Bloodlines

by Alex Kidwell

  With great effort, he shoved the anxiety aside and forced himself to stop thinking about the future. All he could focus on was the present, and while the absence of Jed was still a hole in his heart, Redford at least had something he could concentrate on while he desperately hoped Jed would return.

  With newfound determination, Redford marched his way toward the Gray Lady’s house. He was sure he could be of use—he might not have an arsenal at his disposal anymore, but he still had his mind, and he would be able to aid them in security planning if they had indeed planned to stay and fight.

  Mallory stopped him at the door, his features as stern as ever. “She’s not in right now.”

  “Oh,” Redford said awkwardly, the wind taken out of his sails. “Um. When will she be back?”

  “I don’t know.” Mallory stared at him. There was a hint of a crinkle to his nose, a very faint dislike for Redford’s scent. “Why did you need to talk to her?”

  “I wanted to find out whether the pack is staying and fighting, or running.”

  “We’re leaving.” Redford couldn’t tell whether Mallory liked the idea or not. “As soon as possible. We estimate in a week or so.”

  Redford didn’t immediately blurt out the answer that came to mind. He had been in synch with Jed’s approval for running at first, but when Anthony and Randall had argued in favor of fighting, he’d had to admit they had a point. The hunters wouldn’t get bored of looking for them, even if they did move seven states over. O’Malley wouldn’t simply declare that it was too far away, he’d just relocate the hunters.

  But it wasn’t his decision, and he had wanted to help the pack in whatever way he could. So he thanked Mallory and left, unsure about what he should do. He supposed he could help them gather their belongings, but Redford doubted that anybody would want him going through their things.

  At a loss, he made his way toward the bonfire, picking his way through the wolves moving through the camp.

  Randall had apparently spotted him, because he was making his way to Redford, Anthony trailing behind. They dodged around huddled groups of wolves, Randall pausing to take Anthony’s elbow casually when Anthony started to slow his step. “Hello.” Randall smiled at Redford, finding a log around the bonfire for Anthony to sit on. “Did I see Edwin over here just a bit ago?”

  “Um, yeah, he ran off that way.” Redford pointed in the direction of the woods near the gate. “I don’t know what he was doing.”

  “Wolf or human?” Randall asked, seemingly not disturbed at all at the idea of his brother randomly running around.

  “Wolf,” Redford replied.

  Anthony just sighed. “He’ll be back eventually. I do wish he’d take his phone with him, or I could attach a GPS to him or something.”

  “Maybe a pink collar with a jingly bell.” Randall gave his brother a quick smile. “He’d like that.”

  “He’d chew it off after an hour,” Anthony snorted. “And you know he’d just bitch about the bell all the time for making him unstealthy. Which he still somehow thinks he is.”

  Randall was watching Redford, a crease appearing between his eyes. “Hey.” He nudged Redford’s foot with his own, head cocked in a way that distinctly reminded Redford of Edwin. “Um. Are you all right? You look… not so much.”

  That was an apt way to sum it up, Redford supposed. He had been listening to Anthony and Randall, but he realized now that he’d been staring at the gates, waiting for some sign that a van with Jed in it was going to drive back through them.

  There was no sign yet.

  He didn’t want to tell them. Redford had already had that conversation with Edwin, and he had no desire to repeat it. But they deserved to know, at the very least because Randall had hired Jed, even if Jed had already fulfilled the original request. “Jed’s gone,” he said succinctly. “I’m sorry. But I think I can still be of use to the pack, so I’m staying for as long as I’m needed.”

  Randall blinked, surprise flitting across his face and then something quite a bit like the opposite. As if he’d been expecting that. “Seems to be a theme.” He offered Redford a slight smile. “I am sorry. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re going to be massively helpful.”

  Redford wasn’t so sure, but he appreciated the thought. Anthony wore the same look that Randall did, a faint resignation, though Anthony looked more disappointed at Jed’s leaving. “Did he say why—” Anthony cut himself off. “You don’t have to answer that, sorry.”

  Redford couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud again anyway, so the apology was just as well. Instead, he changed the topic. “I just heard that the pack is leaving. What are you guys going to do?”

  Randall took off his glasses and cleaned them on the tail of his shirt, staring at the ground as if it was suddenly very interesting. Perhaps all the Lewises had a fascination with ants. “We hadn’t discussed that yet. But Anthony’s treatment is ongoing, so I don’t suppose there’s much choice.”

  Redford grimaced in sympathy. They would have to uproot their entire lives to continue staying with the pack, and though Redford didn’t know too many details of Anthony’s medical treatment here, all he’d seen was some weird herb gunk that Anthony was using on his hands. It wasn’t exactly advanced medical treatment, at least, not what Redford would imagine.

  “If there’s any way I can help, just name it,” Redford offered. “I know I’ve technically exceeded what you originally hired me for, but you’ve been…. I haven’t exactly had a lot of friends in my life.”

  Randall gave him a slight smile. “Nor have I. It’s nice to count you among them.”

  Having the Lewises as friends still wasn’t enough to make Redford feel completely content about a possible future with the pack without Jed, but it did help.

  Anthony pushed himself up to stand, and before Redford could react, Anthony had engulfed him a hug. Redford froze, not sure what to do. “From one wolf who’s had a nonwolf mate run off to another, we’re here for you,” Anthony assured him, the very picture of earnestness.

  Redford couldn’t help but notice that Randall looked sad too. He had to wonder if it was something to do with Victor.

  A small, very spiteful part of the back of his brain said, do relationships ever actually work out? All three of them were currently upset over the loss of them. He couldn’t hold on to that spite for very long, though, not when the ache of Jed’s absence made itself known again.

  “Well, aren’t we a fun trio.” Randall forced a smile, shaking his head. “Maybe I should go try to date one of these wolves here, since apparently all the horror stories I’ve read about dating half bloods and humans are right.”

  “Apparently so,” Anthony said wryly, drawing back from Redford, who took the opportunity to collect his breath. Anthony hugged with the grip of an octopus. “If you want to make me happy, you and Edwin will find some nice wolves and settle down with a nice pack.”

  Randall’s smile faded slightly, but he nodded, once more cleaning his glasses that, to Redford, didn’t look to need the attention. “I suppose I should go get busy, then,” he murmured in a faint voice, clearly attempting to sound teasing. “Before all the good ones are taken.”

  “Of course, what would make me even happier,” Anthony continued, “is if I could find Victor and growl at him until he pulls his head out of his ass and dates you.” He glanced around the camp, seemingly seeking out Victor, and frowned when he couldn’t see him. “You two are perfect for each other. I have no idea why he’s being the way he is.”

  A frown curled Randall’s lips slightly, and he fidgeted in his seat, seemingly wishing he hadn’t even brought it up. “Not so perfect,” he corrected softly. “And we’re dropping it, Anthony. I’ve imposed on the poor man enough.”

  Anthony gave a doubtful snort. “He’ll realize you’re good for him soon enough. He’d have to be an idiot not to, and he does seem really smart.” He grinned suddenly. “He wrote all those books, remember, Randall?”

  “Yes. I remember.�
�� Randall rubbed a hand through his hair. “I remember how long I’ve had a crush on him, Anthony. I also remember him acting as if I was an amusing little boy who followed him home. One moment we’re kissing, the next he’s acting like being with me is horrifying. So perhaps we could focus on Redford, whose mate actually loves him, hm?”

  “Do you want me to go find Jed and growl at him?” Anthony asked hopefully.

  Despite his mood, Redford smiled a little. “I don’t think that would help. But thank you.”

  “It’d be a perfect world where it could help,” Anthony sighed.

  Redford decided he would wait three days. If Jed didn’t come back by then, then Redford would go looking for him. He wasn’t about to give up on this relationship after one argument, even if it had been the worst argument of Redford’s entire life. “I’ll give him some time,” he said. “Maybe he just needs some time away to… do whatever he needs to and think things out.”

  It was a shot in the dark, a desperate hope. But Redford knew Jed loved him, and he also knew Jed was ridiculously stubborn. He didn’t give up on things easily.

  “Humans are ridiculous sometimes,” Randall agreed. “But Jed cares for you, Redford, anyone can see that. He can’t just walk away. I don’t believe it works like that.” He looked vaguely embarrassed to be voicing such a sentimental view.

  “I wonder who’s more ridiculous, humans or half bloods,” Anthony mused. “So far we’ve got a count of two half bloods and one human. Really, wolves must be the only sensible lot around.”

  “Anthony,” Randall said lightly, almost a warning in his voice, but then seemed to reconsider. With a sigh, he shook his head. “Oh, I can’t even argue with that. Honestly, I don’t know how to read him. It’s as if he’s speaking another language half the time.”

  Anthony just laughed, but he seemed more distracted by watching a pack of wolves walk past. As Redford watched, Anthony’s expression took on a resigned tone. “I guess we should think about the fact that we’re moving,” he sighed. “Sitting here feeling sorry for ourselves is all well and good, but….”

  “If there’s anything I can do to help,” Redford offered again. “I can lift heavy things, I think.”

  “Thanks.” Randall gave him a little smile. “Why don’t you come find us around dinner? I’m guessing Edwin will be back by then; he never misses food. We’ll all go together.”

  “He’d better be back by then,” Anthony grumbled. “Seriously, GPS tracker.”

  “All right.” Redford nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets, suddenly at a loss for what to do. “I’ll see you then.”

  There was a quick flicker of sympathy in Randall’s expression. He reached out to gently squeeze Redford’s shoulder. But Anthony was struggling to stand, knees obviously stiff, and whatever Randall might have said was left in favor of him going to his brother’s side and casually slinging an arm around Anthony’s waist. They both nodded to Redford, making their way back to their cabin with slow, shuffling steps.

  What was Redford supposed to do now? His only plan had been to help the Lewises pack, except they’d come here with already packed bags, unlike the wolves that actually lived here, so their packing would take all of two hours. Less, if they were efficient. He didn’t know anybody else here except the Gray Lady and Mallory, and not even very well.

  His thoughts wound up turning back to Jed. Jed would know what to do. Jed would be announcing himself as Camp Packing Instructor and corralling everyone. That was the difference between them, Redford supposed—Jed was a natural leader, and Redford was not.

  He ended up wandering the perimeter of the camp. A short distance behind the Gray Lady’s house was a waterfall that fed into a lake, which in turn started the river that edged around the east side of the pack’s territory. Redford stood and watched it for a while, trying to think if he’d ever actually seen a waterfall in real life before. His and Jed’s jobs didn’t often take them to particularly scenic places.

  If Jed was there, Redford would be holding his hand and asking him if he’d ever seen a waterfall bigger than this one. He’d be pointing the fish in the lake out to Jed, trying to see if he could figure out what species they were and speculating if those were the fish that the wolves caught for lunch and dinner.

  Redford heaved a short, hard sigh and left the waterfall. Three days. If Jed wasn’t back by then, Redford would find him. Maybe Jed just needed space and time to think about things. He’d seemed so horrified by the fact that Redford had killed now, and was losing himself in his instincts. Surely, if Jed thought about it, he’d realize he’d never forced Redford to do anything, he’d never corrupted him, he’d merely shown him a better path, and Redford had been free to pick and choose what he did.

  And maybe Jed would find some way to be okay with Redford’s dysfunctional instincts, if Redford worked really hard to get them in line. Other than the episode with the hunters, they’d been relatively quiet for the last few weeks. No voices in the back of his mind, no getting up in the middle of the night to growl at shadows. Redford was getting control, he swore.

  But wandering around aimlessly and thinking in circles wasn’t going to help anything, so Redford made himself look at the wolves as he passed by them, searching out something he could help with.

  There were families and couples, single wolves and young men and women, friends helping friends. They all seemed incredibly close knit, casual with physical affection. Finally, Redford wound up sitting at the bonfire, facing outward, trying not to frown and feel incredibly useless. It would probably be helpful if he could work up the courage to talk to complete strangers, but his thoughts were in enough turmoil as it was.

  His eye caught on a family moving around the outside of their cabin. The mother and father, Redford assumed, were busier keeping their two young children in line than they were with packing, exasperatedly running after the two young girls in their attempts to keep them in line of sight.

  Redford couldn’t help but smile. Wolf children were energetic, it looked like. He wouldn’t know—he’d been bitten when he was very young, but he didn’t recall having the same kind of energy. His wolf had been a nightmare, not something he’d ever felt in tune with. He’d dreaded the change, the thing that made him different, the reason his grandmother had kept him home from school, had locked him up in the basement on full moons. But watching the kids play, it seemed that here, all the parts of Redford that had been held up as a monster were celebrated in the younger members of the pack.

  He didn’t remember much of his parents, Redford realized as he watched the family. He had a faint memory of his mother’s hair, how she’d always kept it long. His father had had a mustache that he’d shaved off. That was, for whatever reason, a big event in Redford’s young memory. They had been kind, he thought, and they had loved him. Redford was sure of that, at least.

  Of the camping trip on which they had died and he had been bitten, Redford also didn’t recall much. He remembered howling and his parents’ fear, their attempts to reassure him that wolves wouldn’t attack. He remembered their screams, the crackle of the campfire as a dark shape leapt over it, the pain of a bite on his arm and claws across his face. From then on, Redford’s memories of his youth were dominated by a dry, dusty house and what felt like endless years of full moons and the chafe of metal.

  The parents that he was watching would never confine their children like that, for which Redford was glad. The kids looked cute and completely at ease with their wolfish nature. As he watched, one of them went from two legs to four in a sudden collapse of the flowery dress she wore, and a wolf cub struggled out from under the fabric to charge once more at her sister in friendly play.

  Redford was so absorbed in watching them that he didn’t hear the footsteps approach him until they were mere feet away, at which point he hunched his shoulders, looking at the stranger with mild alarm.

  “You look like you’ve got a decent pair of arms on you,” the man said. He looked about fifty in age,
which of course meant he was much older, though Redford wasn’t sure exactly how old.

  “Sort of,” Redford answered tentatively. “Do you, um, need… arms?”

  Six months ago he and Jed had done a job for a man who kept referring to people’s body parts in really creepy, very culinary ways. Redford had been sure he was a cannibal. He wondered the same of the man in front of him now, though he was sure it was just paranoia.

  “I need someone that doesn’t have arthritis flare-ups in cold weather,” the man said. He peered at Redford as if he were calculating exactly how much he wanted to socialize with him, which Redford could empathize with. “And you seem less busy than everybody else here.”

  It was only when the man started to look impatient that Redford recognized him. He was from the pack they had helped rescue the other day. Redford distinctly recalled the man gathering the younger wolves together and looking very exasperated when they took more than thirty seconds to line up.

  “Um, yeah, sure,” Redford said, hurriedly standing up. “What do you need help with?”

  The wolf just walked off, clearly expecting Redford to follow. Redford was fairly sure he’d heard someone call him Cedric. He was led to a communal building on the side of the camp near the tree line, where the refugees had obviously been put up for their stay. Redford recognized some of the wolves they’d rescued mingling with the Gray Lady’s pack—they seemed to be integrating well.

  Cedric stopped at a door at the corner of the building and waved Redford inside. “I scavenged some boxes from the healers here. Just old things that they don’t use, equipment and the like. Unfortunately, the people who brought it along for me had the gall to put it on the highest shelves.”

  Redford took a quick look around the room. It was Spartan and mostly bare, though some bags with what he presumed were Cedric’s belongings were lined up against one wall. The boxes on the shelves were about shoulder height, and they looked heavy. He figured they were most likely full of herbs and salves, considering what the healers used on Anthony.