Bloodlines (49 page)

“I need someone that doesn’t have arthritis flare-ups in cold weather,” the man said. He peered at Redford as if he were calculating exactly how much he wanted to socialize with him, which Redford could empathize with. “And you seem less busy than everybody else here.”

It was only when the man started to look impatient that Redford recognized him. He was from the pack they had helped rescue the other day. Redford distinctly recalled the man gathering the younger wolves together and looking very exasperated when they took more than thirty seconds to line up.

“Um, yeah, sure,” Redford said, hurriedly standing up. “What do you need help with?”

The wolf just walked off, clearly expecting Redford to follow. Redford was fairly sure he’d heard someone call him Cedric. He was led to a communal building on the side of the camp near the tree line, where the refugees had obviously been put up for their stay. Redford recognized some of the wolves they’d rescued mingling with the Gray Lady’s pack—they seemed to be integrating well.

Cedric stopped at a door at the corner of the building and waved Redford inside. “I scavenged some boxes from the healers here. Just old things that they don’t use, equipment and the like. Unfortunately, the people who brought it along for me had the gall to put it on the highest shelves.”

Redford took a quick look around the room. It was Spartan and mostly bare, though some bags with what he presumed were Cedric’s belongings were lined up against one wall. The boxes on the shelves were about shoulder height, and they looked heavy. He figured they were most likely full of herbs and salves, considering what the healers used on Anthony.

When he took a closer look, though, he saw the edge of a scalpel and plastic wrapping jutting out of the box closest to him. Redford couldn’t resist flipping the lid of the box to peek inside. “This is actual medical equipment,” he said, stunned.

“Yes, I did say that.” Cedric frowned. “Unfortunately this pack seems to think proper medicine is how the devil gets inside you.”

Redford had to smile at that. “Are you a doctor?”

“A properly trained one with a degree, yes, unlike the soothsayers here.” Cedric, it seemed, had no patience at all for herbs and natural remedies. Redford liked him already.

“There’s a wolf here,” Redford started tentatively, “who has a degenerative condition. He’s not from the pack, but we came here in the hopes that they’d be able to treat him. It’s canine Parkinson’s, I think it’s called. But all the healers have been doing is giving him some really awful smelling herbs to put on his hands.”

Cedric snorted disdainfully. “Did they chant around him too? Good God, I have no idea how any of them survived with this primitive approach to medicine. It’s a wonder they’re not all crippled or dead.”

“So, do you think you could maybe take a look at him?” Redford asked. He wasn’t sure if it was really his place to ask such a thing for Anthony, but a second consult couldn’t hurt, right?

“If they’re not busy with packing, then I’d be all too glad to have something else to do.” As if on cue, a series of loud thumps came from upstairs, the sound of laughter and what sounded like playfighting. Cedric scowled. “I cannot abide the company of young people in such close quarters for too long.”

Redford made a mental note to introduce Cedric and Victor. He had a feeling they’d probably get on well in their misanthropy.

“Thank you.” Words couldn’t contain his gratefulness. Instead, Redford got a good grip around one of the boxes and pulled, grunting with the strain as he balanced it close against his chest. “Where do you want these?”

He put the box where Cedric directed, alongside the bags lined up against the wall. Redford worked in silence, all the while telling himself that peeking in the boxes wasn’t polite. He did have to wonder exactly what kind of medical supplies Cedric had, though, and if he’d be able to do something more for Anthony than foul-smelling herb concoctions.

Somewhere around the third box, Cedric had sat down in an old chair in the corner of the room, and by the fourth box, Redford realized that Cedric was staring at him—not in a rude way, simply watching closely.

“I imagine you’re getting a lot of odd looks,” Cedric said carefully. “I may not have been in the pack life for very long, but even I can smell that you’re not like everybody here.”

Redford worked hard to contain his embarrassed flinch, but unfortunately he wasn’t all that successful. “It’s a long story,” he mumbled. “Mostly I get weirder looks for being in love with a human.”

Cedric frowned. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Apparently.” Redford set the sixth and final box on the floor, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully face Cedric, afraid of the judgmental expression he might see on the wolf’s face. “I keep getting told that wolves and humans shouldn’t be together. And I think my…. I think Jed got told the same thing too.”

“That is the most fatuous pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard in my life,” Cedric said bluntly. “You may as well say that two women can’t be together because they can’t have children without medical help. Or that two people from different races can’t be together because they have different cultural backgrounds. What a bigoted, asinine thing to say.”

Taken aback by Cedric’s tone, Redford had to struggle for a response. That was certainly opposite what every other wolf had been telling him. “You, um, obviously think differently.”

“I had a wife of sixty years.” Cedric smiled as he said it. “We met when I was thirty and she was twenty-five. She passed away seven years ago, and I don’t regret our relationship at all. We had sixty years of the best relationship I’d ever had. She understood that I would age slower and outlive her, and that didn’t matter to her.”

“I’m sorry,” Redford said, unable to think of anything properly useful to say.

Cedric snorted. “Don’t apologize, boy. Why should anybody apologize for what we had?” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and flipped through it until he found a photo, which he handed to Redford.

It was a picture of Cedric and his wife. Redford couldn’t pinpoint Cedric’s age in the photo, but his wife looked about forty. They looked completely and totally in love. Redford couldn’t help but smile at the picture as he handed it back. “Was she your mate? I’ve been told that… wolves don’t recover from that loss.”

“She was,” Cedric confirmed. As Redford was about to apologize for his loss yet again, perceiving that Cedric might be utterly heartbroken and alone, Cedric continued, “But I am also fine. I miss her every day, but we had sixty years together, and I am content with what we had. It doesn’t mean I will be a sobbing wreck for the rest of my life. Wolves can recover from loss just as well as any other.” He paused, scowl softening as he glanced at the photo. “We might feel things more deeply, but that means the good as well as the bad. Grief, yes, but also every happy memory, every moment of loving her, I’ve got that too. And I wouldn’t trade any of that to spare myself losing her.”

“Oh.” Redford had to take a moment to wrap his mind around that. He couldn’t imagine losing Jed and
not
being a wreck every day after that, but perhaps some of that grief would be eased by having a lifetime with him. “That’s just really not like what I’ve heard.”

“Everybody is different,” Cedric said. “But is eventual pain a good excuse for
not
trying for happiness?”

Redford wasn’t good at philosophy. To be fair, Jed was even worse at it than he was. Redford had just never managed to be very good at thinking about things like life principles or vague
what if
s. “No?” he guessed.

“No, it’s not,” Cedric agreed. “There will always be pain, whether you try for it or not. Happiness is not guaranteed unless you grasp for it. So whatever those wolves have told you about being with a human, you tell them to shut their mouths, and you do what
you
like. We’re not clones. You least of all.”

It was one of the grumpiest motivational speeches Redford had ever heard, but he still felt strangely uplifted. “Thank you,” he said with dawning realization. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

“Of course I’m right.” Cedric clearly hadn’t considered any other option. “So you go find your mate and tell him that it is within nobody’s right to give you shit about your relationship.”

“I would, but he… left.” Redford felt a piece of that motivation chip off, but it didn’t die entirely. “I promised myself I’d go find him in three days if he didn’t come back.”

“What is he, Jesus Christ?” Cedric snorted, unimpressed. “You’re not in high school, pup, and you definitely should stop acting like it. Grow some balls and talk it out.”

Redford stared at him, wide-eyed. “Yes, sir,” he said uncertainly. “I’ll, um, get on that right away.”

“Good. Go get him, or the next time I see you I’ll whack you around the head,” Cedric grumbled, but there was a smile touching the corners of his eyes. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Redford thanked him and felt a little overwhelmed as he left. He wasn’t sure what to do with all this new hope. He’d had faith before that he would find Jed, but he hadn’t been sure they’d be able to work out their problems. He still didn’t have a clear answer to that, but nothing changed the foundation of the matter: Jed was the man he loved, and nothing was going to get in the way of that.

He made a mental checklist as he went back to their cabin.

One, he had to work hard at getting his instincts under control. Though the clash of aggression and fear had lessened slightly in the recent weeks, from a combination of Jed’s help, Dr. Alona’s therapy, and the full moon spent properly in the wild, Redford still had work to do.

Two, he would have to convince Jed that Redford hadn’t been corrupted by his influence. Redford wasn’t sure where Jed had gotten the idea that Redford was
better
than Jed’s job, but it was a notion he would have to help Jed get rid of. The hunters he had killed were human, yes, but killing them wasn’t anything anybody else there wouldn’t have done in a heartbeat. Redford had chosen to help Jed in his job, and it was better than his previous life in every single way. Redford
liked
their job.

Three, he needed to let Jed know that his being human didn’t harm their relationship at all. That one was going to be slightly tougher, Redford knew, especially surrounded by a pack that thought humans couldn’t possibly meaningfully understand them. But Redford was sure Jed did.

Checklist made, Redford determined that he would set off to find Jed at first light the next morning. As much as he wanted to rush off to find him now, contacting the appropriate people would take time, and they wouldn’t be able to drop everything to come pick Redford up.

He also thought Jed really might need some time to himself. Jed had never been good at talking about his problems. He faltered and said things badly and nearly even stuttered, obviously embarrassed to be talking so openly about his emotions and misgivings. He especially hated being taken off guard by conversations he wasn’t prepared for. For someone who
felt
so deeply, Jed was bafflingly unwilling to admit to it, as if he thought his emotions were a soft spot someone would use against him. Whatever the situation, when it came to the hard things, the important things, Jed was always better able to wrap his mind around them when given time to process through his knee-jerk reaction of shoving everyone and everything away as hard as he could manage.

So Redford would give him the night. He imagined that Jed would drink a lot and maybe smash some things, but problems were always clearer in the morning.

He knew Jed would come back. He had to, because Redford honestly couldn’t imagine a life without Jed in it.

Jed

S
OMEONE
WAS
knocking on the fucking door.

It was still dark out, the flickering red light of the motel sign outside barely illuminating the room. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, the shit ton of alcohol Jed had poured down his miserable gullet sloshing inside his head with every throb of his heart. He knew his feet were still attached to his legs, he knew his eyes were somewhere between open and closed, and he knew the knock on the door meant there was a person, or possible people, outside wanting to get in. But unfortunately, owing to said
shit ton of alcohol
, he wasn’t exactly up for moving. Or breathing too loudly. Or anything that required action beyond moaning in pain.

Unfortunately he hadn’t suddenly developed psychic skills, because when he thought about all the ways he wanted to skin and burn whoever was pounding on the motel door, said person didn’t stop. Eventually, Jed managed to get wobbly legs under him, half rolling off the couch, gun held loosely in his hand as he staggered across the floor.

“What the fuck do you fucking want, you fucking ass licking bastard?”

Whoever said he didn’t have charm coming out of his goddamn ears was just fucking lying.

“You stink like the floor of a bar bathroom.” It was goddamn Edwin Lewis standing there, naked as a freaking jaybird, nose wrinkled, as if Jed had offended his delicate sensibilities.