Bloodlines (89 page)

“You think that prophecy is about
Jed
?” Redford said in shock.

Victor made a contemplative noise. “Perhaps. There are certainly signs pointing that way.”

Jed waited for the inevitable punch line. This was one of Victor’s little jokes that Jed never caught because he wasn’t a goddamn prissy nerd. Any moment now, he’d do that little snorting chuckle of
aren’t I so English and clever
and Jed could roll his eyes and they’d move on. But instead there was just uncomfortable silence, Randall staring decidedly at the floor, Edwin pretending as though he was very interested in a magazine about women’s health.

Finally, Jed actually had to say something. Because this was ridiculous. “You scrambled your goddamn brains, princess,” Jed growled. “There might be a lot of things you can say about me. But none of it is going to be in some freaky shit prophecy. Not unless it’s a dirty limerick.”

“Well, I certainly won’t jump to conclusions.” Victor leaned back in his seat. “But I do have to ask, just in case. Do you know how to use a sword?”

Jed’s eyes narrowed. “To chop off your tiny dick? Yeah, I think I’ve got a penknife around somewhere I can swing with enough force.” Asshole.

Victor just smirked. “Perhaps you should look into lessons.”

“Keep talking, professor.” Jed rolled his eyes, since Victor had, thankfully, decided to veer off the serious talk about Jed being some kind of foretold hero or whatever. “Maybe the whole thing was about you, huh? You’re the one who wrote it down. Isn’t that a saying? He who smelt it has to carry the giant sword of destiny.”

He felt Redford crowd in close against his shoulder. “It could be about anyone,” Redford said, though he didn’t sound too sure.

Jed turned to him, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for this malarkey too.”

“No,” Redford said defensively. He looked at Jed, and then his shoulders sagged. “I don’t know. There has to be a reason that Victor got the vision, and not a medusa over on the other side of the world.”

“Why should that matter?” Jed was now looking around the room, searching for
someone
who was still damn sane. “Hell, maybe he’s supposed to post it on some website for freaks. Whatever he does, it’s
not
about
me
, okay? I don’t do swords, I don’t… hell, I don’t even know what it was
saying
.”

“Yes, all right Jed, we know,” Victor muttered. “Do try to keep your voice down. This is a hospital. We’ll figure everything out later.”

“What
does
it say?” Edwin finally decided to join in from where he was curled up in a chair, across from Jed and Redford. “I mean, I read it. It sounded like a bunch of gibberish. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything at all.”

“I bled from the eyes and wrote that damn thing out on my nice, clean kitchen floor. I’ll be very cranky if it’s meaningless gibberish,” Victor replied with a scowl. “As best I can tell, it’s about someone that must take up a sword to stop a battle. There’s mention of several animals, possibly in reference to people or maybe just symbols. There’ll be clues in the wording of it. I’ll just have to study it closer.”

Before Jed could point out that it was entirely possible Victor had intercepted an advertisement for a zoo opening and this whole thing was just the result of metal tooth fillings, the double doors swung open and Anthony’s doctor walked out. Jed already knew this was going to be bad. There was a
look
doctors got, a particular kind of grimness they hid behind a professional smile. But it was there. And this guy had it all over.

“Are you the Lewises?” The doctor moved forward, holding out his hand for Randall to shake when Randall stood and nodded. “I’m Dr. Medena. Why don’t you come with me?”

Jed wanted to offer to hang back, but they were all swept up and escorted through the hallway. Edwin was pressed close to Redford, Randall was holding Victor’s hand, and apparently, in that moment, they were all going to be goddamn Lewises.

The office they were taken to was as coldly clinical as the rest of them, though the doctor had clearly attempted to offset that with personal knickknacks on his desk. Anthony was seated in the chair across from the desk, and he gave them all a wan smile when they crowded into the small room. “I seem to have collected three more brothers.”

“Sorry,” Redford said awkwardly. “We can go if—”

“No, you can stay if you like,” Anthony replied. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah, well, you needed a good-looking brother, so Redford and I stepped in.” Jed collapsed into one of the chairs, hauling Redford to perch on his knee. Edwin stayed standing, while Randall insisted Victor take the only remaining seat.

Dr. Medena barely seemed to notice the crowd of them in his office. He sat behind his desk and shuffled some papers, then looked up at them. “We’re down to two options,” he finally announced, “and it’s entirely up to Anthony, although he knows which one I’d strongly suggest. Without treatment, the illness would continue to get worse and he would deteriorate quickly. That option would leave him with about two years left.”

There was a long, aching beat of silence. Jed, watching the Lewises, could see Randall suddenly deflate. It looked like someone had punched the guy in the stomach. All the color drained from his face, his jaw working as if to swallow back some horrible noise of pain. Edwin didn’t move. He was standing by the doorway, half looking like he wanted to bolt, but, foot stuck in a trap, he was frozen. A look of pure anguish on his face, Edwin ducked his head, clearly trying to hold it together.

“You said there was another choice,” Jed interjected gruffly, keeping one eye on Randall and Edwin. “Let me guess, we’re going to like that one better?”

He saw Dr. Medena look quickly at Anthony, then back at them. “With treatment, we’ve had a lot of success in other wolves with canine Parkinson’s. There would be some side effects, and it would never fully cure the condition, but it can be managed.”

Jed noticed Anthony didn’t particularly seem to like that option, though he couldn’t take a guess as to why. The doctor continued, “The treatment would slow down the progression of the disease. We could help Anthony manage his pain, and if we’re lucky, he’d be able to return to some aspects of his life. A part-time job, maybe.”

“So why are we talking about this?” Randall asked hoarsely. “Anthony, you have to take the treatment.”

“It’d dull my senses,” Anthony muttered. “He said it might make it difficult for me to even
turn
.”

“You know what else makes that difficult?” Jed said bluntly. “Being
dead
.” After all this time, all the things they’d tried, Jed could not believe Anthony would sit here and start having second thoughts.

“It really is the best option,” Dr. Medena said, clearly trying to school his voice into some sort of soothing tone. “It would add decades to your life expectancy if you don’t push yourself too hard.”

Anthony let out a short, explosive exhale. He scrubbed his hands through his hair and seemed to fold in on himself. “Fine,” he said quietly. “Okay, I’ll do the treatment.”

Edwin threw himself at Anthony, practically knocking him over in a hug. “It’s okay,” Edwin was whispering fiercely. “I’ll smell everything for you, I promise. And I’ll go running with you no matter what. Okay? Just don’t die.”

Anthony put his arms around Edwin. He still didn’t look happy, and Jed had no problem admitting he had no fucking clue what the issue was. Two years of pain versus decades of management didn’t even sound like a choice to him.

“We’ll get you started on the treatment right away, then,” Dr. Medena said. He stood from his chair, getting some folders in order. “It’s a regimen of pills, so you won’t have to be in and out of the hospital much. Though I would advise you to come in for regular checkups, just in case we need to change the dosage around.”

“Should we worry about any other side effects?” Randall looked like he wanted to fall over, like stress was just eating him alive, but he’d pulled out a little notebook that Jed could see was already half filled with a messy scrawl. “If you could just tell me any instructions I might need.”

They sat with the doctor for a while longer, Randall asking questions, writing everything down, and Anthony looking increasingly more miserable. Jed honestly didn’t understand. Yeah, it wasn’t a cure, but at least it wasn’t as big of a death sentence as Anthony had been walking around with. And any kind of pain relief had to be welcome.

As they walked out to the van in uncomfortable silence, Jed just kept looking over at Anthony, utterly confused. Maybe it just hadn’t sunk in yet. “Hey,” Jed tried, giving him a light punch in the shoulder. “At least you’re not going to croak anytime soon. That’s got to be a relief, right?”

Everyone just stared at him blankly. Apparently that wasn’t the best way to lighten the mood.

Jesus. And people wondered why Jed didn’t do
families
.

Eventually, though, it did make Anthony smile, so that was something. “Yeah,” he replied after a few moments of silence. “It’s good news.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, his expression still numb somehow, like he hadn’t really had the chance to think about everything. “I’m sorry. I’m being a buzzkill. How about tonight we all cook up a massive dinner and celebrate?”

“Are we going home?” Edwin asked. “I bet there’s loads of rabbits out in our woods.”

“Yeah, we’ll drive back once we get everything packed again.” Anthony clapped a hand to Victor’s shoulder. “Want to come for the night? You too, Jed and Redford. Pack gathering.”

“What, we’ve been adopted?” Jed smirked. But what he’d thought would be a joke turned into Edwin hugging him, grinning as he looped his arm through Redford’s.

“Of course. I can take Redford hunting. There’s this
awesome
spot out west of the lake.”

“Maybe you and Anthony could go fishing for real, Jed,” Randall suggested. “We’ll have rabbit stew and baked fish for dinner. And some roasted vegetables, for the noncarnivores among us.”

Anthony gave a low laugh. “Hey, Victor, maybe you can hunt the vegetables for us.”

Victor sighed, a long-suffering sound. “As long as they don’t fight back, I’m sure I can manage.”

“So, family dinner tonight.” Randall nodded, arm tightening around Victor’s waist. “And you’re all welcome to stay over. I know it’s a long drive back.” He gave Victor a low smile, kissing his shoulder. “You could make a weekend of it? We’ll bring the research, get some work done, if you’re worried about being productive.”

Victor kissed Randall’s cheek in affirmative; then they crowded into the van. The mood was a lot lighter on the drive back than it had been on the way there. Having a death sentence averted would do that. Anthony still seemed a little quiet, but both Randall and Edwin, as the news seemed to sink in, were starting to act like they’d gotten a stay of execution.

Packing didn’t take long, though it did require three trips to load up all the books Randall and Victor insisted were
necessary
. And even though Jed pointed out that it was highly unlikely they’d leave the bed for days, much less do heavy reading, no one was willing to listen to him. He did insist that they stop by his and Redford’s apartment to pick up Knievel. His princess might be fine for a few days on her own, but any more than that and she made him pay for it later. Like all spoiled cats, she demanded attention in regular intervals. Redford worried that they were overreaching, bringing the cat along, but Jed just packed her and her toys up in the cage, putting Edwin in charge of making sure she didn’t get lost under the seats.

The trip to the Lewises’ cabin was getting really goddamn familiar. By the time they got to the house, Jed was ready to stretch his legs.

After Edwin and Randall insisted that Anthony didn’t need to do anything to help, Jed spotted Anthony slowly making his way to the edge of the lake. There were fishing poles lined up neatly in the mudroom of the house, and Jed grabbed three, along with a tackle box. Redford behind him, Jed headed toward the water, finding Anthony sitting on a long log that had been pulled up close to the lake’s edge, obviously purposefully placed and secured.

Wordlessly handing Anthony one of the poles, Jed got himself settled and set about baiting his and Redford’s hooks. He’d at least learned that much in the fishing books they’d gotten, and Anthony had all sorts of interesting things in the tackle box. No live worms, though. Jed still wasn’t sure how one would go about getting those.

His cast was… not good at all. The first few times Jed didn’t make it in the water. Redford got all tangled up in his line and nearly cut his palm open on the hook. Anthony finally took pity on them and showed them how to send their hooks flying out into the water. Not with nearly as much grace as Anthony showed, but at least they weren’t impaling themselves.

Redford sat close to Jed, their shoulders pushed up against each other, and in the break between casts he grinned over at Jed. “At least we get to go fishing,” he said.

“This is practice fishing,” Jed allowed, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration as he arced the rod over his head and sent the line flying toward the middle of the lake. “Real fishing comes with sun and sand and drinks with umbrellas in them.”

“And real
fish
come from mountain lakes, not sand,” Anthony snorted. “What kind of fish would you even catch on a beach, Jed? Sharks?”

Jed blinked, thinking. “Ones that go good with rum-based drinks?”

“I may have to give you some more tips before you try fishing for real,” Anthony replied, bemused.

“I got this postcard once.” Jed was focused on watching the steady swell of his bobber as it floated above the light ripples of the lake. No bites yet. “I was seventeen, I’d just left home a year before, I don’t know, I was young. Stupid. Living on the streets, doing whatever. They wouldn’t let me enlist yet, so I had to kill time before I turned eighteen. Anyway, I found this postcard stuck in a grate near where I was holed up. It was winter and fucking cold, but the card had this picture of these two beach chairs, fishing pole stuck in the sand, palm trees, table with two drinks. And it just said
wish you were here
.” Jed snorted, reeling in his line again for another try. “All I could think was ‘yeah, well, me too, fucker.’ But I kept it for a long time. Always wanted to do that.”