Bloodlines

by Alex Kidwell

  “I appreciate it,” Randall replied dryly.

  “So why aren’t you furry?” A cold nose budged into Jed’s arm, and he turned to find Knievel, her tail swishing, curling herself around Jed’s legs before she nudged her head against the underside of Anthony’s chin. “Even Knievel’s getting in on the party.”

  Anthony made a series of noises that sounded even more exasperated, directed at Randall. Randall rolled his eyes. “I’ll be there. I don’t know why you care so much. It’s not as if you have any lack of people to run with tonight.” He looked over at Jed. “I don’t turn just because the moon goes up. I wait until I feel like going out.”

  The snort that Anthony blew out showed what he thought of that, but he nonetheless picked himself up—Knievel climbing around to lay over his neck like a scarf—and stared at Randall expectantly. Jed knew that look. Sure enough, Randall gave one glance down at Anthony before blowing out a heavy sigh. “Yes, yes.”

  He peeled off his sweater, his pants, making a neat folded pile and placing them on a nearby rock. Jed kept his eyes averted while Randall shifted. Randall nudged his nose against Anthony’s side, tail wagging slightly. Knievel, much to Jed’s surprise, didn’t come back to him as the wolves headed off. She slid off of Anthony and kept pace beside him, streaking off at a run when Randall and Anthony increased their speed. Before Jed could call her back, she was gone.

  Jed wanted to run after her. But after a few moments of pacing back and forth, distressed, hollering her name, he was forced to concede that she obviously didn’t want to spend the night in the tent.

  He swore to God, if she got eaten, he was going to explode something.

  The tent wasn’t nearly as warm or comforting without Redford, but it didn’t take long for Jed to drop off to sleep. He slept soundly, the mountain air good for that, at least. The first loud crash of noise, Jed barely woke for. Rolling over, burying his head under the covers, he drifted back off, only to jerk fully alert at the second report.

  Gunfire. Accompanied by a sharp yelp he knew all too well.

  Staggering out of the tent, Jed was strapping on his holster, grabbing his shotgun, all before he’d managed to shove his feet into his boots. His heart was hammering, his dog tags and whistle thumping against his chest as he ran. He wore them when Redford shifted. Jed fumbled for the whistle, putting it to his lips and blowing repeatedly.

  Wolves were streaming into the camp, chaos mounting. Jed should be organizing them, trying to get a party together. But all he could do was stare at everyone as they passed, desperately searching for a familiar shape.

  No more gunfire. That wasn’t a good sign. That meant they’d hit something. Or they were dead, but since there weren’t any triumphant howls, Jed wasn’t betting on that scenario.

  Most people couldn’t tell wolves apart when they howled. They all kind of sounded the same, admittedly, but when you lived with a pack for a month, you started to be able to pick out the individual ones. And the howl that had risen from the forest was definitely Redford’s. Without hesitation, Jed plunged into the dark woods, leaping over fallen trees, running full tilt toward the direction of the anguished noise.

  He stumbled to a halt, heartbeat throbbing in his ears, spinning around and trying desperately to make out the shadowy shapes. His eyes weren’t good enough for this, and he hadn’t grabbed his flashlight. Stupid. Again he blew the whistle, holding completely still, listening desperately. “Come on, Red,” he begged in barely more than a whisper. “Where are you?”

  He waited. An agonizing minute passed by, every beat of his heart sounding like thunder in his ears. Other wolves passed him, none of them Redford. Just when Jed had decided he was going to turn this whole goddamn forest into woodchips, Redford burst out of the undergrowth, obviously frantic. He reared up and slammed two paws on the ground—their code for hunter.

  Jed immediately took off, running in the direction everyone else was fleeing from. Shotgun in hand, he darted around trees, crashing through undergrowth, not caring how loud he was being. They sure as fuck better know he was coming. He caught a glimmer of light out of the corner of his eye. Immediately, Jed hit the ground, rolling, coming up to a crouch with the gun braced on his shoulder.

  Nothing. He couldn’t see anything. Damn it.

  “Need a nose,” he whispered, turning, expecting Redford to be right behind him.

  Redford just shook his head. He pointed in the direction Jed had been going, but that head shake meant whoever had fired that gun was long gone, or at least gone long enough that there’d be no point in following them.

  Fuck.

  They’d come back in the daylight and track them to whatever bolt-hole they’d decided to crawl into. For now, at least, they needed to regroup and reassess. Jed absently wrapped an arm around Redford, pulling him in close. “God, my heart almost stopped when I heard you,” Jed murmured, rubbing his hand absently through Redford’s fur. “Glad you’re okay.”

  His hand was wet. Sticky. Jed frowned and turned toward him. “What were you rolling in—” He held up his fingers, only to find them coated in red.

  Redford was bleeding.

  Jed stopped thinking. A rush in his ears, a roaring, was all he could hear. In one smooth movement, Jed scooped Redford up into his arms, abandoning his shotgun without a second thought, and started running back toward camp. He couldn’t tell how bad it was, how much pain Redford was in, but it didn’t matter. A scratch or something worse, the answer for everything was going to be get him home. So Jed ran.

  Stumbling to his knees as he got near one of the fires, Jed set Redford down, shakily running his hands over him, searching for the wound. “I need the doc!” Jed hollered to whoever was nearby. “And a fucking light! Now, let’s go, fucking move.”

  He couldn’t be hurt. Redford couldn’t be hurt. Jed simply wasn’t going to let it happen. Someone handed him a flashlight, and Jed quickly switched it on, searching Redford for the source of the blood.

  “The doctor’s coming.” Randall was next to him, in human form and dressed again, kneeling down and gently taking the light to aim it for Jed. “What happened?”

  “Don’t know. Hunters. Blood.” The words came out of Jed like bullets, worry making it impossible for him to focus on anything else. Christ, what if Redford was dying right here? What if Jed had hurt him while he was running? What if he died? “Please be okay,” he begged Redford lowly. “Okay? Hear me? Be okay.”

  Redford nudged against his hand, tail between his legs in a way Jed knew to be guilt, and turned so Jed could see his upper foreleg. That was where the blood was coming from.

  Cedric was there a few seconds later, and after a cursory look, he sighed, “All right, Mr. Walker, you can stop tearing your hair out. It’s just a graze.”

  Oh, thank fuck. Sagging forward, forehead resting against Redford’s side, Jed took two breaths, just two, to let his heart start beating again. Okay. He was going to be okay. “Does he need stitches?” he asked Cedric, voice muffled by Redford’s fur.

  “Just a few,” Cedric assured him, pulling a small kit out of his pocket. Redford laid his head on Jed’s knee, still looking guilty. God knew why. “Can you change back?” That was directed at Redford, but Jed’s answer was sharp and immediate.

  “No way. We’ll just, you know. Shave him or something.” Redford’s shifts were painful as it was. Jed didn’t want him to chance one while he was injured. What if that made everything worse? What if he bled out because of all the goddamn muscles and bones moving around? It wasn’t worth the risk.

  Redford gave him a mournful look. Cedric, though, just sighed heavily and dug through his kit for a straight-edged razor. “Don’t worry, kid,” Cedric informed Redford gruffly. “I’ve been shaving my own damn face for longer than you’ve been alive. I think I can handle your bit of scruff.”

  Jed’s fingers tightened in Redford’s fur. He moved them around so he was holding Redford out on his lap, injured leg carefully supported. “He’s going to be g
ood, Doc, right?”

  “I’ve told you, he’s going to be fine. Now shut up and let me work.”

  “Okay.” Right. Some fucking bastards had come into their woods, and now Redford was bleeding. Which meant Jed wasn’t waiting until goddamn morning. “Okay,” he said again, voice dropping dangerously. He rubbed behind one of Redford’s ears, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of his muzzle.

  Knievel had come slinking back from the woods, and she curled up by Redford, her back to his stomach, and dropped off to sleep. Strangely, that comforted Jed slightly.

  He held Redford close while Cedric put the stitches in, ignoring Cedric’s grumbles about damn fool wolves and their damn fool boyfriends. Anthony had arrived at some point, human again, watching everything with a dangerous glint in his eye.

  Jed barely realized Anthony was talking. With some effort, he managed to pay attention. “Jed?” Anthony sounded like he was repeating himself. “Was it hunters?”

  Dragging a hand across his face, Jed’s jaw tightened. “Yeah.” He glanced up at Anthony. “You feel up to a little playtime? Want to go pay them a visit?”

  Anthony smiled grimly. “Absolutely.”

  Jed left Redford with Cedric and Randall, the latter looking very much like he wanted to protest. But in the end, he sat silently and watched as Jed and Anthony marched back to Jed’s tent. Jed pulled out his crate of supplies, dug through, and found several carefully packaged blocks of C-4. He’d brought them here special a week ago, intending to try and set up some kind of perimeter. Now, though, they were going to get a whole different use.

  It didn’t take Jed long to set up ten charges. He packed them into a bag, gently settling it along his shoulders and grabbing his guns and some extra ammo. “You going to suit up?” he asked Anthony. “Or you going furry? Might need your nose, mine is worthless out there.”

  “Depends on what you think is best,” Anthony said. “I’ve got no problems starting out wolf and going naked if I need to shift back to talk.”

  “Not anticipating a lot of talking,” Jed replied grimly. He grabbed a flashlight and nodded toward the woods. Fuck, he wished he had his night-vision gear. Or his silencer. Or, hell, any of the gear he’d left back at home. A flashlight was going to give away their position long before Jed wanted it to. And if he was smart, he’d wait until first light, until he had a better chance of taking the bastards by surprise. One look back at the camp, though, at where Redford was lying there, stark white bandage shocking against his fur, had Jed turning toward the forest, jaw tight. Fuck smart. “Let’s go.”

  Anthony nodded, and two seconds later he had dropped into wolf form, silently waiting on Jed’s signal. When Jed nodded at him, Anthony put his nose to the ground, presumably following Redford’s scent first, which would lead him to the hunters’ trail.

  They arrived at the point where Jed had found Redford in fairly short order, and Anthony only paused for the barest of seconds before taking off toward the east. Jed kept close on his heels, though he was pretty damn sure Anthony was holding back so Jed didn’t get left in the dust. They kept going for another fifteen minutes, until Jed’s lungs felt like they were going to burst. He came crashing to a stop, bracing one arm on a tree and half bent over, heaving in huge breaths.

  Fuck. Goddamn wolves.

  Even sick, Anthony moved with a grace that Jed just couldn’t match. Jed could see the hesitation in Anthony’s steps from time to time, the way he pulled himself up short, but honestly? If he hadn’t known, he wouldn’t have guessed the kid was slowly dying. He was just so goddamn determined to keep moving, not to let it stop him. Jed didn’t know if he was stupid or brave. Funny, how those two things seemed to overlap.

  Anthony stayed close while Jed worked his way through not vomiting. With a jerk of his head, Anthony motioned to just over a small incline where, if Jed squinted hard enough against the darkness, he thought he could see the top of some kind of tent. Jed dug into his bag to pull out the first charge.

  “What are you doing?” Anthony shifted back to hiss. “You never mentioned blowing them up.”

  “What did you think we were going to do out here?” Jed asked in a near whisper, moving closer to the camp. “Hold hands and sing?”

  Anthony grabbed him by the back of his jacket. “Jed,” he said urgently. “You don’t have to kill them. Look at them. They’re not attacking anybody right now.”

  “They did.” Jesus fuck, did he have to seriously do a paint by numbers, now? Crouching behind a half-fallen tree, Jed turned back toward Anthony. “And when they get up? They’re going to skip merrily along and do it again. So yeah, Lassie, I’m going to blow their sleeping asses to kingdom come, and then I’m going to go back to the camp that they won’t be attacking anymore and sleep like a goddamn baby.”

  “It won’t change anything.” Anthony sounded like he was only just managing to keep his calm. “I’m sorry that Redford got hurt, I understand how angry you are, but killing these men won’t protect the pack. There’ll just be more of them tomorrow.”

  “Then I’ll blow them up too.” Jed’s voice rose into something not at all a whisper. “And I’ll keep doing it, because they hurt Red. Get that? They hurt my Redford, and now I’m going to turn them into confetti.”

  “No, you’re not,” Anthony said firmly. “We can scare them off. We can send a message that will make them think twice about bringing more hunters in. Killing them obviously isn’t deterring them.”

  “Why the hell did you even come?” Scowling, Jed stood, bag over his shoulder. “This isn’t a damn tea party. Go home, kid.”

  Anthony promptly yanked him back down. “I came to stop you doing this,” he growled. “We’re not animals, Jed. We were given brains for a reason.”

  “What would you do, then?” Jed met Anthony’s eyes, practically vibrating for how much he needed to hurt someone. Something. Punch a goddamn tree, he didn’t care, just something needed to break, because Redford was bleeding. “Sit back and wait for them to pick you off one by one? These bastards only understand one thing, and it isn’t reason.”

  “Playing by their rules isn’t going to win this.” Anthony laid a hand over the top of Jed’s bag, curled under the strap. “I would blow up the perimeter of their camp. Scare them away, and once they’re gone, we could look for more information in the camp. We could go higher up the chain of command, which would be a lot more effective.”

  But not nearly as satisfying. “You realize,” he growled, holding Anthony’s gaze, “that not one of those fuckers would hesitate even a second in blowing your head off. Or anyone else back at that camp.”

  Anthony just smiled. “I know. But that’s why we’re better than them, and that’s why we’re going to win.”

  “Son of a—” Sighing, rubbing a hand through his hair, Jed just glared at him. But the goddamn earnest wolf eyes were out in full force, and in the end, he wound up jerking his head in a nod. “Fine. Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

  “Okay.” Anthony tugged at Jed’s bag. “Get your explosives. Maybe put them in the tree line near their tents?”

  “Stick close.” Jed nodded, starting out toward the tents again. “And try to keep your furry ass down.” He made his way slowly toward the camp, doing his best to be nearly silent.

  He and Anthony planted the explosives around the entire perimeter of the camp. Each one was on a timer, and as soon as they put down the last one, Jed grabbed Anthony’s shoulder and hauled him up over the ridge again. They’d just barely got down, Jed sprawling over Anthony protectively, when the bombs went off.

  Explosions sprayed up dirt and fire, a deafening thunder of noise. As soon as the debris started to rain down on them, Jed was up, gun out, watching the retreating backs of the hunters as they ran away as quickly as their legs could move them. Apparently picking off unarmed wolves in the dark was only fun if no one was blowing you up.

  They waited. Anthony was just as tense behind him. Finally, Jed flicked the safety back on and, nodding a
t Anthony, picked his way carefully down to the empty camp.

  Anthony caught up to Jed a few seconds later. “They’re still running,” he confirmed. “They won’t come back.”

  They poked around the tents, finding more boxes of silver bullets. These had different etchings on the bottom. Buck was apparently no longer in the niche bullet manufacturing trade. But other than that, clues were scarce.

  “You said you knew where he was? The man who employed Buck?” Anthony said as he rolled a silver bullet between his fingers.

  He glanced over at Anthony. “I absolutely do. And I think it’s high time we paid him a visit.”

  “Count me in.” As he stood from where he’d been stooped over a tent, Anthony wasn’t showing a single sign of his illness. None of the stiff movements Jed had been witness to, the shaking hands, the momentary spasms of pain. Anthony’s expression was grim, his lips pulled tight, but if Jed didn’t know better, he’d say he was just a healthy kid about to go on a murder spree. Apparently anger was enough to make him forget the pain. Jed’d bet fifty bucks and his last condom, though, that Anthony would be paying for it later.

  “You sure, Lassie?” Jed gave him a quick smirk. “Not going to be a lot of hugs involved.”

  For once, Anthony didn’t smile back. “I hate hunters.”

  Yeah, Jed could see where that’d be the case. Jed nodded, regarding him. “All right, then. Let’s get going.”

  They trekked back to the camp, a lot slower this time, thank God. By the time they walked in, the wolves were huddled together, the Gray Lady standing in the middle of the group, obviously working on keeping them calm. She looked over as Jed approached, but he didn’t waste a lot of time. “We’re going to put an end to this,” Jed informed her.

  “The hunters?” she asked tensely.

  Jed gave her a flat smile. “I wouldn’t worry about them. They’re not going to be your problem for much longer.”