Victor
“JED, IF you’re going to pull up outside my classes, you could at least have the decency to not lean on the horn with quite so much enthusiasm.” Victor readjusted his grip on his bag, peering into the rental van. Inside were Jed and Redford, three wolves, and a cat. “Good morning,” he said dryly. “It’s certainly a lovely day to be crammed into Jed’s idea of transportation, isn’t it?”
“Well fuck you too, princess.” Jed was behind the wheel, looking none too happy about his current ride. As far as Victor could remember, the man preferred his vehicles with a few more bullet holes and grunt to them. He was certain it was some of kind of overcompensation. “It’s not my fault that we’re the fucking Brady Bunch on acid in here. I had to get something that would fit us all.” The minivan chugged back to life, and Jed grimaced at the automatic transmission. For a moment his hand had flailed out as if to switch gears, which, obviously, wasn’t necessary. “Goddamn soccer mom shit.”
“I only narrowly stopped him from trying to put a V8 engine in it,” Redford piped up from the front seat, twisted around to look at Victor. Jed sighed mournfully, revving the engine. It sounded like a wailing cat, the van shuddering a bit in protest before it evened out again.
Victor frowned at the thought of it. “That would handle terribly,” he admonished Jed, climbing into the van. He shoved his bag under a seat, looking around to figure out where he could sit. Edwin was taking up half of one of the seats, a Siamese cat taking up the other half. Anthony was seated near the window, and Randall had gotten himself near the back, head down in a book. His options seemed to be to remove a very possessive-looking cat or to press into the backseat. It was not exactly first class. Victor made a mental note not to entrust Jed with the traveling plans in the future.
The cat lifted its head to study Victor intently, and Victor suddenly felt a bit like a schoolchild who had forgotten his homework. But then she rolled over, dismissing him out of hand, much too busy kneading happily into Edwin’s leg to bother with him. Edwin gave Victor a helpless little look, torn between amusement and bafflement. “This is Knievel,” he informed Victor, cutting a quick look up at Jed. “Apparently she’s coming with us.”
“Damn straight,” Jed informed them all cheerfully. “My baby is not doing that kennel thing again.” Knievel, for her part, didn’t appear concerned at all to be surrounded by wolves. In fact, if the way Edwin was putting up with claws digging in and out of his thigh was any indication, she was coming out on top in the whole matter.
Victor felt his nose start to itch. Thank God he’d had the foresight to pack some allergy medication. He’d met Knievel before in the times he’d been to Jed’s apartment, but those had always been brief visits, and his allergy to cats had never had time to play up too much. Now he was going to be stuck in a van with one for two days. Wonderful.
Backseat it was, then. As he settled into his seat, Jed kicked the van into gear, and they peeled out of the parking lot far faster than Victor was comfortable with. He dragged his bag closer with a sigh, digging into a front pocket to retrieve the medication. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the title of Randall’s book: Mittelalterliche Liste gefährlicher und unerkennbarer Bestien.
“You know German?” Victor said, pleasantly surprised.
Looking a bit startled, Randall raised his head, glasses falling half down his nose from where he’d been bent over the book. “Oh. Er, yes, a bit. Well enough written, my spoken is quite terrible.” A very faint smile touched his lips. “I have the worst accent. I only really learned it because I was interested in Old English, but that wasn’t an option in my high school. So I taught myself, using what I’d learned in German classes.”
“How wonderful.” Victor beamed. “You’re on the right track to getting close to Old English, then. They do have many similarities.” He motioned at the book. “Why a medieval index?”
Randall rifled his bag, pulled out a bottle of water, and offered it to Victor almost shyly, eyes darting to the bottle of allergy meds. With a grateful smile, Victor accepted and took a drink to wash the pills down.
Randall’s eyes fell, warmth touching his cheeks. He fumbled a bit, pushing his glasses back up, explaining, “It’s, uh, research. A list of ‘dangerous and unknowable beasts,’ which, of course—” He turned the book to face Victor with a slight amused smile. There was a woodcut print of a snarling beast, eyes wild, fangs dripping. It was labeled Übelster und gefährlichster Wolfsmensch. Most vile and dangerous wolf man. “—includes our great, great ancestors. Including a mention here of Liadan and Filtiarn. Well, not directly, but it talks about the wolf mother and her mate, and the birth of the curse of the Wolfsmensch.”
“Really?” Victor’s interest was piqued. “That’s fascinating. I’d love to glance over it later, if that’s okay with you.”
“Oh, yes, absolutely.” Randall immediately handed it over, nodding a few times. “I’ve read it numerous times, so, please. Be my guest. I have other books.”
Victor was careful as he handled it, putting it on his lap. The book was obviously well read, the pages slick at the top corners from frequent turning. Overall it was in quite good condition, loved and cared for. Victor did respect people who treated their books well. “You must be quite interested in this line of research,” he murmured, turning a page, his gaze skimming over a frightful woodcut of what looked like a demonic infant. “I think you’d like my personal library. Study of the supernatural is something of a passion of mine.”
“You’re a professor of linguistics, right?” Anthony said from a seat over.
“Indeed.” Victor leaned forward to talk to Anthony, so that he could be heard over the rumble of the engine. “I have my masters in linguistics, and I teach a few classes here and there. This is actually my semester off—they like us to write research papers every now and then, but that doesn’t take much time, so here I am. I have no formal education in the study of the supernatural, but then again, what they teach in classes is hardly the truth in that area.”
Anthony laughed in agreement. “I imagine not.” He glanced at Randall and said, “You know, Randall’s a fan of yours.” His leg jerked back, and he laughed again, rubbing his ankle.
“Are you all right?” Randall asked dryly, head down as he carefully went through one of his bags for another book. “How terrible, you’ve hurt your ankle. Perhaps you should stop talking and tend to it.”
“Yeah, must be one of those mysterious phantom ankle kickers.” Anthony smirked. “But seriously, Professor, I had this mental image of you being sixty years old. None of your books have a picture of you.”
Randall was bright red, and Victor felt like he might be headed in the same direction. He’d written a few books over the years, but because of the fact that he was significantly younger than most of his peers, he of course had never included photos. Mostly, he was just surprised that someone had actually read his books. They’d been accused of being rather dry.
“Well,” he said, temporarily at a loss for words. “I hope they didn’t put you to sleep, Randall.”
“Oh no, he loves them.” Now Edwin was in on the conversation, his grin huge underneath shaggy hair as he turned around in his seat. “Reads them over and over. Once he tried to explain to me why they were….” He trailed off, hiding a laugh behind an entirely innocent look. “How was it you put it, Randall?”
“I think I changed my mind,” was all Randall said, grimly, gaze very deliberately down, whole body flushing. Where his and Victor’s legs touched by accident, his body gave a little twitch, but he didn’t move away. “I no longer wish to attempt to save either of my brothers’ lives. In fact, if you want to drop them both off here, on the side of the highway, I would be most grateful.”
“The most brilliant pieces of literature to come out of academics in the last twenty years,” Edwin recited, ignoring Randall completely, smile absolutely wicked. “Was that it, Randall?”
“I hope your tail falls off,” Randall replied.
Laughing, Anthony turned away from them, ruffling Edwin’s hair. And despite the teasing that had gone on, Victor found himself smiling.
He’d never had siblings, and due to his parents’ deaths when he was young, he’d never particularly been part of a family group either. But now he watched the three Lewis brothers interact, the way they knew one another so well, the ease of their words and the gentle teasing. They were close; that much was obvious. Even when they were being embarrassing to one another, they loved one another.
“You’re very fortunate,” Victor found himself murmuring, looking at Randall.
Despite the glare he’d shot at Edwin, despite the huffed sigh he’d given Anthony, when Randall looked over to meet Victor’s gaze, his expression was soft. Randall gave him a very small smile, one corner of his lips curving upward. “I know.”
Victor fell silent, ducking his head to study the book Randall had given him. As he lost himself in it, he was dimly aware of Edwin and Anthony talking lowly, of Knievel shifting so she could appropriate Redford’s lap instead. At one point, Jed turned the music up to ear-ringing volumes, only to turn it back down at the number of glares sent at him.
He’d read books like this before, as part of his personal studies. It had a slightly different take on the origin of wolves, shaded by the perception and moral values of the author. This one seemed to think that werewolves only turned into their wolf forms when they smelled blood in the air, and Victor suppressed a laugh as he read a passage about using swan fat rubbed into skin to “soothe the wild mind.” The next time he looked up, they were a decent distance into the drive, having already reached one of the major towns along the path.
“If you’d like,” Randall’s quiet voice reached him, and he turned to find the man looking at him in concern, “I could move up to the empty seat. So you’re not crowded. Or you could, I suppose. I just….” Randall looked down, to where their legs were pressed together, fumbling a bit on his words. “I don’t want you to feel claustrophobic.”
Taken aback, Victor took a few seconds before replying. In his experience, when people termed things in the perspective of you probably want to, it actually meant that they wanted that thing to happen and they were too polite to say so. But Randall didn’t seem the type to be passive-aggressive. Idly, he rubbed his hand over his neck, fingers bumping over twin scars, and said, “Oh, no, I’m quite fine here, if you’re fine.”
“I’m very fine here,” Randall said, voice dropping a bit, eyes going to Victor’s fingers and then up to his face. “I…. Yes. It’s very nice here. With you.”
“Distanced from the rabble?” Victor smiled, turning his gaze back to the book. “I agree.”
Randall almost said something; Victor could see it in his face. But, in the end, he simply sighed and said quietly, “Yes. That’s what I meant.”
The road slipped by under their wheels, Jed actually keeping within the speed limit. Victor was shocked, though he did hear Jed muttering something about a death box on wheels, so it was possible the van simply couldn’t go much faster. After a while, Anthony was lulled to sleep, his head resting lightly against the window, but his legs shoved against Randall’s in a way that made Anthony seem like he took up far much more space than he really should be able to. Randall had shifted a bit closer to Victor, shrugging off his jacket to tuck around his brother with a fond little sigh.
Edwin, a row in front of them, had instigated a car game with Jed and Redford. Redford had expressed confusion over what “I Spy” was, so now Jed was teaching him. From his position in the back, Victor could see a smile curved at the corner of Jed’s lips, fondness clear in his eyes as he looked at Redford.
“You try it, Red,” Jed was prompting, cutting quick glances over at Redford in between watching the road.
Victor caught the edge of a frown on Redford’s face. “I spy… something green,” Redford decided, making it sound like a question.
“No.” Edwin heaved a long-suffering sigh. “You do it with the first letter. Like, I spy something that starts with T.”
“Only in Loserville,” Jed shot back with a smirk. “Here in man’s country, we play with colors.”
“Yeah, cause you can’t spell.” Edwin was laughing, grin lighting up his face.
Jed stuck his tongue out at Edwin in the rearview mirror, because that was obviously the most mature way to win that argument. “Driver’s rules, Shaggy. You get your balls to drop, you can take over. Until then, we’re playing my way.”
“Shouldn’t I be Scooby?” Edwin teased, not at all minding Jed’s vulgarity. “I think you’ve got the Shaggy part all taken care of.”
“Seeing as how there’s four Scoobys in the car, I think we can share the title.” Redford laughed quietly. “Okay, how about we do both? I spy something that’s green and starts with a G.” He paused, uncertain. “Does that give it away too easily?”
“Nope,” Jed said, ignoring Edwin’s nod in favor of kissing Redford’s knuckles. The motion was so easy, so automatic, that Victor almost looked away, feeling like he was looking in on a private moment. “Is it gophers?”
Edwin and Redford started laughing again, Jed’s impish grin belying his innocent look. Gone was the usually guarded expression that sat on Jed’s face, discarded in favor of genuine affection. Victor hadn’t seen Jed get like that all that often, not when the man was too busy walling himself off. Something about Redford, Victor concluded, made it difficult for Jed to remain distant.
He envied them.
His gaze shifted to Anthony and Randall, watching them out of the corner of his eye. Anthony was still asleep, chin tucked to his chest, looking weary in a way he hadn’t looked while he was awake and too determined to not seem ill at all. He looked smaller right then, a contrast to the loudly cheerful, fiercely protective man that Victor had seen at dinner.
Randall had his head down to read another book, his shoulder idly wedged against Anthony’s to make sure Anthony stayed upright in his sleep. This time, Victor’s gaze didn’t immediately go to the book. Instead, he looked at the man, the way dark hair fell over his forehead, the absent motion to push his glasses farther up his nose when they slipped. His hands were gentle, deliberate as they turned the pages, treating them with care.
Victor, in his history of dating, had a type. He didn’t say that he had a type, but every boyfriend he’d had had been the same. Before David, they’d been safe. A little boring. People like him who had no real ambition beyond sitting in the parlor room at noon and drinking tea. David had been the outlier, a man who had come along at a time when Victor had needed something different. Something that wasn’t what Victor had grown up with and was surrounded by.
David had been dangerous, darkly handsome, confident, a predator’s sway to his movements that had utterly captivated Victor.
But in the end, it hadn’t worked. David had been too wrapped up in issues of blood and sex tangling together, and Victor had gotten too addicted to the same. And everything Victor had wanted with David—the danger, the darkness, the chaos—had seemed too dangerous. He still recalled perfectly that night in Cairo where David had nearly drained him. Victor remembered laughing, being so high on adrenaline that he wouldn’t have cared if he’d lived or died.
And a small part of him still craved that. Though David was gone, and Victor tried to keep telling himself it was for the better, he still couldn’t stand the thought of going back to a boring life and boring boyfriends who asked how his day went and wanted nothing more than to come home from work and watch the television for a bit before going to bed. The thought of domesticity, of settling down, was horrifying.
So as he looked at Randall, Victor couldn’t help but try to place the man into one of those two categories, dangerous or safe. He found he couldn’t. On the surface, Randall was mild mannered and soft-spoken, tentative in the way he approached most things. But there was an undercurrent of strength that Victor found himself fascinated by. A firmness to Randall’s words, a dedication to his passions, the protectiveness of his brothers.
Randall was a wolf. There was no way he could fit in the boring and safe category. And yet he was sitting there reading a book entitled Japanese Water Demon Myths.
Shifting slightly beside him, Randall looked over just in time to catch Victor’s gaze.
Victor didn’t think anything of it at first, idly noting that Randall had quite nice eyes, a dark hazel that seemed lighter when the sun caught them. He didn’t notice the sound fading out around him. Only when his vision started blurring around the edges did he catch on, and fear spiked through him. There was no time to do anything other than shove himself away from Randall as far as he could, trying to brace himself on the opposite edge of the seat, and then—
Safety. Warmth. A small cabin in the woods near a lake. Small, but full of love, of hugs good night, of silly bedtime songs. Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle. Forks running away with spoons. He was happy. Randall was happy with Anthony, with a mother and a father. With Edwin, barely able to walk, unsteady legs, two and then four.
Running through the woods, following Anthony. Chasing the moon.
Coming home to find Edwin hiding under the bed. Randall didn’t know why, knew that something bad had happened. Anthony telling him to stay back. Blood on the kitchen floor when he caught a glimpse over his brother’s shoulder, Mom and Dad lying so still.
Living in the woods, knowing that his parents weren’t coming back but not understanding why. Anthony hunting to feed them, keeping them alive and warm and safe, the three of them living mostly as wolves in the forest for a few years since none of them were old enough to get jobs. Never quite sleeping, because the men with guns might come for them next. The hunters might take Anthony away if he closed his eyes. In a cave then, curled up together, three wolves huddled against the winter cold.
A larger cabin. Helping Anthony, sneaking books from the library on how to build houses. He walked in the first time, to a sanctuary filled with books and things he could learn about, and he never wanted to leave. Randall found, there, every friend he’d wanted, every life he’d dreamed of, every country and every culture and every possibility given ink and paper. He’d spent hours there, that first day, and went back as often as he could. But his first book had been a guide to building a cabin out of logs, and he’d spent the next month chopping trees. He was all of eight, and he helped his twelve-year-old brother build their home.
Randall going to school, getting there early in the hopes the teacher would impart more lessons before the bell rang. Edwin getting homeschooled because he couldn’t sit in a confined classroom for too long. Anthony working, lying about his age to get jobs. Growing up depending on each other for everything, sharing every chore.
Years passing, faster, school and books and college, finally. Acceptance to his chosen university after two years of saving, two years of local courses. Coming home with the letter to find his brother’s hands shaking so badly he couldn’t open the envelope. Doctors and tests and too many questions. Faking the paperwork so they could leave without giving too much away.
Cairo. He shouldn’t have gone, but it was his last chance, his final escape. It was his dream, and the program had taken him out of hundreds of applicants. Fear. Blood. Pain. Good doggy. Chains.
“Victor? He’s not responding. Anthony, hand me that water. Victor, can you hear me?”
The face of the man who had saved him. Pale and exhausted, a bandage wrapped around his neck. The bustle of the airport around them. His Beatrice, leading him through heaven.
Then—
Possibilities. Arcing off into the distance like threads vanishing into the mist, only Victor could push that mist back, could see exactly where those threads ended, if they were cut or frayed or burned at the edges. Colors twined around each other, memories and emotions.
Anthony growing sicker. Wasting away. Dying. Randall and Edwin alone at their brother’s grave. Randall going off to try to live, guilt eating at him, souring every attempt. Every start became an end, at the same grave. Bitter, alone, grieving.
More death. Hunters. A hole through Randall’s chest. His head. Over and over, the threads ended in him falling, young and innocent and simply gone.
One of those had Randall in Victor’s arms when the bullet came. Blood spattering Victor’s cheek, his glasses, as Randall gasped in pain. As he reached out. Apologies, only half said before the dark end.
Or—
There were other men. Happy, holding hands, tuxes and flowers and cake and family. Some of them stayed, some of them faded, but those threads didn’t burn as bright as—
In bed, while flares of red and yellow from the bonfire lit up the room. Randall smiling, eyes reflecting the bursts from outside the window. Victor kissing him, soft, then urgent, fumbling together for the first time, for many times to come. Tuxes and flowers and cake and family. Anthony better. Anthony worse. Anthony gone, Randall clinging to Victor by a gravesite. Older then, with children. With Edwin coming over for dinners. With no one but themselves. Age finding them, white haired and holding hands, sitting on a long pier and looking out over the ocean.
And then—
Something dark in the distance in all the possible futures, but so far off that Victor barely grasped the sensation of it.
Then—
“Victor!” There was water splashed in his face, a hand shaking his shoulder. Jed’s voice, sounding like it was very far away and once removed, calling him back. “Come on, princess, wakey-wakey.”
There was some kind of material shoved in Victor’s mouth, clamped between his teeth as his muscles shook, trembling out a last few painful spasms. He tried to make a noise, tried to tell them he was quite okay, thank you very much. He didn’t need to be fussed over.
He scrambled out of the van, fell heavily on the ground beside the road, and threw up.
Wonderful.
Randall was next to him a few moments later, rubbing his back soothingly, handing him a fresh bottle of water. The man didn’t say anything at first, more concerned with taking his coat from where it had been in the car, obviously discarded when Anthony had woken, and wrapping it around Victor’s shoulders. After a moment, Randall asked, worried, “Are you all right? Do you have something you need, medication or… or something I can do to help?”
Victor fumbled with the water bottle as he tried to open it, but he managed to twist the top off, swishing the water around in his mouth before spitting it into the grass. Christ, he needed to brush his teeth.
At least he seemed to be coherent and cognizant. He hadn’t snapped. Yet.
“There’s medication in my bag,” he managed, lifting the water bottle to press against his forehead. The coolness of it sent waves of relief through the pain throbbing in his temples. “It’s in blue packaging. For migraines.”
Randall scrambled back to the van. Redford was immediately there to take his place, hovering in front of Victor and helping him move to sit on the running board in the open door of the van. Jed was standing a slight distance away, Edwin and Anthony beside him, watching Victor carefully.
“You really need to stop doing that,” Redford said quietly. “You’ve probably never seen what you look like, but your eyes roll back and you seize. It’s terrifying. And sometimes you make these noises, like you’re scared or angry.”
“Yeah, like a pea soup spewing freak show,” Jed interjected, arms folded over his chest, squinting at Victor as if he was trying to figure him out. Possibly there was concern there too, but Victor was too busy trying to not have his head explode to look for it. “So, you know. Cut that shit out.”
“Here, take this.” Randall’s soft voice came from over his shoulder. The pills were pressed into Victor’s hands, followed by the toothbrush and toothpaste Randall had obviously found in Victor’s bag. “Just, uh, I wasn’t sure if you wanted those, but I thought you might.”
Victor slowly took the pills, trying not to move his head too much. He managed to unscrew the toothpaste cap, which he counted as a personal victory. “No, I think you may be a mind reader,” he said, barely whispering. He figured out the mechanics of brushing ones teeth without access to a tap and basin—toothpaste on the brush, a bit of water from the bottle, brush and spit. It was hardly dignified, but it got the horrendous taste out of his mouth.
He could hear Redford and Jed talking lowly, but Victor stayed right where he was, waiting for the pills to start to kick in. So far, none of the Lewises had demanded answers, though Victor had a feeling Edwin was only being contained by the force of Randall’s glare. Minutes later, Victor estimated, the pain in his temples finally began to die down, and he gave a groan of relief, cradling his head in his hands.
“I’m so terribly sorry,” he said, trying to raise his voice to be heard by everyone. Especially Jed, who Victor was sure was likely staring at the clock and being none too happy that they were losing driving time. “It was an accident.”
He was normally so careful. Ever since he’d first learned about his ability, he’d had to get used to the idea of never meeting the eyes of another human being. He’d had accidents, a few of them when he was young, but Victor normally kept such rigid control over where he directed his eyes that he hadn’t had an accident in years.
And even though he’d go insane from it one day, even though his mind would crack and he’d no longer be himself, Victor still remembered the eye contact fondly. A little piece of human connection that most took for granted. A little piece of knowledge that nobody else had. He craved it, a little. That knowing. It was like, despite the pain, despite the threat of madness, in that small moment he was fulfilling something he needed to become.
“I’ll be right in a few minutes,” he continued, raising his head to squint at them. “Just as soon as I’m sure that I’m not going to vomit in the van.” He was sure Jed would appreciate that.
Out of the corner his eye, he caught sight of Anthony, and the pang that hit his chest surprised even him. For a moment, Victor wasn’t sure where the emotion had come from—until he saw, in his mind’s eye, the moment that Randall had realized his older brother was sick, and the worry that had come from that. Remembering that tipped his mind in the direction of the future threads he’d seen, and—
Well, one of those was not the sort of thing he’d expected to see.
He’d been married to Randall. Not only that, but they’d adopted children, they’d grown old together in the most perfect, normal, picket fence life that Victor could ever imagine.
The thought made him slightly queasy. It was nothing against Randall. It was the thought of two-point-five children and a perfectly idyllic, perfectly boring life that didn’t sound like all that great of an ideal to Victor. It wasn’t what he wanted out of life. He wouldn’t have dated David if he’d wanted a little white house and a dog. Or a wolf, as it were.
“Right, I feel like I’m not going to fall over,” he announced, bracing against the edge of the van to push himself to his feet. He nearly tripped over Knievel, scowling when the cat hissed at him and darted away. Randall was next to him instantly, leaving off the argument he’d been having with Jed over pulling out his battery-operated hot plate to make a pot of tea, slipping an arm around his waist to help support him. The man blushed, the tips of his ears turning bright red, but he very gently, very carefully, helped Victor into a seat.
The sheer contentment that settled inside Victor’s chest was alarming. This was the worst part of his visions, the way those memories and possibilities broke off inside his mind and left little shards that remained. Thankfully, as Randall had not lived nearly as long as David had, this time around it wasn’t quite as disorienting.
“You shouldn’t be moving,” Randall chided softly, crouching down next to him, fussing with a washrag that he was pouring cold water over. He even fished out some ice from the cooler and wrapped that inside of it, hushing Victor’s protests and easing him to lean forward so he could wrap the wet cloth around the back of his neck. “Just close your eyes. Jed is going to stop at the first place we can find, and I’ll get you some tea. Do you need anything else?”
“You sound like you’ve dealt with migraines before,” Victor said, reaching up to press the cold cloth tighter to his skin.
There was a brief fumbled movement, an awkward clearing of Randall’s throat, and then his fingers, light and unsure, touched Victor’s temples. “I used to get them a lot,” he said lowly, voice pitched into a reassuring rumble as he rubbed circles against Victor’s skin. The light pressure combined with the cool cloth was absolutely heavenly, and Victor found himself leaning into it. “Before I had my glasses. And Anthony gets them now, from time to time, even though he pretends he’s unaffected.”
The pills were starting to kick in, combined with the care Randall was giving him. The pain was starting to leech away, and Victor had to bite his tongue to stop himself from letting out a groan of relief. He always forgot how painful these episodes were until he experienced them again—and once he was experiencing them, he tended to forget he’d ever been in a state without pain.
“Okay, does somebody want to tell me what just happened there?” Anthony’s voice came from the door of the van. He sounded concerned, a little gruff in his worry. Jed and Redford had maps spread across the hood of the van. Victor could see them through the windshield. Apparently they’d decided to let Victor explain himself to the wolves as he saw fit. “Do you have epilepsy, Victor?”
“Not quite.” Victor shifted the cloth to press it against his eyes. The movement, the little motion away from Randall, immediately had Randall’s touch falling away. “I’m a half blood. Medusa, to be exact.”
There was a pause before Randall breathed out a noise, both intrigued and pitying all in one. “My God,” Randall said lowly, eyes wide. “You… you had a vision?” Another beat and Randall went pale. “Of me?”
“Yes,” Victor admitted reluctantly. “I’m sorry. I truly didn’t mean to look.” He always felt sorry for the people he accidentally made eye contact with. It was an invasion of privacy of the highest degree. By himself, Randall might have only told him that his parents had been killed by hunters, for example, but Victor had just seen all the gory details. Had shared in a moment that Randall had not wanted to share with him.
“I don’t get it.” Edwin was standing there, looking far more content now that he’d gotten to run around outside. Victor’s little episode had apparently saved him from extreme car boredom. “What’s a medusa?”
Randall, instead of giving the answer Victor assumed he knew, just looked vaguely like he was going to be sick. “Excuse me,” he said, pushing past Anthony and half stumbling out of the van, taking off into the grass by the side of the road, obviously wanting as much distance as possible.
Victor didn’t blame him.
“It means that when I look into somebody’s eyes, I see everything about them,” he answered Edwin. “Their past, their present. Their future. Because my brain is not designed for such an influx of information, I tend to pass out.” He didn’t go on to talk about the eventual insanity. It seemed too morbid right then, to tell to a carefree young man like Edwin, who was already dealing with his brother’s sickness.
Nose wrinkling a little, Edwin looked to where Randall was pacing back and forth, arms folded tightly across his chest. Something dawned in his gaze, and he glanced at Anthony. Then his frank blue eyes went back to Victor. “You saw what happens to Randall in the future,” he mused. “I guess you’re not going to tell us, huh? That’s how it always works in stories. The fairy godmother knows all the answers, but she just gives people dresses and lets them figure out the rest on their own. Otherwise the story would be over in the first chapter.”
“No, I’m afraid telling people about it usually gives the game away.” Victor turned his gaze back to Randall, frowning slightly in concern.
Anthony shifted his weight from side to side, looking uncertain. “Did you see what happens to me in the future? I—ow! Edwin!” He glared at Edwin, rubbing his arm where the punch had landed. “I’m just asking.”
“You’re not going to die.” Said with all the conviction of the young and the strong, as if by willing it, Edwin would order the universe. As if by his own hands he could pull his brother back from the brink of wherever he was falling. “We don’t need a medusa to tell us that. You’re going to be fine, and we’re all going to go home.” He gave his brother another punch to the shoulder, though this one was much lighter and really was more of a pull in so he could wrap his arms around Anthony. “I don’t care what anyone sees,” he murmured, clinging tightly. “You’re going to be fine. Okay?”
Anthony huffed out a laugh, ruffling a hand through Edwin’s hair. “Of course,” he replied. “I’ve got way too much to do; there’s no way I can get that sick.”
“Besides,” Victor felt the need to chip in, “I don’t see the future. I see many possibilities.” He shared a quick look with Anthony, and it seemed to reassure the man that there were potential futures in which he lived just fine.
Anthony looked over at Randall, who was still looking none too happy, and gave a short sigh. “Randall’s an extremely private person,” he told Victor, a protective rumble in the back of his throat. “I don’t think he’s going to be too happy with you.”
“Princess, you done puking your guts out yet?” Ah, the dulcet tones of an irritated Journey Walker. “As fun as it is to escort you to your fainting couch, Scarlett, if we want to hit the halfway point we need to keep moving.”
“Yes, I’m quite done,” Victor returned dryly. More genuinely, he added, “Thank you for stopping. I’m fairly certain added motion sickness would not have helped.” He wasn’t used to seeing Jed be thoughtful about anything. Usually the man’s method of dealing with things was explosives. And if that didn’t work, more explosives.
Then again, watching as Redford came up behind Jed, slipping arms around his waist, kissing his jaw with a smile, maybe there really was a softer side of Jed. Maybe that’s what happened when one spent months in domesticity. Jed was smiling slightly, murmuring lowly to Redford, opening the door for him—like he was a normal man in a normal relationship. If Victor didn’t know better, he wouldn’t have even assumed Jed had five different weapons on him at the moment.
Randall was the last person in the van, head bowed, hair tumbling down to hide his eyes. He very carefully got into his seat, fingers fumbling with the seat belt before he finally got it latched. Embarrassment and, oddly, shame were etched into his expression and every hesitant move. The glimmers of confidence, the spark of intelligence and wit that Victor had seen before were hidden now, under an almost painful shyness.
It made Victor feel like the worst sort of bastard. Even if it had been an accident.
The van rumbled to life, and they got onto the road once more. Victor was left alone to his thoughts, keeping his eyes closed this time. He didn’t want to risk another moment of eye contact, not so soon after the last one. Slowly, conversations started up around him once more. Jed and Redford were cheerfully bantering over whether finding a pancake place or a burger joint was more road trip appropriate. Anthony and Edwin had started a game of go fish, and Anthony was trying to get Randall to join in. Knievel kept trying to walk over the van’s dashboard. The noises washed around him, soft ripples against the rush of the road under their tires, and Victor sank into that contented feeling of not being alone.
It gave him the much-needed time to sort through what he’d seen. Like they were a pile of papers dropped carelessly onto the floor, Victor picked the memories up and shuffled them until they were in order, making sense of them.
“I’m sorry.” It was Randall’s voice, several miles down the road, after he’d declined the card game, after they’d both sat in silence for long enough that the sound of him speaking seemed out of place. Randall wasn’t looking at him, instead focusing on his own hands, laced tightly together and resting neatly in his lap.
At the sound of his voice, all Victor could see for a few seconds was split-second flashes of memory, other instances that Randall had said those words. “You have no need to apologize,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “It was my fault, and I’m sorry for invading your privacy like that. If I could give it back, I would.”
A frown touched the corners of Randall’s lips. “I know I don’t need to apologize,” he murmured after a moment. “The thoughts in my head are… well, they’re supposed to be my own. But I’m sorry you had to see them. That you know—” Cutting himself off, deep red curling around his ears, down his neck, embarrassment plain to see, Randall sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “God. You must think I’m a complete idiot.”
For a few seconds, Victor had no idea what Randall was talking about. He first assumed it was something to do with Randall’s past, but that couldn’t be it. The bits of present that he saw weren’t as clear as the past or future, but he saw them well enough.
And he had seen a fragment of memory concerning himself. The day that Randall had sought him out to inquire where Jed and Redford were. There had been a warmth of emotion there, an admiration. Something beyond what one felt for someone they wanted to be friends with.
The realization startled Victor. Randall had emotions regarding him. Emotions that were none too platonic.
“Yes, well.” Randall had obviously taken his silence for confirmation, a quick flash of misery on his face before he shuttered it all away behind polite blandness. “Again, I apologize, I—”
“No, I’m sorry, I was….” Victor rubbed at his forehead. “I tend to get easily distracted after the visions. Don’t mind me.” Although he had to admit, some of Randall’s memories were very pleasant. Especially the ones about his family. “I meant to say that there’s nothing you should be embarrassed about, Randall. It may sound trite, but if I’m allowed to comment on what I saw, I have to say that I admire your strength.”
Cutting a sideways glance over to Victor, Randall hesitated a moment before breathing out a quick, startled laugh. “I don’t think anyone’s ever mistaken me for strong.” His lips twisted upward into a rueful smile. “That would be Anthony’s forte. I’m just very fortunate. But, um, thank you. For not judging me too harshly.”
“Well, I didn’t look into Anthony’s eyes,” Victor replied. “So I couldn’t comment on him.” He wasn’t sure what there would be to judge, in any case. It was hardly his place.
“Really?” A slight, teasing smirk touched Randall’s expression. “He’s right there. About six two, brown hair. Penchant for flannel. Comment away.”
Though the thought of looking into somebody else’s eyes so soon was slightly terrifying, Victor breathed out a quiet laugh. “I’ll have to decline the offer, but thank you. I’ve already broken enough privacy boundaries for one day. No need to have the entire van pissed off at me.”
The smile slipped away, and Randall reached out, fingers touching the back of Victor’s hand. “I’m not mad,” he said very seriously. “I’m just not used to anyone… knowing. There’s supposed to be an order to things. A mutual learning. And now you know all the answers, and I’m still making mistakes all the way back at the starting line. It’s scary, to have you know that. But I’m not angry at you.”
Victor hadn’t thought about it that way before, and he could see Randall’s point. It must be very strange to talk to somebody that you didn’t know very well, when that someone knew everything about you. “How about I promise to be very forthcoming in any questions you ask of me?” It was a weak promise, something that would hardly make up for the accident, but Victor couldn’t think of anything else to do. “So that you don’t feel quite so unbalanced?”
Ducking his head, Randall hid his smile. “That sounds like a whole lot of trust you’re giving me,” he said softly. “But thank you.”
“Trust is earned through knowledge of another person,” Victor replied. “I feel I have enough to trust you rather implicitly.”
Quiet for a moment, as if considering that, Randall ventured hesitantly, “Tell me about being a medusa. I’ve heard of them, read several legends, but—”
He was cut off by the noise of the brakes and the soft jolt of the van coming to a stop. “Everyone out,” Jed shouted. Edwin happily climbed over everyone with Knievel at his heels. “Pit stop. Take a piss and then meet at the diner.”
Randall sighed quietly at the interruption, then eased himself out of his seat. With a rueful backward glance at Victor, he was engulfed by Edwin and hurried along with the exuberant promises of cheeseburgers. Anthony was on the other side of them, Randall’s arm instinctively going out to take his brother’s, to support him without even appearing to notice Anthony was unsteady. Victor caught sight of Randall’s smile, the tense uncertainty easing as he laughed at Anthony’s joke, as Edwin grinned at the both of them, carefree and content.
Knievel wound between all of them before Edwin picked her up and the cat perched on his shoulder. Victor somehow gathered that neither the cat nor Jed or Edwin would care that most restaurants did not welcome pets. Which was amusing, considering that five of their diners were hardly strictly human, and four of them would shed far more than Knievel on her worst day.
The greasy smell of diner food didn’t exactly do wonders for Victor’s lingering headache, but he fought hard not to visibly wrinkle his nose. He’d already given everybody in the van enough trouble today. For now, he’d just order a coffee and maybe a scone, if this place would even know what those were. Considering he had a lot of trouble finding a decent scone in America, he didn’t think his chances would be too good. Perhaps he’d chance a muffin instead.
They settled in a booth in the corner. Edwin and Anthony immediately made a grab for the menus, and Victor would bet they’d order the largest dish available. Redford was seated next to Jed, darting nervous glances at the waitresses, and Randall was sitting opposite Victor, so he supposed now wasn’t the time to carry on a conversation about what it was like to be a medusa half blood. He felt grateful that Randall wasn’t truly angry at him, because the man had every right to be.
Victor tried a tentative smile for him, an amused expression at Anthony and Edwin’s enthusiastic discussion of food, and was rewarded with one in return. He wasn’t sure if he liked the warmth that hooked into his chest as a result.
Jed somehow managed to convince a sleepy-looking waitress that Knievel was his seeing-eye cat. As they ordered drinks and food and got their drinks delivered shortly, he noticed that Randall had deliberately placed himself on the outside edge of the booth, seemingly so that he could take Anthony’s mug from the waitress and put it down on the table in front of Anthony. Victor took a quick look at Anthony’s hands. They were shaking, though he’d clasped them tightly together to try to stop it. He looked ashamed that he needed the help.
“So what’s the plan for tonight, expedition leader?” Anthony said to Jed, trying to grin, though it was rather dimmer than his usual cheerful expressions.
“We’re about four hours’ drive away from the halfway point,” Jed said, easily looping his arm around Redford, absently rubbing his thumb along the man’s side. It was a calming gesture, Victor noticed, if Redford’s reaction was anything to go by. Some of the sharp nervousness melted away, Jed providing a casual buffer between Redford and the rest of the world. “There’s a little town that’ll do to stop. We’ll find a cheap motel and hole up for the night. Red and I are going to take the bathroom, provided the door locks from the inside. The rest of you can divide the room however you want.”
Anthony looked startled, then a little suspicious, and finally, somewhat worried. “What exactly are you going to be doing in a locked bathroom when Redford is a wolf?”
Jed glanced around the table, apparently confused. “Being with him during the moon?” Jed finally ventured slowly, like this was incredibly obvious and he was worried Anthony might have some form of brain damage to not understand that. “I don’t know what your freaky furry family does during full moons, but Redford’s a lot calmer if I’m there. I’m sure as hell not leaving him alone.” He paused a beat and grimaced. “Aw, shit. You guys need to be all locked up too, don’t you?” With a sigh, he seemed to accept that, though he grumbled during the startled silence of the Lewises, “We’re looking for a place with a damn big bathroom.”
“You lock yourself in a room?” Anthony’s eyes were wide. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad my earlier suspicions were unfounded, and it’s nice that you want to be there, Jed, but….” He trailed off, seemingly horrified by what Jed had suggested.
There were twin expressions on Edwin and Randall’s faces. “Fuck no,” Edwin declared. He glanced at Anthony and amended, “Fudge no.”
Shifting a bit in his seat, Randall offered, “I, uh, think what my brothers are trying to say is….” He appeared at a loss for words before adding, with a quick, wry twist of his lips, “Fuck no.”
Victor barked out a surprised laugh. He wouldn’t have guessed that Randall would openly curse. Randall was now grinning at him, corners of his eyes crinkling, a warmth there that made it clear the whole expression was directed straight at Victor, and despite himself, Victor grinned back. He could definitely appreciate a well-aimed curse.
“But what do you do?” Redford looked just as confused as the rest of them, but for very different reasons. “I grew up locking myself down and muzzling myself in my grandmother’s basement. It kept everybody safe. But now I can be in a small room and not go crazy.”
While Redford was looking proud of himself for his achievement, the other wolves had gone distinctly pale. Edwin reacted first, lip curling up in a little snarl. “That’s disgusting,” he said, looking Redford up and down as if quite sure he was making a sick joke. “What kind of fucking—” He darted his gaze toward Anthony and hesitated before plunging onward. “No, it is, Ant, it’s a fucking gross kind of person who’d tie down a wolf. Even a were.”
Randall cleared his throat, nudging his shoulder against Edwin’s. “Ed, not everyone was raised the way we were,” he offered mildly, though he looked just as disturbed as his brothers. “It’s abuse, to a wolf.” His voice was kind as he explained, gaze going to Redford. “We all react to the moon in different ways, as individual as the wolf themselves, but at our core, we need our freedom. We get to choose where we run, how we run, when we turn. We’re full wolves—you are a wolf now. But to tie us down and take away that freedom?”
“It’d make us crazy,” Edwin interjected, frowning at Redford, at Jed. “It’s some sick preternatural thing, to use cages and muzzles. It’s not right. We’d hurt ourselves or each other or, shit, I don’t know. Go nuts.”
Redford looked like he was beginning to regret ever saying something, and Victor noticed that one of his hands had risen to rub nervously along the edge of a scar, the ones that traveled over his nose to the edge of his jaw. “Jed did say that I seemed calmer when I wasn’t tied up,” he ventured. “I just assumed that it was what happened. The thought of being free, well, I could hurt someone.”
“Not if you’ve got other wolves with you,” Anthony replied. “Not if you’re free. Why would you want to hurt people when you’ve got better things to do?”
“It’s the function of a pack.” Randall smiled at Redford softly. Knievel had been drinking water delicately from Randall’s glass. She now pranced across the table to rub her head under Jed’s chin and hop down to curl up between Jed and Redford. Jed looked stricken and guilty, hunched in on himself more than a little bit. He looked as small, at that moment, as Victor had ever seen him. “We care for each other. We run together. It’s what makes us safe, what makes us wolves. That support.”
Redford leaned against Jed’s side, wrapping an arm around Jed’s. “Jed’s my pack,” he said confidently. “He’s been helping me adjust. He makes me happy.”
“Pack wouldn’t tie you up,” Edwin protested, eyes narrowed. “And pack wouldn’t keep you in a cage. He’s not very good pack, is he, if he doesn’t even let you run.”
Redford just smiled a little. “I ask for it. It’s safer.”
With a hoarse little noise, looking pale and sick, Jed stood, disrupting Knievel and pushing his way out of the booth. Hands clenched at his sides, fingernails biting into his palms, he stalked away, slamming out of the doors and into the parking lot, leaving them all staring after him.
They had to pause as the waitress delivered their food, awkwardly silent about stopping a conversation that wouldn’t do to be overheard by regular humans. Knievel batted a piece of bacon from Jed’s plate down onto the booth seat in front of her, chirping happily. Edwin had ordered a mountain of food, which he eagerly dug into.
“I think I said something wrong.” Redford was staring miserably down at his food and then back up to look out the window, trying to keep his eye on Jed.
“I think he did.” Edwin shrugged, digging into a steak easily as big as his head, bloody rare and dripping from the fork. “Maybe he just realized how much he’s hurt you.”
“He has not hurt me,” Redford growled, anger rising suddenly to his eyes. “Jed is the best person I’ve ever met. He doesn’t want to tie me up on the moons. He’s the only reason that I’m not still caging myself in my basement.”
Edwin didn’t seem too concerned with Redford’s aggression. He just blithely kept eating his steak, wrinkling his nose at the vegetables that had come alongside it. Redford, upon seeing that his anger had no effect, promptly wilted, his shoulders hunching in embarrassment at his outburst. “He might be the best person, but he’s still just a person. Not a wolf. He doesn’t understand,” Edwin said.
With a sharp sigh, Randall shook his head. “God, Edwin. Shut up.”
“What?” Edwin glanced at Randall’s salad, rolling his eyes and promptly shoving half his steak onto Randall’s plate. “It’s true and you know it.”
“What I know is that Redford is not you,” Randall said. “Which means that he gets to decide what he wants to do on the moons. He’s coming from a different childhood than us. Not everyone had a family that tolerated them flashing their furry tails every ten minutes because they couldn’t be bothered to learn any form of control.” Randall’s anger wasn’t like Edwin’s or even Redford’s. It wasn’t sharp and sudden and flashing teeth. It was more quiet, more the way he pronounced every word with the hint of a bite. The way his eyes glinted dangerously as he threw himself, verbally, in between Redford and the sharp barbs Edwin was throwing.
“Guys,” Anthony cut in, his voice firm. “Enough. Now isn’t the place or the time.”
With that, Edwin and Randall fell silent. Victor poked at the scone that had been delivered to him. He didn’t particularly feel like risking a bite, because he just knew it would be ridiculously dry. He caught sight of Randall tugging Anthony’s plate closer to him, cutting up the steak, and though Anthony gave a grimace, he let it happen.
It was the full moon tonight. Victor had never been around wolves on the full moon, but the effect was beginning to be obvious. They were getting jittery; it was the only word for it. Randall, who was normally rather mellow, as far as Victor had observed, had a tense line remaining in his shoulders after he’d snapped at Edwin.
“Just stop pretending you don’t want red meat on full moons,” Edwin was sighing at Randall, nudging the half a steak he’d given his brother closer.
“Fine,” Randall snapped. But then, with just as much bite but with a very faint smile touching his lips, “Thank you.”
Edwin’s eyes went to Redford’s plate, and he carefully sawed off a large chunk of the third steak that was piled high on his platter and deposited it onto the other man’s. “You can go running with us.” He shrugged, a peace offering of sorts. “See if you like it.”
Redford was still watching out the window for Jed, but he turned back around at Edwin’s comment. “Maybe,” he said reluctantly. “I still can’t control myself very well. Not like you guys.”
“So half werewolves, half wolves, are more like pups who chase their own tails and trip over their own paws, barking at everything that comes close?” Anthony smirked. “Don’t worry. I’ve raised two of those.” He cut amused looks at Randall and Edwin. “One of them is still a bit like that.”
Edwin tipped a wide smirk around his mouthful of meat. “Just because I’m totally going to outrace you tonight, old man,” he teased.
“Please. You haven’t come close to winning a race since Anthony took a nap halfway through your first moon out,” Randall snorted. Under the table, his foot gently kicked Victor’s, a quiet moment of inclusion.
To be honest, Victor was feeling rather out of place with all of this wolf talk, but he was content to sit back and listen. As someone who had long studied the supernatural, it was quite interesting to hear how actual wolves lived and acted. He smiled back at Randall. “Just out of interest, how do you three react to full moons?” he inquired politely. “I’ve read a lot of conflicting reports.”
“Well, probably because they asked conflicting wolves,” Randall laughed quietly, and Edwin grinned, nudging Anthony as he easily reached over to refill Anthony’s coffee mug from the pot the waitress had left behind. “It’s as different as the individual. We all feel the moon, though. Wolves tend to get more aggressive, more….”
“Wolfish,” Anthony supplied with a quiet chuckle.
“Yes,” Randall agreed. “Though that means differing things to each wolf. The one rule is that we all have to change. It’s in our instincts, it’s our blood, and we can’t deny the pull of the moon. We do get to choose when we do so, however. I, uh, I’m not one for running, really. I tend to change later in the night, run a bit, and then sleep. Edwin and Anthony are much more interested in spending the night chasing rabbits.” It was said fondly, though Victor noticed the hunch of Randall’s shoulders, the familiar expression of one out of place. Yes, it would be hard, Victor thought, to grow up in a culture that embraced things you yourself weren’t so inclined to participate in.
“You can choose how late you change?” Redford had obviously never heard of that before. “I didn’t know wolves could do that.”
“Yeah,” Edwin said with a shrug. He was now looking over the dessert menu, having finished all of his meat and the large portion Randall hadn’t eaten. “We’re not werewolves.”
Seeing that Redford was clearly confused by this, Randall explained gently, “Werewolves are the result of a bad combination of wolf and human blood. The sides aren’t joined well. So you were human most of the time, but the wolf instincts won out on the full moons. Now, though, you are much more Cano than not, which means you are wolf. All the time. The form you take doesn’t change your instincts or how you see the world. Your mind remains the same whether you’re two legs or four.”
“Yeah, but your nose is better on four,” Edwin grunted. “Too bad, cause this place smells great now. I bet I’d be able to tell what everyone’s eaten for, like, a year.”
“This is fascinating,” Victor enthused. He dearly wished he had his notepad so he could write all of this down. Perhaps he’d ask Randall to repeat everything later.
Redford looked like he wanted to say more, and Victor could guess what it might be about. He’d seen the result of Redford’s change, in Cairo, where the man seemed to have little control over what his wolf side did. But Redford obviously changed his mind about speaking about it, giving the Lewises a small smile instead. “Thank you. It’s… nice to talk to people who can give me information.”
“Okay, look.” Jed was back. Victor was somewhat amazed that he’d missed the stomping. His short hair was standing up all at ends, like he’d been running his fingers through it, and he had a slightly green around the gills look. “I didn’t know. And I know that’s no damn excuse, and I know that I’m shit at this, but I love him, okay? So just tell me what I need to do to make it better.”
Edwin blinked at him. “Have some steak?” He glanced down at his plate. “Oh, wait. I ate that. And Knievel ate your bacon. Um. Sorry. Dessert?”
“Jed,” Redford started, right back to looking concerned. He reached out to take Jed’s hand. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay, Red.” Jed looked genuinely distressed, though he did collapse back into the booth, lowering his voice slightly in deference to all the perfectly normal humans who were trying to have their dinner. “Jesus.” A beat and he frowned. “Wait. Who ate my bacon?”
“Knievel,” Edwin told him mildly, nudging Randall’s half-eaten salad toward Jed. “You can have the rest of Randall’s dinner.”
“I was eating that,” Randall sighed.
“I don’t want salad,” Jed said at the same time, pulling a face.
“I’m going to order pie.” Edwin was perfectly happy to have moved on from the argument, studying the menu. “A whole one.”
Jed sighed, slumped half down in the booth. “How come this was a big-ass deal ten minutes ago and now we’re talking about pie?” he muttered.
“Full moon mood swings,” Victor informed him with a slightly amused look. “They get overly aggressive, I’m told.”
“Well, this is going to be a treat.” Jed snorted quietly. “Four growly furbutts at once.” But he wasn’t over the earlier conversation. That was obvious from the way he kept glancing at Redford, from the guilty slant to his lips.
“Do I get overly aggressive?” Redford frowned in worry. “I didn’t even think about it.”
Jed took Redford’s hand and rested their joined fingers on his stomach. “You get all bitey and possessive.” A quick leer crossed his face, missing some of its usual bluster. “I like it. A lot.”
“Please do refrain from talking about your sex life at the table,” Victor muttered. “I’m debating ordering dessert, and I’d like to keep my appetite.” Still, he was glad to see that Jed didn’t look quite so upset anymore, and Redford was happily leaning against him.
He did hear Jed whisper “Sorry” to Redford, carding fingers through Redford’s hair. Which was more than a little shocking. Victor wasn’t aware that word was in Jed’s vocabulary.
They ordered dessert and strayed away from the topic of what wolves should and shouldn’t do. Instead, the conversation fragmented, with Victor talking to Anthony about his work—an auto mechanic—Edwin too busy with his pie to talk, and Randall getting up to take a walk around the outside of the diner. Victor watched him for a moment, noticing that he seemed to be more jittery than previously. Perhaps, with time until the full moon growing shorter, Randall was feeling its effects more.
The waitresses didn’t look all that happy with the mess they had left behind, but Victor made sure to tip generously, which considerably brightened their expressions. Jed was uncharacteristically quiet as they marched back to the van with Knievel bundled up in his arms. Randall joined them, his face smooth and calm even while his fingers played restlessly with the cuffs of his sweater. “We can’t stay in a motel tonight,” he informed Jed. “Well, the wolves can’t. There’s no reason at all why you and Victor can’t find someplace with a bed. But we’ll need to figure out a good place to stop where my brothers and Redford can go running.”
“Someplace without a lot of people.” Jed nodded, considering. He gave a quick glance at Randall and reached into the van for his maps. “What, you don’t run?”
Randall shrugged. “Eventually. What about fields? We’re bound to hit some farm country if we keep going. Ant? What are you thinking?”
As Jed opened one of the maps, Anthony stood at Jed’s side, looking at it carefully. He pointed to a circle on the paper. “Is this the halfway point?” At Jed’s nod, Anthony gave a quiet hum of contemplation and tapped a green area a few miles away. “There. It’s a nice big forest and it’s got road access. We can drive into the middle of it, and if you and Victor need a bed, you can drive back to the hotel.”
“That’s up to Victor,” Jed said shortly, rolling the maps up. Victor just shrugged at him—he’d decide if he wanted a hotel room when the time came. “I might just be human,” Jed continued, fixing Edwin with a challenging look. The wolf had the good grace to squirm a bit, embarrassed. “But I meant what I said. I’m with Redford on the moons. Always.”
“Good.” Redford beamed at Jed, pulling him close. “We’ve never been in the forest before. You could come running with me.”
Anthony chuckled as he got into the van. “Yeah, Jed. You should try to keep up, might work some of that dessert off of you.”
“Hardy-har,” Jed grumped, but he flicked a look back at Anthony that wasn’t entirely sour. “I’m not the one that ate their body weight in steak and fucking pecan pie.”
Edwin grinned, lopsided and unashamed. “I’m young,” he said, patting his flat stomach. “And tonight I’m going to run until I can’t move. Just you try and keep up, human.”
“You’re a brat, kid,” Jed said, getting the van underway. “So I’m going to beat you with twice the usual amount of gloating.”
Victor settled into his seat with a sigh as they started driving again. The almost tangible tension in the air from the wolves was thicker now, shown in the way that Randall needed to have something to do with his hands where before he’d been perfectly content to sit still. It was in the way that Edwin decided to put his head out the window and howl, much to Anthony’s despair. Anthony had started being hypervigilant, his gaze flicking to absolutely everything that moved. Knievel, Victor noticed, was glaring at all of them, perched up front like she didn’t even want to be near so many canines.
It looked like he was going to be sleeping in the van tonight. If Jed was going to go out with them, then Victor could hardly drive back to the hotel on his own—he’d feel terrible, leaving them out there, even if they could take care of themselves.
Redford, for his part, had shuffled closer to Jed until he was practically draped over the man’s side, though thankfully he didn’t look to be interfering with Jed’s ability to drive. Jed had wrapped his arm around Redford, playing fingers through his hair, eyes focused on the road ahead. They looked relaxed at first glance, but a closer look revealed lines of tension around Redford’s eyes, a longing stare out the window. Perhaps the close confines of the van were getting to him.
“You smell really good,” Randall said, looking at Victor, immediately looking embarrassed. “God, sorry. I just…. You do, and my mental filter is… lacking right now.”
Victor blinked at him. He was suddenly tempted to take a surreptitious sniff of himself, just to see what Randall was talking about. But his nose was as human as it got. “Thank you? I’m pleased that I’m not offensive, at least.”
Randall grimaced in apology. “I usually spend the full moons hiding with a book. I just blurt things out. It’s rather embarrassing.” He paused and then gave Victor another sideways glance. “And you are definitely not offensive. Believe me.”
Aside from the jitters, aside from the lack of mental filter, Randall looked different too. Victor couldn’t quite pin down what it was at first. It was something about the way his eyes seemed darker, his stare more intense and a lot less hesitant than usual. The way his shoulders were straighter, his movements more fluid and graceful. He seemed ill fitting in his sweater and glasses right now, like they were a mask, a very literal sheep’s clothing.
It was, Victor realized, rather ridiculously attractive.
“What do I smell like?” Victor couldn’t help but ask. He recalled what Redford had said on the subject, tea and scales, and he found himself curious if Randall would have the same answer.
There was a beat where Randall seemed embarrassed, uncertain, color blooming on his cheeks again. But there was a heated look in his eyes, a sharp, hungry gaze as he leaned forward. One hand rested on Victor’s shoulder as Randall nudged in under his ear, taking a long, slow breath.
“Parchment,” Randall murmured, the warmth of his breath stirring along Victor’s neck, his lips just barely brushing against that scar that David had left behind. “And tea. But under that there’s oranges and spice and something like scales, dry in the sun. You smell like the earth under trees after a rain. It’s rather addictive, to be honest.”
Victor had barely heard what Randall said, too distracted by the feeling of what Randall was doing. For a moment, all he could think about was David. About the first time David had bitten him—reluctant to do so at first but finally giving in, fangs sinking into Victor’s throat with a pain that was much more like pleasure. At that very first moment, Victor had gotten addicted.
But now it was nothing but the gentle pressure of Randall’s lips touching against a scar left by a person who wasn’t in Victor’s life anymore. The murmur of Randall’s voice was a low rumble, pushing the memories away and replacing them with the present.
“Well, that is certainly a complicated scent,” he managed.
“Oh my God, Randall,” Anthony said, sounding scandalized. “Keep it behind closed doors.”
The wolfish confidence disappeared from Randall’s face, and he was pulling back, eyes wide. “Oh, God,” he started, running his hands through his hair. “God, I’m so sorry. I just….” He winced. “That was unforgivably forward of me. I apologize, Victor. That, um, that won’t happen ever again.”
Victor found himself absently rubbing over his scars, fingertips searching out both the too-smooth skin and the memory of the sensation of Randall’s lips. He almost wanted to tell Randall to not apologize. He certainly hadn’t minded.
But with that sensation came the full knowledge of exactly how Randall felt about him. Victor had seen every inch of it, the depth and breadth of a wolf’s passion and the conviction of family. The want that wasn’t merely physical, wasn’t even touching on sexual. It was no casual interest. It was a bone-deep need for connection in everything, in running under a moon, in sleeping, sated and content, in a heap the next morning.
And Victor’s feelings were the tortoise at the starting line, thinking of Randall as a nice friend to have. The responsibility of knowing Randall’s feelings was confusing, to say the least.
“It’s quite all right,” he told Randall. “I was just startled by someone touching, er….” Victor trailed off, taking his hand away from his neck. He was surprised at the low, possessive growl Randall gave, seeing the scars again. Then again, it seemed Randall was surprised as well.
The man briefly closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Yes, I noticed those. I should have been more careful. In fact, I shouldn’t have done that at all. It’s a wolf thing. A very intimate wolf thing and I was wrong to take that liberty. Your throat is….” Randall tried valiantly for a smile. He failed. “Not something I should be sniffing, that’s for sure.”
“Well, I did recently see all of your memories. I think we’re past apologizing for things we can’t help,” Victor murmured. He felt guilty, knowing he didn’t respond to Randall’s feelings. He felt like he was letting the man down. But he knew that was irrational—Randall’s emotions were his own and didn’t affect Victor’s. The possibility for more was there, which Victor had witnessed with stunning clarity, but there were several paths for Randall that didn’t have him in them at all. Knowing the potential did not immediately imbue Victor with feelings or an obligation to return them, regardless of any crushes Randall might have.
That didn’t stop the vague guilt from nagging at the back of his mind, though.
“I can help this, though,” Randall told him with a slight, sad smile. With a low word to his brother, he switched seats with Edwin, going to sit in the row in front of Anthony. Edwin took his place beside Victor with a grin.
“You really do smell like tea,” the wolf informed him.
Victor gave a quiet laugh. “It’s good tea,” he clarified. “Not the weak dirtwater you Americans stock over here.” He glanced at Randall. He could guess why the man had moved.
“I don’t drink tea.” Edwin flopped back on the seat, legs restlessly jittering. “Randall does, though. By the truckload. He drinks more since Egypt. I think he has nightmares, and he’s a dork who tries to will them away through books and green tea.”
“Yes, I would expect anybody to have nightmares after that ordeal,” Victor murmured. “It wasn’t pleasant, by any means.”
“He won’t talk about it.” Edwin was watching Randall, who’d curled up against the window to flip through a book. His fingers were a bit too rough on the pages, tension seeped into his shoulders. “Not to anyone. Anthony barely let him out of his sight for a month after, and Randall wore stupid looking turtlenecks for ages.”
“You are aware that Anthony can hear you,” Anthony said dryly. “Randall can too.”
Edwin looked over at his brothers, baffled. “I know,” he said, as if speaking to a very slow child. “But Victor doesn’t know, so I’m telling him.”
Victor didn’t feel the need to tell Edwin that he did know. He’d seen the nightmares that Randall had, the way he hadn’t been able to sleep for a long time afterward.
Randall said, very casually, “Edwin chewed all his pillows to shreds until he was fifteen and still sleeps with a stuffed bear named Sprinkles.” At Edwin’s indignant howl, Randall looked back, eyebrow rising. “Don’t make me tell them about the first time you saw a train.”
Anthony barked out a laugh. “Yeah, Edwin, we’ve got plenty of embarrassing stories about you. Don’t get too smart.”
Grumbling, Edwin sprawled back down in his seat with righteous indignation. After a while, lulled by the motion of the van, Edwin’s agitated fidgeting calmed and he wound up sleeping, pressed up against Victor’s side. The first time Edwin had flopped over, Victor had given Anthony a helpless look, but Anthony had just grinned at him. Knievel had paced over and appropriated Edwin’s lap as her bed, the both of them happily pressed into the warmth of Victor.
Victor wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about all of this, but he didn’t want to disturb their rest, so he stayed as still as he could, even when his arm started to get pins and needles. He spent the rest of the drive watching the passing scenery, seeing the light grow dimmer and dimmer. By the time they arrived at the edge of the forest, Victor calculated that they had perhaps half an hour left, at best.
Though Victor was not the one sizing up the woods to see if it was adequate for running, he couldn’t help but think of it that way, taking note of how densely the trees were packed, that the ground was mostly made up of dead leaves and pine needles. It wouldn’t be pleasant for a human to run through, but he imagined it would be a very different story for a wolf. The sun all but vanished as they wound their way deeper into the forest, and Edwin woke up with a jolt, swaying away from Victor’s shoulder. Sleeping at an angle like that, his neck should have been killing him. Instead, Edwin was grinning, his hands going to his shirt.
“Ed, wait until the van’s stopped at least,” Anthony sighed, though he was sitting rigidly in anticipation too, his eyes glinting yellow in the darkened interior of the van.
Victor wondered if he should be scared, being in a relatively small vehicle with four wolves that were getting antsy. He wasn’t, though. He wasn’t even wary, which surprised him somewhat.
The moment Jed found a turnoff, Edwin was out of the van, clothes falling into a puddle behind him. Victor caught a glimpse of tanned skin and long legs before fur flashed in between the trees. A long, joyous howl lifted to the sky as Jed switched off the van and the headlights dimmed, halving the light that shone out into the woods.
Anthony was next, bounding out of the van. He grinned at them as he shed his shirt. “Have a good night, guys,” he said to Victor and Jed. “We’ll find you in the morning.” Then he too was stripping the rest of his clothes off, smoothly shifting and sprinting away on all fours, chasing Edwin with gleeful barks.
Jed was carefully helping Redford take off the dog tags, the bracelet he wore. “I’ll be right here,” Jed murmured, kissing his forehead. Knievel seemed to join her owner’s mood, chirping as she rubbed against Redford’s arm. “Hell, go blow off some steam, and then I’ll race you and the little fur ball, okay?”
“Okay,” Redford replied, but he looked nervous. He kept darting glances at Randall, seemingly embarrassed. “I, um. I’m going to go find a tree or something so nobody has to watch.” He took Jed’s hand, a silent plea for Jed to come with him.
“Well, let’s find you a tree, then.” Jed smiled softly, kissing him, concern in his expression as they started toward the tree line. Edwin came barreling out of the woods, tackling Jed and licking his face before bounding happily around Redford’s legs. Apparently he was ready for that run now.
Victor stepped out of the van, taking a deep breath of the night air. He wished he could block his ears, because he’d heard Redford shift before, and it wasn’t pleasant. “You might want to concentrate on your book,” he said to Randall. “The sounds you’re about to hear are… well, somewhat horrifying.”
Randall looked up with a frown. “Because he’s not full Cano?” He put the book aside, coming to stand next to Victor, eyes sharp as he looked through the deepening dusk. “I can’t imagine going through the shift like that.”
Victor had anticipated that there might be a few more minutes to wait, but apparently the wolf in Redford had decided to come out early. It started with the sickening snaps of cracking bone, echoing around the forest, closely followed by the distinct sound of someone trying not to scream. Anthony had come back, a dark shape of fur hovering at the edge of the road. Edwin was curled up next to Redford, little rumbles of encouragement coming from him as he nudged his nose against the other wolf. Jed was on the other side of Redford, arms wrapped around him, the two of them holding Redford close as he changed.
When it was all said and done, Victor was just glad it was over. Redford was flopped on the ground, panting softly, but he happily nosed at Jed’s head, recovering quickly. He was more cautious about Edwin, but he looked fairly content to just accept that another wolf was there.
“When do you usually turn?” Victor asked Randall, curious. “I know you said you do it later, but is there a set time?”
Randall watched as Edwin nudged Jed toward the woods, butting against Redford, encouraging them both to take off running. “I don’t like to be ruled by a lunar object.” He shrugged. “I turn when I want to.” There was an implied or when I can’t put it off any longer that Victor recognized, the steel of control that was tempered by the knowledge that control could only go so far. But unlike David, Randall didn’t seem to hate the wolf instincts. It was merely preference. “Am I bothering you?” Randall looked over to him. “I can go elsewhere.”
Getting back into his seat, Victor dug out his own book. “Not at all,” he said. “Consider me relieved, actually. I’m not entirely sure about spending the night in a van, in dark woods, by myself all night.” He gave a wry smile. Not that Randall would be there all night, but it was nice to have some company.
“Oh, you won’t be alone,” Randall assured him. “Jed won’t last twenty minutes with my brothers. I’m actually surprised he isn’t back yet, or Edwin isn’t here to tell us all about the human that passed out in the woods.”
Victor snorted. He was surprised at that too. Though Jed was incredibly fit—he had to be, for his job—keeping up with excited wolves did sound exhausting. “He’s doing better than I would,” Victor admitted.
“Have you ever gone running?” Randall asked. His eyes weren’t yellow, not yet, but there was something intense about them that seemed to cut straight through Victor, even without being able to meet them fully, like Randall was the one who could read souls and futures.
“I’m a professor that reads books all day, and my idea of fun is doing the crossword,” Victor said dryly. “The only times I’ve ever run was when something was chasing me.”
Huffing out a laugh, Randall pushed away from where he’d been leaning against the van. He paced a little, movements languid, graceful. “It’s like nothing else,” he mused. “Not even just the running, but the experience of being out there. The ground under your feet, the breeze against your skin, like the whole night is just rushing through you. Like you’re captured by it, pulled in and enmeshed in every beat and throb of it.”
It did sound nice. But it also made Victor think idly about the similarities between wolves and vampires. Both of them had something that meant the world to them, something that they needed, otherwise they’d go crazy. He had to wonder if his own breed of half blood had something like that, and he just hadn’t discovered it yet.
“It sounds very freeing,” he replied.
Randall stretched, arms up to the sky, before collapsing down on himself and going back to leaning against the side of the van. “That’s the point,” he agreed. Then, whole body pricking to attention, he murmured, “Here comes Jed.”
Sure enough, there was the muffled noise of cursing and someone crashing through the underbrush toward them. Jed came into view, red-faced, and stumbled to a halt, hands on his thighs, puffing out huge, shuddering breaths. “Oh, fuck me,” he managed between gasps for air. “I think I have a hernia. Can you die from a running fucking hernia?”
“I’m not sure that you can get hernias from running,” Victor pointed out calmly, looking up from his book, shadows cast out onto the grass from the sour yellow glow of the van’s overhead light. “I thought you’d last longer. You do always boast about your stamina.”
“Blow me” was Jed’s eloquent answer as he flopped down onto the grass, spread eagle, looking worn out. “Oh, God, I think I’m dying.”
Victor rubbed a hand over his mouth to smother a laugh. He retrieved a water bottle from his bag and stepped out of the van to stand over Jed, holding the water out for him. Redford came running out of the undergrowth, nosing at Jed and pinning him down with ninety-five pounds of contented wolf.
Groaning a little, Jed did manage a smile, genuine behind the fact he was still heaving in air. His fingers tangled in Redford’s fur, rubbing behind his ear. “See?” Jed muttered, head falling back onto the ground. “Told you I could keep up.”
Edwin was next, racing out of the woods and piling on top of the two of them. His tail was wagging frantically, and he happily licked everyone he could reach before he took off again, howling loudly. There was a howl in the distance in reply, likely from Anthony. At the sound of it, Victor could see Randall starting to look longingly at where Edwin had run off to, his knuckles white as he gripped his book.
“Randall,” Victor murmured. “You should go.”
Randall glanced between Victor and Jed, hesitating. “I feel bad leaving you. Both of you,” he hastened to add. “No offense, but it’s dark and you don’t have my eyes.”
“I also have no doubt that you three will smell any potential danger long before it even comes close to us,” Victor said. “Go, have fun. We’ll be quite fine.” It was, surprisingly, almost painful watching Randall deny his urge to change. It seemed wrong to have a wolf hold back like that.
After what seemed like a long few moments, Randall finally nodded. Some of the tension eased from his shoulders as he gave in. “Fine. But I’ll be in earshot.” He flashed a smile, wolfish and eager. “And I can run faster than you’d think. You’ll be fine.”
Randall stripped off his sweater, folding it neatly on the seat of the van. His shoes were next, followed by his jeans, until it was just Randall standing naked under the full flush of the moon.
Victor knew he shouldn’t stare. It was completely rude of him to stare. He had the feeling that if this were happening at any other time, Randall would be stammering and blushing, embarrassed. But now, with the shift approaching, he was standing straight and tall, confident, his eyes slowly changing to yellow.
And he was startlingly well built. Victor hadn’t anticipated that a body like that would be hidden under the sweaters and shyness. The muscular definition on the man was something that Victor felt he could quite happily spend a very long time visibly appreciating. He was all lean limbs and smooth skin, and oh God, Victor should really stop staring.
Randall shifted, skin becoming fur, body elongating, until instead of a man there was a wolf. In contrast to Edwin’s dark-gold fur, Anthony’s deep brown, and Redford’s dappled red, Randall was more mottled, cream-colored muzzle fading into tan. Randall circled Victor’s legs, lightly nudging him with his muzzle.
Victor had very briefly had contact with Redford in his wolf form, once, back when they’d been taking some of the kidnapped victims to the hospital. But he was still hesitant about reaching down to gently place his hand on Randall’s head, his fingertips bumping against his ears. It seemed wrong to just put his hands all over a creature so free.
Randall pushed into Victor’s touch, chuffing softly. Apparently he didn’t mind getting his ears scratched, so Victor kept it up, careful in his touch. He was well aware that Randall was not like, say, Knievel—Randall wasn’t going to bite his hands if he touched him in a way Randall didn’t like—and he was still cautious, though Victor was relaxing into it somewhat. Wolf fur was a lot coarser than he’d imagined.
A soft, contented rumble came from Randall, and he rolled over, showing his stomach. There was amusement in Randall’s expression. If a wolf could be said to smile, he was now. Victor frowned down at him. “Are you all right?” Why was Randall rolling around on his back?
Randall’s tail stopped wagging. With a sigh, he got back onto his feet, shaking off his coat. Redford was making a low huffing noise in the background like he was laughing at Victor, and Jed was laughing too. “What?” Victor gave Jed a questioning look. “I’m missing something incredibly obvious, aren’t I?”
“Goddamn, princess,” Jed said with a grin. He was sprawled on the ground with Redford, rubbing under his chin happily. Knievel was stalking Redford’s gently waving tail through the grass. “You never had a dog, did you?”
Victor shrugged. “I’ve never particularly had the time to care for one. I can’t even keep plants alive. Why?”
“For someone who’s supposed to be so smart, you’re kind of missing the point,” Jed commented. The man looked awfully smug. “You never heard of a pack animal showing their stomach before? He’s submitting. Giving you his throat. I think it’s kind of a big deal.”
Randall had moved away from him and was sitting now, back to Victor, staring out into the woods. He lifted his head, howling, listening for his brothers’ response.
Victor promptly felt rather stupid. He took a tentative step closer to Randall, lowering his voice. “Er, my apologies. I’m afraid I’m not well versed in wolf body language.”
Randall looked back over his shoulder to regard Victor for a moment. The moon was pouring down onto him, silver light making his eyes shine, making him look like so much more. He got up, shaking himself off, and stalked over to Victor. He pressed his head against Victor’s stomach, pushing him back toward the van. When Victor’s knees hit the edge of the van floor and he sat, Randall put his paws on Victor’s legs, half standing so they were nose to nose.
Then he licked Victor across the cheek.
Chuffing out hoarse noises that Victor was beginning to suspect were wolf laughs, Randall then turned and ran into the woods, disappearing with a flash of his tail. Victor pulled a face, wiping his sleeve across his cheek to clean off the wolf slobber. “I bet you don’t drool on people, Redford,” he said.
In response, Redford opened his muzzle and licked Jed across the cheek, going over his ear for good measure. He looked far too amused about doing so.
“Yeah, that’s another wolf thing,” Jed informed Victor, wiping off his cheek and sprawling under Redford. Knievel had caught his tail and was now happily wrapping her paws around it, her own tail lashing back and forth. “I think it means he likes you, princess. Either that or he’s thinking about eating you in your sleep.”
“Emotional communications via saliva,” Victor said dryly.
“How is that any different than what you normally do?” Jed pointed out.
Victor threw an empty water bottle at him and retreated back into the van.
Two hours later, Jed made his way into the vehicle. He and Redford had been sprawled out together on the ground, the gentle noise of Jed’s voice just barely audible over the cacophony of the night sounds. They’d even run together, back and forth in the tall grass of the clearing, Jed laughing loudly when Redford tackled him to the ground. They seemed to fit together now just as well as they did when Redford wasn’t shifted. It was odd to watch, Jed Walker being so human. So very vulnerable.
Finally, though, Redford took off into the woods—after much prompting and encouragement from Jed. Heaving himself into his seat, Jed stretched and groaned before toeing off his boots. He pulled a gun from his waistband and left it on the seat next to him while he settled in and made himself comfortable. Victor just gave him a brief glance and went back to reading. The moon had risen high in the sky now, half the night whittled away, and he couldn’t even hear any howling anymore.
“I’m somewhat surprised you let him go off on his own,” Victor murmured, still more absorbed in his book than the act of talking. “With not even a cell phone or a flare gun or something.”
“I keep trying,” Jed sighed heavily, head tilted back. He’d shrugged off his jacket and was squirming in the seat, trying to find a good position to sleep in. Knievel had appropriated one of his knees, draped over it like a scarf. “But for some reason he won’t wear a fanny pack. Also, no opposable thumbs, so….” Jed shrugged.
Shockingly, Jed didn’t seem to feel the need to fill the silence. Time passed, the overhead light seeming so dim compared to the darkness outside, making Victor feel a little like he was stuck in Plato’s cave with only a single fire to ward off the night. Victor turned the pages of his book, and Jed’s breathing evened out into something quite like sleep.
The idea of chasing sleep was a tempting one, but Victor didn’t think he was going to have much luck trying to get comfortable in the minivan.
“Have you heard from him?” Jed’s voice was low, but not that of a man who’d been asleep. He didn’t indicate who he was talking about. Then again, he didn’t really need to.
“No.” Victor sighed faintly, looking up from his book to glance out the window. David had loved nights like this: clear and cold, completely still. “Have you?”
Barking out a quick laugh, Jed dragged a hand over his face. In the garish light of the overhead he looked tired, worry pinching the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m exactly on Davey’s Christmas card list at the moment.” After a beat he shook his head, lips tight. “I tried. Burned through every contact I could think of that we’d used together, tracked him to Russia, maybe, and then Peru. Trail kept going cold. I gave up a few weeks ago, when I lost wind of him someplace in Argentina. Then again, probably was just chasing ghosts.”
“Perhaps,” Victor murmured. “If David doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. He’s a bit more experienced at doing so than the average human contact you have. No offense.”
Jed didn’t look exactly thrilled to be reminded of David’s otherness, of the fact that he’d been both something more and something less at once. “I knew him,” Jed muttered, staring up at nothing. “Shit, princess, I knew him for years. Now I don’t really know fuck all, I guess.”
Victor hadn’t seen much of Jed’s reaction to finding out that David wasn’t human. He’d seen the first part, when Jed had thought that throwing garlic pizza at a vampire was a hilarious thing to do, but all he knew of after that was that Jed had hidden in his hotel room for some time. He imagined that the knowledge must have been quite a shock, especially to Jed, who didn’t really mingle with the supernatural crowd.
“And in those years that you knew him, he was exactly the same person as he was after you found out what he was,” Victor pointed out. “Except for the numerous lies he told you, I assume.” He frowned, staring out the window. Honestly, he had no idea how David had convinced Jed for so long that he was human. “He wasn’t at his best in Cairo, either. If you’re going to judge him, don’t judge him because of that.”
“This ain’t some after-school special about giving your mommy and daddy the ‘I fuck boys’ talk,” Jed growled. “He sure as hell wasn’t the guy I knew. Because instead of being a kind of stick-up-the-ass contact who dated like it was changing socks, he was a guy who ate people. And now I gotta live with the fact that, as close as I was, as much as I thought I understood, everything was wrong. So fuck you, Victor, and fuck Cairo. He would have killed you if Redford hadn’t smelled it going south. And you wouldn’t have been the first.”
Victor just stared at Jed for a few seconds, then dipped his gaze back to his book. He really had nothing to say to that. What could he say? That if David had killed him, he wouldn’t have particularly minded at the time? It was true, but it was also likely to send Jed into a cursing fit, and Victor wasn’t in the mood to put up with one.
After a long moment, Jed murmured, so quietly that it almost didn’t count as out loud, “Just wish I didn’t worry so much about the stupid fucker.” Leaning forward, Jed twisted the key, turning off the lights. “Go to sleep, Victor. You’re gonna run down the battery.”
Victor blinked hard as he tried to adjust to the sudden darkness. At a loss for what to do, he slotted a bookmark between the pages he’d been reading and put the book down on the seat next to him. There was a far-off noise, a long, drawn-out howl that reassured him somewhat. At least one of the wolves must be close.
“As much as David could trust anybody, I think he trusted you,” Victor said into the darkness. His sight was beginning to adjust, bringing Jed and the interior of the van into sharp relief, the pale moonlight shading everything white and black. “He’ll contact us when he’s ready.”
There was a sharp snort that summed up what Jed thought of that. But Victor could see him rustling around, and then a blanket hit him in the face. “Sleep, princess,” Jed commanded, but there was a softness in his tone, under the weariness. “We’ve got a long day coming.”
Victor heaved a sigh, but he nonetheless dragged the blanket off his face and twisted himself to lie across two of the seats. It was hardly comfortable. “Pity. I was looking forward to braiding your hair and watching romantic comedies together. We were having such a nice talk too.” One that he was glad was over.
Jed gave a loud, genuine laugh, and Victor could see the other man peering over the back of the seat at him. “You’d be surprised, professor,” Jed said around his grin. “I do a mean french braid.”