Sanguis Noctis: Bloodlines Part 15

"Then I'll come with you." Redford lifted his head, bringing a hand up to cup Jed's cheek. "Wherever you go, I go. No matter what, right?"

Well, if Redford needed to run, maybe Jed would just have to figure out how to keep up. Letting out a slow breath, Jed turned his head to kiss Redford's palm. "I just want you to be happy," he admitted gruffly.

"I am happy." Redford twisted their fingers together and bent down to kiss Jed's knuckles. He gave a rueful little smile. "Besides, I'm not sure I'd want to stay here too long. Communal living isn't really my thing."

"Yeah, well." Jed leaned his forehead against Redford's. He hated thinking about this s.h.i.t. He hated the idea that there'd be a morning or an evening or anything in between where Redford wouldn't be there. So maybe they'd be okay. Maybe Jed would just... buy a house. With a big-a.s.s yard. People had houses with yards; it wasn't an impossible thing. "What do you think about maybe getting out of that apartment? We finish this job, go fishing, get Knievel into that flotation vest, and when we get back we can look for something with some more room?"

"But you love that apartment," Redford protested, "I love that apartment, and-"

He cut himself off, turning his head to face in the direction they'd climbed up the side of the mountain from. He blinked, and then his eyes were yellow again, lip pulled up in the start of a snarl.

"Hunters," Redford said briefly, moving off Jed so he could get his pants back on. "Come on. I know where they're hiding."

Well, the whole wolf thing just wasn't getting any less hot, that was for sure. Jed managed to shimmy into his jeans, even though they were still mostly wet. He had to crouch to pull his boots back onto his feet, nearly toppling over twice before bracing his hand on a nearby tree for balance. They ducked into their shirts, and Jed tugged on his holster before kicking out the fire, moving the branches of their makeshift roof aside to let water spill down to sodden the ashes. It only took Jed a few minutes to disa.s.semble their shelter, shrug on his jacket, and grab Redford's hand. "Quiet," he murmured, though he probably didn't have to say that to Redford, not when he was like this. "Show me where they went."

Redford was hiding his mouth with a hand, though Jed could catch the smile in his expression from the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. "You're... squeaking." Redford's gaze darted down to Jed's soaked jeans.

Growling under his breath, Jed just stalked off. Yeah, he was f.u.c.king squeaking. "Someone wouldn't let me get my pants off," he grumbled, shaking one leg and then the other as if he could flick off the excess water.

"I only barely heard it," Redford rea.s.sured from behind Jed, following him. "Wolf ears." He then took Jed's shoulder, turning him forty-five degrees to the left. "This way."

Adjusting his gait but never losing the irritated tic of his shoulders, Jed led the way down the muddy bank, back into the thick of the woods. The craggy face of the mountain swept downward, and they picked their way over rocks and fallen limbs, shoes sucking in the wet undergrowth. Jed's gun was out, both hands on the b.u.t.t as he eased around the trees, gaze constantly sweeping the area around them.

"Tell me when we're close," he whispered.

"They're good at masking their sounds," Redford replied, equally as lowly, sounding frustrated. "I haven't heard anything from them since that first noise. But this is where it came from."

Pausing, Jed frowned, holding up his hand to keep Redford back. Everything looked exactly like the rest of this G.o.dd.a.m.n forest, all towering trees and the drip of water from soaked leaves onto the ground. But there was something off about the dense thicket ahead. Jed eased forward carefully, making almost no noise-except, apparently, squeaking-as he picked his way through the underbrush.

There were bent branches on a bush he pa.s.sed. Some of the leaves were disturbed. No animal tracks, though. Carefully, Jed made his way around a large tree, stopping cold as he got past the pine's branches.

It was a clearing. Small, well hidden, but just enough s.p.a.ce for the roughly built cabin. Jed immediately backed up, heart pounding as unexpected adrenaline surged through him. Minutes ticked past, though, with no gunfire, no one rushing after him, no one calling out. Jed moved slowly back around the tree trunk he'd taken shelter behind, gun aimed at the windows, looking for a hint of a sniper's barrel.

Nothing.

The porch of the cabin creaked under his foot, and he froze again. There were footprints in the mud leading away, clear tire treads going in the opposite direction. The marks had to be fresh. The rain would have washed anything previous away.

He eased the door open, teeth gritted with the expectation that it might creak, though it never did. Inside was one big room, bunks in one corner, a stove in the other. It was empty. Sticking his head back out the door, he whistled sharply once and waited for Redford to join him, watching the woods for any sign of the hunters' return.

Redford padded silently out of the forest, with-Jed noted, as a point of pride-his gun held loosely in one hand, muzzle pointed at the ground. He joined Jed just inside the doorway, taking in the room.

"Can you smell anything?" Jed asked, interested. Redford was so much better at this s.h.i.t than anyone would expect, and the whole nose thing was so f.u.c.king cool. In Cairo, Redford had seriously gone full-La.s.sie-mode and followed Randall's trail based on nothing but a shirt.

"They left maybe ten minutes ago," Redford offered, though he sounded unsure about the time. "About that, anyway."

Wandering the room, Jed paused in front of a pin board. It held a map covered with thumbtacks and sticky notes. Leaning in, he scanned over them, memorizing the positions of the tacks, absently running his fingers along the notes.

Sm. pk. 2 d.

Feed. ground. 3 d.

Followed 2, tkn.

"They're hunting," Jed agreed after a pause, voice distant. Frowning, he tapped his finger against the map. "Where are we? About here, right?" There was a blue tack there, three other ones spread across the map. "These must be their base cabins. And these...."

Red tacks and yellow. "Red for kills, yellow for something else. Potential hunts? Where they'll hit next?"

Redford was studying the blue tacks, eyes narrowed. "Jed," he said slowly, "This is really long-term, isn't it? This isn't just random humans running around to kill wolves they're scared of."

"They're not just hunting wolves. They're hunting... well, yeah, wolves. But not normal wolves. You wolves. Human wolves." Jed pointed to the notes. "This isn't some wildlife special gone wrong. Look. Small pack, two dead, maybe?" Deciphering bad handwriting and shorthand wasn't easy. Jed squinted at the next two, centered around a cl.u.s.ter of yellow pins. "This looks like they were following two. Taken, maybe?" Taken where? For what? "They have to know what they're hunting. If it was just wolves, wouldn't there be, s.h.i.t, more red marks? Regular wolves are pretty plentiful up here, and they're not exactly Houdini."

When he went to look over at Redford, the man had wandered off to the other side of the cabin. Nose twitching, Redford was running his hands along the rough wooden walls, pausing every so often to knock lightly. His knuckles rapped against the walls at odd intervals, and Jed paused, just watching him, completely confused. Until, that is, Redford hit a hollow-sounding board. Leaning in, Redford took a deep breath before stepping back, eyes going over every inch of the wall carefully. Then, just that easy, he reached out and pressed on a seam Jed wasn't sure he would have even noticed on his own.

A door swung open, revealing a tiny, cramped room. There were rows of semiautomatic rifles and long knives hanging from the walls. Several of the spots were bare, the weapons obviously taken out by the hunters. In the center was a wooden table with box after box of bullets. Redford picked through them, letting out a low noise as he flipped open the lid of one. "I don't think people just trying to hunt regular wolves would have these."

He held up a silver bullet.

Jed's jaw tightened as he moved to Redford's side, taking the bullet and holding it up to the light. The way Redford had Nancy Drewed the room was definitely going to be mentioned as f.u.c.king cool. Later, though. Right then, Jed was busy studying the bullet like it could tell him all the answers he needed. Silver knife with sacrificed blood or whatever the s.h.i.t-that had killed Filtiarn. But he'd been special. Old. Regular bullets had worked just fine on Fil's pack, whether they'd been werewolves or full wolves or something in between. So why the silver?

"This s.h.i.t's got to be expensive," he murmured, turning the bullet over in his fingers, squinting to see the faint markings on the bottom. "And specially made. See that? It's a marking telling us the manufacturer." Jed tipped the bullet toward Redford, letting him look closer. The letters B and C were etched there in brackets, and he felt like he should know this. Like he'd seen that before.

Redford picked up the box that the rest of the bullets were stored in, taking a sniff of it, and turned his head aside to sneeze suddenly. "This smells like... cow?" Redford wrinkled his nose in confusion. "But also kind of familiar?"

"Well, we did have burgers last week," Jed pointed out. He grabbed a bag from the corner, loading up one of the guns that had been left behind, a box of bullets, and then started carefully taking down the maps, working extremely gently as he rolled them so as not to lose the place of any of the pins. "Help me grab this stuff. We need to get out of here before Tweedledum and Tweedle-murders come back." He'd love to take all the G.o.dd.a.m.n bullets, but even he, with his He-Man like strength, couldn't lug that much back to the van.

There were a few books they jammed into the pack, another half a dozen maps with writing on them Jed didn't bother to stop to read. Wherever the hunters had gone, they might not stay away much longer. Jed wasn't exactly in the mood to have a face to face.

Not yet, anyway.

They ducked out of the cabin, Jed urging Redford into a run for the cover of the trees. Once they were out of the clearing, Jed looped the strap of the duffel bag across his chest and dug in his own bag to find his compa.s.s. "We need to get back. Whoever these chucklef.u.c.ks are, they're packing enough ammo to start a very small, very b.l.o.o.d.y war." He had the urge to blow the whole f.u.c.king cabin to kingdom come. Sadly, he didn't travel with his C-4, and he hadn't spotted any in the armory itself. Which might be a good thing. Starting a forest fire would get Smokey the Bear on his a.s.s, not to mention Jed had no idea who these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds were. More information was probably needed before he started exploding things.

Too bad. Would have made him feel better.

The air was still damp with the aftereffects of the storm, and the crack of very distant thunder told Jed that some other poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d was having to deal with the torrential rain now. As long as it wasn't him. He shook the compa.s.s, hitting it with his palm a few times to get the needle working. Redford just lifted his chin and sniffed, then pointed to where his nose must be picking up their own trail. "That way."

Oh. Huh. "Have I told you in the past hour how awesome you are?" Jed asked with a grin, hefting both of his bags up to settle their straps more firmly across his shoulders and chest before setting out in the direction Redford had indicated at a brisk jog. They had more than two miles to go, and Jed wanted to cover it as quickly as they could.

"I still don't understand why you have to carry everything," Redford said beside him, keeping pace. For someone who had never been properly trained in stealth, he did a d.a.m.n good job of avoiding dry twigs and rocks that would tumble.

"You're the brains," Jed reminded him with a smirk. "I'm the brawn." He flexed his arms as if to prove his point. Ducking under a low-hanging tree branch, Jed grimaced as his boot hit mud. Going this fast through regular wooded terrain was bad enough. Add mud on top of it and it was a f.u.c.king picnic right up Satan's a.s.shole.

Redford just sighed at him, eyeing Jed like he was thinking about forcibly trying to take one of the packs off him. He shook his head, a small, fond smile lighting his expression. "So what do we tell the Gray Lady?" he asked.

Pausing by a rock outcropping, checking their twenty, Jed glanced over at Redford. He had a bag full of weapons that were definitely not made for hugs and sunshine, a bunch of silver bullets, and maps that made the Unabomber look like a teenage prom princess. He shrugged, giving the only answer there really could be.

"s.h.i.t just got real."

IT WASN'T that he didn't just f.u.c.king love having mud getting really nice and cozy with his b.a.l.l.s. Really, the whole thing was G.o.dd.a.m.n super. That and the smell of wet dog was doing just loads to improve his mood. Standing in the Gray Lady's den of hippie incense, Jed tried to subtly remove wet jeans and about six feet of dirt from his a.s.s crack only to get a far too haughty look from Victor for his efforts.

Whatever. Jed would just stop being subtle. It was hard enough doing that while sitting, he'd just stop caring about everyone's delicate sensibilities.

The drive back to the Gray Lady's camp had gone uneventfully, but once they'd gotten inside the gate they'd picked up their very own guard dogs, who hadn't been amused when Jed had told them to sit and stay while he grabbed a shower and a fresh change of clothes. Which was why he was standing there, damp and muddy-a.s.sed, waiting for the great G.o.dd.a.m.n Gray Lady to stop futzing around with some big-a.s.s candle and get this show on the road. Knievel jumped up on the table, meowing loudly and head-b.u.t.ting Jed repeatedly. Apparently she was displeased with how long he'd been gone. Jed leaned his arms on the table, giving the cat a place to curl up, her head resting against Jed's wrist, tail flicking absently as she completely ignored the proceedings.

"Why are we here?" Randall asked, confused. The Lewises and Victor had been escorted in shortly after Jed and Redford had arrived. "What did you find?"

"Your b.a.l.l.s," Jed told him with an entirely earnest expression. "They must have dropped. I'm just so proud. You're all grown up now."

Randall's expression didn't change. "Funny, I could have sworn I had an enormous pair right here," he mused. "Those must be yours. They look rather shriveled, but I hear humans do that when it gets cold." Jed didn't miss the way Victor tried to get a surrept.i.tious glance in.

Jed just laughed. "Okay, fine. We'll agree they're Victor's tiny b.a.l.l.s and be done with it."

Victor just sighed faintly, apparently not even dignifying that with a response. Randall darted a look over at him but didn't say anything. Great. Nerd awkwardness. That was just going to be so much fun to deal with.

"Once you're done comparing d.i.c.k sizes?" Anthony's voice cut in.

"Ball sizes, sweetheart," Jed corrected with a wink. "Very different thing. Makes a whole world of difference."

Anthony didn't look entirely amused. He looked over to where the Gray Lady was preparing tea, then back at Jed. "Would it kill you to show a little respect?"

Eyebrows winging up, Jed barely restrained a laugh. "For what? Hocus pocus? Look, I went out and I did a h.e.l.l of a lot more than I'm being paid for out there. I got forest gunk in places you've never even seen. So if you think I'm going to sit here and play reverent for no G.o.dd.a.m.n reason-"

"I didn't say worship her," Anthony said. "I said respect her." He looked like he wanted to say more, but he took a deep breath and shook his head. "Please. The last thing we want is to get kicked out because you lot are too busy talking about your b.a.l.l.s in front of the most powerful wolf alive."

"That's a load of-"

"That's enough." The Gray Lady's voice was like thunder just before it crashed, the low rumble that almost ached in Jed's chest. She sat at the head of the table, nodding to the woman on her left to begin pouring tea. "I appreciate your intervention, Anthony Lewis, but I hardly need you to keep my ears pure." If Jed didn't know better, he'd think there was a faint twinkle in her eyes. "I have been alive long enough to know what b.a.l.l.s are, and I have never met a man who could match my own."

Jed kind of thought he was in love.

Anthony shrank in on himself, his shoulders hunching. "Sorry, ma'am. I was just cautious about the, er, duration of our stay."

"I have accepted you into our pack." The Gray Lady waved one elegant hand, the bracelets around her wrist clinking like bells. "You are to stay here. So long as you abide by the code of the wolves, you will not be asked to leave."

Jed felt a nudge against his shoulder. It was Redford, leaning over to scoop Knievel into his own arms, giving Jed a meaningful look. His gaze went to the tea being poured, meaning the Gray Lady was obviously ready to hear them speak, then down to the bag Jed had placed by his side. Huffing out a breath, Jed slung an arm around Redford's waist, turning his attention back to the Gray Lady.

"You went hunting," she murmured before he could speak.

Which kind of took the wind out of his sails a bit. "Yeah," he muttered, deflating slightly. "I haven't blown anything up in days. I get itchy when I'm bored."

A faint smile touched the Gray Lady's lips, and she inclined her head. "Tell me what you found, human."

Said like he was an armless man at a circle jerk-just taking up s.p.a.ce and getting n.o.body off. It still struck him as so f.u.c.king weird, how human could be an insult. Like everything he knew about how things worked was, in fact, just the inane ramblings of the dumbest kid in cla.s.s. Everyone else had read the book, and Jed was busy picking his nose. There was a whole G.o.dd.a.m.n world that he not only wasn't a part of, he wasn't even invited into.

"You're being hunted," Jed confirmed. "But it's not by Cletus and the good ol' boy crew. This isn't a bunch of guys with a six-pack and some time to kill. They're organized, and they're specifically hunting you. Not just wolves." Four faces stared blankly back at him. The Lewises and the Gray Lady all looked like they were patiently waiting for some idiot to realize he was being insulting. "I mean, they're hunting wolves wolves. Not... you know. Wolves. They're... it's not wolves. It's wolves like you, not wolves like...." Jed waved his hand helplessly toward the woods. "Those wolves."

He heard Victor's m.u.f.fled laugh in the resulting silence. Jed scowled. "Oh, f.u.c.k, you know what I mean. Jesus, what am I even supposed to call you?"

"The correct term is Canos," Randall piped up, looking all too amused. "Werewolves and Canos and then the common wolf."

Oh. Well, that made this easier to talk about. "What about Redford?" he asked, curious.

Randall hesitated, eyes flicking over to Redford. "Redford is...." Randall smiled faintly, voice kind. "Redford is something else entirely."

h.e.l.l yeah he was. Jed rubbed his hand along Redford's arm, looking as proud as a f.u.c.king peac.o.c.k. "Werenos," he decided. "That sounds bada.s.s enough for you."

"That's linguistically appalling," Victor said witheringly.

"It certainly doesn't make sense," Randall agreed, stifling a laugh. "Werewolf comes from the Old English werman, which used to simply mean 'man,' as opposed to the female wifman. It turned into were and wolf, man-wolf. So you just named Redford a man... well, nos which doesn't actually mean anything. Man nos." Apparently that was a joke in dork-speak, because Randall was practically giggling.

"It's absolute gibberish." Victor still sounded personally offended by Jed's attempt to make up new words.

"I like it," Redford rea.s.sured Jed in a whisper.

"I like your man nos." Jed winked at him. "I could take your nos all night."

"Jed," Randall said, exasperated. "You can't just make random words mean your p.e.n.i.s."

"Try and stop me." Jed was grinning, pretty d.a.m.n proud of himself. Anthony looked like he might start knocking heads together, and as amusing as that was, Jed figured he should get to the point. "Okay, so the hunters are definitely going after the Canos variety of you furry f.u.c.kers." Pulling out the bag, Jed laid out the guns and the bullets, watching as the Gray Lady's eyes got wider.

That was practically a fainting fit from the likes of her, who had patiently sat through their naming conversation with barely a blink. "Where did you get these?" she asked, half rising, reaching out to pick up one of the bullets.

"Redford found the hunters' cabin. Well, one of them. These were in a hidden room. They've got a s.h.i.t ton more. More than enough to make life very difficult for your pack." Jed frowned, reaching out to grab his own bullet, turning it over to examine the etching at the bottom. It still was vaguely familiar, even though he couldn't quite place it. "Don't know why they're all silver, though."

Anthony took the same line of thought that Redford had. "Why does it smell like cow?"

Edwin grabbed a box, practically burying his nose in it. "Not cow," he corrected his brother. "Not... exactly. Steer, maybe? Kind of, it smells a little bit like when we went to the fair and I was in the livestock tent."

Jed could just imagine how well that went over. "Stampede?" he guessed.

Edwin flashed him a self-satisfied grin. "Who, me?" He looked so innocent. Jed didn't believe it for a second.

"It was like a meat grinder," Anthony sighed. "But to get back on topic." He gave them all a significant look. "What does this mean? All of these bullets and maps? Are we dealing with just a few little groups of hunters, or a war?"

"War." Jed didn't even hesitate. He knew war; he knew what gearing up for it looked like. He sure as h.e.l.l knew that those guns weren't peashooters. Eyes flicking to the Gray Lady, he arched an eyebrow at her. "You're awfully quiet down there."

"Yes," the Gray Lady agreed. Her voice was distant. "I am." She set the bullet down, frowning at it. "Were the hunters all human?"

"I couldn't smell any traces of anybody not human, ma'am," Redford said. "No half bloods or vampires."

"So," she mused. "Someone is telling fairy stories."

Okay, that didn't make any sense. Jed looked around the table, scowl deepening when no one else seemed confused, except for Redford, who shared his bafflement. "What the f.u.c.k does that mean?"

"It means that needing silver bullets to kill a wolf is a myth, Jed," Anthony explained. He glanced at the Gray Lady, looking like he was making sure he wasn't stepping on any toes by speaking. "Werewolves, Canos, we all die from regular bullets."

"That I know," Jed snorted. Which, maybe he shouldn't talk about the wolves he'd killed in Fil's little shop of horrors, because the Gray Lady gave him a look, the kind of expression Jed normally reserved for deciding which side of the burger to bite into first. "So, uh, what does that mean?" Changing the subject seemed wise. Too many things with teeth in the room and his pants were starting to stick to his a.s.s, meaning his gun would be harder to draw. Also that he'd probably walk funny.

"A long time ago, when humans were just starting to move about and explore the dark, we started telling stories about ourselves." The Gray Lady's eyes had dropped back to the bullet, one long, graceful finger running along the length of it, like she was touching a sacred object. "Those stories grew as they did, fitting the times. Silver bullets were ours. They made us seem harder to kill, and most humans were content to stay inside and leave us be. But someone is feeding into those old tales."