Sanguis Noctis: Bloodlines Part 31

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 s.h.i.+ver 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-G.o.d only knew why, seeing as he was trying to wake them all up. "We have a meeting with the Gray Lady."

"s.h.i.+t." Apparently Randall cursed in the morning. Fumbling for his gla.s.ses, he nudged Edwin again. "Get up, Ed. Come on, we need to get dressed."

"I'm giving up my wolf members.h.i.+p." 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 G.o.d, 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, s.h.i.+fting from foot to foot, looking embarra.s.sed. "I think that's what one asks, correct? How you slept?"

Victor had slept like utter s.h.i.+t. 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 sc.r.a.ps 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 n.o.body 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 a.s.sumed." 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."

"It's not," Randall bit back, concern turning his voice into a growl. "That isn't how lives are weighed. You are important, you are too important to throw away without need. Knowing what might happen is no guarantee that our very actions won't lead to it. This isn't a promise of safety. It's not worth the risk." He reached out, laying his hand on Victor's. "Please," he asked, voice cracking. "Don't."

"I disagree," the Gray Lady said smoothly. "There is a need here, and any information we could get outside of what is normally available to us would be of great help."

This decision, Victor knew, would be a lot easier if he didn't have two people arguing about it right in front of him. If it had just been him and the Gray Lady, he likely would have said yes and not thought twice. But with Randall asking him not to....

"May I take a few minutes to think about it?" he asked.

The Gray Lady looked a touch impatient, but she inclined her head. Victor took that as permission and exited her house, suddenly feeling the need for fresh air.

There was every possibility that Randall was right, that a medusa broke according to how much they had seen. If that was true, then looking into the eyes of the Gray Lady would surely do it. He could barely comprehend how much history she had, let alone how much future he would see. If looking into the eyes of vampires and wolves knocked him out, then her eyes would surely do worse.

But how could he live with himself, if wolves got killed when he knew he could have done something to help prevent it? Redford and Edwin had recently suffered upset from killing hunters. At least they had done it directly, to prevent harm to those they loved. If wolves died because Victor refused to see the future, they would die from his inaction, from his fear.

And then there was a small part of the back of his mind that wanted to look into her eyes, for no reason other than to see. To absorb. To share in that knowledge for himself. A part that didn't mind if he went crazy, craved it, even.

Victor might have never been able to read to the end of the accounts of medusas, but they all had one thing in common. Curiosity killed the cat, and it drove the medusas insane.

Randall emerged from the cabin and quietly sat down on the steps next to Victor. Hands laced together, arms resting on his knees, Randall just stared out over the pack. Under the surface of wolves waking up, cleaning up after the solstice activities, having breakfast, was a very real thread of fear. There were groups of wolves patrolling the perimeter, the cubs were being ushered by three or four adults, and no one seemed willing to stay alone for too long. The wolves were worried.

"I don't know what to say," Randall admitted quietly. Slowly, he let out a long breath. "You shouldn't do it, Victor. There are some risks that simply aren't worth it."

"Not even if it could help your brothers?" Victor asked.

"I don't believe it will." Randall didn't answer the question directly. Then again, perhaps it wasn't a fair question. Victor felt a little guilty about it already, but he didn't apologize.

"I can't be sure that it won't," he replied. "Any sc.r.a.p of information here is going to be useful, Randall. I can't ignore that."

"Oh, that's bulls.h.i.+t." It was a sudden exclamation, sounding rather odd coming from Randall. But he scowled down at his hands, not shying away from the message. "You know better than anyone that your glimpses into the future can be as harmful as they are helpful. This isn't you doing it for the very small chance that you will not only see a possible future that will be helpful, but that by telling us about it you won't then change that future. It's because you want to." Randall turned to him, pleading. "The thrill, the knowledge, whatever it is, Victor, it's not good enough to chance losing you."

Victor frowned and looked away, oddly hurt by Randall's words. "Are you implying that I wouldn't do whatever I could to help people? That I am only selfish and doing this for myself?"

"I'm telling you that this isn't helping people." Randall had turned back to staring down at his hands, obviously tense. "Everything I've read about medusas tells me that they crave knowledge. I wouldn't blame you for wanting to see the Gray Lady's past and future. If I could, I know I would. But it will hurt you, Victor. It could hurt you permanently."

"So could skydiving," Victor said, suddenly frustrated. "So could driving a car. So could walking along a road, and people do those things every day. I have the smallest chance to be helpful, Randall. I'm not like you. I'm not strong. I don't have good senses-"

"Clearly," Randall shot back. Victor withered where he sat, the wind taken out of his sails. Randall immediately reached over, apologetic before the word had died between them. "I'm sorry. I just.... I'm scared." Randall leaned forward, resting his head on Victor's hand. "You are like me. You're better. You're brilliant. You're strong. You don't need to do this in order to help."

"Let's take a poll of where we both were last night." Victor sighed. "I was hiding in the cabin, hoping desperately that a hunter didn't sneak up on me."

"Victor," Randall started. He stood, pulling Victor in, resting his forehead against Victor's temple. "That doesn't matter. I nearly got shot. If Anthony hadn't shown up, I wouldn't even be here. Should I go do something stupid to prove that I'm not worthless?"

"At least you tried to do something," Victor said.

"I can't lose you." Randall's voice was low, desperate. "Please, Victor. There's other ways. Please, don't do this."

The last time Victor had deliberately looked into someone's eyes, they had been David's, and David had merely sighed at him and set his gla.s.ses aside so Victor didn't break them when he fell. Randall's pleading was new to Victor.

But it would be a lie to say he didn't know what he was going to do. His mind had mostly been made up the second the Gray Lady had asked him.

"I'm sorry," Victor said gently. "But I have to do this."

He turned and walked back into the house as quickly as he could, unable to bear the thought of Randall pleading with him more. He had reasons-good reasons, Victor thought-for doing this, and if he was going to help at all, this would be the one way he could do it. He could not fight or protect or even research Jed's kind of work very well.

But he could use the one inborn talent he had and hope that it would be at least some help.

"I'll do it," he said as he reached the Gray Lady. There was a quick spasm of relief at the corners of her mouth, in the tense line of her shoulders. She stood gracefully and inclined her head to him.

"My grat.i.tude, then, medusa." She gestured for Victor to sit. "There's no reason to waste time, then."

Randall had come back in, Victor saw out of the corner of his eye, taking a place next to Anthony. He was staring steadfastly down at his hands, refusing to watch. Victor shoved aside the twinge of guilt.

"I'm not sure how long I'll be unconscious, given that I've never looked at somebody with your lifespan before," Victor said, taking off his gla.s.ses. He knelt on the cus.h.i.+on she had placed on the floor near her chair. Someone behind him put a steadying hand on his shoulder. Redford, Victor confirmed as he looked back. "I will make every attempt to give you an answer before I pa.s.s out, though."

Victor wasn't sure what to feel about the silence behind him. Randall, he knew, wasn't happy with him doing this, but he couldn't help but wonder if everybody else was just bored or didn't care. It was an entirely self-centered thought that he immediately struck down. He had a job to do, and if he succeeded, then perhaps he would finally be useful.

He felt an arm around him and looked over to find Jed on his other side, bracing him, jaw set. He gave Victor a little nod, clearly ready, with Redford, to catch him when he fell. That made Victor feel somewhat better, at least.

He cleared his throat and turned back to the Gray Lady, who had knelt in front of him. She grasped his face in her hands, gentle but as firm as steel, and their eyes met.

She actually had quite beautiful eyes, Victor noticed, somewhere between a light hazel and the permanent gold of a wolf's eyes. He didn't even need to fall into the visions to know she had a long past.

What little sound there was faded to nothing, deafened by the noise of blood rus.h.i.+ng in his ears. Everything else but the Gray Lady's eyes blurred out of focus. Victor felt an odd warmth trickle from his nostril, but he didn't take the time to wipe it away. A bleed, already? That was new.

And then he was gone.

Heat and dry ground were the first things she remembered.

The buzz of insects much larger than now, the stampede of hooves and paws all around. She didn't know what she was. She was new. She had no name for herself. Her mother was not like her. All her mother seemed to notice was food and danger.

She noticed much more.

A blur of time. Days fading into nights and weeks and years. Her mother died in an avalanche, and the only real word she could get out of her was a soft, low whine of pain. No thought for her cub, no higher consciousness to understand what was truly happening, only barely intelligent enough to recognize the agony of crushed organs.

She finds another that looks like her, and is surprised to find that he thinks like her too. She is relieved, and so is he.

They learn to turn into the strange sort of evolved monkeys they see around, but neither of them likes it much. That shape is too soft and unbalanced. The one advantage of the evolved monkeys is their intelligence, and the wolves have that already. The strange creatures do not talk in anything other than grunts, but they have a name for themselves.

The name changed. Grew, as they did, evolved. It all came to mean the same thing, though.

They became humans.

The wolves learn too quickly that humans are not friendly to them when they appear on four legs, and they are loath to spend much time on two legs. They run instead, and keep to themselves, though they never stray too far from human groups. The humans learn at a fascinating rate, and the wolves learn from them, though the tool use of humans is something they do not mimic, having no need for it.