by Alex Kidwell
Yeah, like he cared. Jed pressed a careful kiss just below the bandage, silently apologizing for that wound as well. One more way he’d failed. He was racking up quite a count. “Come on,” he murmured, arm hooking around Redford’s waist as if he couldn’t bear the thought of being too separate. “Anthony and I need to update the Gray Lady. Which means you’re coming with me, because I am going to want to stick close for a while.”
Redford looked like he wouldn’t have it any other way. They made their path toward the campfires, numerous wolves giving Jed and Anthony curious, anticipatory looks as they passed. The Gray Lady was waiting for them by one of the larger fires, surrounded by younger wolf cubs. She raised her head to acknowledge them as they came close.
“Well?” she asked, as if their conversation hours ago was merely being continued now with no break at all.
“It’s vampires.” Jed didn’t see any point beating around the bush. “They were paying O’Malley. I’m pretty sure we’ve convinced him it’s no longer worth his while to continue that particular arrangement, but I don’t know if they’d try someone else. Or if there’s even anyone else for them to go to.”
“Vampires?” Victor looked like he wasn’t sure whether to be confused or horrified. “I know there’s something of an odd rivalry, but I’d hoped….” He trailed off, staring hard at the ground.
The Gray Lady looked over at him. “Your vision?” A nod was the only response Victor gave. Jed glanced over, half frowning. This was probably a David thing. Most of the time when Victor got that look, the one half like he’d sucked sour grapes and half like he liked it, it was a David thing. Which meant Jed really, really didn’t want to talk about it.
“In any case, I think we’re in the clear. At least for now.” Jed looked back at the Gray Lady. “If you have anyone in the vampire world you can talk to, you might want to. Because the last thing we need is both sides starting a goddamn war.”
From her expression, he may as well have suggested she roll around in shit. “We don’t keep contact with leeches,” she sniffed.
“Maybe you should start,” Victor said bluntly. “Jed’s right. Diplomatic contact may be essential at this point.” But even he didn’t look convinced by his own argument.
It was a mistake. Jed could see that so clearly. If vampires and wolves wanted to duke it out like some cheesy B-rated horror flick, then fine. But people would get caught in the crossfire. Half bloods, humans, Redford, they’d get stuck in the middle, and that could get very bad, very fast.
But right then, Jed was exhausted, he was hungry, and he wanted Redford. None of those things would be helped by having a long debate on the merits of diplomacy. So Jed just nodded and took Redford’s hand, breaking up the little meeting and heading back to their tent.
“You really need sleep,” Redford told him softly, ushering Jed into the tent when they reached it. “Everybody else can handle the strategy talks now.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted, but it was habit now. Jed collapsed face-first into their bed of blankets and pillows, barely managing to kick off his boots before he burrowed into the warmth. “How’s your arm? Does it hurt?” He cracked one eye open and peered up at Redford. “Shit, it does, doesn’t it? I should have gotten you some pain pills.” He tried to struggle back up, getting caught in the blankets around his legs. “I think I have some left in my bag.”
“Jed.” Redford put a hand on his chest, pushing him back down onto the blankets, then crawled in after him. “It hurts, but it just aches. I’m okay.”
He still wanted to get Redford the pills, but his whole body felt too heavy to move. So Jed just wrapped his arms carefully around Redford’s waist, pulling him in close. “I thought I lost you.” The admission felt like he’d let out some agonizing weight that had been crushing him slowly since he’d heard the first gunshot. “I hate that feeling, Red.”
“I’m sorry. I should have been watching my surroundings better,” Redford whispered, getting that guilty look on his face again.
Wait, what? How had that happened? Jed frowned at the way Redford’s lips were pulling down, touching his thumbs to the creases at the corners of Redford’s mouth as if he could smooth them away. “Why are you saying sorry?” he asked, voice thick with approaching sleep. “It’s not your fault.”
Redford didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward, brushing a kiss against Jed’s forehead. He stroked his fingers through Jed’s hair, knowing the motion always had Jed’s eyes falling closed in relaxation. “It doesn’t matter,” Redford murmured. “Get some sleep, Jed.”
“Not until you tell me it wasn’t your fault.” It was getting harder to string words together, but Jed struggled valiantly to do just that. He snuggled in closer to Redford, letting out a slow breath of content at the feeling of Redford’s fingers. “’Cause it wasn’t. It was their fault. I blew them up for it. They ran away like scared little rabbits.”
He felt Redford smile against his forehead. “Fine. It wasn’t my fault.”
“Damn straight.” Cracking a giant yawn, Jed buried his face into Redford’s chest, relaxing. “Love you,” he mumbled before he lost the ability to speak altogether.
“Love you too,” he heard Redford say. And then he slipped into sleep completely.
Chapter 17
Victor
VICTOR HAD started to think Randall was perhaps right about certain tendencies of his.
It was all he could think about as he hovered awkwardly at the edge of the pack gathering around the campfires. The Gray Lady was speaking to her guards, Jed and Redford had just left to presumably get some sleep, and the Lewises were huddled around another fire. Edwin and Randall were paying particular attention to Anthony, who was warming his hands at the edge of the fire, shaking his head sharply. Victor presumed he was denying any symptoms, but even he could see them from this distance.
The treatment wasn’t working, and all Victor could do was stare at the back of Randall’s head, wishing he could find the right words to say.
After the pack had left their first camp, Victor had gone home for a week. Randall’s words had echoed in his thoughts too loudly to let him do anything else—and Randall had been right, Victor wasn’t part of the pack. He had come with them half for some need for a thrill.
Once home, Victor had expected to find little to truly interest him. His home was lovely, inherited from several generations of Rathbones, but it had always felt empty to him. It was dull in a way that seeped into his bones and made him fear the long days of tediousness that might encompass the entirety of his life until he went insane well before a ripe old age. But he hadn’t been bored when he’d arrived home. He’d been relieved.
Where once he’d rather enjoyed a brush with life-or-death, looking into the Gray Lady’s eyes had scared him. It wasn’t just her life span or the dread of the upcoming chaos. His reaction had been what had made him most afraid, the bursting of his blood vessels and the shake in his useless limbs. He hadn’t gone permanently insane, but it felt like he’d come dangerously close.
He’d realized, in that moment, that all of his desperate attempts to live life on the edge hadn’t made him enjoy life at all. They had only made it more chaotic. Victor still hadn’t quite come to terms with the fact that the potentially happy alternative was the very thing he’d been avoiding all of his life, though.
He had collected various supplies, and a week later he had driven to the new camp. And now his sole useful contribution was staring at Randall’s back and wishing he were more eloquent or open. He should, he knew, at the very least try.
Picking his way through the wolves, Victor got close enough to hear a snippet of Anthony speaking. From the sound of it, he was trying to reassure his brothers that he was absolutely fine.
“Whatever treatment Cedric is giving you isn’t working,” he heard Randall say lowly. “And it’s clearly not going to. We need to find a currently practicing doctor with access to a hospital.”
“The trea
tment could still kick in,” Anthony protested.
“And you could keep getting worse.” There was frustration in Randall’s tone and heavy guilt. “Cedric might be brilliant, but his supplies are limited here. Even he says so.”
Anthony didn’t look entirely pleased. “That means we’d have to leave this pack. And it’s really good here. Edwin loves it.”
“Love you more, idiot,” Edwin muttered, leaning into Anthony’s side. “I don’t care about the pack. Just you.”
“Okay, and what happens if we do manage to somehow find a doctor that can treat canine Parkinson’s in something other than a dog, and has access to a hospital?” Anthony raked his hands through his hair. He was starting to look stressed. “I don’t have the money to pay for that. All three of us together couldn’t afford it.”
“I have my school savings.” Randall sounded so tired, like he was close to giving up completely. “I can get two jobs. Edwin too. We’ll figure it out, Anthony.”
“You need your school savings for school,” Anthony dismissed.
There was a long, uncomfortable pause. “Anthony….” Randall took a deep breath, head bowing. “I dropped out of school. At the end of last semester.”
The silence stretched on even longer then. When Anthony spoke, his voice was perfectly flat. “You did what?”
Randall rubbed a hand through his hair, practically curled in on himself. “I turned down the offer from the state college. I…. I’m not going back.”
“You—” Anthony broke off, sounding so furious that Victor thought it was a good thing he’d stopped himself from continuing whatever he was going to say. “You’re going back to school, Randall. I know you still want to, and—”
“If I may cut in,” Victor said. He’d tried to sound smooth, but he was fairly sure all he achieved was awkward. “I have the perfect solution, if you’re willing to consider it.”
Randall’s gaze darted up to him, a tense clench to his jaw. They’d spoken after Jed’s frankly juvenile attempt to force them to spend time together, but it had felt uncomfortable and tense. Randall had made his excuses and left Victor soon after the conversation had begun. The entire time Victor had been at the camp, Randall had avoided him as much as possible, as if keeping his distance would somehow change everything that had been between them. Perhaps it was working, because now Randall simply shook his head, turning back to Anthony. “I am not going back to school,” he told his brother plainly. “I have no desire to continue. I’ll get a job, two if I have to. Edwin—”
“I can work,” Edwin assured Anthony. “We’ll make it. Whatever it takes.”
Anthony ignored both of them to say, “Talk, Victor. What’s your solution?”
After being so obviously dismissed by Randall, Victor was taken off guard by Anthony’s address. “Oh, er, I was going to suggest that Randall could attend the college I lecture at for a greatly reduced fee. And I am, to put it bluntly, absolutely filthy rich. I could pay your hospital fees.”
“Why would you do that?” Edwin asked, eyebrow raised. Randall was just busy staring at Victor as if he’d suddenly sprouted another head. “I mean, that’s not something people just give other people, you know?”
“Perhaps the world would be a better place if they did,” Victor sighed. He looked at Randall, finding himself unable to discern the emotion on his face. “I just want to help. There’s no ulterior motive.”
“We’re just fine, thank you.” Randall stood then, jaw jutted out defiantly. “We’re not in need of charity.”
“It’s not pity money,” Victor protested. “I simply—”
“Just stop, Victor.” Anthony sounded weary. “It’s really kind of you to offer, but we’ll make our own way.”
Feeling once again quite useless, Victor had no idea whether he should leave or stay. He could make a second offer, allowing them use of his house should they ever need to be close to the hospitals in the area, but he doubted that would go over very well.
Fortunately for him, the Lewises then seemed to completely forget he was there. “I want to continue giving this treatment a chance,” Anthony said, his expression positively mulish. “We’ve just done a seven-state move. We can wait at least one more week before we think about another one.”
“You don’t have time.” Randall’s arms were folded across his chest, a stubborn tone to his voice. “This isn’t working, Anthony, come on. You can barely stand sitting there, your knees hurt so bad.”
Anthony looked torn. “If we go back, can I make you promise that you’ll go back to school?”
There was a beat of silence, and Victor realized that Randall was looking at him, expression completely shut down. It was possible, Victor thought, that if he could see Randall’s eyes, everything would be plain. As it was, the curve of Randall’s lips, the set of his shoulders, only radiated tension and worry, with no nuances to be found. “I don’t want to miss anything,” Randall finally told Anthony very quietly. “I don’t want to lose out on time with you. School can wait. For now, you’re what I am going to focus on. That’s my decision.”
Anthony’s shoulders sagged, and his head was bowed. “I’m just not sure I want to admit that finding this pack was for nothing,” he murmured, so lowly Victor barely caught it. “I’ve completely wasted our time.”
“You haven’t.” Randall sat next to him, taking Anthony’s hands in his own. “We helped them. Imagine what would have happened if we hadn’t shown up. And we know Cedric, who has contacts out there still. He’ll find us someone we can go to. This… this was my idea. To come here. I thought it’d be your salvation. I was wrong. But it wasn’t a waste.”
The conversation was now becoming too personal for Victor to feel good about overhearing, so he sneaked away, though he was fairly certain the Lewises wouldn’t have noticed if he’d stomped, as absorbed as they were with each other.
The Lewises, it seemed, were going to leave. Victor wondered what Jed and Redford would do—he wondered what he would do. Surely there was no call for him to stay. Then again, there had barely been a call for him to come along in the first place.
Randall had been wrong when he’d assumed that Victor only came here because he was intrigued by the thrill. Part of it had been Randall himself. Though Victor hadn’t consciously acknowledged it at the time, he had already been very interested in Randall’s company even back then. Before then, even, when they had met in Cairo.
Without Randall here, nobody else would particularly want Victor to stay. He supposed he should start packing, then.
“Victor.” Randall had left his brothers and come after Victor, ducking around a group of wolves moving past them.
Coming to a stop—Victor had had no destination in mind anyway, only a direction that was away from the Lewises—he summoned up a smile for Randall. “Decision made, then?”
“What the hell was that?” Randall glanced at the people passing, arms folded, voice a low hiss.
His tone took Victor off guard. He’d never heard Randall sound like that before. “That… was an offer that you had the choice to take or decline?”
“I understand that I’m not my brother.” There was a sick undercurrent in Randall’s voice, his head bowed, tone barely higher than a rumble. “I know that I am not made to lead. But I can take care of my family without you coming in and throwing pity at me.”
“I said that it wasn’t pity, and I stand by those words. I never meant to undermine your leadership, Randall,” Victor replied, appalled. But it only took a second more for him to realize that was exactly what he’d done. Damn it. “My apologies. I, er, I wasn’t thinking of wolf etiquette.”
“If it wasn’t pity, then I honestly can’t understand why you felt the need to step in, tell us how well off you were, and snap your fingers at our problems as if they were that easy to solve.” Randall barely looked up at him, gaze firmly fixed on the ground. “You haven’t spoken to me in weeks.”
“That road goes both ways, Randall,” Victor said th
inly. “Do not put all the blame on me. And I was simply trying to help. Is it so surprising that I still have strong feelings for you?”
Randall shook his head, jaw tightening. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said. “It was a crush, Victor. It was foolish. You were right from the start. But it hardly matters. I’m over it.”
Victor wasn’t sure if he should believe that or not. On one hand, Randall had an odd tone to his voice, one that didn’t usually make an appearance when he told the truth. On the other hand, Victor had made quite a few mistakes and had done more than enough to sour Randall’s feelings for him.
“Then I suppose we are back to where we began, but with the positions reversed,” Victor replied. There was something oddly funny about that, but he didn’t smile.
There was a long beat, Randall swallowing quickly a few times before he nodded and lifted his head, a forced smile tight at the corners of his lips. “I suppose so.”
“If you’re trying to tell me that you feel nothing for me, you should probably try to sound less like you’re forcing the words out,” Victor said softly. “The honesty would be appreciated, since I cannot ask you to look me in the eye and say it like you mean it.”
Something of the manufactured confidence fell from Randall’s face. He looked away, and Victor watched his throat work, as if Randall was trying to make the words come. “I think you are a brilliant man,” Randall finally managed thickly. “I’m only sorry I was never able to take any of your classes.”
“The offer is still open,” Victor replied. He hid how frustrated he was starting to get. He just wanted a straight answer on whether Randall still had affection remaining for him. “The college I teach at is excellent.”
“Well, as soon as my brother dies, I’m sure my schedule will clear right up.” Randall’s jaw was so tight it seemed ready to crack. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go pack.”
That took the wind right out of Victor’s sails. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Randall, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for how much stress I’ve caused you over the last month. I never meant—I never wanted to make your life harder than it already was. I can only hope that you’re even slightly less stressed when you get back home.”