Redemptive Blood

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  Gone is the goth black hair that looked like a washed-out oil slick on hay.

  Rich brown hair has taken its place, falling in loose curls around her shoulders. Glossy, thick, and fresh.

  Jenni had become used to the sallow tone of her skin as she tried to apply cover-up each day to hide her lackluster skin tone. Then she would layer on blusher in an attempt to mimic the high-coloring she’d enjoyed before cancer.

  She knows there's not a lick of makeup left on her face, but Jenni looks good. No—scratch that—fantastic. No makeup sold could lift her cheek color to the soft pink that glows from healthy, beautifully normal skin. Or the brightness of her eyes... the whites are like snow. The irises glitter like root beer hard candy. They're not the dull brown of yesterday's recollection, but a gorgeous, melted chocolate.

  Jenni touches her face with shaky fingers, and the skin beneath her fingers is no longer dry and rough to the touch. The texture of this new skin feels like silk.

  Holy shit, I've been remade.

  Jenni can't tear her eyes away from the reflection of her throat.

  The location where the Lanarre werewolf harmed her is smooth beneath her touch. She remembers the exact spot where the injury happened. But only healed flesh greets her stare.

  And the wound from the branch as they marched through the forest?

  Gone.

  So healing is a thing.

  And speed, strength, and totally taste and smell.

  What's happening to me?

  A knock at the door makes her jump a foot.

  “Yeah?” Jenni asks, heart in her throat.

  “You okay in there?”

  Jenni nods, realizes Devin can't see her, and replies, “Yeah, just getting in the shower.”

  Only a tiny lie.

  “Well, I left some clothes outside the door for you to borrow.”

  Jenni folds her hand against her chest, covering her mouth with the other hand.

  Silent tears burn down her face, running over the dam of her fingers.

  After a few seconds of regaining her composure, she says, “Thanks, Devin.”

  “Welcome.”

  *

  Her fingertips are pleasantly wrinkled, and she's got a pair of yoga pants and a thick t-shirt on.

  Devin's quite a bit taller, but skinny enough to be a human closet hanger.

  The object of Jenni’s thoughts breezes in, wet hair wrapped in a towel turban. “You're so lucky,” Devin points at her.

  Jenni knows this, but it’s probably not for the reasons Devin's thinking.

  “It's my day off, girl.” Devin grins, giving a quick thumbs-up.

  Oh.

  “So Ella is here because she's not old enough for kindergarten and only goes to Little People for part day, and I work night shift. It's great, she goes to sleep, and I go to work.”

  “Do you like your job?” Jenni asks.

  Devin shrugs, filling a coffee carafe full of water from the kitchen tap. Without turning, she shifts two feet to the right and pours the cold water into the reservoir of a bright-red coffee maker. “I get food for free.”

  Jenni closes her eyes.

  “They throw away almost as much food as they make. I mean, all those fast-food places have a limit on how long food can sit. And...” She presses the on button at the front of the coffee maker. Instantly, it begins to give throaty burps, nosily working toward Jenni's caffeine fix. “Sometimes the line manager doesn't get the count right. Yʼknow, making too many cheeseburgers for the rush—whatever.”

  She bends over, flipping her hair upside down, and begins squeezing the damp towel against her long hair. Devin stands, flinging the mostly dry hair behind her. “I mean, I'm not a real big fan of burgers and fries anymore, but it makes a turd, as my brother would say.”

  Jenni laughs, but it fades as Devin's face takes on a wistful expression.

  She sits up straighter and swallows hard. “Where's your family?”

  Devin lifts a narrow shoulder, her lips twisting. “They won't talk to me.” She studies the remnants of her chipped black nail polish. “Tough love, I guess.”

  Jenni remains quiet for a moment. “Do they know you stopped using?”

  Devin gives a swift shake of her head. “No, and I've tried to call and let them know I'm clean—and about Ella. But they won't take my calls.” She looks down, toeing a plush toy on the ground. When she meets Jenni's eyes, a sheen of tears fill hers. “Can't blame them.” She sucks in a breath then lets it out in a dragging exhale. “I was a lying, stealing, druggie.”

  “But you're not now,” Jenni points out softly.

  Devin nods. “No, I'm not. But I wrecked their trust. So there's that.”

  Jenni stands and walks to Devin.

  “They'd want to know they had a grandchild. Trust me.”

  Devin just shakes her head and ducks her chin. “I fucked up.”

  “Listen, I know they would.” Jenni's eyes fill with tears. “I know.” Her voice is hoarse.

  Devin cocks her head, studying Jenni's expression. “How?”

  “Because my parents are dead. And I'd do anything for them not to be, and I know they wouldn't have cared what I'd done. They'd still want a relationship with me, and definitely one with whatever child I produced.”

  She bites her lip, finally giving Jenni her eyes. “I-I don't know. I'm sorry about your parents.”

  Jenni gives a small shrug. She's used to the silence after she tells people about her parents, and she fills it with the answer everyone always wants. “Car accident.”

  “How?”

  No one ever asks more. She meets Devin's direct stare, unaware her gaze has drifted, looking outside a window filled with fingerprints about the height a four-year old would make. “Drunk driver. Plowed into them when they were moving through a green light.”

  Devin runs her hand over her damp hair. “Damn, that's tough.”

  “Yup.”

  The silence stretches between them like a rubber band.

  Finally, it snaps.

  “Listen,” Devin begins.

  “Where's Ella?” Jenni asks quickly.

  “I parked her in front of the TV for a half hour of cartoons.”

  Jenni takes a deep breath. Then another. “You've got questions.”

  Devin nods but gives a minute shrug. “You don't owe me.”

  “Actually, I do.” Jenni's laugh is shaky. “I swooped in and totally threw your life on its ear.”

  Devin laughs. “Yeah, true. But I'll let you in on a little secret. My life's sorta chaotic anyway.”

  Jenni looks around at the general disarray of the place. Things are cluttered and dated, but the surfaces are clean. “You have a little girl, and you're a single mom.”

  “Not by choice. But Bray...”

  Jenni nods. No need for explanation there. “I'm a nurse.”

  Devin's smile is crooked. “Nice scrubs by the way.”

  That reminds Jenni.

  Devin holds up a hand at her expression. “Got them in the wash. I don't know about all that blood, though.” Her eyes narrow suddenly. “Are those stains really from an emergency gunshot wound victim?”

  Jenni shakes her head.

  “Knew it!” Devin whisper-hisses.

  Jenni sighs. “So this Jane Doe's brought in.”

  “Huh?”

  “A patient without an ID.” Jenni thought everyone knew that. It's not a moniker exclusive to corpses.

  “She was remarkable,” Jenni says, remembering Adi's vitals—hell, the healing ability alone had sugar plums dancing in the head of anyone who got a load of her chart. “She'd been hit by a car. Shattered pelvis, multiple contusions, internal bleeding.” Jenni swipes a hand through her hair, pushing the whole load behind her shoulder. “In fact, what didn't she have that was broken or bleeding?”

  “What does this chick have to do with your... issue.”

  Jenni isn’t sure how to begin. “She begins to heal. Heal in a way that no one's ever seen. We actu
ally had a call in to the University of Washington. They were going to have one of their special sauce scientists make a trip all the way out here to PT and investigate it. Her.”

  “I guess it didn't happen.” One of Devin's eyebrows lifts.

  Jenni snorts back a laugh. “No. In fact, only five hours later, my mystery patient got out of the bed and with hardly more than a tense expression, tossed her clothes on, and went to leave.”

  Devin blinks.

  Jenni points at her. “Exactly. That. I tried to stop her, and it wasn't going to work. Then she found out some guys were after her. She changed her plan. Improvised.”

  “Let me guess, you were part of the new plan.”

  Jenni nods slowly, threading her fingers through newly thick hair. “Thing is, I'm sick.”

  Devin's jaw works back and forth, and she cups her chin. “No offense”—her eyes give Jenni a quick scan—“but you look great.”

  “Now.”

  Devin frowns. “I don't get it. What do ya mean ʻnowʼ?”

  “Because as near as I can figure, I'm a werewolf.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Adi

  “Evil bitch,” Adi mutters, busy dressing the horrible wounds at Slash's wrists.

  “Witch, you mean.”

  Adi cleans the deep lacerations a second time, and they're healing, but slowly. “Whatever,” she says under her breath then looks up, meeting Slash's eyes. “How come these aren't healing up very well?”

  “Silver,” Slash remarks casually.

  Things were anything but casual a few hours ago. “Right. They're super bad.” Adi sits back on her heels, blowing a damp strand of hair out of her face.

  “Super,” he says and winks at her.

  Adi sits up straighter, blinks at Slash, and promptly bursts into tears.

  “My mate,” Slash says, sudden worry saturating his voice as he draws her gently into his lap.

  “I haven't finished!” she wails, hating the sniveling bullshittery she seems determined to be stuck in.

  “I'll be fine.” Slash tucks his finger under her chin and lifts it. Kissing each salty tear away. “Why are you crying? The witch is dead. The wicked witch is dead...”

  “This is not that old movie, The Wizard of Oz, Slash. It's so not a movie! It's our fucked-up lives.” Her lips tremble, and he lays a soft kiss on them then presses his forehead to hers.

  “I am not making fun of you, heart of my heart.”

  Adi stills at the ancient words. “What are you doing then?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

  He leans away, and she gets lost in his dark eyes. They hold nothing but his feelings for her. “I am offering levity.”

  Adi cries harder.

  Slash sighs and scrubs a hand over the sharp short hairs at his scalp. “I might be unsure about what's needed here.”

  “Really?” she says, hand pressed to her chest. “No shit?”

  Adi awkwardly climbs off his lap and stands. She looks down at Slash, her heart constricting at the sight of his wounds. “I don't even know what that word means!”

  Slash stands, as well, towering over her. “I am too old for you.”

  “Is this where we break up?” Adi asks, folding her arms. “Because I'm not good with that.”

  Slash chuckles.

  She rolls her eyes at him, dropping her arms. “Not funny.”

  “There is no breaking up, Adrianna. I am your mate for life. But our age difference will rear its head on occasion.”

  “We were just starting to make sense of us. We got back together, and I'd forgiven you for your bullshit—”

  “Bullshit?” Slash's eyebrows rise.

  Adrianna glares.

  “Ya know. That whole ‘I gotta be the he-man and sacrifice my ass for my woman’ thing.”

  Slash frowns. “I didn't think about us exactly in those terms.”

  “Yeah—so get that. But I did. I do. And if we're keeping count, I killed the witch. I didn't need a man to do it, if ya noticed?” Adi arches her eyebrows.

  Slash gathers her against him. “I noticed, and it killed me to watch you put yourself in harm's way. My pregnant mate.”

  Adi stays silent, thinking about everything. “Probably because we have sex too much.”

  Slash barks out a laugh, hugging her tighter. “I can't think of that being a problem. But you were in heat. And that's what can happen when mates breed.”

  “I know,” she says in a small voice. “I just—I'm going to suck at motherhood. I'm young, and I don't know anything and... shit.”

  “You'll be fine, beautiful creature. You're a witch slayer—what more could our future whelp hope to have in a mother?”

  Adi bursts out laughing. “You're just saying that to make me feel better.”

  Slash's mouth brushes her lips. “Is it working?”

  Adi nods.

  His expression turns serious. “We need to dispose of the witch's body and take everything from here that we can. We want to begin our short journey to the Northwestern. I want to leave this place. Badly.”

  The corners of Adi's mouth turn down. “Okay. You're assuming there's not another Red already part of the Northwestern Pack.”

  Slash cups her shoulders, not looking away. “Was there a Red when you left?”

  Adi thinks back. Besides Jason, who was the feral, Reds were like UFO sightings: had to see them to believe them.

  “I doubt it. Jason Caldwell was the first Red we'd ever had, and Lawrence and Tony made sure he was locked up.”

  “You took care of him?” he confirms.

  “I did. I mean, back then.”

  They share a moment of silence, both thinking their own thoughts about Jason's life—and death.

  “It's the best option.” Slash says what she's already thinking.

  Adi nods. “I know. But things haven't been settled since we got together.”

  His mouth twists, pulling the rope of scar tissue taut. “We did establish our relationship in the middle of a Singer war.”

  “True.”

  “Then you ran off, and we stumbled into a witch's lair.” Slash's eyebrows pop.

  She laughs. “Okay, I guess our start was kinda bumpy.”

  “Very.” Slash's voice is droll.

  Adi smacks him in his tight abs.

  He covers his stomach like it hurt, and Adi catch's sight of his wounds again. “Oh moon, Slash—I'm sorry.”

  His smile tells her it's okay.

  That everything will be.

  *

  “Man! She weighs a ton!” Adi says.

  Slash smirks. “On the count of three!” he says loudly. “One, two—three!”

  They swing Della hard, releasing her arms at the exact same moment, and she flies off the old porch.

  She lands with a plop, forest debris exploding in a violent cloud.

  Adi dusts off her hands. “That felt awesome. What a nasty bitch she was.”

  “Witch,” Slash says conversationally.

  “Pfft!” Adi stomps back inside the cottage.

  Slash follows at her heels. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yup!” She storms ahead directly into the kitchen and tears open the fridge.

  A bunch of glass jars line the inside of the fridge.

  Eyeballs. Tongues.

  Brains.

  “Ewww! What the hell is this?” Adi turns her face to Slash, mouth agape. “Is there anything in here to eat?”

  Slash laughs. “She's all stocked up on body parts.”

  “Gross and nasty,” Adi mutters, slamming the door. “Okay!” She brightens. “If she was really related to the Hansel and Gretel witch, shouldn't she have proper food—yʼknow—to lure people?”

  “Depends on who you ask.”

  Adi smacks him again. “Eyes and brains aren't food.”

  Slash grasps his chin, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, but she can tell he's having fun at her expense.

  “Men!” she yells, starting to walk out of the kitchen.
>
  Slash grabs her around the waist, easily hoisting her off the floor, and hold her against his hard body.

  “I've done a thorough inventory while you were using the shower. She has some food.”

  Adi wants to cry in relief. “Slash, I'm so hungry, this isn't even funny.” She searches his eyes, trying to appeal with a look.

  He slowly lowers Adi to her feet. “Nothing is more important than my mate's needs. Especially my mate who carries my whelp.” He lightly places a hand on her flat stomach, and Adi covers it with her own.

  Slash flicks his eyes, which have gone green at the edges from his wolf, to a bag on top of a small table within the tiny kitchen nook.

  Adi follows his gaze and runs over to the bag and pulls out cheese, beef jerky, and dried fruit.

  “Did you eat?” she asks quickly.

  “I'll eat when you have your fill.”

  “Slash—”

  “Eat,” he growls.

  Adi doesn't have to be asked twice.

  The first taste of the cheese is succulent, springing on her taste buds and making her think of butter and cream. Yanking off a hunk from the stick of beef jerky, she sinks her teeth into the first bite. Notes of smoky flavor and mild spice make her mouth water.

  Adi saves the dried dates and apricots for last. She tips her head back. The taste of the sugary-sweet fruit bursts in her mouth, filling it in a wonderfully satisfying way.

  Adi sucks the juices from her fingers and looks at an amused Slash. “This better not be poisoned food. Moon, that sucked.”

  “No,” Slash assures her. His strong body leans against the door threshold, and regarding her, he smirks. “I sniffed that until my nose fell off.”

  Adi nods between mouthfuls. She rises on her tiptoes and kisses the underside of his jaw, and his rough two-day beard tickles her lips.

  He lowers his head, and Adi kisses his nose.

  “Nose is still there, stud.”

  Slash has a small smile just for her. “Yes.” He runs a finger down her face and plucks a small bit of food from the corner of her mouth before putting it into his own.

  She watches his finger work, and a sudden surge of lust seizes her.

  Slash's nostrils flare.

  “Don't think I didn't notice your hard-on when I was about to stab you.” She twirls a piece of fruit from her fingers, and he wraps his lips around her fingertips.