Bloodlines

by Alex Kidwell

  “What, you want to take a fucking picture?” Rubbing his fingers across his stubble, Jed scowled deeply.

  “No.” The exasperation in Edwin’s voice was practically visible. “I’m here to take you back.”

  Okay, either he wasn’t sober enough or wasn’t drunk enough for this conversation, and Jed honestly wasn’t sure which. “You’re the one who told me we wouldn’t work,” he pointed out, finishing the coffee and looking sadly down at the bottom of his too-small crappy hotel mug. The ancient coffee maker was all the way over on the other side of the room. It was like God was punishing him for past sins. “So what, now you’re changing your mind? Did you forget I was a dirty, stupid human?”

  “Nope.” Edwin took pity on him, going to get the pot of coffee and pouring him a refill.

  “So, what? ’Cause I gotta say, Rin Tin Tin, I’m kind of talked out.” Another long gulp of coffee and Jed felt fortified enough to stagger upright, going to the bathroom. He gratefully brushed his teeth, doing his best to wash out the nasty fuzz from his tongue. It made the shitty coffee taste even worse, but Jed really didn’t care. “I get it. Redford’s a wolf, I’m a goddamn human, I hold him back. Not to mention I turned him into a killer. Trust me, kid, you’re preaching at the fucking choir.”

  Edwin was watching him, crouching in the chair again, head cocked just like… well, just like a dog who was trying to parse out what a human was babbling at it about. “Did my brothers ever tell you why my parents left the pack?”

  “Uh.” Shit. Pop quiz. “Bad food? Too many Lassie reruns during movie nights?”

  “Probably.” Edwin gave him a quick smirk. “They didn’t agree with the pack anymore, apparently. I don’t know. I never got a chance to ask them.”

  Sheesh. Was he really pulling out the dead-parents card? “Yeah, well, that sucks,” Jed said flatly. “But that still doesn’t tell me why the fuck you suddenly want me to be with Red.”

  “I’m just saying, I don’t know why they left. But they did. They decided that what everyone else said pack had to be didn’t work for them.” Edwin wrapped his arms around his knees, shrugging. “They were afraid of humans. I mean, they had to be, right? They took us way out in the woods. I, uh, I don’t really remember them. I remember… my mom laughing. And I remember dad had this beard that was scratchy when he hugged us good night.”

  Jed sank down to sit on the bed opposite the chair Edwin had commandeered. “You were just a kid when they died, right?” he asked, rubbing a hand through his hair.

  Nodding, Edwin smiled slightly. It was dimmer than his usual ones, worn down by years of borrowed grief. “Yeah. They died, and then it was just Ant and Randall and me. And that’s not normal either. I mean, Anthony was way too young. Now he’s sick, and Randall is starting to take over and… look, my point is, we’re not exactly poster kids, you know? Maybe that’s why I like listening to Phoenix. I don’t really know how I feel about humans.” Edwin’s eyes flicked to Jed, and he amended, “Other humans.”

  “Thanks,” Jed grunted.

  “Yeah, you’re okay. But, you know, other humans, they might be like those hunters in the woods. Or the ones that killed my parents. Phoenix doesn’t just talk about them, though. He talks about how it’s okay to be different. It’s okay to be a half blood, it’s better to be what we are, and we shouldn’t be ashamed of that. He wouldn’t think my family is strange or broken just because we’re not like everyone else.”

  Slowly, Jed nodded. “Thinking you’re better, though.” He drummed his fingers against his mug. “Gotta admit, I’m not a fan of that. A lot of bad shit seems to go down when one guy wants to raise himself up at the expense of everyone else getting knocked down.”

  Edwin, surprisingly, looked a little sheepish. “Maybe,” he agreed. “Sometimes it seems like we have to be better, you know?”

  “Why?” Jed snorted quietly. “Because you can turn into a wolf? Baby, I knew a woman who could hit a target from half a mile away in a windstorm. I knew this guy, part of my team, he could get you into any safe, any locked door, in five minutes flat. Go to a museum, read a book, hell, just listen to goddamn Metallica, you tell me that we’re inferior just because we can’t do your kind of tricks. We’re not. You might live longer, you might run faster, you might have a pert little tail or suck blood or, hell, do whatever the fuck Victor does, but that just makes you different, junior. Not better.”

  After a moment of Edwin staring back at him, wordless, Edwin began to laugh. Not loudly, just almost-silent little chuffs of air, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed. “I guess you aren’t entirely worthless.”

  “Damn straight,” Jed grumbled. “Just because there’s some shitheel hunters out there, don’t write the whole bunch of us off. I mean, come on, there are bad vampires, you know that. Ask your brother. There’s got to be bad wolves. Having asshole members of your group is kind of universal.”

  “So if you’re not inferior, why did you leave?” Edwin asked, sounding genuinely curious. “I mean, you don’t think you’re somehow less than, so….”

  Heaving a sigh, Jed leaned forward, arms resting on his knees, staring down at his once again empty mug. “Because I’m not good for him,” Jed answered finally, quietly. “He deserves better.”

  “Why do you think you’re not what he needs?”

  Rolling his eyes, Jed grimaced. His fingers wrapped more firmly around the coffee mug, as if that could hold him together. He was fucking hungover. He did not have it in him right then to be having this conversation. “You saw him out there,” Jed muttered. “Running around, being who he is. He’s better with you guys than he was with me. I’m…. I’m a cramped apartment and shitty processed dubious meat products. The only sky I see is some sliver between buildings. He should be free.” Something broke in Jed’s expression. He rubbed a shaky hand across his face. “I thought he was. I honest to God thought he was, until I saw him out there. Shit, I didn’t even know.”

  “You couldn’t,” Edwin told him. He sounded almost kind, eyes softening with sympathy. “You’re not a wolf. You gave him what you thought he needed.”

  “I gave him what I needed,” Jed shot back, voice cracking.

  “That’s the kindest thing you could have done.” Edwin gave him a barely-there smile. “Look, I…. I know I sounded harsh, before. During the full moon. But I’ve never had to be cooped up. Hell, my brothers took me out of school because I cried all day to be let out of the room. Being indoors too long makes me feel like my skin is too tight, like I need to just… climb out of it. That’s who I am, and my brothers have worked hard to make sure I get to be who I am.”

  “So you’re saying I tortured him, basically.” Jed sighed, gaze dropping again toward the floor. “Fantastic.”

  “No. I’m saying you gave him what you thought he needed. You gave him your freedom, what you think that means.” Edwin paused, searching for words. “You gave him the sliver of your sky. That’s kind, Jed. It’s not right, but it’s kind. And that’s more important than getting it perfect your first time.”

  Jed just shook his head, jaw tight. He’d locked Redford up. He’d locked him up, and he’d exposed him to a life of blood and violence. Which was the life Jed knew, the one he was soaked in, but he shouldn’t have sullied Redford with it. He shouldn’t have rubbed his dirt all over someone so clean.

  “I can’t stand to be cooped up,” Edwin said again, and Jed wanted to scream at him. He got it. He got that he’d fucked up. He didn’t need some idiot kid telling him all over again. But then Edwin went on. “But Randall can. He wants to be inside, in a library, just as much as I want to run. And he’s not less of a wolf. He’s not being forced. Honestly, he just… he likes it. I don’t get it, but he’s my brother. So I’d go to the library with him, I’d stay outside on the steps while he picked out books. And he always brought back one to read to me. He’d go down to the lake with me, we’d sit there and he’d read me a story while I ran around and chased butterflies.”


  Confused, Jed looked up to meet Edwin’s eyes, calm and blue, wiser than he should be. Wiser than anyone who went around naked as much as Edwin ever should be allowed to become. Maybe the eyes of a kid who’d grown up fast and still clung, as much as possible, to the things that gave him the most joy. “So you’re saying I should read Redford a book?” Jed asked, voice low and hoarse.

  “I’m saying, stop trying to dictate what kind of wolf Redford is.” Edwin’s lips curved upward. “Just sit outside with him. Read to him while he runs. Don’t try to make him into what you think he should be, Jed.”

  “Yeah, well, I can only read the books with the big pictures, anyway.” Jed forced a quick smirk, studying Edwin’s face, the haunted look still lingering in his eyes. “Look, my line of work… it ain’t pretty. And I’ve made my peace with what I do. Hell, I’m good at it. But Redford, he’s better than that.”

  “He’s also an adult.” Edwin wrinkled his nose, obviously confused. “I mean, unless I missed his traumatic brain injury.”

  “Shut up,” Jed muttered.

  “Seriously, come on. Give him a choice. But don’t walk away if he picks staying with you. Come on, martyring yourself for his happiness is kind of ridiculous. He knows what you do. Maybe you can just tell him what you’re thinking and talk about it?” Edwin’s eyes cut to the table full of empty bottles. “Without drinking yourself stupid.”

  Jed had the good grace to look a little rueful. “It’s a coping method.” Usually he’d drink and then go get fucked by a stranger. Funny, this time he hadn’t even thought about that as a possibility.

  “It makes you stink,” Edwin told him bluntly. “I don’t know anything about being a… whatever you are.”

  “Security consultant,” Jed deadpanned.

  “Yeah, sure.” Edwin laughed at that, leaning back in his chair. “Whatever. All I know is, I’d be pretty pissed if someone decided they got to make all kinds of decisions for me. I might be young, but I’m not stupid. I can figure out what I want, what I should stick around for, and when I should run. I’m guessing Redford can too.”

  Yeah, he really could. That big, beautiful brain of his was definitely better than the walnut Jed was toting around. Redford was strong and brilliant. He could make his own decisions. “I think….” Christ, was he actually going to admit this? Jed swore he’d never fucking drink again. “I think I’m just afraid that I’m going to be just like his grandmother. I’m going to shove him in a cage, and he’s going to take it because he thinks he has to.”

  Edwin was quiet for a minute, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers had started to tap restlessly on his legs, his foot jittering absently. “Get a yard,” he advised solemnly.

  Jed couldn’t help but snort a laugh. “Thanks, Socrates.”

  “Get a yard, get some room, and stop thinking you get to tell him what it means to be free.” Edwin pinned Jed with a look. “I’ve seen the way Redford looks at you. You’re his freedom, Jed. You’re part of what makes him feel like he can run forever, like he just has to howl because his body isn’t big enough to hold everything in. That’s what it means to be a mate, I think.”

  “We’re not mates.” The disagreement was almost automatic, but Jed’s voice trailed up at the end, a question seeping in.

  Edwin scoffed, apparently not interested in listening to his denials. “You have his mark on your arm. Trust me, I can smell this stuff.” He tapped the side of his nose. “You’re mates. Or you could be. If you let yourself.”

  Jed stared down at his arm, Redford’s bite marks still standing out angry red and scabbed over. He’d noted the other day, idly, that it would definitely scar. And while it still ached, Jed had to admit, some small part of him didn’t mind. Sure, he’d rather not get mauled, and he didn’t want Redford to ever get so lost again that he couldn’t find his way out, but if he had to add to his collection of scars, he was halfway glad it was from Redford.

  “How’d you get so damn annoying?” he grumbled at Edwin.

  “Daytime television.” Edwin gave him a wolfish grin.

  It didn’t make a ton of sense yet, no. Though that could partially be because his head was still throbbing. Jed was pretty sure a bunch of nice words didn’t suddenly make it okay that Redford was going to age a hell of a lot slower or need to be taken for regular walks. And Jed wasn’t sure where he fit in with the hippie clan of four-legged idiots. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe neither of them did.

  Maybe he should just get a fucking yard.

  “We gotta go,” Jed decided, lurching to his feet, weaving his way to his bag to start shoving his stuff back inside. Christ, the whole world was playing Tilt-A-Whirl. Jed was kind of amazed that he didn’t just go crashing to the ground. But he managed to hold himself upright long enough to get his stuff packed and a protesting Knievel back into the cat carrier.

  They were a two-hour drive away. If they stopped for the world’s largest coffee and maybe a greasy burrito, Jed could be moderately sober by the time they got back to the camp.

  “Sure hope you can drive, Lassie,” Jed said, tossing the keys to Edwin. “We gotta get back.”

  Edwin stared down at the keys, a slow grin working its way across his face. “Awesome.”

  SO IT turned out, Edwin could not drive. He could not at all drive, despite his protests to the contrary and the fact that he could sing “The Wheels on the Bus“ with dirty lyrics. Jed just thought it was damn lucky he was so hungover, because if he’d been sober enough to get behind the wheel he might have left Edwin to run home after he nearly took out the drive-through speakers and then started laughing hysterically.

  After a very quick lesson about what the gas and brake pedal did, Jed settled back with his coffee and burrito and tried to not notice how close they were to dying at every moment. Luckily, the road was near deserted, and no one was there to honk at Edwin when he drove ten miles under the speed limit and drifted all the way over to the white line.

  When they finally were bouncing down the long dirt road that led back to the camp, Jed was feeling marginally more clearheaded. He was half leaning out the window, stomach cramping into knots as he mentally urged Edwin to go faster. He just wanted to get there. Redford was there, was alone, Jed had left him alone, and even though Jed knew all the reasons why, he still wanted to cut off his own balls.

  He didn’t have a fucking clue what he was doing. How they’d work. But he couldn’t bear the thought of not figuring it out together.

  As they rounded the last bend, Jed spotted a familiar figure standing by the side of the path.

  Redford. Framed in the waving grass, he was almost achingly beautiful. Jed barked, “Stop,” but didn’t give Edwin much of a chance to comply. Before the van had done more than slow down, he was diving out of the door, rolling and landing flat on his back, wind knocked out of him. But he was up again in the next beat, shoving himself forward and running toward Redford.

  Turned out they had the same idea, and their collision had more force than Jed had intended it to. Redford saved them from toppling into the grass by grabbing Jed’s shoulders. He wore the biggest smile Jed had ever seen him with.

  “I’m so glad you’re back,” Redford said in a rush. “I was just going to come find you. I rang that contact of yours that lives near here, um, Burns or something, and he was going to come pick me up, and I was going to scour every hotel in a hundred mile radius. Are you okay? You don’t look so good. Did you get into trouble?”

  “Red?” Jed pulled back enough to study Redford’s face, to drink him in like he was a fucking well in the middle of the goddamn sun. “Shut up.”

  Just like that, Redford yanked him in close, Jed tangled his fingers in Redford’s hair and tugged him in, and they met in a hungry, desperate clash. Their lips met, tongues pressing and taking, Jed completely breathless as Redford kissed him back so hard he couldn’t think. If it had been possible to melt right into Redford, to give up the entirety of his physical existence just to sag into everything Redford w
as, he would have right then. He needed him, needed, with an ache Jed couldn’t even begin to articulate.

  So he kissed Redford, wrapping his arms around him tight enough to ensure there wasn’t even an inch of space between them.

  “I’m sorry,” he was whispering between every kiss. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Red.”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” Redford fervently replied. “It’s okay. I don’t care that you left. I just care that you’re back.” He pulled back from Jed so he could properly look him in the eye, doubt touching his face. “You are back, aren’t you? You didn’t just forget your toothbrush or something?”

  Heaving out a broken laugh, Jed shook his head, studying Redford’s face, sliding his fingers along those three faint scars on Redford’s cheek. “I shouldn’t have left,” he told Redford seriously. “I mean, I thought…. I thought I had to. I just want you to be happy, babe. I need you to be happy.”

  Redford got that little crinkle between his eyebrows, the one he wore whenever he was thinking hard about something, weighing everything in his mind. “When you left, you said you were doing it to make me happy,” he murmured, confused. “It definitely didn’t make me happy, but did you change your mind?”

  “I just….” A frown flickered across Jed’s face. He leaned up to kiss away the wrinkle on Redford’s forehead, nudging his nose in alongside Redford’s with a quiet sigh. “I’m scared,” he admitted heavily. Two times he’d said it in the same day. The world was probably going to end.

  Redford glanced around them, which led Jed to do the same. Edwin had obviously taken the van back to camp at some point, and they were utterly alone in the long grass and trees beside the dirt road. Redford took Jed’s hand and tugged him over to a fallen tree, where they sat—which was nothing short of absolute relief for Jed’s still hungover brain.