Bloodlines

by Alex Kidwell

  “Naturals?” Bewildered, Jed frowned around at the rest of the group. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Randall sighed, slipping off his glasses to clean them on a corner of his shirt. “It’s a rather crude slang expression that ought not to be used. It means other than human. The supernatural community, if you will, though generally we don’t have a universal name for the differing groups of us. Those that use the term natural are arguing that we are the normal ones. It’s humans that should be considered others.”

  “Supernatural….” Jed trailed off, eyebrows raised. This was a fucking weird conversation. He was half expecting someone to come out with a herald and a trumpet and hand him the Sword of Destiny or some shit.

  “Werewolves, vampires, half bloods,” Anthony clarified, giving Edwin another suspicious look. “And who exactly did you hear this from?”

  “Oh, you know,” Edwin said, carefully not meeting Anthony’s eyes. “Just around. Hey, you should totally go!” He changed the topic swiftly, turning to look at Redford. “You’d definitely get in. They just have a couple of wolves at the door that sniff you to make sure you’re not a preter or anything.”

  “Edwin,” Randall barked sharply, eyes narrowing. But instead of continuing, he just looked to Anthony, as if awaiting his mediation.

  Jed and Redford shared twin looks of utter confusion. “Preter?” Jed asked. “Maybe slow down the crazy talk around the uninitiated. What the hell is that?” It sounded like a slur against penises.

  “It’s more slang.” Anthony smacked Edwin on the shoulder as a rebuke. “Only this time it’s pretty rude. Preternatural is what some call regular humans. You know, other than natural. It’s not something any of us should be saying, not in this household. Edwin, seriously, we have a human sitting right here at the table. Can you curb the racial insults?”

  “And it’s less than polite in mixed company, even if you choose to use it in private,” Randall muttered, shaking his head.

  Jed shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. “Hey, I’m just…. I mean, come on, I’m not different.”

  Except yes, he was. He was wildly different. He was part of a whole different race, and apparently all the things that went bump in the night got together and voted him out of the clubhouse.

  Jed sagged back in his chair. Edwin looked abashed, murmuring, “I’m sorry,” but Jed waved it off.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. I scratched your ears and saw your ass. In some cultures, we’d be married.”

  Anthony just shook his head. “In any case, Edwin’s suggestion was a good one. If anybody’s going to know where the Gray Lady’s pack is, we might find them in there. Although I think he and I should have a discussion about the people he hangs out with.”

  “I’ll go,” Redford said. “You said that she’s looking for the remains of Filtiarn’s pack. If anybody has information, they’ll know she’s looking for people like me.” He hesitated, eyes darting over at Jed. “But, um. I guess Jed can’t go?”

  “Fuck that nun, I’m going,” Jed said, arms folded, jaw jutted out stubbornly. “You go, I go, babe. That’s how this works. We’re partners, remember?” And like hell was Jed letting Redford walk in anywhere he hadn’t vetted first. God only knew what kind of shit might go down, and Jed wasn’t going to leave him without someone to watch his back. And his front. And all side portions of him.

  “I want you to be there, but if this is a bar where wolves and vampires and everybody else hang out, it might not be… well, Edwin says they sniff out humans.” Redford looked apologetic. “You might not even get past the front door.”

  “He could go if he’s escorted,” Edwin said, sighing heavily at the looks his brothers gave him. “I didn’t say I agreed with that option. I’m just saying, sometimes naturals bring their preter in. They have to be under control and stuff. I even think they use leashes sometimes. The vampires at least.” A pause, and then, very unconvincingly, “So I’ve heard from people who I have no real association with.”

  “Edwin, how do you know this?” Anthony looked appalled. “Please don’t tell me you’ve ever done that.”

  “Ew, no.” Edwin wrinkled his nose. “Collars are gross. I just… have friends who told me.” His voice went up at the end, an overly innocent look affected, as if that was going to make Anthony stop pinning him to the chair with an expression that brought to mind a patient bulldog.

  “Which friends?” Randall said dryly. “I wasn’t aware that your reflection counted.”

  “Shut up. I have friends.” Edwin rolled his eyes at Randall. But, fidgeting guiltily under Anthony’s glower, Edwin finally sighed and admitted, “I went last week to hear someone speak at Murry’s. It was a lecture. Educational, even!”

  “Who would you hear speak at that place?” Anthony folded his arms. “It’s a bar, Ed.”

  “A guy called Phoenix.” Once again Edwin tried for the guileless uptick of his tone at the end before apparently giving in and simply shrugging. “He’s doing all these rallies around lately. I saw a poster for it and went to check it out. He talks a lot about preters… um, humans and their relationships to naturals. Um. Us.”

  “You and I are going to have a very long talk later,” Anthony threatened. He looked apologetic as he turned back to Jed and Redford. “Would you be okay going there? It sounds like there might be information to be found.”

  Jed smirked. “Nah, that sounds like just my kind of scene. Count me in. I’ll provide my own leather pants.”

  “What? No, we’re not doing that,” Redford yelped, horrified. “I am not putting you on a leash or anything. That’s degrading.”

  Reaching out, Jed took his hand, holding it between both of his. “It’s a cover, Fido,” he reminded Redford. “I’m just there to back you up. A collar’s an accessory, is all.” He grinned, a flash of amusement crossing his face. “Not the first time I’ve worn one.” Though probably in this instance he wouldn’t be calling anyone Daddy.

  Redford was still clearly not happy with the idea, but not protesting in horror anymore. “I just don’t like the thought of you in a stupid collar,” he muttered.

  Jed’s smile faltered.

  The cage. The goddamn basement. And here Jed was throwing that shit around like Redford wasn’t still that scared kid, tied up and thrown away by the one person who was supposed to take care of him.

  His whole face crumpling in guilt, Jed wondered if he could beat his head against the wall. Probably would be rude to do that to someone else’s walls, and God knew his thick skull would break something. Goddamn, he was so stupid it was a wonder he kept breathing without hurting himself somehow. Immediately, Jed gathered Redford into his arms, kissing his shoulder in penance. “It’s not going to be like that,” he murmured. “No collar. No leash. Not if you don’t want it, not for either of us. I’ll just go and let you do the talking.” Jed tried for a little smile, not quite making it. “I can be real quiet. Subtle, even. Like a mouse.”

  That, at least, made Redford smile. “No, you really can’t.”

  “I wasn’t aware mice used such copious amounts of explosives,” Victor hummed, peering over the tops of his glasses. “How unusual.”

  “Fuck you all,” Jed responded, but more cheerfully, only really caring that he’d pulled a smile from Redford. Turning to the Lewises, he nodded. “We’ll get the info and then give you a call.” Jed hesitated, glancing over at Redford. “And….” Fuck. Being second in command after all this time alone was not the easiest thing in the world. Popping up out of his chair, Jed bustled about, clearing dishes. “Redford, why don’t you talk details or whatever you need. It’s your job. I’m just here as a silent and extremely good-looking shadow.”

  Jed made his way into the kitchen after loading himself up with bowls and cups and spoons. He poked around a little, once he’d filled up the dishwasher. The fridge was decently stocked, as was the pantry. Nothing fancy, lots of meat, most of it looking like the butchered pieces of things they’d caught. Jed wanted to giv
e Redford some space, the chance to do things his own way. The guy was more than capable of handling everything, really. Jed just wanted to give him a chance to realize that.

  Redford and the Lewises got down to talking, the sounds of the conversation washing over Jed as he looked around the kitchen. A few minutes later, Redford sidled up to him. “Jed,” he whispered urgently, “How much is gas right now? I need to know for the budget.”

  After a moment, Jed huffed out a little laugh, taking Redford by the shoulders and tugging him in, kissing his forehead, the bridge of his nose. “Nervous?” he murmured, ignoring the question for a moment in favor of massaging the tense knots he could feel in Redford’s neck.

  “Very,” Redford admitted. “I don’t know how you do this. There’s so much to think about, and I can’t keep any of it straight in my head.”

  “Sure you can,” Jed responded. He kissed said head again before wrapping his arms around Redford. They fit together so goddamn well. It still amazed Jed sometimes. “Remember the Southfield job two weeks ago? Instead of just charging gas money, you charged mileage. That way it paid for the wear and tear on the vehicles too.” Although Jed’s version of wear and tear was slightly different than other people’s. Removing some stains from upholstery was apparently more expensive than just ripping the seats out and starting over. “Just use that amount and charge them per mile.”

  He pulled back just enough to study Redford’s face, fingertips brushing along the man’s cheek. “You can do this,” he repeated, absolute conviction in his voice. “You’re brilliant, and you’re damn good at the planning part of things. Just take a deep breath and do what you do best.” He smiled at Redford, and he could feel the expression mostly in the corners of his eyes, in the softness of his gaze. “Use that beautiful big brain of yours.”

  Redford, as suggested, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. At the end of it, he leaned in to kiss Jed, resting against him for a moment. “You’re right,” he said, nodding. “I can do this.”

  “Damn straight.” Jed smirked a little, tugging gently on a strand of Redford’s hair. “I only have the best for my partner.” He softly nudged Redford back toward the dining room. “Now go in there and be amazing.”

  “You make it sound like you auditioned for a partner,” Redford huffed, amused.

  “Kinda did.” Jed wasn’t good at the big, grand declarations. He’d never been one for genuine emotion. But he met Redford’s eyes steadily, for once not hiding behind a manic grin or a cocky smirk. He just was, he was just Jed, and Redford got to see all of him. The only person who ever really had. “Waited my whole damn life for you, didn’t I?”

  Instead of replying right away, Redford just tugged Jed into a tight embrace. “Me too,” he said. “Now are you going to come back out to the table with me? We’re partners, and I want you there.”

  Their hands slipped together, just like that, and Redford led the way back out to the table. He sat down with a notepad and a pen, going over numbers and paperwork he’d draft up for the Lewises to sign, contingency fees, and even the damn mileage. He handled it all, grasping Jed’s hand the whole time, and Jed was sure his heart was just going to balloon up and burst for how much pride he felt, how much he adored seeing Redford comfortable in his own skin.

  Anthony gave them a plastic container filled with leftover stew. Edwin darted around them, still on two legs but moving every bit like the wolf, seeing them out to their car, making Redford promise he’d come back. Randall was more subdued, but he went out to say good-bye as well, hovering behind Victor, opening his car door for him with a slight, shy smile.

  “Thank you for coming,” Randall said. To all of them, but really just to Victor. “It was….” He breathed out a little laugh. “Interesting.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Victor replied. He took Randall’s hand in a brief shake. Jed rolled his eyes when he saw Randall’s expression brighten at the contact. How Victor could be that oblivious and still keep breathing, he just didn’t know. Maybe not being able to look into people’s eyes made him miss the most obvious things in the world.

  “We’ll call you as soon as we have a location,” Redford promised. “Hopefully tomorrow.”

  Jed felt a little like the goddamn Waltons, driving away from the Lewises as the three brothers stood on their porch and watched them go. Any second now, someone was going to say Good night, John-Boy and he’d die of some kind of diabetic coma from all the domesticity.

  At least they had a job. And as soon as it was done, they could leave the Little Wolves on the Prairie to their knitting or whatever the fuck and get back to real life.

  Chapter 3

  Redford

  THE CLUB didn’t look like much from the outside. They were parked on a little-used backstreet, the entrance to the club nothing more than a painted wooden door and glaringly red lights above it reading Murry’s Bar. The cab driver didn’t even seem bothered that they were there. There was no indication at all that the occupants of the bar were anything other than human. Redford didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but this definitely wasn’t it.

  Victor had elected to come along for the taxi ride, though he had declined to go in with them. He didn’t seem as impressed with the idea of a club of nonhumans as Redford was. Then again, he probably was more used to things like that. “Remember, if you need an exit strategy, I’ll be in the diner across the road,” Victor said.

  “And, what, you’ll come in and nag everyone to death?” Jed snorted.

  Redford just squinted at the bar sign. “We shouldn’t be long,” he said to Victor. He touched Jed’s shoulder, making sure he was ready. “Show time, I guess.” They got out of the taxi, heading in toward the bar. Victor exited as well, in the opposite direction, leaving them very much alone.

  The door seemed to open of its own accord when they approached, but a closer look into the shadows revealed a well-dressed bouncer, eyes narrowing as he inhaled. “You’re gonna need to put that human on a leash,” he rumbled.

  Redford summoned up every ounce of courage within himself and met the bouncer’s eyes. “I don’t need to,” he said dismissively.

  “Yeah, sweetcheeks,” Jed smirked. “I’m just fine right here.” Moving forward, dismissing the bouncer, Jed headed in toward the bar. He was stopped by a beefy hand on his chest, though, the large wolf—Redford could smell him, an overwhelming wave of aggression and fur—blocking Jed’s path.

  “No preters without restraints,” the wolf growled, showing his teeth. “Club rules. Either control your little friend here or get the hell out.” The whole conversation had obviously been directed toward Redford. Jed didn’t even warrant more than a glance from the bouncer, as if he were some errant bug that had wandered in and needed to be shooed away.

  The thought of putting Jed on any kind of leash sickened Redford, but it didn’t look like the bouncer was going to let them in if Jed was free. “We didn’t bring anything,” Redford said, losing some of his courage when the growl was turned toward him. Jed was remarkably quiet, though Redford could see his fingers flexing, obviously wanting to go for a weapon. Which would be a disaster of the highest order.

  “There’s a room right there. Lost and found.” The bouncer jerked his chin to a small door to the side of the lobby. “Should be something in there you can use.”

  He gave Jed a little push. Jed’s lips split into a grin, not a nice smile. No, Redford knew that look, and violence usually followed pretty close behind it. “How about you keep your meat hooks to yourself, there, bubba?” Jed took a step forward, getting into the bouncer’s face.

  “Get a muzzle on this bitch.” Far from intimidated, the wolf rolled his eyes at Jed, moving back to his position at the side of the door. “He talks too much.”

  Redford didn’t like that idea either. As the bouncer looked away, Redford traded a glance with Jed. He sighed and opened the door. Inside there lay all sorts of things that Redford didn’t want to think about too much, including several absolutely
barbaric looking contraptions. He settled on a short length of soft rope, hiding a cringe as he picked it up.

  “Sorry, Jed,” he murmured under his breath, low enough that even the bouncer wouldn’t hear it. “We’ll just use this.”

  As gently as he could, Redford fastened the rope around Jed’s throat—Jed had taught him how to tie a range of knots, and the one he used only looked solid, but could easily be tugged apart at a moment’s notice if need be. Jed gave him a quick thumbs-up to show he could still breathe.

  Once the bouncer saw that Jed had been appropriately attired, he waved them through into a dark hallway that stank of disinfectant, malfunctioning lights flickering on and off, the walls painted a sickly shade of green. Brightly colored posters littered both sides of the hall, the sound of thumping music growing louder as they approached the end.

  Redford reached out to open the second door and cringed at the wave of noise that came rushing out. Music, voices, and above all of that, a cacophony of scents that threatened to send his brain into overdrive in the effort to process them all. The dimly lit club was packed full of people, an area off to the left crammed nearly shoulder to shoulder as the crowd swayed to the music.

  He leaned over to Jed, putting his lips close to Jed’s ear. “I’m going to take us to the bar,” he said, raising his voice to be heard. “Do you want anything?”

  Jed bumped his shoulder against Redford’s, a reassuring weight, grounding Redford as the room pulsed around them. “No, sir,” he said with a mischievous twist of his lips. “Thank you for thinking of me, but I’ll be fine.”

  That was strange. Jed was refusing a chance to drink? Redford pulled back to frown at him faintly, and Jed gave a subtle jerk of his chin, motioning toward the crowd. Of course, many of them would have excellent hearing and would likely be highly suspicious about Redford treating a human nicely.

  Redford hated this place already.