Bloodlines (33 page)

Only none of his contacts meant jack. Jed’s whole fucking network was worthless. They dealt with gun smuggling and drug lords and kidnappers, they were the ears to the ground in a world where wolves were on the Discovery Channel and the biggest danger was a trigger-happy amateur. He didn’t
get
this place, these people, and neither did any of his contacts.

So basically, he was worthless.

“Jed.” Redford’s soft call broke into his thoughts. Jed blinked and looked up to see Redford now standing in front of him, his hands outstretched. “Come on. You can keep researching if you really want to, but just come to bed.”

Heaving out a long exhalation, wishing to God he still smoked when he was stressed, Jed gave a jerk of a nod. Redford took his hands, and they gathered up maps and books and the phone, Redford smiling so damn sweet as they arranged themselves in the bed. They wound up under the covers, Redford curled up against his side, under one arm, as they paged through the notes one more time, Knievel a warm weight on their feet.

Pressing his lips to Redford’s temple, Jed breathed slowly, letting himself relax into him. “Okay,” he said, flipping through his phone again, “we’ll start at the As.” Again.

Punching in a number, Jed’s voice cracked into a boisterous, manic pace, his grin to match. “Artie! How are you, you stupid fucker? Yeah, I know, I called earlier. Well don’t shit on me. It’s not my fault it’s six in the morning. Look, I got a question about bullets.”

Redford

T
HE
SOUND
of yelling woke him up.

Jed was up before Redford even opened his eyes. “What’s going on?” Redford managed to mumble, rolling his way out of bed to find his pants. He couldn’t pick out any words in the yelling, but the stench of fear was obvious.

As soon as Redford had a shirt on, he tumbled after Jed out the cabin door, eyes barely open—Jed had a gun out, his posture relaxed but alert, moving quickly with his body half turned toward the source of the yelling to present less of an easy target. Jed hadn’t bothered to find clothes, not that he seemed concerned about standing in the chilly early morning air in nothing but his boxers. The sun hadn’t even started to get close to the horizon.

There was a half circle of wolves already gathered around a young girl who looked no more than thirteen, terror making her mouth thin and her eyes wide. She’d fallen to her knees, drawing in desperate pants of air. Mallory was there already, standing protectively over her, one hand on her shoulder. She smelled subtly different than the rest of this pack, a wolf, but from a different family.

Since Jed wasn’t even half-dressed and was brandishing a gun, Redford grabbed his arm to stop him from getting too close. “She’s from one of the smaller packs,” he murmured to Jed.

Jed didn’t even glance over at him, just giving a tight nod, jaw working. “The goddamn hunters,” he breathed, eyes narrowing. Redford could almost see the wheels spinning in Jed’s head as he put pieces together, watching the girl as she was practically engulfed by the worried pack. “You go sniff out some details. I’m getting the supplies.”

As Jed left, Redford edged closer to the group. He’d never been good at stealth, but in this case everybody was too distracted to notice him. It worked well enough. In the chaos of noise and questions he could see Mallory turning to another wolf, speaking lowly under his breath about the girl’s pack: ten miles to the northeast, about twenty wolves.

Jed was right. The hunters had hit. Some members of the pack were wrapping a blanket around the girl, giving her water, making a place for her to sit on the benches around the fire. None of them were asking questions. In fact, no one at all seemed in much of a hurry.

“What happened?” Edwin was next to Redford, looking sleep tousled and only half-awake. Randall was after him, clucking his tongue and handing Edwin a sweater to wrap around his bare shoulders. “Who’s that?”

“I don’t think it’s any of our business, Edwin,” Randall started, but Edwin didn’t seem to be listening. He darted around the bustling wolves, going to the girl. He was in pajama pants and Randall’s gray sweater, looking ridiculous, but he smiled at the girl, took her hands, asking her questions in a low voice Redford couldn’t quite make out.

“What is this, a party?” Jed had arrived, bag slung around his shoulder, dressed all in black. “We going or not? Who’s got details?”

“It was hunters.” Edwin appeared back through the crowd, normally cheerful face thunderous. “Tala, that’s the girl, she was asleep when her dad woke her up. The pack smelled them and sent her for help. At least five of them, she thinks, and they stank of metal and gunpowder.”

“Where they at now?” Jed was rifling through his pack, checking his guns again. It was a ritual, Redford knew. Jed liked to be prepared. “Gunfire yet, or no?”

Edwin shook his head. “She got away clean, and the pack apparently has a fallback cave they use when people get too close. It’s by the river, about ten miles up.”

“Northeast,” Redford chimed in. “I heard Mallory talking about it. We can run there in twenty minutes or so.”

“Maybe you can,” Jed grumped. “Two hours for me. Remember, I’ve got half the legs.”

“Drive it?” Randall had come closer, dark eyes serious behind his glasses. “Those maps you’ve got, they show all the forest roads, right? There has to be access points. If I remember correctly, that direction has the fire trails, so there’ll be something drivable for most of the ride. We can run, you can follow.”

“We?” Jed’s eyebrow raised. “You too, specs?”

Randall snorted. “Edwin is already planning on going. I’m hardly going to stay here and let him go alone.”

“Hell yes I’m going,” Edwin practically growled. “And we’re running out of time.”

“Give me a gun.” Victor had appeared at Jed’s left flank, holding out his hand. “I’m coming too.”

Redford could probably list about twenty reasons giving Victor a gun was a very bad idea. Jed seemed to agree with him because he held his bag a little closer, as if protecting his weapons from Victor’s hands. “Am I being pranked?” Jed asked, looking between Victor and Randall. “Seriously, is this nerds gone wild?”

“Just give him a gun, Jed.” Anthony’s voice came from behind Randall. He’d approached them after sniffing around the edges of the pack, hovering just outside of the range of where Mallory and the Gray Lady were talking together. “An unloaded one, if it makes you feel better.”

Victor went to protest, probably on the verge of giving Anthony a very stern lecture, but Anthony was already in the middle of shifting. He butted his head against Jed’s knee, a clear
we’re heading out
.

Redford could see Jed glancing at the girl and then back at Victor, obviously having a very brief, very intense mental war. Finally he handed over one of his precious guns, gently wrapping Victor’s hands around the butt. “Safety,” he murmured, coming closer to Victor to give him a quick lesson. “Trigger. Keep your finger here, on the guard, until you’re ready to shoot. Safety on until I say so. It’s loaded and ready, so don’t aim at anything you don’t want shot off, no matter what. Holster’s in my bag.” He handed said pack off to Victor. “Keep close, keep your head down, and for fuck’s sake, princess, don’t get shot.”

With that, Jed took off toward Mallory and the Gray Lady. Randall and Edwin had followed their brother’s lead, shifting, Edwin keeping close by Jed’s side. Redford shot Anthony a sideways look, searching for stiffness or signs of pain. If he was feeling it, he was better at hiding the symptoms than Redford expected. Then again, he suspected adrenaline might be playing a part in that. Redford contemplated changing as well but decided against it—his shift would only take up time. Instead, he went to Victor and dug around in the pack for his gun, buckling the shoulder holster on.

“I don’t know what you think you’re going to do,” Mallory was saying. “We can’t go running after every wolf in trouble. Put the guns down.”

“These people are getting attacked, possibly as we’re all standing around, jerking each other off.” Jed’s voice was rising to a shout with every word. “Are you seriously telling me you’re just going to let them die? Ten miles away, and you’re going to what, shut your doors and pretend it isn’t happening?”

“Every pack looks after itself,” Mallory argued. “We’re in danger enough as it is. We don’t want to piss these hunters off even more and bring retaliation down on our heads. We’re not ready for that.”

“What about you, sweetheart?” Jed turned to the Gray Lady, hands spread in supplication. She stood slightly behind Mallory, likely through no choice of her own—Mallory looked every inch the guard right then, standing tall, shoulders squared. “Tell me this bozo isn’t speaking for you too.”

“There are laws, human.” Her voice was low and sad but firm. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Jed paused, glaring at both of them. His guns were strapped to his hips, a long machete across his back, standing so at odds with the soft, unarmed dress of the Gray Lady. She was fierce and restrained, but Jed looked like barely contained fire, like a storm just about to break. His fury was nearly palpable in the line of his shoulders, the scorch of his glare. “Yeah. That’s me,” he gritted. “Just a goddamn human.”

He turned away, going to where the rest of the pack was mingling. “Listen up.” Jed raised his voice to be heard, ignoring any incredulous looks from the rest of the wolves. “If I wanted to let people die while I sat around and pretended I didn’t hear them screaming for help, I’d have stayed in my old job. As it is, I’ve got a bag full of guns, enough explosives to take down a building, and a direction to point both in. If you want to come, fall in behind tall, dark, and furry over there.” Jed motioned to Anthony. “He’s going for a run. I’ll be your friendly neighborhood backup van. If you’d rather stay here, well, fuck you.”

The pack around them fell silent. Jed didn’t wait for a reaction. He was already striding across the field toward their van, whistling sharply at Anthony. “Let’s go, Lassie.”

Anthony didn’t look impressed, but he turned, looking back over his shoulder at the gathered pack. One of the wolves, a young woman with dark hair, stepped forward to incredulous murmurs, shifting smoothly and falling into line alongside Anthony. Then another did the same, and another, until five of the younger adults of the pack were grouped with the Lewises.

They didn’t waste another second. Anthony raised a howl—a call to arms—and they started running, streaking out of the camp. Redford followed suit, making a quick pace toward the van, joining Jed and Victor there. They didn’t speak, and Jed only gave them two seconds to buckle up before he hit the gas.

“Need that big, beautiful brain of yours, Fido,” Jed muttered, pushing the van faster, the old vehicle rattling dangerously. Once they got off the main trail leading to the camp, the road to the northeast was little more than a well-worn dirt track. “You got those maps memorized?”

“Well enough, I hope,” Redford replied. He’d gotten himself into the backseat, and he nudged Victor to move so he could lean over the back to sort through their bigger equipment, one hand holding on to the seat to steady himself with the bouncing of the van. “Do you think you’ll want your grenade launcher? Or are we going smaller?”

“Big Bertha definitely should come out to play.” Jed’s voice was grim, and as he banked a sharp turn, the van practically bounced up onto two tires. “I’m not feeling in a subtle mood.”

“You have a
grenade launcher
?” Victor squawked.

“You’d actually be surprised how useful they are,” Redford said. He tugged Big Bertha up and laid it over two empty seats. “Jed, I’ve got explosive rounds, hollow points, and jacketed. The jacketed’s probably a bit overkill. What do you need to know about the maps?”

Their exchanges were rapid-fire, Jed not even having to look up from the road to check on Redford’s work. They knew each other now, they knew how to anticipate the other’s thinking, what the other would need or where they’d go. It was a partnership that Redford hadn’t even realized was fully forming until it gelled so easily. “Best route,” Jed shot back. “River or mountain.”

There were two main fire trails. One followed the meandering path of the river, sticking close to water, and the other went up onto the mountainside, getting the higher ground. Both headed in the right direction, and both wound up by the lake a hundred miles up, but if they took the wrong one, they could wind up too far away to get to the wolves in time. Trying to think of the best route was a little difficult when Redford was hanging over the backseat. Closing his eyes, he pictured the maps in his head, seeing his finger slide along the trails, zooming through both of them in his mind’s eye. “The river.”

He didn’t need to explain his reasoning, and Jed immediately turned in that direction. Low-hanging tree branches were starting to smack against the roof of the van, and Victor was clinging to his seat for dear life, paler than usual. Remarkably, perhaps in respect to the situation, he didn’t bitch at Jed’s driving.