Bloodlines (59 page)

“Do you like the book?” Victor’s voice was soft with sleep, nearly a slur. “It’s nice to hear you read it out loud. You have a good reading voice.”

Curving his arm around Victor, Randall smiled, letting his own eyes slide shut. “I do like it quite a bit. I like thinking about you reading it too. It makes me feel like we’re connected.” He moved around in the bed, getting as comfortable as he could with Edwin half on top of him. He wound up with his face pressed against Victor’s shoulder, arm slung over Victor’s chest. “I am glad you’re here.” He yawned, nuzzling in closer.

“Me too.” With a sigh, it sounded like Victor had dropped off to sleep. Randall kissed his chin, watching him for a few moments. Anthony was asleep now too, he and Edwin warm at Randall’s back, Victor’s arms around him. His pack was whole and safe and right there. For that moment, Randall couldn’t imagine anything better.

“Good night, Victor,” he murmured. And as sleep claimed him as well, Randall knew one thing for certain. There was no room at all in his mind for nightmares.

Victor

W
AKING
UP
to the sounds of three other people breathing in close proximity was not something Victor was used to.

He squeezed his eyes closed in reflex. He didn’t know where the other people were, and he couldn’t be sure they weren’t staring directly at him, just waiting for him to open his eyes and accidentally meet theirs.

It took a few moments for memory to filter back in. It was Randall lying next to him; beyond him would be Anthony and Edwin. Victor still wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to sleep on three pushed-together mattresses with three wolves. It probably had something to do with the quietly upset look on Randall’s face last night, the pain of seeing violence and his younger brother hurt by it etched into his expression.

Randall was also right: they did indeed all snore.

Judging by the brightness beyond his eyelids—or lack of it—it wasn’t nearly time to wake up. It was, at best guess, the normal time most people got up, perhaps around six or seven in the morning. That was horrifyingly early in Victor’s book. So he didn’t open his eyes. He dragged a pillow over his head instead, hoping to block out the buzz-saw snoring. Edwin seemed to be the main culprit.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, Victor grunted quietly and dragged himself out of bed. Randall reached for him, arm across Victor’s abandoned pillow, murmuring in his sleep but not quite waking. Victor dragged the blankets a little farther over Randall’s shoulders before leaving, squinting heavily as he left the cabin.

He was torn. On one hand, he didn’t want Randall to wake up and think Victor had had second thoughts and left. On the other hand, if he’d stayed in there much longer, he might have throttled Edwin in his sleep.

It was at least somewhat warmer than it had been recently this morning, allowing Victor not to shiver too much as he walked back to his own cabin in Randall’s borrowed pajamas. He took a quick shower and got dressed, attempting to make himself presentable. When he looked at his watch, he grimaced. If Mallory had wanted them to meet with the Gray Lady, he likely meant now, or at least soon. Most wolves seemed to have a horrible preoccupation with getting things done early.

Victor returned to the Lewises. Once he’d shut the door behind him, he gently shook Randall’s shoulder. The man looked so peaceful that Victor hated to wake him. Randall stretched languidly, hair in his eyes, skin flushed with sleep. He blinked blearily and looked around, obviously confused.

“What—” Frowning, Randall tried to sit up, elbowing Edwin when Edwin tried to drag him back under the blankets like a human pillow. “What time is it?”

“Time for you to shut up.” Edwin’s mumbled reply came from where he’d buried his face in his pillow. “What are you doing up?”

“Hush, Ed,” Randall sighed. “Go back to sleep.”

“It’s nearly seven,” Victor said, keeping his voice low—God only knew why, seeing as he
was
trying to wake them all up. “We have a meeting with the Gray Lady.”

“Shit.” Apparently Randall cursed in the morning. Fumbling for his glasses, he nudged Edwin again. “Get up, Ed. Come on, we need to get dressed.”

“I’m giving up my wolf membership.” Edwin yawned so widely his jaw cracked.

“Too bad. Up, Ed. I need to go get Ant some coffee.” Randall managed to haul himself out of bed, pajama pants half slipping off of his hips while he searched for clothes. Victor could help, but he was too busy appreciating.

Anthony gave an incoherent groan from the bed. “Oh my
God
, you guys, why are you moving around and talking?”

“We have a meeting with the Gray Lady,” Victor repeated for Anthony’s benefit. That didn’t seem to cheer Anthony up any.

There was a loud pounding at the door, and Edwin wailed, trying to burrow his way under the covers. “I will eat whoever is trying to blow down our house,” he shouted.

“Little pig, little pig” came Jed’s voice from the other side. “I brought coffee.”

Randall sagged back on the bed, apparently giving up in his search for matching socks. “Christ, come in. You’re my savior.”

Jed and Redford walked in, both juggling several to-go mugs of coffee. Jed stopped, staring at Anthony and Edwin still under the covers, Randall looking for his clothes, and Victor standing there next to them all. “Jesus, princess.” Jed whistled, eyebrows winging upward. “
All
of them? I don’t know whether to congratulate you or get you tested for steroid use.”

“Ha, ha,” Victor intoned. “Make yourself useful and give me caffeine. For once I don’t care what it comes in.”

Redford handed out the coffee, Edwin was finally prodded out of bed, and the Lewises got dressed. Randall was standing there, watching over Anthony while trying to not look like he was doing so, hands cupped around his drink. “Did you sleep well?” he asked Victor out of the blue, turning toward him. He flushed slightly, shifting from foot to foot, looking embarrassed. “I think that’s what one asks, correct? How you slept?”

Victor had slept like utter shit. He recalled waking up often, startled by the noises of other people in the room with him, confused about why the bed was moving, too many things that alarmed his brain enough to wake him up. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck and then sat on by an elephant for good measure.

“Well enough,” Victor replied. It was officially The Morning After. Though Victor had more experience with this sort of thing, he still felt a little awkward. “Your voice is a wonderful thing to fall asleep to.”

Apparently that was exactly the thing to say, because Randall’s insecurity faded, a smile replacing the worry. “I’ll remember that,” he said, reaching out to lightly take Victor’s hand in his own.

“Okay, while this tea party is nice, I’m missing valuable beauty sleep for this.” Jed was herding Edwin toward the door, Anthony walking after him. “Let’s get moving.”

Victor internally groaned at the sunlight once again as he got outside. He felt hungover, though he hadn’t consumed more than a few sips of wine last night. Redford and Jed were talking lowly as they walked toward the Gray Lady’s house, while Victor cast his gaze across the camp. Wolves were already all around, tending to the fire pit and cleaning up the tables and food scraps from last night. Some, he noticed, were hanging together rather closely. Apparently the summer solstice was fairly potent.

The thought made him smile. He looked over at Randall, who looked tired but alert, his gaze on his brothers.

Victor hadn’t imagined he’d ever come to a conclusion about his feelings for Randall. They’d been so enormously confusing, so complex, and too tied in with too many variables, too much history, and Victor’s own preconceptions about what he wanted for his own future. The visions had clouded his normally straightforward thinking, as had Randall’s deep interest in him while Victor had only been at the stage of intrigue with the wolf.

But Dylan, the brownie half blood, however stoned he was, had been surprisingly wise. He had managed to simplify everything for Victor, and once Victor had been able to look at the situation clearly, he’d known what he’d wanted. For better or for worse, he wanted Randall.

As for how that played out compared to his visions, Victor would have to take Randall’s earlier advice: one day at a time. Stop living in the future when nobody else could see it. It wasn’t easy to do, but it was manageable, at least right then. As if reading his thoughts, Randall glanced over at him, gaze softening slightly. It was easy then, for both of them to move a little closer, for the brush of fingers to turn into hands held between them.

The house of the Gray Lady loomed ever closer. Victor had no idea what the meeting would be about. They had already decided to move, and the hunter attack last night hardly had anything to do with them. He wondered if the Gray Lady was changing her mind about her plan to move.

Victor didn’t let himself hope for that option. It was terribly selfish, to hope for a fight just so that Randall wouldn’t have to move seven states over.

Mallory was waiting to greet them. He pulled open the door and wordlessly gestured them inside. Randall gave him a slightly worried frown, but he also didn’t let go of Victor’s hand, despite the look Mallory was giving them, despite the fact the Gray Lady was watching them as they walked in and found seats around her table.

“I don’t think you have a week.” Jed spoke first, reaching into his bag and pulling out maps. “What we did last night is either going to buy you a few days, tops, or it’s going to get an even bigger group of hunters in here tonight for retribution. I’d guess the former, but honestly, there’s no way to tell.”

“Yes, that is what I assumed.” The Gray Lady nodded at them all, sitting back in her chair. “We need to move up our evacuation.”

“You’re still planning on leaving?” Randall’s voice was heavy with disappointment. He was obviously trying to not sound combative, but Victor saw his gaze flick over to his brothers and then back to Victor, a frown creasing his forehead. The same heaviness felt like a weight on Victor’s chest. “Do you really think we’ll be safer there?”

“It might be a temporary solution, but at least it is one that will cause a minimal amount of bloodshed. For now. Tomorrow is not something I have the ability to see.” The Gray Lady paused, her eyes very calmly going over to Victor.

Victor felt his heart jump into his throat. He didn’t need to be told; he knew what she was thinking.

“But I can,” he said, resigned.

“No.” Randall and Jed spoke at the same time. Jed shot Victor an irritated look, then took his maps and unrolled them on the table. “Let’s talk turkey,” Jed continued, pretending that the Gray Lady’s innuendo hadn’t even been spoken. “The scouting parties e-mailed me last night, and this looks to be your best bet.” He tapped one of the locations. It was surrounded by mountains, in a hidden valley, with a large lake at the center. “It’s easy to keep unseen here, and it’s defensible, if it comes to that.”

Victor kept his head down, hoping Jed’s distraction tactic would work.

“What good is having a medusa around if we cannot use him to our advantage?” the Gray Lady said, her voice delicate and tempered steel at the same time. “Mr. Rathbone?”

“He is not a tool to be pulled out and used.” Randall’s voice was more firm this time, a growl under his words. “It’s too dangerous.”

“One life for the lives of many?” The Gray Lady shook her head. “That is not the way of the pack, and you know it, little wolf.”

“He is not part of your pack,” Randall replied, chin raised defiantly. “And he is not meant to be used.”

“Of course he is,” the Gray Lady returned. “That is what medusas are for. To tell the future. Why else would they exist?”

“Do I get to have a say in this discussion?” Victor asked dryly. As much as he hated to admit it, the Gray Lady had a point. If he didn’t look into her future, then half the pack could get killed in an attack because they had no idea when it would happen.

Besides, he was going to crack someday. He may as well do something
useful
with his ability before then.

Randall had turned toward him, the worry in his face easy to see even without meeting his eyes. “Victor, you can’t do this,” Randall said lowly. “This isn’t looking at a human. It’s not even looking at
me
. This is a near immortal. If anything would break you, don’t you think this would do it? It’s not worth the risk.”

Victor grimaced. Everybody in the room was watching him now, which made for a very uncomfortable feeling. “I don’t think the breaking works like that,” he replied. “At least, I’m not sure it does. It’s nothing specific like
who
I look at.”

To be honest, he had no clue what really did it. He could have researched. He’d collected the journals and accounts of various medusas through the ages, though he’d never been able to bring himself to read them to the end. Perhaps if he had, he would have actually found a pattern.

“It’s worth it,” he told Randall, hoping to make him understand. “It’s worth it to help an entire pack.”