Victor’s horrified expression. Jed, though, calmly chewed and swallowed, shrugging. “Not bad. Had worse.”

“I dread to think what you mean by that,” Victor sighed. He reached over the table to snatch the newspaper away from Jed. “Now let Randall tell everyone what the Gray Lady said.”

“Wait.” Edwin stopped trying to get Redford to eat more of the venison. “You went to see her?”

Randall shifted in his seat, looking over at Anthony. “Um. Yes. I did.”

“What did she say?” Anthony sounded cautiously hopeful. “Has she made her decision yet?”

Taking a slow breath, Randall gave his brothers a small smile. He reached out to squeeze Anthony’s hand. “She said we could stay. She’s going to have her healers take a look at you, Ant, see what they think.” He wasn’t going to tell them about the Gray Lady’s cautionary words. There wasn’t a point. Anthony needed hope right then; he needed to believe this would work. So did Edwin. So Randall would keep all that fear and worry to himself. It wouldn’t do anyone else any good. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I take it that means the cure isn’t a certain thing.” There was a look in Anthony’s eyes that Randall couldn’t bear, a fraction of lost hope that Anthony quickly covered. He drew himself up and straightened his shoulders, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Did she say when I’m to report to the healers?”

Randall wanted to insist, to
promise
, that it would be fine. That a cure was just that easy, that everything was going to go back to the way it had been. Edwin was staring at him, waiting for just that. For his brainy older brother to recite some factoid that meant Anthony was going to walk away from this perfectly healthy.

He couldn’t do it. All that was left was to squeeze Anthony’s hand tighter, to force a smile. To promise himself that, no matter what the cost, he’d find a way. “We can take you in today. I wanted you to get some food in your system first, but we’ll go after breakfast if you want.”

“Yeah, I should get started as quickly as possible,” Anthony agreed. “You guys don’t have to sit around to watch, though. It’ll probably be boring.” He gave them a smile. “Why don’t you wander around the camp some, talk to the wolves here?”

“You’re an idiot,” Edwin told him. “We’re coming with you.” He turned to the rest of the group. “You guys can come too, if you want.” Like it was a pool party. Randall honestly didn’t understand his brother sometimes.

Jed had been watching them all silently, eyes darting between them, some look on his face halfway between total fear and longing. Mostly the fear. The tightness in his shoulders made it readily apparent he would love to be running in the opposite direction. “Thanks for the offer, Lassie, but I think I’m going to go do something productive.”

“Oh? Like what?” Victor asked. “Helping Knievel sharpen her claws so she can chase more wolves?”

Jed grinned. “That’s my girl,” he cooed at the cat, who was very happily cleaning off Redford’s plate, purring rustily. Redford, for his part, was staring despondently at his now empty plate. Then, to Victor, Jed said, “Nah. Everyone keeps talking about these hunters. It’s got me all curious. Figure I might poke my head in where it doesn’t belong, see if I can drum up anything interesting.”

“Do you believe they’re human?” Randall asked him, interested.

“Sweetheart, that’s kind of my default setting,” Jed responded. “I know you guys are all freak flags flying, but in my experience, most things are definitely human.” He shrugged. “Besides, I was talking to some people this morning, and they’re pretty sure, whoever they are, they’re using guns. How many creepy crawlies you know use assault rifles?”

“They may not be human,” Victor said mildly. “Even minority ‘creepy crawly’ groups can be racist against one another, Jed. And I think you’d be surprised at the number of them that do use guns.” He glanced over at the wolves. “Not all of us have built-in weapons.”

Absorbing this, Jed leaned back, fingers drumming absently against Redford’s side. “They got two more taken a few days ago,” he mused. “Younger wolves, apparently, who went for a run and didn’t come back. Everyone’s saying they haven’t really hit the pack yet. Just picking around the edges. Lone wolves or small groups that hang around the fringe, but nothing in this area. Everything’s about fifty miles northeast, best I can gather. Gotta get my maps from the van to see what’s up there.”

“Taken?” Anthony looked unhappy. “Or were they killed?”

“No bodies.” Jed frowned, rubbing his chin absently. The man clearly hadn’t shaved. He had stubble and was wearing the same clothes he’d had on the day before. Randall wondered why he was doing this. Maybe the answer lay in how his arm was looped around Redford’s waist, possessive and protective all at once. “This is all second and third hand, though. Stragglers from hit camps that come in, looking for help, saying that there was gunfire and blood and they ran. Could be kidnappings. Could be something’s eating them. Shit, I don’t know. That’s why I want to go take a look.”

Anthony made a growling sound under his breath as he sipped at his coffee. “I want to help,” he said decisively. “If there’s anything I can do, just say the word. Are you going to look for information today?”

Jed snorted. “Yeah, hotstuff, you and me’ll talk about it when you don’t need cardigan over there to cut up your food.”

“I’m not an invalid,” Anthony said. He was obviously struggling to keep calm, a snarl under his words.

“Maybe.” Jed leaned forward, holding Anthony’s eyes. “But you’re weak. Right now, you’re weak. Maybe you’ll get better. I don’t know. But if you go running around after these guys and they find you, we’ll just have one more missing wolf to talk about over breakfast. And you know it.”

If Jed was going to say anything further, he didn’t get a chance. Anthony’s eyes were yellow in his anger, his teeth bared—but instead of jumping over the table like Randall half feared he might, Anthony instead stood and walked away, every line of his body tense.

Randall turned to Jed, to give him a piece of his mind, to bite his stupid throat out, to do
something
. But far from gloating or being a snide asshole, Jed looked quietly regretful. “Your brother’s a hell of a guy,” he said quietly. “But he’d get himself killed. And I’m not having his blood on my hands just to spare his feelings.”

Silently, Randall jerked the chair back, rising. Edwin’s teeth were bared, and he was growling at Jed, angry and tense. “You’re a fucktard,” Edwin proclaimed. Randall didn’t much feel like correcting his profanity. Edwin stalked away after Anthony, and Randall sighed, resting a hand on the back of the chair.

“He’s not weak,” he told Jed lowly. But then, even quieter, “Please, don’t ever let him follow you.” Because Jed was right. It killed Randall to admit, but he was right—if Anthony went out now, like he was, he’d die. And that was simply not something Randall could accept.

He left then, not looking back at the three of them sitting there. At the odd little group they made, the almost wolf, the half blood, and the human. He followed his nose to find his brothers, Edwin sitting next to Anthony on one of the low benches surrounding the dormant bonfire in the center of the camp. Edwin’s shoulder was pressed against Anthony’s and he was talking, so quietly Randall couldn’t make out the words until he got closer.

“And then we’ll go running, Ant. As fast and as far as we can. You can smell the woods, can’t you? I bet there’s lots of squirrels and rabbits to chase. You and me, we’ll chase them together, just like back home. And swimming too, in the stream, just like you like. Where the water’s so cold it makes you sneeze and we get all muddy and Randall makes that cross face at us.”

Edwin was telling Anthony a story. The story of a healthy brother, of woods with no hunters, of the life they’d had up until a few months ago. Silently, Randall sat down on the other side of Anthony, listening as well.

“When the moon’s all big and the stars look like ripe berries, we’ll go howling. It’s your favorite, I know. We’ll all howl at the moon just like Dad used to do. You told me about it, remember, Ant?”

Anthony laughed lowly, bumping his shoulder against Edwin’s. “If you howl at the moon and listen very closely,” he teased, reciting the story one more time. And Randall, if he half closed his eyes, could almost hear their father’s voice in the lilt of Anthony’s. “Sometimes the man in the moon will howl back.”

“But it’s not true.” Edwin had always said the same thing at the same part. It was almost a ritual now. A way Anthony had kept their parents alive for them, the bits and pieces they could hold on to.

“Maybe not,” Randall said, very quietly. “But I howl at it sometimes. Just for him.”

“Me too.” Anthony’s smile was sad. “He’d probably be proud. Or laughing his ass off, either one.”

“You’re going to get better.” Edwin searched Anthony’s face. “Right? That’s why we’re here. That’s why we joined this pack. So you can get better.”

“That’s right.” Randall made his voice firm, in control. Like the know-it-all brother they both teased him about being. “No time at all and we’ll forget this even happened. Like a bad dream.”

“In the meantime,” Anthony said, hesitating slightly. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, sighing. “Jed’s right, for now. Have you seen how he holds himself? He’s military. He knows what he’s talking about. So I’m going to try and concentrate on helping the healers.”

“He slept outside on the ground last night for no damn reason,” Randall grumbled. “He’s not a sage or anything.” He nudged his shoulder against Anthony’s, letting out a slow breath. “But I think that’s a good plan.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a human. They do weird things.” Anthony laughed. “Although he gets points for trying the raw venison.”

“If you told him that Redford needed to paint himself pink and dance naked under the moon, I think he’d join in and add a feathered headdress.” Randall smirked. “He’s kind of stupid. But sure. Points for effort.”

Edwin was leaning against Anthony, head resting on his shoulder. “Let’s go find these healers,” he sighed. “Might as well get it over with.”

They made their way to the other side of the camp, all three of them huddled together as they walked, as if they couldn’t stand the idea of being separate. The rumble of an engine drew Randall’s attention. Across the way he could see the van leaving, Redford and Jed off to go hunting. Maybe they’d even find something. Randall hoped it was humans. Some easy problem with a simple solution. It’d be nice if at least one thing was.

The healer who greeted them was an older wolf, her hair done in a long silver braid that hung down to the middle of her back. She greeted Anthony with a hug, informed them that the Gray Lady had already let them know they were coming, and hustled Anthony into the long cabin that served as the medical facilities. That left Randall and Edwin alone outside, sitting on the steps of the porch, waiting.

Edwin lasted all of ten minutes before declaring himself so bored he was going to die, shifting into wolf form, and curling up to go back to sleep, leaving Randall with a lap full of his clothes. Randall sat in silence, wishing only that he’d brought one of his books with him. It would help the time pass a little less painfully.