Redemptive Blood

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  “Okay, so give me the rest of the story.”

  Jenni does. When she gets to the part about her terminal diagnosis, Devin sighs, her face going sad. “My nana died from cancer. She practically raised me ʼcause my parents didn't have no money.”

  “I'm sorry,” Jenni says.

  “Were you really going to die? I mean, it's hard to believe with you being so young...”

  Jenni glances at Ella, who's deep into inspecting her coin purse that twists to open and close. Carefully, she removes a penny then, with a frown, returns it into the leather pouch. She swivels her tiny hand over the top, and it closes. She repeats the process, and it opens. Ella smiles, fascinated, forgetting the money inside.

  “Yeah. I have that gene. The one that means not if, but when, I'll get breast or uterine cancer.”

  Devin nods. “So you think?”

  “I do. You should have seen me yesterday. I think Adi gave me a gift.”

  Her eyes run over Jenni again, and a tiny frown plants itself between her brows. “Seen what?”

  “I looked like I was on death's door.”

  “Because you were,” Devin replies.

  “I need to go,” Jenni admits.

  Ella doesn't look at Jenni. “Don't wanna have Jen-Jen go.”

  “Why would you go?” Devin asks, obvious discomfort in her voice. “I mean, now that I'm not throwing you out.”

  Jenni tells the truth. She's not much for lying anyway. “I should try to find Adi. She can help me. In fact, I'm pretty sure she was trying to save me by injecting me with whatever werewolf magic that was when she bit me.” She meets Devin's stare. “Because Adi knew that if I'd never met her, I wouldn't have been caught in the crossfire of some weird werewolf thing.”

  “Yeah, what's going on there?” Devin asks, glancing at Ella.

  She has all of Jenni's stuff out and is applying scarlet lipstick, making her small lips into big clownish ones. “Pretty!” she says, twisting the lipstick until the entire red-colored stick is extended, clearing the tip of the enamel tube.

  “Boo, put that back,” Devin chastises. “With the lid on.”

  “No biggie,” Jenni says, smiling at Ella. Lipstick Death by Preschooler is the least of her concerns.

  “I'm not sure. Adi said something about being in heat, and they could smell her.”

  Devin's nose wrinkles. “Eww.”

  “Yeah,” Jenni agrees. “So her husband, or whatever they call spouses in the werewolf world, showed up—and like I told you, he messed up their day. Permanently.”

  Devin shivers. “Sounds pretty gross.”

  Jenni nods, though she's seen some pretty sick-looking stuff in her time. “Anyway, if I can find Adi, maybe she can help train me or something. I get it. She couldn't hang around for the humans showing up. There were things she needed to figure out with Slash. But she left me high and dry. I know less than nothing.”

  “And,” Devin leans forward, elbows pressed to her knees, “it's almost a full moon.”

  Jesus.

  “Do you think the myth stuff is true?” Devin asks excitedly.

  She can be excited for both of them. Right now, Jenni is just plain scared of the unknown.

  “Here, ah—Ella, can I have my cell?”

  “Ah-huh,” Ella says absently, handing Jenni the phone. Every bit of the crystal display is smudged with itty-bitty fingerprints. And the low battery light is on.

  Damn. Of course the charger is at the condo.

  “What are you doing?”

  Her finger rapidly scrolls to the Google symbol then she taps in the query words. “Checking the moon's cycle.”

  “This is too weird.”

  Welcome to my world.

  “Yeah.”

  Four days.

  Her display blackens. Damn thing's already dead. “Figures,” Jenni mutters.

  “What? How much time?”

  With shaking fingers, Jenni pushes her damp hair behind a shoulder. “Four days.”

  “That's not very long.”

  Jenni refrains from the eye heave she was going for and sighs instead. “Maybe it's all bullshit.” Even to her, she sounds wistful.

  “That's a bad word,” Ella says, busy emptying Jenni’s purse of every piece of lint, scrap of paper, gum wrapper, and purse dredge she can find.

  “Sorry,” Jenni mumbles. A sudden urge to cry washes over her, and she puts her face in her hands.

  Little hands cover hers, pulling them apart. “Why you crying?”

  Devin silently hands Jenni a tissue, and she loudly blows her nose.

  They look at Jenni.

  She returns their stare, not really sure how to answer when she doesn't even know what her problem is.

  I’m alive. What the fuck is this ungratefulness? Why can't she just accept the unbelievable and hold off on the pity party for later?

  Like next year. The year she wouldn't be living if she hadn't been on shift when Adi was wheeled in.

  But it's the four-year-old who's smarter than everybody. “You don't wanna be a wolf?”

  Jenni nods. “Yeah. I don't think I'm on board with the whole howling-at-the-moon thing.”

  “But ya get to chase stuff. And be warm and run fast and eat everything,” Ella says in a dreamy voice. “And be fuzzy.”

  “Furry,” Devin says and meets Jenni's eyes.

  Jenni sets Ella on her lap. “You know, has anyone ever told you you're a smart little girl?”

  She tweaks the tip of Jenni's nose. “Ah-huh.”

  A laugh bursts out of her. “I'm glad you're my friend, Ella.”

  Jenni thinks she might be falling in love with her.

  “I've never had a wolf friend before. Even at yittle people.”

  “Little.” Devin corrects her, but she strokes Ella's long golden hair.

  After a minute of Jenni getting her emotional act together, Devin says quietly, “You can't really go to your place, Jenni. Cops are gonna be there. You know, that disappearing act you pulled was kinda...” She waves her palm around.

  “Spectacular.”

  They're quiet for a minute, each in their own thoughts.

  “I have to go. I'll need my things.”

  “Listen, what kind of money do you have?”

  Jenni feels her brow knot. “A lot. As a matter of fact, I have a big insurance payout from my parentsʼ death.” She breathes through the sucking chest wound of grief then continues, “And I don't have a mortgage.”

  “Oh, yeah, mortgage.”

  Jenni looks around the apartment of a twenty-two-year-old who works at McDonald's. She’s probably never thought about owning a place. Probably just rents the apartment month to month.

  “I can quit, pack my crap, and come with you.”

  They look at Ella.

  “It's not safe.”

  “Not gonna lie. I can feel the heat from Bray. Don't want to be around right now.”

  Oh, yeah. Bray the Magnificent.

  “I'd want to die if anything happened to Ella.”

  Devin laughs. “Like I wouldn't?”

  “I'm not a gonna die.” Ella is carefully putting all Jenni's stuff back in her purse. “I clean your purse.”

  An assortment of wrappers, papers, and general junk is piled on the coffee table.

  Devin bursts out laughing. “I swear that kids going to be organizing my life before she's five.”

  Jenni scrutinizes Ella.

  Ella smiles back.

  Maybe.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Slash

  No matter how much he wants to make Adrianna happy, her concern over the human pet she changed to Were cannot take precedence.

  The Hoh pack will hold them responsible for the deaths of the Lanarre scouts.

  Even if he was within rights to defend his mate, he was not in attendance of said mate when they picked up her scent. They assumed she was rogue, in heat, and in need of breeding.

  Simple, right?

  No. Slash feels his eyes go
wolfen and he clenches his hands into ready fists. Just the inkling—the whisper of an idea that another male would touch Adrianna nearly brings his beast.

  He's continually surprised by how completely he's taken to the role of mate—a position he never thought to hold.

  Now he can't imagine not having it.

  He watches Adrianna as she whistles tunelessly, assembling supplies to put inside a battered backpack.

  His eyes linger over remnants of the print that obviously covered the backpack. He frowns. “Are those unicorns?”

  Adrianna tosses an irritated look his way. “I'm not giving this baby up, even if it took a beating on the highway.”

  Adrenaline spikes. “Are you referring to throwing yourself out in front of human traffic?”

  She sighs, absently rubbing her nape. “Yup. And I'd do it again. Those douche nozzles were gonna try and breed me. I'd rather not.”

  Rather not. “Douche nozzles?” Slash says, tramping his wolf into submission.

  Adrianna glances his way then stops rummaging and packing the tattered backpack. “Slash, your eyes.”

  He looks away, concentrating on the unending forest seen through a large glass window facing the porch, instead of his fragile mate in front of him—and the proof of hurting herself to escape Lanarre males.

  Because I wasn't there to defend her.

  “Hey.”

  He senses her nearness and regulates his breathing. Measuring each one. Spacing each inhale and exhale until he can feel his wolf settle.

  Finally, he raises his eyes from his worn boots.

  Adrianna is before him. “It's not your fault. You had that messed-up paralysis thing...”

  He grins despite his guilt. “Ah, yes—that.”

  “Yeah.” Adrianna returns his smile and takes hold of the lapels of his jacket.

  Slash's heart fills with a terrifying emotion.

  Joy.

  Simple happiness that this female changed his existence to a life.

  “Now you're all better,” she says, her fingers sliding down his lightweight coat as she turns away, and he grabs her hand, gently pulling her back and folding her against his body.

  “You won't have to worry about that happening again.” He frowns. “But... is there anything the witch has that we can pilfer so I don't have to look at the unicorns?” The pack serves as a constant reminder of what Adrianna went through without him by her side.

  Adrianna studies the pack. “I guess the road rash is pretty bad.” Her attention shifts to Slash again. “To be honest, I don't want anything of hers.” She shudders. “I'd rather use my backpack with all the glitter scraped off and beheaded unicorns than touch or use something of Della's.”

  Slash waits a heartbeat. “Okay. Just food and drinks then.”

  Adrianna leans her head back. “Or whatever small crap might be worth something. I'm all about thieving off an evil witch who was going to take our baby.”

  Slash crushes her against him, and Adrianna gasps. “No one will ever touch you—or our whelp.”

  He tips her head back with a finger, searching her riveting hazel eyes. “Do you understand me, mate?”

  “I love it when you get all dominating.”

  Slash rolls his eyes. “I'm serious, Adrianna.”

  She kisses him, wet and deep, then whispers, “Me, too.”

  *

  “I'm surprised I can walk,” Adrianna says with a wink.

  Dull heat spreads over Slash's neck as he thinks about yet another session of their lovemaking.

  He cannot get enough of her. Adrianna has begun something deep inside Slash that he is helpless before—and hungry for.

  Her eyes widen. “Are you blushing?” Adrianna's voice is teasing.

  The heat grows more acute. “No,” he growls.

  “Liar.”

  Slash dares to look at her, expecting to see Adrianna laughing at him.

  Instead, her face glows with love, pleasure, and happiness.

  Moon, do I adore her.

  Slowly, Slash walks over to Adrianna, and cupping the back of her head, he draws her to him, kissing her face and finally, her lips.

  “You sure have a lot of stamina,” she says a little breathlessly.

  “I am a Red. We are known for that.”

  “Ah-huh.”

  Slash forces himself to let go of her hand and begins to thoroughly scan the woods from the witch's porch. They must go.

  “I won't miss this dump,” Adrianna comments.

  But Slash is riveted by something that's caught his eye. It is absent of smell.

  Della.

  “Adrianna,” he calls out softly.

  Clearly recognizing the caution in his voice, Adrianna turns slowly to him, rolling her right shoulder and settling the backpack more firmly between her shoulder blades.

  He watches her draw nearer, and there's a glow to her skin that wasn't there before. Unlike some with her hair color—blond begging to be light-brown—Adrianna isn't fair-skinned exactly. But the remnants of fairness take up the bridge of her nose, where freckles are sprinkled liberally like flakes of brown sugar on her skin. Soft pink color spins across her cheekbones as though brushed on with the lightest stroke.

  Her long hair plaited tightly to her head, she appears like a flower in full bloom. Slash looks down again so Adrianna won't see so obviously what he feels.

  Della had an archaic washer and dryer, and Adrianna laundered their clothes, grumbling all the while that he would be the one to clean them next time.

  Slash quipped that if he could handle her panties, he wouldn't mind.

  Adrianna was quiet after that, but a smile had ghosted her lips.

  He looks up, noting how the fresh clothes cling to her body, and Slash can't help his body's response to hers, hardening at the sight of his mate moving nearer.

  “Good Moon, look at you,” she says softly.

  Slash shakes his head, dismissing his body's traitorous response to her nearness. “It's not me.”

  Her eyes run invisible fingers over his body. “It so is.” Her open smile warms him. But the heat fades as he indicates Della, about fifteen feet from where they stand.

  Adrianna flares her nostrils. “What?”

  “Can you scent her?”

  Her nose scrunches. “No, thank Moon.”

  Slash stares at her for a long moment.

  Her eyes round with understanding. “I should.”

  “Yes.”

  “Slash.” Her voice is worried, and he hates it.

  “We need to investigate.”

  Adrianna puts her hands on her hips. “Is this like one of these B horror movies where the dumb-ass main character has to go down the dark hall, basement, or creepy house and check shit out?”

  Slash frowns.

  “I don't care about Della. I just want to go.” She cups her elbows, looking around.

  He scents her anxiety.

  “We're going. But I want to know why the witch you stabbed in the heart—”

  “Three times.”

  Slash nods. “Is not scenting of death.”

  “Okay.” Adrianna's voice is small.

  They knit hands and advance on the lifeless body.

  When they're within a couple of feet, Adrianna will go no farther. “Look at her.”

  “Yes.”

  Della looks as though she's sleeping—not dead. Luscious, full dark-brown hair fans around her body as though the locks were just artfully washed and styled, arranged as if waiting for a prince charming to wake her with a kiss.

  Her skin is not the grayish-yellow of the deceased, but appears like burnished alabaster with a lick of soft rosy color.

  “Stay back, Adrianna.”

  “You don't have to tell me twice.” A few seconds pound by. “Slash, she doesn't look dead.”

  Dried blood coats the shredded clothes at her breastbone, and her body has already shed rusty flakes into the decayed leaves and forest debris nearby.

  “I didn't remembe
r her being on her back,” Adrianna says, a slight tremor in her voice.

  “There's no life around her.” Slash can feel Adrianna's gaze prowl the area then meet his own, though he's uncomfortable looking away from Della for even a second.

  “The blades of grass are bent away.”

  “As if avoiding her.”

  Their attention returns to the “corpse.”

  Slash slowly circles Della's body. “If I didn't know better, I'd say she was a vampire who'd been turned and was waiting for night.”

  Soundlessly, they both look at the canopy of trees which soars above their heads. Puzzle pieces of light scatter above them, sprinkling chunks of illumination at their feet.

  The forest holds its very breath... then one crescent of light falls directly on Della's closed eye.

  Slash isn’t surprised when the eyelid suddenly opens, revealing a malevolent stare directed at them.

  *

  Adrianna's piercing scream splits the air with the precision of a sword swung hard, ringing in the silence like a discordant musical note.

  Slash leaps backward and toward Adrianna, jerking her against him.

  “Slash,” she moans, skin clammy to the touch. “I killed her.”

  “No.”

  The trees appear to shiver as huge beasts emerge from the deep green folds.

  Trolls.

  Exaggerated brow ridges, huge hooked noses, and small beady eyes in a variety of jewel tones fall on the witch.

  Della struggles to sit up.

  Slash backs away, securing his mate more tightly against his body. “Wrap my waist, Adrianna.”

  She does better than that, circling her arms around his neck and doing the same with her legs around his waist. She burrows her head against his neck, and he secures her with hands palming her rear.

  “Are those the trolls?”

  The beasts are huge, like small mountains, bigger than Slash in his wolfen from.

  “Lycan,” the one who is the smallest but clearly in charge strides toward them.

  “Step no further. I hold my mate in my hands.”

  The troll stops, moving his shoulders back like independent boulders of muscle, then stills. “The witch is ours.”

  Slash nearly laughs.

  “Have at her,” Adrianna murmurs against his neck.

  “Adi—shh.”

  “We have no quarrel with you.” What must pass for a smile flickers across his face. Bestowing a grin on them, he peels back his fleshy lips, revealing square slightly yellow teeth.