Bloodlines

by Alex Kidwell

  The office they were taken to was as coldly clinical as the rest of them, though the doctor had clearly attempted to offset that with personal knickknacks on his desk. Anthony was seated in the chair across from the desk, and he gave them all a wan smile when they crowded into the small room. “I seem to have collected three more brothers.”

  “Sorry,” Redford said awkwardly. “We can go if—”

  “No, you can stay if you like,” Anthony replied. “I’d like that.”

  “Yeah, well, you needed a good-looking brother, so Redford and I stepped in.” Jed collapsed into one of the chairs, hauling Redford to perch on his knee. Edwin stayed standing, while Randall insisted Victor take the only remaining seat.

  Dr. Medena barely seemed to notice the crowd of them in his office. He sat behind his desk and shuffled some papers, then looked up at them. “We’re down to two options,” he finally announced, “and it’s entirely up to Anthony, although he knows which one I’d strongly suggest. Without treatment, the illness would continue to get worse and he would deteriorate quickly. That option would leave him with about two years left.”

  There was a long, aching beat of silence. Jed, watching the Lewises, could see Randall suddenly deflate. It looked like someone had punched the guy in the stomach. All the color drained from his face, his jaw working as if to swallow back some horrible noise of pain. Edwin didn’t move. He was standing by the doorway, half looking like he wanted to bolt, but, foot stuck in a trap, he was frozen. A look of pure anguish on his face, Edwin ducked his head, clearly trying to hold it together.

  “You said there was another choice,” Jed interjected gruffly, keeping one eye on Randall and Edwin. “Let me guess, we’re going to like that one better?”

  He saw Dr. Medena look quickly at Anthony, then back at them. “With treatment, we’ve had a lot of success in other wolves with canine Parkinson’s. There would be some side effects, and it would never fully cure the condition, but it can be managed.”

  Jed noticed Anthony didn’t particularly seem to like that option, though he couldn’t take a guess as to why. The doctor continued, “The treatment would slow down the progression of the disease. We could help Anthony manage his pain, and if we’re lucky, he’d be able to return to some aspects of his life. A part-time job, maybe.”

  “So why are we talking about this?” Randall asked hoarsely. “Anthony, you have to take the treatment.”

  “It’d dull my senses,” Anthony muttered. “He said it might make it difficult for me to even turn.”

  “You know what else makes that difficult?” Jed said bluntly. “Being dead.” After all this time, all the things they’d tried, Jed could not believe Anthony would sit here and start having second thoughts.

  “It really is the best option,” Dr. Medena said, clearly trying to school his voice into some sort of soothing tone. “It would add decades to your life expectancy if you don’t push yourself too hard.”

  Anthony let out a short, explosive exhale. He scrubbed his hands through his hair and seemed to fold in on himself. “Fine,” he said quietly. “Okay, I’ll do the treatment.”

  Edwin threw himself at Anthony, practically knocking him over in a hug. “It’s okay,” Edwin was whispering fiercely. “I’ll smell everything for you, I promise. And I’ll go running with you no matter what. Okay? Just don’t die.”

  Anthony put his arms around Edwin. He still didn’t look happy, and Jed had no problem admitting he had no fucking clue what the issue was. Two years of pain versus decades of management didn’t even sound like a choice to him.

  “We’ll get you started on the treatment right away, then,” Dr. Medena said. He stood from his chair, getting some folders in order. “It’s a regimen of pills, so you won’t have to be in and out of the hospital much. Though I would advise you to come in for regular checkups, just in case we need to change the dosage around.”

  “Should we worry about any other side effects?” Randall looked like he wanted to fall over, like stress was just eating him alive, but he’d pulled out a little notebook that Jed could see was already half filled with a messy scrawl. “If you could just tell me any instructions I might need.”

  They sat with the doctor for a while longer, Randall asking questions, writing everything down, and Anthony looking increasingly more miserable. Jed honestly didn’t understand. Yeah, it wasn’t a cure, but at least it wasn’t as big of a death sentence as Anthony had been walking around with. And any kind of pain relief had to be welcome.

  As they walked out to the van in uncomfortable silence, Jed just kept looking over at Anthony, utterly confused. Maybe it just hadn’t sunk in yet. “Hey,” Jed tried, giving him a light punch in the shoulder. “At least you’re not going to croak anytime soon. That’s got to be a relief, right?”

  Everyone just stared at him blankly. Apparently that wasn’t the best way to lighten the mood.

  Jesus. And people wondered why Jed didn’t do families.

  Eventually, though, it did make Anthony smile, so that was something. “Yeah,” he replied after a few moments of silence. “It’s good news.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, his expression still numb somehow, like he hadn’t really had the chance to think about everything. “I’m sorry. I’m being a buzzkill. How about tonight we all cook up a massive dinner and celebrate?”

  “Are we going home?” Edwin asked. “I bet there’s loads of rabbits out in our woods.”

  “Yeah, we’ll drive back once we get everything packed again.” Anthony clapped a hand to Victor’s shoulder. “Want to come for the night? You too, Jed and Redford. Pack gathering.”

  “What, we’ve been adopted?” Jed smirked. But what he’d thought would be a joke turned into Edwin hugging him, grinning as he looped his arm through Redford’s.

  “Of course. I can take Redford hunting. There’s this awesome spot out west of the lake.”

  “Maybe you and Anthony could go fishing for real, Jed,” Randall suggested. “We’ll have rabbit stew and baked fish for dinner. And some roasted vegetables, for the noncarnivores among us.”

  Anthony gave a low laugh. “Hey, Victor, maybe you can hunt the vegetables for us.”

  Victor sighed, a long-suffering sound. “As long as they don’t fight back, I’m sure I can manage.”

  “So, family dinner tonight.” Randall nodded, arm tightening around Victor’s waist. “And you’re all welcome to stay over. I know it’s a long drive back.” He gave Victor a low smile, kissing his shoulder. “You could make a weekend of it? We’ll bring the research, get some work done, if you’re worried about being productive.”

  Victor kissed Randall’s cheek in affirmative; then they crowded into the van. The mood was a lot lighter on the drive back than it had been on the way there. Having a death sentence averted would do that. Anthony still seemed a little quiet, but both Randall and Edwin, as the news seemed to sink in, were starting to act like they’d gotten a stay of execution.

  Packing didn’t take long, though it did require three trips to load up all the books Randall and Victor insisted were necessary. And even though Jed pointed out that it was highly unlikely they’d leave the bed for days, much less do heavy reading, no one was willing to listen to him. He did insist that they stop by his and Redford’s apartment to pick up Knievel. His princess might be fine for a few days on her own, but any more than that and she made him pay for it later. Like all spoiled cats, she demanded attention in regular intervals. Redford worried that they were overreaching, bringing the cat along, but Jed just packed her and her toys up in the cage, putting Edwin in charge of making sure she didn’t get lost under the seats.

  The trip to the Lewises’ cabin was getting really goddamn familiar. By the time they got to the house, Jed was ready to stretch his legs.

  After Edwin and Randall insisted that Anthony didn’t need to do anything to help, Jed spotted Anthony slowly making his way to the edge of the lake. There were fishing poles lined up neatly in the mudroom of the house, and Jed grabbe
d three, along with a tackle box. Redford behind him, Jed headed toward the water, finding Anthony sitting on a long log that had been pulled up close to the lake’s edge, obviously purposefully placed and secured.

  Wordlessly handing Anthony one of the poles, Jed got himself settled and set about baiting his and Redford’s hooks. He’d at least learned that much in the fishing books they’d gotten, and Anthony had all sorts of interesting things in the tackle box. No live worms, though. Jed still wasn’t sure how one would go about getting those.

  His cast was… not good at all. The first few times Jed didn’t make it in the water. Redford got all tangled up in his line and nearly cut his palm open on the hook. Anthony finally took pity on them and showed them how to send their hooks flying out into the water. Not with nearly as much grace as Anthony showed, but at least they weren’t impaling themselves.

  Redford sat close to Jed, their shoulders pushed up against each other, and in the break between casts he grinned over at Jed. “At least we get to go fishing,” he said.

  “This is practice fishing,” Jed allowed, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration as he arced the rod over his head and sent the line flying toward the middle of the lake. “Real fishing comes with sun and sand and drinks with umbrellas in them.”

  “And real fish come from mountain lakes, not sand,” Anthony snorted. “What kind of fish would you even catch on a beach, Jed? Sharks?”

  Jed blinked, thinking. “Ones that go good with rum-based drinks?”

  “I may have to give you some more tips before you try fishing for real,” Anthony replied, bemused.

  “I got this postcard once.” Jed was focused on watching the steady swell of his bobber as it floated above the light ripples of the lake. No bites yet. “I was seventeen, I’d just left home a year before, I don’t know, I was young. Stupid. Living on the streets, doing whatever. They wouldn’t let me enlist yet, so I had to kill time before I turned eighteen. Anyway, I found this postcard stuck in a grate near where I was holed up. It was winter and fucking cold, but the card had this picture of these two beach chairs, fishing pole stuck in the sand, palm trees, table with two drinks. And it just said wish you were here.” Jed snorted, reeling in his line again for another try. “All I could think was ‘yeah, well, me too, fucker.’ But I kept it for a long time. Always wanted to do that.”

  After a second of silence, Jed felt Redford lean against his shoulder. Yeah, yeah. Caring and sharing time. “Anyway,” he muttered gruffly, scowling out at the water. “Probably not so much about catching fish.”

  “Probably not.” Anthony patted the shoulder that wasn’t being taken up by Redford. “But you’ll get your beach fishing eventually.”

  “Yeah.” Jed cast again, watching the bobber make a wobbly arc back out to the water. “Think I just like the idea of being on the ocean. Been around it a lot, but most of the time I didn’t get to just relax or anything.” Hell, most of the time he’d get dropped in someplace in the dead of night or get carted in after three days with no real sleep, do his job, and get out again. Leisure time was kind of a new concept.

  Anthony made a noise under his breath that sounded like a laugh—one that he hadn’t wanted to give proper voice to, but had made its way out nonetheless. “Well, if you ever need a water fix, we’ve got a little dingy you can take out on the lake. Fishing isn’t great anymore, but the water’s still there. For now.”

  “What, you afraid it’s going to run away?” Jed gave Anthony a sideways glance. “Didn’t realize that lakes were that mobile.”

  “It’s drying up slowly.” Anthony cast his line out with a casual ease born of years of experience. “The fish are nearly gone, and this year the water level has gone down half a foot. There used to be someone here that tended to it, but without him”—Anthony shrugged—“it’ll be gone in five or ten years.”

  “Why?” Jed reached out a leg and poked the toe of his boot in the water, as if he could somehow see it retreating. “I mean, is that even normal?”

  “It misses him,” Anthony said softly. “It got used to his company, and now that he’s gone, it doesn’t want to stay. I tried everything, but water isn’t my expertise.”

  Okay, that didn’t make any sense. Jed exchanged a quick glance with Redford, who looked just as baffled as him, before figuring he might as well ask. “What the fuck are you talking about?” As far as Jed knew, water didn’t have emotions.

  Anthony only looked at Jed quickly before he started laughing. “I’m sorry, Jed,” he said, grinning ruefully. “That probably didn’t make a lick of sense to you. There used to be someone that lived nearby that I used to see all the time when I was a kid. He was a half blood, a selkie, and whenever they live near water, the water prospers. But he had to leave, so it’s like… giving a plant some really good soil and then switching it to sand. So the lake is drying up.”

  “So these sookie people, they make lakes grow?” Jed frowned, again looking over at Redford. “Did you know that?”

  “I don’t even know what a selkie is,” Redford said, apologetic.

  “It’d be a long explanation. But the mermaid myth came from selkies,” Anthony explained. “They don’t make lakes grow, they just…. I guess it’s difficult to explain.” Even though Jed was trying to wrangle his fishing line into doing what he wanted it to, he couldn’t miss the way Anthony’s voice took on an edge of nostalgia. “Vilhehn would come to the lake about once a week. We’d go out and swim in the middle of it, and he’d say things to the water, he’d sing. I never knew what he was saying. But every time, we’d catch an extra big fish for dinner, or the water wouldn’t be so cold the next morning.”

  “That’s your guy, right?” Jed settled in, legs kicked out in front of him, looping his free arm around Redford to play his fingers along his side. “That Vil whatever. He’s the one who left?”

  Anthony let out a slow breath. “Yeah,” he replied. “He had to leave and I had to stay. It didn’t work out.”

  “Want to talk about it?” Jed asked bluntly, figuring he wasn’t going to pry if this would send Anthony off into some sort of crying fit. Or, worse, make him start hugging people.

  “I pretty much just said everything there is to say.” Anthony patted Jed on the shoulder. “It’s a short, sad story that I do my best to not really think about most days.”

  “So that’s it, then?” Seemed kind of like a raw deal to Jed. “You liked some guy a thousand years ago and you’re just stuck?”

  “I’ve tried to date,” Anthony admitted. “About a year back, I had a two-month relationship. Before that I managed to stay in one for about three months. It’s not like I’m literally physically unable to be with anybody else, it was just… well, nobody else ever came close.”

  Jed looked over at Redford, who was oddly silent, staring out over the water, just letting the conversation wash over him. “You should go after him,” Jed pointed out quietly, his eyes on Redford. “It’s always worth it to go after them.”

  Anthony was one of the most openly emotional people Jed had ever met. Every single thing he felt expressed itself on his face, so seeing him nearly blank now was a little disconcerting. For a brief moment, a horrible, sick look passed over Anthony’s eyes, but then it was gone again. “I can’t now,” he said flatly. “The doctor said no exerting myself too much. No long travel. No hiking across the mountains to a beach that no airplane goes to.”

  Jed nodded, considering things. “Want me to find him?” he offered quietly, gaze returning to the water. “Can’t say I’ve ever tracked down mer-dudes, but I’m not half bad at finding people who don’t want to be found.” Unless they were pain-in-the-ass vampires. “He should know, Ant. You know he should know.”

  “No, he shouldn’t,” Anthony said. “He has a different life now, things he needs to do for the sake of his people. He doesn’t need to hear about some sick wolf halfway across the world.”

  “Look, I’m not Oprah or some shit. I don’t know much about anything. And
I’m not an expert. Just… if you wanted.” Jed shrugged, uncomfortable. “I’d want to know. For the record. So would you.”

  “Maybe one day.” Anthony started reeling his line in—the first of them to catch a fish so far. The fish that came out on the hook was so tiny that nobody would bother with it, but Anthony took it anyway.

  Jed reached out to poke it, fascinated. “Are you going to eat it?” he wondered. And then, frowning, “What part is the fish stick?”

  “I thought I might give it to Knievel,” Anthony said, smiling a little. “And there’s no actual part that’s the fish stick. Fish sticks are disgusting.”

  Redford fidgeted beside Jed—Jed recognized that movement. Redford was trying to gather up the courage to say something. “Anthony, um,” Redford said tentatively, “I just wanted to ask. You didn’t seem too happy at the cure.”

  The smile dropped off Anthony’s face. “It’s stupid,” he sighed. “I know it’s stupid. I am happy. It’ll be expensive, but we’ll figure it out. It’s just… the side effects. And what I’ll need to do. My senses will be dulled. I won’t be able to shift much, the doctor said. I can’t run. It feels like I won’t even be able to be who I am. I won’t be a wolf, not really.”

  “You’ll be alive,” Jed pointed out. “Nothing else fucking matters, man. I’ve seen some shit. Guys blown apart in front of me, legs ripped off, eyes popping like grapes, and you get down to the core of it, who you are is alive. Everything else you figure out. You get a peg leg or you wear a fucking eye patch, whatever. Long as you’re breathing in and out, that’s what’s important.”

  “I know.” Anthony’s shoulders had slumped, his head bowed. “I do know. I’m sorry. I probably seem like the biggest asshole in the world right now.”

  “Nope.” Jed nudged his shoulder against Anthony. “You sound like a guy who just got his legs blown off. It sucks. And you get to be pissed about it, because it isn’t fair. I’m just sayin’, don’t go too far down that road. It gets real dark, real fast.”