Redemptive Blood

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  He easily compensates, holding her smaller human form tighter.

  “You are my Redemptive. Praile would know exactly what to say to cast doubt. We had discussed that plan.”

  Her eyes move to his. “Then why...?”

  Laz's smile joins his eyes within the sea of blood that coats his body.

  Tessa swallows against her rising gorge.

  “It is rare. Praile was taking an educated guess. He could not know that you really were my Redemptive.” He cocks his head, appearing to consider. “It's a legend. As I said before, a Redemptive blood is so rare, many demonic who possess mixed blood, especially in the Hades realm, do not think it's truly possible.”

  A loud groan comes from behind them.

  Laz turns, never taking his hands off Tessa, and they survey Drek.

  “Oh no,” Tessa says, making a move as if to go toward Drek.

  Laz holds her. “He's of no consequence. The Lanarre prince attempted to stop me from getting to you.”

  “But, oh my Moon, we'll be outlaws. You don't kill Lanarre royalty and live to tell about it, Laz.”

  He shrugs. “I thought their, whatever you call it—welcoming committee—left something to be desired.”

  “Ah—no. He probably heard me freaking out, spotted a couple of demonics, and tried to lend a hand.”

  Laz gives a speculative glance toward the Lanarre bleeding out at their feet. He frowns. “Or talon,” he muses.

  “That's not funny, Laz.”

  “Not at all,” Tahlia says from the door.

  Tessa's face whips in the direction of the broken wood that used to be the door to the cottage.

  “Tahlia,” Tessa says in a relieved breath.

  Tahlia covers her face, quiet crying breaking through her fingers.

  “Come ʼere, baby.”

  Tahlia runs to Tessa, and Laz makes room for the women to embrace.

  They break away after a few seconds and look at Drek.

  “What should we do?” Tahlia asks in a voice that's breathy from her tears.

  Tessa turns to Tahlia. “If he dies, they'll hunt us. There won't be an explanation true enough that will stop our deaths.” Tessa gives a significant look to Laz, who stares back imperiously.

  The demonic must not be much for worrying. I bet he'd be scared out of his shorts if Lucifer himself put in an appearance. Tessa snorts, and Laz raises a pale-red eyebrow obscured by drying blood.

  “Never mind,” she mutters.

  Wrapping an arm around Tahlia, who gives Tessa’s body a once-over as if she’s thinking, Really?

  Tessa's eyes sweep down her form. She's soaked with Praile's blood.

  “Sorry.”

  Tahlia giggles. “It's okay, Tessa.”

  Their eyes go to Drek.

  “Let him die. They won't know how it all happened.”

  Tahlia gives him such a scathing look of disdain that he scowls at her. “Are you kidding, demonic?” She jerks her face back. “You smell like a demon. The wounds you inflicted on the prince can't be scrubbed away. It's like a fingerprint of your wrongdoing.”

  Laz looks at Drek's body and sighs. “Fine.” He walks to Drek then sinks to his haunches. Laz extends his fingertip out from his body as though unwilling to do what comes next.

  He presses the tip of his finger between Drek's eyes.

  The Lanarre prince gasps, taking in a shaking inhale so long that Tessa's not sure when it's going to end.

  Then it does, and his wolfen eyes pop open. Slowing spinning discs of mercury revolve, regarding them all.

  “Now you heal me, after rendering me useless?”

  Laz nods without answering.

  Healthy color pulses from where Laz touches Drek, moving outward like ripples in a disturbed lake. Drek's eyes flow to Tessa—then Tahlia.

  “Tahlia.”

  Their eyes meet, and she retreats into the shadows near the door.

  “Don't go.”

  She shakes her head, then with a cry that is halfway between a startled bird’s cry and a human female's wail of anguish, she disappears in an explosion of white feathers.

  Drek's howl of despair chills Tessa's flesh.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jenni

  “Hey.” Jenni stirs, cracking an eyelid, and meets violet eyeshadow surrounding kind muddy-brown eyes. A dot of ketchup is smeared on her turned yellow collar.

  The nametag reads “Devin.”

  Jenni lifts her head, trying to orient herself. Her fuzzy surroundings come into focus slowly, so slowly. Square tiles from the 1980s in rust-brown with black grout form a grid underneath where she's sitting.

  Jenni glances down. Wrappers from the cheeseburgers she ate litter a table with faux wood graining.

  Night is a solid black pressure against the glass of industrial-style windows encased in beige aluminum frames.

  “What?” she croaks in delayed reply. Clearing her throat, she continues, “How long was I sleeping?” Her eyes scan the empty restaurant. Somewhere in the back, a fry timer shrills then quits mid-shriek.

  It's just her and a rough-around-the-edges girl named Devin. She extracts her cell phone. The thumb she uses to swipe for the time has the barest amount of chipped black polish still clinging to the nail.

  “Almost two. Shift's over. Gotta book.” She stretches her arms toward the ceiling, snapping gum like machine-gun fire. Devin lands on her heels, stifling a loud yawn.

  Jenni's mesmerized, as if she's in a fog from which she can't escape.

  Devin hikes her chin, rolling the blue wad between her teeth. “I let ya sleep. Seemed like you needed it.”

  Jenni jumps a foot when Devin snaps another bubble. She juts out a hip. “Listen, I need to get home. You got a place to go?”

  Snap.

  Jenni flinches then slowly nods. Licking her lips, she gazes into the empty cup of water from her earlier cheeseburger gorge.

  Devin shoots the same thumb she used on her cell toward the soda fountain. “Have a pop. Free.”

  She eyeballs Jenni's empty cup.

  Can werewolves have pop? Better not chance that particular bag of worms.

  “I think I'm good with water, but thank you.” Jenni hastily inserts her manners then licks her parched lips again.

  “Need a ride?”

  Jenni peers around the bright-blue bubble obscuring Devin's face, meeting eyes that are now bloodshot.

  Jenni caves, nodding. If she can get back to her car at the hospital parking garage, she can get the hell out of here.

  “Yes. Ah, do you know where PT General is?”

  “Hospital?” Devin narrows her eyes on Jenni's scrubs. “Is that blood?” she asks with more caution then Jenni wants to hear.

  She bites back a sigh. “Yes.”

  “How'd that get on you? Seems like a ton.” Snap.

  Oh boy.

  “Had an emergency gunshot patient today.” A very small white lie. Or a big, fat whopper. Depends on perspective.

  “Ah-huh.” Devin’s expression clearly paints a picture of how weird it would be that Jenni came to a fast food-restaurant, consumed eight cheeseburgers while her scrub uniform was full of dried blood and dirt from the forest, then decided to take a nap.

  So normal. “It's been a tough day.”

  Gum snaps. Her overly plucked eyebrows lift. “Whatever. I don't judge.”

  Jenni can see that. She can also see that even if Devin has a tough exterior, she's giving Jenni a good turn. “Yes, thank you. If you could drop me by the hospital, I can get my car and get home. I'm beat.”

  Understatement of the universe.

  “ʼKay, Dale's in the back.” She turns, and Jenni eyes catch on long, sleek and ebony cone-shaped gauges stabbing through her earlobes.

  They look painful.

  Devin turns back to her. “He's closing, I'll let us out and lock up, then we'll get outta here.” She smiles at Jenni. A flash of metal winks from her tongue.

  Perfect. Jenni stands and collects all her wrap
pers. She gets rid of her trash and walks to the pop fountain. Water sloshes inside the paper cup as she snaps the plastic lid on the top and stabs the perforated center with her straw. Jenni takes a long, soothing gulp.

  Better. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Need to grab my shit,” Devin comments, rounding the counter and digging into an unseen spot beneath a row of three cash registers.

  “Okay,” Jenni says, only half-listening.

  I'd sell my own mother for a shower. Of course, she would have to be alive. A pang of sorrow touches Jenni like a ghostly hand then lifts. The grief of their car wreck from last year still lingers.

  No time for self-pity, grief, or any other luxury emotions. Jenni knows her parents would be devastated to know she was dying. It's sort of a mercy they're not here to witness that.

  Jenni abruptly stops, hand cooling on the bare metal bar that crosses the center of the glass door leading out of the fast food joint.

  She’s not sure she will die now. Adi did more than change her. Maybe she cured me

  ... Only one way to find out.

  “Ready,” Devin says at Jenni’s elbow, and she jumps. She gives a nervous laugh. “Chill, it's only me.”

  Jenni pushes open the door. Fresh air smacks her to full wakefulness, and she instantly feels better—more alert. Something about being out in the open eases a tension she didn't even realize was running through her since the moment she woke up.

  She glances behind her. The inside of that building felt almost claustrophobic. Jenni stops outside the door while Devin locks it behind them.

  “Why are you being so nice?” Jenni asks Devin in a soft voice.

  Devin shrugs, hopping off the curb of the sidewalk that hugs the perimeter of the building.

  The golden arches dim to a ghostly phosphorescence, and Jenni turns to look at the darkened building. Guess Dale shut off the lights. The soft all-night fluorescent security bulbs throw off an ambient glow that casts dark, long shadows into the empty parking lot.

  “Just paying it forward.”

  Jenni stops, forgetting the question she asked. Oh yeah—why was she being nice? “Paying what forward?”

  Devin turns, giving her a puzzled glance. “Didn't see the movie?”

  Jenni shakes her head. Between nursing school, her job, the cancer diagnosis, and Lance—she just hasn't used her discretionary time for anything but sleeping. Jenni was just starting to get out of that cycle and concentrate on her end-of-life matters... then the werewolf thing happened.

  Werewolf thing.

  “Some little kid does the right thing and dies for it. Principled little dude.” Devin's voice holds a wistful note.

  “Did someone do something good for you?”

  Devin nods, and Jenni takes in the sheen covering suddenly moist eyes. “Yeah. So you get a vibe for somebody, know when they're a good person, if they're down on their luck. It doesn't cost nothinʼ to just, ya know, be good back.”

  Seems simple. Jenni is reminded of how she helped Adi.

  Then Adi made her into a werewolf.

  Jury's out on if that was paying it forward or not.

  A sudden sense tickles Jenni's nose, and she halts only steps from the curb. Her gaze sweeps the parking lot.

  Footsteps approach from the left and Jenni's head snaps in that direction.

  Devin's busy digging in a black metal-studded purse for her keys and doesn't see who appears. “Need to clean this shit mess up,” she mutters as she scours the interior of her handbag.

  A big guy, maybe six feet two or so, moves out of the shadows and into the weak light. He's got a couple of buddies with him.

  Instantly, Jenni is on alert. Nothing good happens at this time of night.

  “Hey. D.”

  Devin's head jerks up from her search.

  “Hey, Bray.” Devin's voice is devoid of enthusiasm. In fact, Jenni's keen hearing picks up on tension.

  Who's Bray?

  The three move around the corner of the building, coming closer.

  Jenni's senses light off, tingling. A brilliant intuition surfaces, pressing her to leave. Now.

  Jenni's always been led by Science and the tangible, not emotion and instinct. Maybe that's all changing.

  “Whatchya doinʼ here skulkinʼ around?” Devin asks, dropping her hand from her purse and hanging the bag back on her shoulder.

  “Hey, baby,” Bray spreads his arms from his body as though he's harmless and moves nearer still.

  Small wounds from a needle are scattered across his skin like measles.

  Great, a junky. Jenni's no fool. She uses a needle dozens of times in a shift to help others.

  She knows when an amateur is shooting up.

  “Don't be that way. Just need a little bump.”

  Devin shakes her head, backing up. “I don't do that shit no more.”

  Bray takes Jenni in for the first time, and his nostrils flare. “Who's your friend?” His eyes glitter with menace that Jenni can easily make out.

  Devin gives a nervous eye flick at her. “Jenni,” she says to Bray, probably hoping to diffuse the situation. Devin's eyes dance around the three men.

  “Well, Jenni can get lost. I just need those keys for McDonald's, and we can take whatever cash stash is there, and we'll be on our way. Easy-peasy, baby.”

  Fuck.

  “No, Bray.” Devin shakes her head, whipping dyed-black hair hard from side to side. “I got this job, and I want to keep it. I'm not letting you rob my work. Besides, Dale's closing. He's already gone. Place is locked.”

  An image of her keys comes to mind.

  Dale is not gone. It's as easy to know as feeling her heartbeat inside her body. Jenni knows because... she can smell his deodorant through the closed steel door at the back entrance.

  She blinks.

  As though an awareness light switch has been flipped, Jenni realizes her sense of smell detects a trace of heroin still in Bray’s veins.

  Her heart thumps hard in her throat, and Jenni turns to look at the other two.

  Meth.

  Coke.

  It's a full meal deal with these three winners.

  Some innate sense, buried during the last thirty minutes she's been awake, swirls to the surface of her thoughts. Burying intellect. Eschewing her rationale.

  A low growl seeps from between her lips, she can't smell what lays beneath the layers of drugs, but it scares her.

  Four gazes turn to look at Jenni.

  Bray's eyes widen. “Holy shit—check out that bitch's eyes.”

  Jenni stares at Bray as though she could burn holes through him from her will alone.

  Devin's eyes are round as she stares at Jenni, the irises pure white, chasing the red of tiredness away with this new fright.

  Jenni's pretty sure she doesn't look very normal right now. But since the drug kingpins have turned up like shitty pennies, she'll just be herself.

  Jenni's parents were older when she was born. Doctors said they couldn't conceive, and the instant that statement was made—pow—Jenni came into being. She has a few antiquated expressions in her verbal arsenal.

  She uses one now. “Why don't you guys make yourselves scarce.” Jenni lifts her upper lip, instinctively baring her teeth.

  Devin gasps, backing away.

  The smell of her fear is like a brushfire in Jenni's nostrils.

  Bray takes a step forward like he means business, curling his fingers into fists at his side. “Fuck you, cunt.”

  Ah, so original.

  Jenni looks at the other two. It's dark, but her new eyes have no trouble seeing all three perfectly.

  “Devin.”

  Devin whips her head to Jenni.

  “Come stand by me.”

  “No offense, Jenni—but you're trippinʼ.”

  Jenni nods. If she looks anything like Adi did in the hospital, she can understand why her appearance might give Devin pause.

  She laughs suddenly at how the tables have turne
d.

  Bray straightens. “Something funny, bitch?” He enunciates the last word through his teeth.

  Devin throws Jenni a rabbit-caught-in-a-snare look, and a tear causes a crack through the foundation on her face like a carved line. “Please, Bray, just go.” Devin lifts her hand, palm toward the night sky, beseeching. “I don't wanna lose this job. I need it.”

  Bray the Magnificent thumbs his chest. “All you need is your man. Now dump this job. What do ya make?” His face aligns into a disbelieving expression. “Eight bucks an hour?” Bray snorts, realizes the movement picked up snot from the ruining of his body through his drug habits. He plugs one nostril, shooting a stream of noxious mucus an impressive five feet through the other. It hits the pavement with a wet splat.

  Devin makes a noise of disgust, backing up a step and scrunching her nose. “Gross,” she mutters.

  Jenni remains unaffected; she cleans bodily fluids for a living. Bray can bring it, and she won't be fazed. What Jenni really wants is a shower, her own bed, and the hell out of this tight spot. Not in that order. And she might be kind of hungry again.

  It's been a long damn day.

  Devin retreats another step closer to Jenni. “I don't want to be your mule for drugs. I'm not gonna do them anymore. I just want to work my shift and mind my own bizz.”

  Bray smiles, and the sense of impending dread rises from deep within Jenni.

  She knows before they do that they'll move, and she's just there. Without thought or plan.

  Bray has rushed Devin and put his hand on the strap of her purse.

  She doesn't think Bray understands that Jenni's a threat.

  Jenni didn't really know, either.

  His eyes widen. Up close, Jenni's threat assessment skills come to life as she determines the scent symphony lying beneath the drugs.

  Bray is sterile, hasn't eaten in half a day, is dehydrated, and has the beginning of a sinus infection. An almost-imperceptible odor runs underneath the rest that she can't identify, and he has a stubborn patch of dried cum clinging to the base of his penis.

  All of this from her nose.

  Jenni doesn't dig deeper or try to find out more info or contemplate why she knows what she does. Her skill set encompasses a thorough knowledge of the human body.

  She laces her hands and pounds her combined uni-fist on the arm that holds Devin's purse strap.