Bloodlines (41 page)

Redford looked like he was on the verge of defending the idea of running, but he faltered before he spoke, looking to Jed—who was shaking his head, tapping his fingers against his arms. “That’s a great speech,” he rumbled. “But if these guys find you, they will shred through whoever is in their way. That includes you. Dying bloody is never a good option.”

“Answer the question,” Randall shot back. “Are you seriously telling us that O’Malley and the men like him are going to get bored and give up? That’s our great hope? We are going to go hide and pray,
pray
, that no one comes looking. That he’ll assume this big pack he’s hunting has suddenly disappeared.”

Jed’s jaw jumped. He rolled his head on his shoulders, looking for all the world like he wanted to bark an order or force Randall to shut up. But in the end he muttered, “He won’t stop. Not until he thinks he got what he was aiming for.”

“So train us,” Anthony said, standing beside Randall. “We might not be soldiers, but we can be taught. We can give ourselves a fighting chance.”

“I’m not going to….” Jed paced away, blowing out a curse under his breath. He turned back to the Gray Lady, almost pleading. “You will die.
People
will
die
. What they’re asking is for me to arm them for suicide. I can’t do it. I cannot stand here and tell you that this is going to work. It won’t. What’s going to happen is you’re going to be standing out there with a gun in your hand, bullets raining down on you, and you will be listening to the people you trained beside, the people who were alive and whole and
fine
that morning, you will listen to them screaming. You will hear them begging a God who sure as fuck ain’t listening as they are mowed down around you.
That
is what is coming. That is war. It’s not going to be some goddamn inspirational movie about the plucky underdogs who stuck it to the man. It will be your friends, the people who you handed those guns to, bleeding out while you can do
fuck all
to save them.”

In the resulting silence after Jed’s words, Anthony sighed. “If life isn’t a movie, Jed, you’re sure good at giving dramatic monologues.”

Victor internally braced himself for the fallout.

“Yeah, that’s all it is, kid.” Jed’s face was tight, his whole body tense. Victor was vaguely worried Jed was going to punch a wall. Or perhaps one of them. “Just a pretty story I’m telling.”

“I’m not dismissing you, Jed,” Anthony replied. “You’re right. You’re completely right. It’s not a nice option. People will die no matter how well they’re trained. But it is
their
choice, and you can’t save them from it.”

Jed all but growled. “I don’t
save
people. I’m not a goddamn hero. I’m here to tell you your best shot. That’s it. I’m not training up a bunch of fucking hippies to be soldiers.” He tossed the maps toward the Gray Lady, who was watching the exchange silently. “There you go. Listen to me, don’t, I don’t fucking care. I’m out.”

Anthony made no move to stop him, though he looked like he wanted to. Mostly, he just looked sad, like he’d thought Jed had more loyalty than that. Victor wasn’t sure where he’d get that idea from—Jed had loyalty to himself and Redford, and that was about it. He had hoped Jed might find some friendships here. It seemed that might not be the case.

Or perhaps Jed was just angry and desperate to stop them all from getting themselves killed. Victor could certainly relate.

“Do you know anywhere that we might order guns from, then?” Anthony asked Jed. “Just in case we need them.”

Jed didn’t answer. He turned on his heel and marched out, trailing curses behind him. Redford was right behind him, though he kept darting apologetic glances back to the Lewises. As the door slammed shut behind them, Randall turned to Anthony, about to continue talking.

“That will be all.” The Gray Lady spoke at last. “I need to speak with my elders. It seems we have much to discuss.” She glanced over at Anthony as she added, “Perhaps no orders of weaponry should be made just yet. Not until we have determined the best course for the pack.”

Anthony shrunk under her glance, embarrassed. “My apologies, ma’am,” he said. He looked horrified at himself. Perhaps, Victor thought, because all the dominant personalities in the group kept trying to make decisions on behalf of the pack, and he was one of them. “I won’t do anything before you have made your decision.”

The Gray Lady simply nodded. Victor had the very distinct feeling they’d just been dismissed. One by one they filtered out. Edwin was oddly morose as he hung back by his brothers, and Anthony looked deep in thought. Mallory passed them, giving Anthony a nod as he headed out, presumably to gather the wolf elders.

Victor shivered as he transitioned from the warmth inside the Gray Lady’s house to the chill air outside. Off in the distance he could see Jed and Redford standing by their cabin. Going by Jed’s gesticulations, they were having a rather spirited conversation.

Anthony bumped Randall’s shoulder with his own. “Morning appointment with the doctor,” he said. “I’m heading over, and I’m told I’ll probably be a few hours, so go do something fun. You too, Victor.”

“Ah, yes. Fun. I think I’ve forgotten what that is,” Victor said dryly. More likely he’d be attempting to do more research, or figuring out how to approach this Leonard O’Malley person and get him to stop this encroaching war. “Good luck with your appointment.”

Edwin was tugging off his shirt almost as soon as they’d gotten out of the cabin. “I’m going for a run. I’ll be waiting for you after, okay, Ant?” He shifted, a graceful leap forward, lean muscle and smooth skin changing to fur. He barked at them, tail wagging furiously, weaving between their legs before taking off like a shot toward the woods.

“I have fun,” Randall told Anthony, hands in his pockets, watching Edwin as if to make sure he was all right. “How about I stop by and meet you after you’re done at the healer’s?”

“All right.” Anthony fondly ruffled Randall’s hair and smirked when Randall scowled and tried to duck away. He glanced between Randall and Victor, his expression lighting up. “Hey, so I heard some of the younger kids talking yesterday. Apparently there’s a waterfall in the northeast of the camp that feeds into the river, and it’s a real romantic spot for a picnic or a swim.”

There was a beat of silence, Randall so deliberately
not
looking at Victor it was almost painful. Victor, for his part, merely stared at Anthony, dumbfounded. “Did you meet someone?” Randall asked Anthony, overly casual. “That’s great. About time. Why don’t I pack you a lunch to take?”

In all his life, Victor had never met someone he could accurately describe as having a
hearty
laugh. Anthony, he discovered, now fit the bill. “Playing dumb doesn’t suit you, Randall,” he said. “I’m covered in stinky goo, and none of the healers—who are pretty much the only people I see, by the way—are my type.” A brief tenseness crossed Anthony’s face, a tilt to his lips that didn’t seem to match his casual tone. “Besides, I don’t have the best luck, waterfall or no.”

Victor didn’t miss the flash of emotions over Anthony’s face, though he didn’t know how to begin interpreting them. Randall’s expression immediately fell, and he reached out and squeezed Anthony’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to his brother, lips etched downward into a regretful frown. “I didn’t think. That was incredibly rude.”

Anthony just gave a shrug and looped his arm around Randall’s shoulder to pull him close. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his smile genuine. Just like that, the indescribable emotions on his face had gone, replaced with cheer. “Now seriously, have some fun so you can tell me about it later. I need to live vicariously through you so that my sole experience here isn’t smelly ointments and being poked by a healer.”

Hugging Anthony close, face pressed into his neck, Randall’s shoulders shook slightly. But his voice was painfully calm when he spoke. “I promise. Lots of fun. And we’ll go swimming together later, okay? You’re going to be fine, Ant.” It was said so fervently, as if his words invoked power.

It pained Victor to be a witness to a moment so emotional. As a man not normally inclined to be overly demonstrative himself, he felt more than a little awkward standing around while Randall desperately tried to reassure both himself and his brother that Anthony would be fine. In some small nod to courtesy, he turned aside and pretended to be intently studying the pack of wolves near the constant bonfire.

“Of course I am,” he heard Anthony say. “I’d better go; they’ll get annoyed if I’m late.”

And then Randall was left standing there alone, watching his brother make a slow, agonizing shuffle across the camp toward the healers’ cabin. It was worse in the morning, Victor had observed, particularly on chilly mornings such as this. The tense line of Randall’s shoulders, the way he was leaning forward, clearly spoke to how much Randall itched to go help Anthony. But he held himself still, jaw so tight it looked like Randall might shatter.

Victor wished there was something he could say that wasn’t pithy platitudes. Telling Randall everything would be okay felt like a farce, because he couldn’t promise that. Telling him that Anthony was a fighter would just sound ridiculous out loud.

Then again, some people did feel reassured by such empty sentences.

In normal circumstances, he might ask if Randall wanted to hear some of those platitudes, because Victor was perfectly capable of saying them if it might help. But Randall didn’t look to be in the mood for such a discussion. Instead, Victor said, “So. We’ve been ordered to have some fun. Have you any ideas, because I certainly don’t.” He peered into the distance. “Perhaps we could sidle up to Jed and Redford and listen in on their argument.”

Randall snorted faintly. “That’s your idea of fun?” But he didn’t disagree. Shooting Victor a sidelong look, he nodded toward where Jed and Redford appeared to be very much absorbed in their own conversation. Jed was gesticulating wildly, pacing back and forth, clearly still upset.

“I’m not going to get a bunch of fucking
ass sniffing furry hippies
killed, Red!” Jed’s voice was decidedly louder than necessary. Victor and Randall had hardly needed to get within ten feet before every word was heard crystal clear.

“But it’s their choice!” Redford replied. Victor struggled to recall a time when he’d ever heard Redford speaking at a volume above a hushed murmur, and couldn’t think of one. “You wouldn’t be
getting
them anything, Jed.”

Jed stomped away, all of a few feet, before turning back around, waving a finger at Redford. “I’ve been here before. I’m not doing this, not here, no fucking way.”

Even from ten feet away, Victor could see Redford’s eyes nearly cross as he attempted to focus on Jed’s finger, looking faintly offended that he was getting it shaken at him. “They’re not asking you to lead them into war,” he said. “They’re not actually asking
anything
of you, just your opinion. And you saw what happened back there. You advised them to run, and they might pick the war. Nobody’s death will be on your head.”

“Yes they
will
!” Jed actually turned and threw the laptop at the side of the cabin. Randall flinched as it smashed against the wood. “Jesus fuck, it’s going to be
on me
. If I stay, it will be my fucking fault if they die.”

Randall moved closer to Victor, their arms pressed tight together. Randall was watching Jed and Redford worriedly. This was his life they were debating, Victor realized. His future. Victor would go home and back to his house, his classroom, but if the wolf pack decided to run, it would mean the Lewises picking up and leaving with them. If they fought, it could be Randall who died.

“Actually,” Redford said softly. “It will be on
me
. I’m the one Randall hired, remember? I’m the one in charge of our business presence here. You said it yourself.”

“We are so far beyond that, Fido, and you damn well know it.”

“We’re not idiots.” Randall’s voice was so quiet, for a moment it didn’t seem anyone had heard him. Jed dragged his gaze from Redford over to Randall, scowl deepening. Victor gave an awkward half wave, attempting to look like he wasn’t hiding behind a bush and listening in. “We are wolves. We might not know this fight, but if you think we don’t know what hunters mean—”

“This ain’t your business, kid,” Jed muttered. “You and the professor go back to making kissy faces at each other and leave us alone.”

“Jed!” Redford’s eyes had started flickering toward yellow, even as his shoulders rounded in embarrassment at Randall’s presence. “That’s
exactly
his business. That’s his life, the future of
his
people. Don’t you think he gets a say in that?”

“I’m not talking about
him
.” Jed had dismissed Victor and Randall again, moving forward toward Redford, voice lowered to a desperate hiss. “Jesus, Red, come on. I’m not talking about what they do, I’m talking about
us
. You and me. I’m not going to stand around here and let you get turned into
me
.”

Victor was glad nobody was looking at him, because he gave such a momentous roll of his eyes that he nearly permanently flipped his eyeballs.

“Jed, that’s….” Redford sounded like he was struggling to catch up with the new topic. “I don’t care about me right now. This pack is facing a war, and we need to decide if we’re going to help or not.”

“That’s what I’m telling you. I don’t care about one damn thing
but
you.” Jed’s hands landed on Redford’s arms, gripping lightly. “I’d help them relocate, but—”

“
Us
.” Randall interrupted again, this time with a low growl. Jed’s fingers immediately slid away from Redford, the distance between them all that much more obvious. “You’re talking about us. And fine, you don’t want to stay around here, you want to take off, fine. I’ll find someone else. I’ll get someone in here who
will
teach us how to fight these men. Or we’ll figure it out on our own. But, Jed, I don’t want to run. We
shouldn’t
run. And you know it.”