by Alex Kidwell
The pills were starting to kick in, combined with the care Randall was giving him. The pain was starting to leech away, and Victor had to bite his tongue to stop himself from letting out a groan of relief. He always forgot how painful these episodes were until he experienced them again—and once he was experiencing them, he tended to forget he’d ever been in a state without pain.
“Okay, does somebody want to tell me what just happened there?” Anthony’s voice came from the door of the van. He sounded concerned, a little gruff in his worry. Jed and Redford had maps spread across the hood of the van. Victor could see them through the windshield. Apparently they’d decided to let Victor explain himself to the wolves as he saw fit. “Do you have epilepsy, Victor?”
“Not quite.” Victor shifted the cloth to press it against his eyes. The movement, the little motion away from Randall, immediately had Randall’s touch falling away. “I’m a half blood. Medusa, to be exact.”
There was a pause before Randall breathed out a noise, both intrigued and pitying all in one. “My God,” Randall said lowly, eyes wide. “You… you had a vision?” Another beat and Randall went pale. “Of me?”
“Yes,” Victor admitted reluctantly. “I’m sorry. I truly didn’t mean to look.” He always felt sorry for the people he accidentally made eye contact with. It was an invasion of privacy of the highest degree. By himself, Randall might have only told him that his parents had been killed by hunters, for example, but Victor had just seen all the gory details. Had shared in a moment that Randall had not wanted to share with him.
“I don’t get it.” Edwin was standing there, looking far more content now that he’d gotten to run around outside. Victor’s little episode had apparently saved him from extreme car boredom. “What’s a medusa?”
Randall, instead of giving the answer Victor assumed he knew, just looked vaguely like he was going to be sick. “Excuse me,” he said, pushing past Anthony and half stumbling out of the van, taking off into the grass by the side of the road, obviously wanting as much distance as possible.
Victor didn’t blame him.
“It means that when I look into somebody’s eyes, I see everything about them,” he answered Edwin. “Their past, their present. Their future. Because my brain is not designed for such an influx of information, I tend to pass out.” He didn’t go on to talk about the eventual insanity. It seemed too morbid right then, to tell to a carefree young man like Edwin, who was already dealing with his brother’s sickness.
Nose wrinkling a little, Edwin looked to where Randall was pacing back and forth, arms folded tightly across his chest. Something dawned in his gaze, and he glanced at Anthony. Then his frank blue eyes went back to Victor. “You saw what happens to Randall in the future,” he mused. “I guess you’re not going to tell us, huh? That’s how it always works in stories. The fairy godmother knows all the answers, but she just gives people dresses and lets them figure out the rest on their own. Otherwise the story would be over in the first chapter.”
“No, I’m afraid telling people about it usually gives the game away.” Victor turned his gaze back to Randall, frowning slightly in concern.
Anthony shifted his weight from side to side, looking uncertain. “Did you see what happens to me in the future? I—ow! Edwin!” He glared at Edwin, rubbing his arm where the punch had landed. “I’m just asking.”
“You’re not going to die.” Said with all the conviction of the young and the strong, as if by willing it, Edwin would order the universe. As if by his own hands he could pull his brother back from the brink of wherever he was falling. “We don’t need a medusa to tell us that. You’re going to be fine, and we’re all going to go home.” He gave his brother another punch to the shoulder, though this one was much lighter and really was more of a pull in so he could wrap his arms around Anthony. “I don’t care what anyone sees,” he murmured, clinging tightly. “You’re going to be fine. Okay?”
Anthony huffed out a laugh, ruffling a hand through Edwin’s hair. “Of course,” he replied. “I’ve got way too much to do; there’s no way I can get that sick.”
“Besides,” Victor felt the need to chip in, “I don’t see the future. I see many possibilities.” He shared a quick look with Anthony, and it seemed to reassure the man that there were potential futures in which he lived just fine.
Anthony looked over at Randall, who was still looking none too happy, and gave a short sigh. “Randall’s an extremely private person,” he told Victor, a protective rumble in the back of his throat. “I don’t think he’s going to be too happy with you.”
“Princess, you done puking your guts out yet?” Ah, the dulcet tones of an irritated Journey Walker. “As fun as it is to escort you to your fainting couch, Scarlett, if we want to hit the halfway point we need to keep moving.”
“Yes, I’m quite done,” Victor returned dryly. More genuinely, he added, “Thank you for stopping. I’m fairly certain added motion sickness would not have helped.” He wasn’t used to seeing Jed be thoughtful about anything. Usually the man’s method of dealing with things was explosives. And if that didn’t work, more explosives.
Then again, watching as Redford came up behind Jed, slipping arms around his waist, kissing his jaw with a smile, maybe there really was a softer side of Jed. Maybe that’s what happened when one spent months in domesticity. Jed was smiling slightly, murmuring lowly to Redford, opening the door for him—like he was a normal man in a normal relationship. If Victor didn’t know better, he wouldn’t have even assumed Jed had five different weapons on him at the moment.
Randall was the last person in the van, head bowed, hair tumbling down to hide his eyes. He very carefully got into his seat, fingers fumbling with the seat belt before he finally got it latched. Embarrassment and, oddly, shame were etched into his expression and every hesitant move. The glimmers of confidence, the spark of intelligence and wit that Victor had seen before were hidden now, under an almost painful shyness.
It made Victor feel like the worst sort of bastard. Even if it had been an accident.
The van rumbled to life, and they got onto the road once more. Victor was left alone to his thoughts, keeping his eyes closed this time. He didn’t want to risk another moment of eye contact, not so soon after the last one. Slowly, conversations started up around him once more. Jed and Redford were cheerfully bantering over whether finding a pancake place or a burger joint was more road trip appropriate. Anthony and Edwin had started a game of go fish, and Anthony was trying to get Randall to join in. Knievel kept trying to walk over the van’s dashboard. The noises washed around him, soft ripples against the rush of the road under their tires, and Victor sank into that contented feeling of not being alone.
It gave him the much-needed time to sort through what he’d seen. Like they were a pile of papers dropped carelessly onto the floor, Victor picked the memories up and shuffled them until they were in order, making sense of them.
“I’m sorry.” It was Randall’s voice, several miles down the road, after he’d declined the card game, after they’d both sat in silence for long enough that the sound of him speaking seemed out of place. Randall wasn’t looking at him, instead focusing on his own hands, laced tightly together and resting neatly in his lap.
At the sound of his voice, all Victor could see for a few seconds was split-second flashes of memory, other instances that Randall had said those words. “You have no need to apologize,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “It was my fault, and I’m sorry for invading your privacy like that. If I could give it back, I would.”
A frown touched the corners of Randall’s lips. “I know I don’t need to apologize,” he murmured after a moment. “The thoughts in my head are… well, they’re supposed to be my own. But I’m sorry you had to see them. That you know—” Cutting himself off, deep red curling around his ears, down his neck, embarrassment plain to see, Randall sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “God. You must think I’m a complete idiot.”
For a few s
econds, Victor had no idea what Randall was talking about. He first assumed it was something to do with Randall’s past, but that couldn’t be it. The bits of present that he saw weren’t as clear as the past or future, but he saw them well enough.
And he had seen a fragment of memory concerning himself. The day that Randall had sought him out to inquire where Jed and Redford were. There had been a warmth of emotion there, an admiration. Something beyond what one felt for someone they wanted to be friends with.
The realization startled Victor. Randall had emotions regarding him. Emotions that were none too platonic.
“Yes, well.” Randall had obviously taken his silence for confirmation, a quick flash of misery on his face before he shuttered it all away behind polite blandness. “Again, I apologize, I—”
“No, I’m sorry, I was….” Victor rubbed at his forehead. “I tend to get easily distracted after the visions. Don’t mind me.” Although he had to admit, some of Randall’s memories were very pleasant. Especially the ones about his family. “I meant to say that there’s nothing you should be embarrassed about, Randall. It may sound trite, but if I’m allowed to comment on what I saw, I have to say that I admire your strength.”
Cutting a sideways glance over to Victor, Randall hesitated a moment before breathing out a quick, startled laugh. “I don’t think anyone’s ever mistaken me for strong.” His lips twisted upward into a rueful smile. “That would be Anthony’s forte. I’m just very fortunate. But, um, thank you. For not judging me too harshly.”
“Well, I didn’t look into Anthony’s eyes,” Victor replied. “So I couldn’t comment on him.” He wasn’t sure what there would be to judge, in any case. It was hardly his place.
“Really?” A slight, teasing smirk touched Randall’s expression. “He’s right there. About six two, brown hair. Penchant for flannel. Comment away.”
Though the thought of looking into somebody else’s eyes so soon was slightly terrifying, Victor breathed out a quiet laugh. “I’ll have to decline the offer, but thank you. I’ve already broken enough privacy boundaries for one day. No need to have the entire van pissed off at me.”
The smile slipped away, and Randall reached out, fingers touching the back of Victor’s hand. “I’m not mad,” he said very seriously. “I’m just not used to anyone… knowing. There’s supposed to be an order to things. A mutual learning. And now you know all the answers, and I’m still making mistakes all the way back at the starting line. It’s scary, to have you know that. But I’m not angry at you.”
Victor hadn’t thought about it that way before, and he could see Randall’s point. It must be very strange to talk to somebody that you didn’t know very well, when that someone knew everything about you. “How about I promise to be very forthcoming in any questions you ask of me?” It was a weak promise, something that would hardly make up for the accident, but Victor couldn’t think of anything else to do. “So that you don’t feel quite so unbalanced?”
Ducking his head, Randall hid his smile. “That sounds like a whole lot of trust you’re giving me,” he said softly. “But thank you.”
“Trust is earned through knowledge of another person,” Victor replied. “I feel I have enough to trust you rather implicitly.”
Quiet for a moment, as if considering that, Randall ventured hesitantly, “Tell me about being a medusa. I’ve heard of them, read several legends, but—”
He was cut off by the noise of the brakes and the soft jolt of the van coming to a stop. “Everyone out,” Jed shouted. Edwin happily climbed over everyone with Knievel at his heels. “Pit stop. Take a piss and then meet at the diner.”
Randall sighed quietly at the interruption, then eased himself out of his seat. With a rueful backward glance at Victor, he was engulfed by Edwin and hurried along with the exuberant promises of cheeseburgers. Anthony was on the other side of them, Randall’s arm instinctively going out to take his brother’s, to support him without even appearing to notice Anthony was unsteady. Victor caught sight of Randall’s smile, the tense uncertainty easing as he laughed at Anthony’s joke, as Edwin grinned at the both of them, carefree and content.
Knievel wound between all of them before Edwin picked her up and the cat perched on his shoulder. Victor somehow gathered that neither the cat nor Jed or Edwin would care that most restaurants did not welcome pets. Which was amusing, considering that five of their diners were hardly strictly human, and four of them would shed far more than Knievel on her worst day.
The greasy smell of diner food didn’t exactly do wonders for Victor’s lingering headache, but he fought hard not to visibly wrinkle his nose. He’d already given everybody in the van enough trouble today. For now, he’d just order a coffee and maybe a scone, if this place would even know what those were. Considering he had a lot of trouble finding a decent scone in America, he didn’t think his chances would be too good. Perhaps he’d chance a muffin instead.
They settled in a booth in the corner. Edwin and Anthony immediately made a grab for the menus, and Victor would bet they’d order the largest dish available. Redford was seated next to Jed, darting nervous glances at the waitresses, and Randall was sitting opposite Victor, so he supposed now wasn’t the time to carry on a conversation about what it was like to be a medusa half blood. He felt grateful that Randall wasn’t truly angry at him, because the man had every right to be.
Victor tried a tentative smile for him, an amused expression at Anthony and Edwin’s enthusiastic discussion of food, and was rewarded with one in return. He wasn’t sure if he liked the warmth that hooked into his chest as a result.
Jed somehow managed to convince a sleepy-looking waitress that Knievel was his seeing-eye cat. As they ordered drinks and food and got their drinks delivered shortly, he noticed that Randall had deliberately placed himself on the outside edge of the booth, seemingly so that he could take Anthony’s mug from the waitress and put it down on the table in front of Anthony. Victor took a quick look at Anthony’s hands. They were shaking, though he’d clasped them tightly together to try to stop it. He looked ashamed that he needed the help.
“So what’s the plan for tonight, expedition leader?” Anthony said to Jed, trying to grin, though it was rather dimmer than his usual cheerful expressions.
“We’re about four hours’ drive away from the halfway point,” Jed said, easily looping his arm around Redford, absently rubbing his thumb along the man’s side. It was a calming gesture, Victor noticed, if Redford’s reaction was anything to go by. Some of the sharp nervousness melted away, Jed providing a casual buffer between Redford and the rest of the world. “There’s a little town that’ll do to stop. We’ll find a cheap motel and hole up for the night. Red and I are going to take the bathroom, provided the door locks from the inside. The rest of you can divide the room however you want.”
Anthony looked startled, then a little suspicious, and finally, somewhat worried. “What exactly are you going to be doing in a locked bathroom when Redford is a wolf?”
Jed glanced around the table, apparently confused. “Being with him during the moon?” Jed finally ventured slowly, like this was incredibly obvious and he was worried Anthony might have some form of brain damage to not understand that. “I don’t know what your freaky furry family does during full moons, but Redford’s a lot calmer if I’m there. I’m sure as hell not leaving him alone.” He paused a beat and grimaced. “Aw, shit. You guys need to be all locked up too, don’t you?” With a sigh, he seemed to accept that, though he grumbled during the startled silence of the Lewises, “We’re looking for a place with a damn big bathroom.”
“You lock yourself in a room?” Anthony’s eyes were wide. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad my earlier suspicions were unfounded, and it’s nice that you want to be there, Jed, but….” He trailed off, seemingly horrified by what Jed had suggested.
There were twin expressions on Edwin and Randall’s faces. “Fuck no,” Edwin declared. He glanced at Anthony and amended, “Fudge no.”
Shifting a bit in his seat, Randall offered, “I, uh, think what my brothers are trying to say is….” He appeared at a loss for words before adding, with a quick, wry twist of his lips, “Fuck no.”
Victor barked out a surprised laugh. He wouldn’t have guessed that Randall would openly curse. Randall was now grinning at him, corners of his eyes crinkling, a warmth there that made it clear the whole expression was directed straight at Victor, and despite himself, Victor grinned back. He could definitely appreciate a well-aimed curse.
“But what do you do?” Redford looked just as confused as the rest of them, but for very different reasons. “I grew up locking myself down and muzzling myself in my grandmother’s basement. It kept everybody safe. But now I can be in a small room and not go crazy.”
While Redford was looking proud of himself for his achievement, the other wolves had gone distinctly pale. Edwin reacted first, lip curling up in a little snarl. “That’s disgusting,” he said, looking Redford up and down as if quite sure he was making a sick joke. “What kind of fucking—” He darted his gaze toward Anthony and hesitated before plunging onward. “No, it is, Ant, it’s a fucking gross kind of person who’d tie down a wolf. Even a were.”
Randall cleared his throat, nudging his shoulder against Edwin’s. “Ed, not everyone was raised the way we were,” he offered mildly, though he looked just as disturbed as his brothers. “It’s abuse, to a wolf.” His voice was kind as he explained, gaze going to Redford. “We all react to the moon in different ways, as individual as the wolf themselves, but at our core, we need our freedom. We get to choose where we run, how we run, when we turn. We’re full wolves—you are a wolf now. But to tie us down and take away that freedom?”
“It’d make us crazy,” Edwin interjected, frowning at Redford, at Jed. “It’s some sick preternatural thing, to use cages and muzzles. It’s not right. We’d hurt ourselves or each other or, shit, I don’t know. Go nuts.”