Victor
VICTOR HAD started to think Randall was perhaps right about certain tendencies of his.
It was all he could think about as he hovered awkwardly at the edge of the pack gathering around the campfires. The Gray Lady was speaking to her guards, Jed and Redford had just left to presumably get some sleep, and the Lewises were huddled around another fire. Edwin and Randall were paying particular attention to Anthony, who was warming his hands at the edge of the fire, shaking his head sharply. Victor presumed he was denying any symptoms, but even he could see them from this distance.
The treatment wasn’t working, and all Victor could do was stare at the back of Randall’s head, wishing he could find the right words to say.
After the pack had left their first camp, Victor had gone home for a week. Randall’s words had echoed in his thoughts too loudly to let him do anything else—and Randall had been right, Victor wasn’t part of the pack. He had come with them half for some need for a thrill.
Once home, Victor had expected to find little to truly interest him. His home was lovely, inherited from several generations of Rathbones, but it had always felt empty to him. It was dull in a way that seeped into his bones and made him fear the long days of tediousness that might encompass the entirety of his life until he went insane well before a ripe old age. But he hadn’t been bored when he’d arrived home. He’d been relieved.
Where once he’d rather enjoyed a brush with life-or-death, looking into the Gray Lady’s eyes had scared him. It wasn’t just her life span or the dread of the upcoming chaos. His reaction had been what had made him most afraid, the bursting of his blood vessels and the shake in his useless limbs. He hadn’t gone permanently insane, but it felt like he’d come dangerously close.
He’d realized, in that moment, that all of his desperate attempts to live life on the edge hadn’t made him enjoy life at all. They had only made it more chaotic. Victor still hadn’t quite come to terms with the fact that the potentially happy alternative was the very thing he’d been avoiding all of his life, though.
He had collected various supplies, and a week later he had driven to the new camp. And now his sole useful contribution was staring at Randall’s back and wishing he were more eloquent or open. He should, he knew, at the very least try.
Picking his way through the wolves, Victor got close enough to hear a snippet of Anthony speaking. From the sound of it, he was trying to reassure his brothers that he was absolutely fine.
“Whatever treatment Cedric is giving you isn’t working,” he heard Randall say lowly. “And it’s clearly not going to. We need to find a currently practicing doctor with access to a hospital.”
“The treatment could still kick in,” Anthony protested.
“And you could keep getting worse.” There was frustration in Randall’s tone and heavy guilt. “Cedric might be brilliant, but his supplies are limited here. Even he says so.”
Anthony didn’t look entirely pleased. “That means we’d have to leave this pack. And it’s really good here. Edwin loves it.”
“Love you more, idiot,” Edwin muttered, leaning into Anthony’s side. “I don’t care about the pack. Just you.”
“Okay, and what happens if we do manage to somehow find a doctor that can treat canine Parkinson’s in something other than a dog, and has access to a hospital?” Anthony raked his hands through his hair. He was starting to look stressed. “I don’t have the money to pay for that. All three of us together couldn’t afford it.”
“I have my school savings.” Randall sounded so tired, like he was close to giving up completely. “I can get two jobs. Edwin too. We’ll figure it out, Anthony.”
“You need your school savings for school,” Anthony dismissed.
There was a long, uncomfortable pause. “Anthony….” Randall took a deep breath, head bowing. “I dropped out of school. At the end of last semester.”
The silence stretched on even longer then. When Anthony spoke, his voice was perfectly flat. “You did what?”
Randall rubbed a hand through his hair, practically curled in on himself. “I turned down the offer from the state college. I…. I’m not going back.”
“You—” Anthony broke off, sounding so furious that Victor thought it was a good thing he’d stopped himself from continuing whatever he was going to say. “You’re going back to school, Randall. I know you still want to, and—”
“If I may cut in,” Victor said. He’d tried to sound smooth, but he was fairly sure all he achieved was awkward. “I have the perfect solution, if you’re willing to consider it.”
Randall’s gaze darted up to him, a tense clench to his jaw. They’d spoken after Jed’s frankly juvenile attempt to force them to spend time together, but it had felt uncomfortable and tense. Randall had made his excuses and left Victor soon after the conversation had begun. The entire time Victor had been at the camp, Randall had avoided him as much as possible, as if keeping his distance would somehow change everything that had been between them. Perhaps it was working, because now Randall simply shook his head, turning back to Anthony. “I am not going back to school,” he told his brother plainly. “I have no desire to continue. I’ll get a job, two if I have to. Edwin—”
“I can work,” Edwin assured Anthony. “We’ll make it. Whatever it takes.”
Anthony ignored both of them to say, “Talk, Victor. What’s your solution?”
After being so obviously dismissed by Randall, Victor was taken off guard by Anthony’s address. “Oh, er, I was going to suggest that Randall could attend the college I lecture at for a greatly reduced fee. And I am, to put it bluntly, absolutely filthy rich. I could pay your hospital fees.”
“Why would you do that?” Edwin asked, eyebrow raised. Randall was just busy staring at Victor as if he’d suddenly sprouted another head. “I mean, that’s not something people just give other people, you know?”
“Perhaps the world would be a better place if they did,” Victor sighed. He looked at Randall, finding himself unable to discern the emotion on his face. “I just want to help. There’s no ulterior motive.”
“We’re just fine, thank you.” Randall stood then, jaw jutted out defiantly. “We’re not in need of charity.”
“It’s not pity money,” Victor protested. “I simply—”
“Just stop, Victor.” Anthony sounded weary. “It’s really kind of you to offer, but we’ll make our own way.”
Feeling once again quite useless, Victor had no idea whether he should leave or stay. He could make a second offer, allowing them use of his house should they ever need to be close to the hospitals in the area, but he doubted that would go over very well.
Fortunately for him, the Lewises then seemed to completely forget he was there. “I want to continue giving this treatment a chance,” Anthony said, his expression positively mulish. “We’ve just done a seven-state move. We can wait at least one more week before we think about another one.”
“You don’t have time.” Randall’s arms were folded across his chest, a stubborn tone to his voice. “This isn’t working, Anthony, come on. You can barely stand sitting there, your knees hurt so bad.”
Anthony looked torn. “If we go back, can I make you promise that you’ll go back to school?”
There was a beat of silence, and Victor realized that Randall was looking at him, expression completely shut down. It was possible, Victor thought, that if he could see Randall’s eyes, everything would be plain. As it was, the curve of Randall’s lips, the set of his shoulders, only radiated tension and worry, with no nuances to be found. “I don’t want to miss anything,” Randall finally told Anthony very quietly. “I don’t want to lose out on time with you. School can wait. For now, you’re what I am going to focus on. That’s my decision.”
Anthony’s shoulders sagged, and his head was bowed. “I’m just not sure I want to admit that finding this pack was for nothing,” he murmured, so lowly Victor barely caught it. “I’ve completely wasted our time.”
“You haven’t.” Randall sat next to him, taking Anthony’s hands in his own. “We helped them. Imagine what would have happened if we hadn’t shown up. And we know Cedric, who has contacts out there still. He’ll find us someone we can go to. This… this was my idea. To come here. I thought it’d be your salvation. I was wrong. But it wasn’t a waste.”
The conversation was now becoming too personal for Victor to feel good about overhearing, so he sneaked away, though he was fairly certain the Lewises wouldn’t have noticed if he’d stomped, as absorbed as they were with each other.
The Lewises, it seemed, were going to leave. Victor wondered what Jed and Redford would do—he wondered what he would do. Surely there was no call for him to stay. Then again, there had barely been a call for him to come along in the first place.
Randall had been wrong when he’d assumed that Victor only came here because he was intrigued by the thrill. Part of it had been Randall himself. Though Victor hadn’t consciously acknowledged it at the time, he had already been very interested in Randall’s company even back then. Before then, even, when they had met in Cairo.
Without Randall here, nobody else would particularly want Victor to stay. He supposed he should start packing, then.
“Victor.” Randall had left his brothers and come after Victor, ducking around a group of wolves moving past them.
Coming to a stop—Victor had had no destination in mind anyway, only a direction that was away from the Lewises—he summoned up a smile for Randall. “Decision made, then?”
“What the hell was that?” Randall glanced at the people passing, arms folded, voice a low hiss.
His tone took Victor off guard. He’d never heard Randall sound like that before. “That… was an offer that you had the choice to take or decline?”
“I understand that I’m not my brother.” There was a sick undercurrent in Randall’s voice, his head bowed, tone barely higher than a rumble. “I know that I am not made to lead. But I can take care of my family without you coming in and throwing pity at me.”
“I said that it wasn’t pity, and I stand by those words. I never meant to undermine your leadership, Randall,” Victor replied, appalled. But it only took a second more for him to realize that was exactly what he’d done. Damn it. “My apologies. I, er, I wasn’t thinking of wolf etiquette.”
“If it wasn’t pity, then I honestly can’t understand why you felt the need to step in, tell us how well off you were, and snap your fingers at our problems as if they were that easy to solve.” Randall barely looked up at him, gaze firmly fixed on the ground. “You haven’t spoken to me in weeks.”
“That road goes both ways, Randall,” Victor said thinly. “Do not put all the blame on me. And I was simply trying to help. Is it so surprising that I still have strong feelings for you?”
Randall shook his head, jaw tightening. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said. “It was a crush, Victor. It was foolish. You were right from the start. But it hardly matters. I’m over it.”
Victor wasn’t sure if he should believe that or not. On one hand, Randall had an odd tone to his voice, one that didn’t usually make an appearance when he told the truth. On the other hand, Victor had made quite a few mistakes and had done more than enough to sour Randall’s feelings for him.
“Then I suppose we are back to where we began, but with the positions reversed,” Victor replied. There was something oddly funny about that, but he didn’t smile.
There was a long beat, Randall swallowing quickly a few times before he nodded and lifted his head, a forced smile tight at the corners of his lips. “I suppose so.”
“If you’re trying to tell me that you feel nothing for me, you should probably try to sound less like you’re forcing the words out,” Victor said softly. “The honesty would be appreciated, since I cannot ask you to look me in the eye and say it like you mean it.”
Something of the manufactured confidence fell from Randall’s face. He looked away, and Victor watched his throat work, as if Randall was trying to make the words come. “I think you are a brilliant man,” Randall finally managed thickly. “I’m only sorry I was never able to take any of your classes.”
“The offer is still open,” Victor replied. He hid how frustrated he was starting to get. He just wanted a straight answer on whether Randall still had affection remaining for him. “The college I teach at is excellent.”
“Well, as soon as my brother dies, I’m sure my schedule will clear right up.” Randall’s jaw was so tight it seemed ready to crack. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go pack.”
That took the wind right out of Victor’s sails. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Randall, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for how much stress I’ve caused you over the last month. I never meant—I never wanted to make your life harder than it already was. I can only hope that you’re even slightly less stressed when you get back home.”
“Victor….” Randall seemed to deflate, face turned away from him. “Please. Don’t, please. I can’t.”
Though initially baffled, Victor didn’t take long to get what Randall was asking. The man was barely holding it together as it was. He hardly needed Victor making it worse with his conversational fumblings.
“Sorry,” Victor apologized again. “I’ll, er, leave you to pack, should I?”
There was a pause, and Victor had turned to go when Randall’s hand landed on his arm. With no warning, Victor was pulled back, and just like that Randall was kissing him, hard, messy and desperate. “Stop apologizing,” he heard Randall murmur before his lips were caught again.
“I’m English, it’s a compulsion,” Victor said, baffled, before he was kissed again. That time he relaxed into it, tentatively grasping Randall’s arm in return. For a few moments, that was all there was. Randall kissing him like he couldn’t bear the thought of being apart, arms tight around him, completely cut off into their own world.
There was a laugh, a burst of conversation, the noise of the pack filtering back in. Randall pulled away, resting his forehead against Victor’s. Again, so softly, he said, “I can’t.”
There were so many meanings to that that Victor was having trouble telling them apart. He supposed it wouldn’t be too hard, though. Randall had made his reasons for not being with Victor quite clear, and however much Victor wanted to protest that he’d come to a few realizations, it wasn’t nearly enough.
“I know.” It pained Victor to have to pull back, but any more contact and he wouldn’t want to let go. “I understand.”
“I should go,” Randall murmured, but for once, he wasn’t running away from Victor. “Edwin is a terrible packer. I’ll have to redo his bag or not everything will fit.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” Victor smiled faintly. “And…. I know you already refused my offer of help. But if you ever do need anything, I want you to remember that you can call me.”
“Randall!” Edwin came charging up, grabbing his brother’s arm. “Come on. We have to go talk to the Gray Lady before we can go, and Anthony’s trying to lift stuff.”
A very tiny sigh escaped Randall, but he nodded, rubbing a hand through Edwin’s hair and half smiling when Edwin immediately reached up to fix it. “Okay. I’m coming.” He glanced back at Victor, and for an instant Victor was certain that there was something there, some moment that was nearly born. But in the end Randall just turned away and followed Edwin toward the other side of the camp.
That didn’t mean Victor was going to give up on him, however.
Unfortunately, since the Lewises were leaving and Jed would most likely want to know about it, Victor was faced with the daunting task of waking Jed up to tell him the news. He hardly kept tabs on Jed’s sleep schedule, but he was fairly sure Jed hadn’t gotten a lot of it lately. Still, someone would need to wake him up.
He watched Randall walking away for a moment longer, then walked in the direction of Jed’s tent. Unsure of what the proper protocol for waking people in a tent was, Victor awkwardly loitered outside for a few moments. Then, gathering his courage, he stuck his head inside.
Well, at least Jed and Redford were merely sleeping.
“Wake up, both of you,” Victor said crisply. “There’s urgent news.”
“You had better be on fire.” Jed’s grunt came from where he was half buried under the blankets, wound around Redford like some form of octopus.
“The Lewises have decided to return home,” Victor replied. “Permanently.”
Redford gave a confused groan and just tugged Jed in tighter, apparently thinking he was dreaming some kind of horrible nightmare in which Victor was disturbing their pleasant rest. Victor did feel a bit sorry for waking them, but he could hardly let them sleep through the Lewises’ departure.
“Are they on fire?” Jed muttered.
“No, Jed. Shall I light myself on fire to get your attention?” Victor was going to continue, but he was distracted by Jed throwing his lighter at him, hitting Victor in the chest. “Ow! Bloody hell, Jed, you needn’t resort to violence.”
Jed apparently accepted the fact, not very graciously, that Victor was not going to go away. Rolling over, he peered blearily over toward Victor, looking completely rumpled and out of sorts. “Okay, princess, what the fuck.”
To say Victor sighed would be putting it mildly—to be more accurate, he released an exhale of pure exasperation. “The Lewises are leaving. The treatment isn’t working for Anthony, and they see no need to remain.”
Jed poked Redford’s shoulder. “You get that, Fido?”
Redford made a pitiful noise that might have translated to yes.
“They’re going to see the Gray Lady now, so you have some time,” Victor informed them. He squinted in the dimness of the tent, frowning at the sight of clothes, supplies, and weapons shoved up against the edge of the tent walls. “Goodness, you’re even messy in a tent.”
He ducked out before he could get anything else thrown at him—objects or innuendo both. However, bereft of things to do, Victor wound up sitting a short distance from the tent, waiting. Jed tumbled out of the tent first, hopping up and down as he tugged on one boot, a toothbrush clamped in his mouth. Redford followed him a few seconds later, a thick jacket with a fake fur hood lining pulled up around his chin. Both of them still looked utterly exhausted.
Jed spat out his toothpaste, passing a bottle of water to Redford after he rinsed his mouth. While Redford brushed his own teeth, Jed ducked back inside the tent and emerged again with a heavy leather jacket.
It was so utterly domestic that Victor should have found it sickening. He would have found it sickening before. Now he felt a tug in his chest, a faint little spark of yearning. That was new.
Before Jed did anything else, Redford was pulled into a quick kiss, the two of them talking lowly, arms wrapped around each other. Victor could just hear Jed murmuring good morning, smiling at Redford’s return whispers. Hand in hand, they walked over to Victor, Jed leaning against Redford’s shoulder.
What would that look like for him and Randall, if Randall took him back? Victor couldn’t help but try to picture it, tentatively testing out the idea. Perhaps he would bring them both tea in the morning. Maybe Randall would smile and point out the pillow creases on Victor’s cheek. Maybe their Saturdays would be spent doing nothing but curling up on couches and reading or watching the television.
Of course, that was a very isolated view of it. Edwin and Anthony would be in the picture too. Victor couldn’t quite imagine that right then, but what he’d pictured of just him and Randall seemed quite interesting.
“Are we trying to talk them into staying?” Jed asked as they approached Victor. “Or just throwing a bon voyage party?”
“The latter,” Victor admitted. “They’re right. They won’t get the treatment Anthony needs, here. Cedric has apparently given them some contacts that are in the know and work for hospitals.”
“Animal hospitals?” Jed smirked widely, apparently very pleased with his joke.
Victor didn’t dignify that with a response. “Besides,” he continued, “you know how well trying to talk a wolf out of anything goes: not very well.”
A wide grin spread across Jed’s face, and he leaned over to kiss Redford’s cheek. “Damn straight.”
“And what about you?” Victor asked. “With them gone, your original job is too, and you’ve trained the pack well enough. If O’Malley stays true to his word, they’ll be safe. I suppose you’ll be leaving as well.”
Jed exchanged a glance with Redford. “We’ve been talking about it, yeah. Kind of up to Redford, really.”
“I think it’s time,” Redford agreed. “I kind of miss our apartment.”
“You sure?” Jed actually was actively asking Redford for an opinion. Victor wasn’t sure if he should check the man for a fever or take video for evidence. “This has been good for you, babe. We can stay longer if you want.”
Redford shook his head. “Been, past tense. I think I’m okay now. Or…. I’m getting to be okay. The rest is just up to me.”
Jed just squeezed his hand, studying Redford’s face in silence another moment. “Okay, then,” he nodded. “We’ll pack up and leave tomorrow morning.”
Where that left Victor, he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t been here for a worthy cause like the Lewises, and he hadn’t helped the pack like Jed and Redford had. But he had promised the children he was teaching that he would finish reading for them, and Victor did hate to stop halfway through a book.
“Is there any way you could give me the name of a contact that would be available for transportation purposes?” Victor asked. “I may not leave when you do, and I don’t know anybody in the area.”
“Why don’t we leave you the van?” Jed wrapped an arm around Redford’s waist. “I know an old army buddy coupla towns over, owes me a favor. He flies these little corporate jets around. I was thinking—” He grinned at Redford. “—if you wanted, we could fly back. Just you and me in an airplane. You can sit by every window in the place if you wanted.”
“Really?” Redford’s eyes went round in excitement. “What kind of plane?”
“Little private jet, probably. Depends on what he’s got in.” Jed’s smile only grew wider. “Eight seater, maybe, where you can see right up to the cockpit. It flies so fucking fast, Redford, you’re going to get to see everything.”
Redford nodded rapidly, as excited as a kid in a candy store—when suddenly he faltered, the anticipation dropping from his expression to be replaced with doubt. “Wait, but you hate flying.”
“Yeah,” Jed agreed in a rumble. “But you loved it. I’ll live. Flown in a lot worse before, and I trust Mac to get us there in one piece. Hell, he dropped me off in planes that were practically falling apart, rattling around us, dead of fucking night. I think he can get us home.”
Victor was just glad he hadn’t received that invitation. He wasn’t as bad a flier as Jed, but he still hated it. Jed’s description of bad flights had him nearly feeling nauseous. “Just don’t get in a crash,” Victor said. “Strangely, I’ve become attached to the two of you being alive.”
Jed shot him a look but, thankfully, apparently didn’t feel the need to mercilessly mock Victor. “We’ll do our best not to die in a fiery explosion, princess.” He looked vaguely green around the gills the longer they talked about flying. “Solid advice, because that actually was on the agenda.”
“Maybe we could go see the Gray Lady with the Lewises, then,” Redford suggested, patting Jed on the back to relax him. “We may as well tell her we’re leaving at the same time.”
“Hopefully, she doesn’t try and make us take home a parting gift.” Jed grimaced and rolled his shoulders. “Those little fur balls follow me goddamn everywhere. If one of them tries to stow away in our bags, we’re taking it to the pound.”
Victor snorted delicately. “You could just admit that you like them.”
“Shut your dirty mouth, princess.” Jed’s grumbling and stomping protests did little to fool anyone, though. He’d been more than happy to hang out with the younger members of the pack. On more than one occasion, Victor had watched Jed play hide and seek with all the wolf pups, completely content to be the slow, smelly human that they all tracked so easily. He would miss them, despite his denial.
Victor knew the feeling.
They walked to the Gray Lady’s tent, arriving just as the Lewises were speaking with Mallory about entrance. Victor wasn’t sure if he could really bring himself to look at Randall with their most recent conversation still heavy in his thoughts. Instead, he let his gaze wander over toward Mallory, who looked more than a little exasperated at the new arrivals that would no doubt also be asking to see the Gray Lady.
“Oh, come on, Mal, just let us all in. You know she already knows we’re here.” Jed clapped Mallory on the shoulder and ignored Mallory’s protests as Jed led the way into the tent. “Your Ladyship, you have guests. Hope you’re not naked.”
Ladyship? Victor silently disapproved. Next Jed would be referring to her as mothership and thinking he was the most hilarious man on the planet.
“You should be so fortunate.” The Gray Lady’s voice was dry. She was seated on a bed of pillows and furs, several wolf puppies playing at her feet. “You simply wouldn’t be able to handle the sight, I’m afraid.”
“Ma’am?” Anthony sounded rather single-minded right then, ignoring the banter. “Randall, Edwin, and myself are leaving. I can’t thank you enough for the aid you’ve given us and for taking us in, but it’s time for us to go back home.”
After sitting silently a moment, the Gray Lady cocked her head. “So, I was right,” she mused. “You are just like your parents.”
“It’s not that we don’t like the pack,” Anthony hastened to say. “We’d probably even be staying if circumstances were different. But we need things that the pack can’t provide.”
“The point is, you are leaving,” she pointed out, tone inflexible. “You are endangering the pack. Lone wolves are never a good idea, little one. Look at what happened the last time.”
“We’re not lone wolves. We’re a pack of three, and you let smaller packs live by themselves just fine near you,” Anthony replied. He’d folded his arms over his chest, a distinctly defensive gesture.
“You were a pack of three before. Then four. Then five. And still the hunters came.” The Gray Lady shook her head. “You would put us all at risk. You are sick, young wolf, and you will not last through a harsh winter. Every instinct I have is telling me to make you stay.”
“I won’t last here,” Anthony said bluntly. “You don’t have the medical supplies. I’m grateful for everything you and your healers have done, but it’s become clear that I need a hospital and a proper doctor. By not letting me leave, you would kill me.”
“Please.” It was Edwin, taking a step forward, showing his throat. “Please, let us go. We just want Anthony to get better.”
“That is why you came to us, if I recall.” The Gray Lady stood, eyes snapping. “And I told you, did I not? That our help would extend only if you became part of this pack. Now you’re asking to go.”
Anthony twitched, like his instincts were telling him to back down when that was the last thing he wanted to do. “We’re not asking,” he said simply. “I’m telling. The healers here just don’t have the capability to help me. It doesn’t matter whether I’m really part of the pack or not.”
Beside Anthony, Jed shifted a bit, eyes darting between everyone. It was a small tent full of very tense wolves. Even Randall looked as though his hackles were up. “Oh, we’re going too,” Jed added, raising his eyebrows. “Just, you know, while we’re talking about it.”
Victor raised his hand. “I’m actually staying for a few more days,” he announced. Since the Gray Lady didn’t so much as look at him, he assumed she didn’t really care about him as much as she cared about the wolves.
With a low growl, the Gray Lady stopped any further discussion. Eyes narrowed, she glowered at all of them in turn. Edwin actually shrank back behind Anthony at the force of her glare. “I will not hold you here,” she finally said, teeth gleaming in the low light, lip curled. “Go back to whatever is so important beyond our domain. But do not come here again unless I summon you.” She stood, dismissing them. “And little Lewis?” She held Anthony’s gaze. “For that, I would not hold my breath.”
“I’m sorry,” Anthony murmured. He backed away rather than turning and walking, his head bowed. Victor had never seen a wolf do that, but since he assumed he didn’t need to do the same, he just nodded at the Gray Lady and walked out properly.
All three of the Lewises were looking rather miserable when they finally got outside. The Gray Lady’s thunderous disapproval was clearly weighing on them. Redford had a touch of it in his own expression, but Jed looked completely unbothered.
“That went well,” Redford sighed.
“It did,” Jed agreed with a smile, arm around his shoulders. “No one’s dead, maimed, or bleeding. I call that a win.”
“I guess we should keep packing,” Anthony said morosely.
“We’ll be home soon.” Randall squeezed his arm. “We’ll be back in our own beds, at the lake, and you can lay out in the sun all day while we get you rabbits for stew. Just focus on that.”
Anthony nodded, visibly attempting to gather his courage once more. “Right. Okay, if we get packing we can start driving home by midday.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Victor saw Jed and Redford exchange a quick glance, Jed giving a quiet huff of air and an almost imperceptible nod to whatever Redford’s pleading gaze was asking. “Jed and I are getting a plane, actually,” Redford said. “You could join us? It’ll be a lot faster.”
“That would be great,” Anthony said gratefully. “Really. When are you leaving?”
“Whenever you want. A couple of hours drive to get to Mac, but once we’re there, he’ll take us where we need to go. He owes me a coupla three favors, might as well cash them in now.”
“I’ve never been in a plane,” Edwin said, eyes going wide. “What’s it like?”
“Don’t ask me that question,” Jed grunted. “I plan on being very drunk for it. Let’s just put it that way.”
“It’s really fun,” Redford assured. “You can see the tops of clouds, and everything looks really tiny.”
“I liked it,” Randall said quietly, hands in his pockets. “Um, on the way there it was kind of boring, really. The way back was… much nicer.”
Victor smiled at the mention. On the way back from Cairo they had shared a flight, and Victor had found Randall’s company entirely pleasant. Though they had both been battered and bruised and bandaged, they’d talked far longer than Victor normally spoke with people. He had not been in the best mood, considering that he and David had broken up in the parking lot, but Randall had lifted his spirits a little.
“All right, then we’ll plan to be ready around noon,” Anthony said to Jed. “Thank you again. Flying will be a hell of a lot easier than a seven-state drive.”
Victor watched them disperse. The Lewises left for their tents, and Jed and Redford for theirs. He wasn’t sure what he’d do all day without them to speak to. Perhaps he’d catch up on his reading, maybe even some of his research.
He had a collection of journals written by various medusa half bloods over the last few hundred years—Victor had retrieved them from home when he’d gone back for a week, and on a pure whim he’d brought the journals with him. At the time, he’d thought that perhaps he could finally get the courage to look for patterns as to how medusas lost their minds.
Perhaps it would also shed light on other things too.
He retreated to his tent and did some light reading, keeping an eye out for Jed, Redford, and the Lewises. At the very least he wanted to be able to wish them a safe flight. When noon rolled by, Victor caught sight of the Lewises making their way across the camp with their bags. Anthony was carrying one and kept moving it away from Edwin, who was trying to take it off of him. Randall was behind, more bags slung over his shoulders, his head down and a weary tilt to his posture. He straightened up, though, whenever one of his brothers looked back.
Victor had seen that before. It wasn’t a major moment of life, not a turning point or anything particularly influential, so it wasn’t the sort of future memory he tended to remember after looking into someone’s eyes. But as he watched, he remembered multiple versions of how it could have happened. In one version, Anthony had died. The healers had unknowingly given him medicine which had hastened the degeneration of his condition.
In this version, though, the future-now-present that was playing out in front of him, Victor knew exactly how Randall was feeling, because he’d felt it himself. He didn’t want his brothers to know how tired and stressed he was. He didn’t want them to feel burdened with his worry. Acting normal had started to weigh on him. He had been so sure that if he’d done everything right, if he’d educated himself, then everything would have worked out.
But things had only gotten worse. Anthony hadn’t been helped, and now Randall would continue having to move toward taking over seniority of their pack.
And he’d started to like a medusa, only to figure out that Victor had more than a few issues that he needed to deal with before he started to think about settling down.
Knowing all of that was enough to make Victor feel even more guilty, so much so that he contemplated avoiding seeing them off. Surely Randall didn’t need more reminders of the things that were stressful for him. But before Victor could make any kind of decision, Edwin was beside him, wrapping his arms around Victor in a tight hug.
“You’re coming to say good-bye, right?” Edwin asked, voice muffled against Victor’s shoulder.
Victor still had no clue how to act when people hugged him, so he didn’t raise his arms to hug Edwin back. He did, however, gingerly pat his shoulder. “Er, yes, of course.”
Edwin grabbed his hand and hauled Victor over to where Randall and Anthony had gathered, near the entrance of the camp. The vehicles were stored a good half-hour hike down in a cave the pack had sought out to hide their transportation. So this would be the last chance Victor would have to see them. “Hey, guys, Victor is here.”
Anthony looked over, frowning. “You don’t have anything packed. You’re not coming with us?”
Victor had really hoped to be able to avoid that question. He wasn’t ashamed of staying. He did expect to get mocked for being useless or not fitting in, though. “I’m staying for a few more days. I have, er, certain obligations I need to fulfill.”
Randall, Victor noticed, seemed more than a little surprised. It was Jed who spoke, though. “Honestly didn’t expect that.” Standing up from where he’d been crouched next to Knievel’s carrier, Jed held out a hand. “Well, when you get back in town, look us up. We might even let you in the door.”
Victor took Jed’s hand and shook it. “I will,” he promised. “I might even be civil.”
Jed grinned then, clapping Victor on the shoulder and nodding his good-byes. Edwin was next, with another bone-crushing hug. “You still smell funny,” he informed Victor. “But I like it.”
“Thank you,” Victor said dryly and was then engulfed in another hug from Anthony.
“You should come around for dinner again,” Anthony told him. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
Victor glanced at Randall, who immediately looked away, caught in the act of staring. At least he didn’t look disgusted at the thought of seeing Victor again, which was a step in the right direction. And, if Victor wanted to be bold, he might even say there was hope there, in the way Randall kept looking over at him when he thought Victor wasn’t paying attention.
“I’d like that,” Victor said to Anthony. “Let me know when you’re free.”
Then it was time to say good-bye to Randall. A dozen options ran through Victor’s mind, each of them weighed for appropriateness and whether Randall would want that response or not. He settled on gently grasping Randall’s elbow and leaning in to kiss his cheek.
There wasn’t anything he could really say that summed up everything neatly. He knew Randall wouldn’t expect to see him again, and wouldn’t believe him even if Victor tried to say otherwise. He also knew Randall didn’t think he could be with him, not right then. But Victor couldn’t bring himself to let go, even if he did have many things he needed to sort out before he saw Randall again.
So he left his good-bye silent and reluctantly pulled away from Randall. Victor said to all of them, “Have a safe flight.”
Randall was looking at the ground, feet shuffling side to side. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but no words escaped him. Randall finally nodded, giving Victor a brief smile and turning back toward his brothers. As Randall moved to help Edwin finish gathering all their things, Victor saw him grab his backpack and murmur to Edwin, “Hey, I forgot something. Be right back.”
“What did you forget?” Anthony said. “I can go back and get it.”
“It’s fine,” Randall assured him, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “It’ll take me two minutes. Wait for me?”
Anthony clapped Randall on the back, and Victor tried not to watch Randall go. It wouldn’t do to be creepy and stare. He looked away and stood by while the wolves and Jed strapped on the last of their bags, luggage and cat carrier in hand. Victor didn’t want to be rude and leave, so he stayed, half listening to the idle chatter in the group as they discussed what it was like to fly on an airplane.
As much as Victor had come to enjoy their company, he thought that a few days on his own might do him some good. The wolves here respected his need for privacy, and perhaps the fresh air of the mountains would help to put some things in perspective.
By the time everyone was ready to start their hike, two members of the pack going with the group to drive the van back after dropping them all off, Randall had come running back, gaze studiously avoiding Victor’s. And then there was nothing left to do but give one last round of good-byes and watch as they headed out, disappearing among the trees. A few members of the pack ran with them, all of them howling their good-byes until, at last, there was no trace of them remaining.
Victor spent the rest of the day in relative solitude, emerging from his tent only to eat dinner, after which he took a walk around the perimeter of the camp. He’d never been one to enjoy nature walks, but he’d decided to try one on a whim to see if he’d started enjoying it. He hadn’t. He still hated insects and stray rocks that he tripped over.
He forced himself to sit down and read the medusa half blood accounts, finally making it to the very end of them. Most stopped suddenly, indicating that they hadn’t continued to keep the journal after they had lost their minds. Some had attempted to continue writing, though their efforts had resulted in incoherent ramblings.
There was no way to tell if there was a pattern, since most of them stopped. It gave Victor no clues as to who their last visions had been for, and without that, forming a pattern would be impossible.
He put the last journal down with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Victor uncurled from the cross-legged position he’d been reading in. When his knee brushed against his pillow, it hit against something hard. There was a book underneath it.
Mittelalterliche Liste gefährlicher und unerkennbarer Bestien. The medieval index that Randall had been reading in the van on the way here.
Victor picked it up and opened the cover. It was obviously well cared for, and on the front leaf was a neat, childish scrawl. Randall Lewis, 7, and then some very carefully printed beginner’s German. Das ist mein Buch. This is my book.
As Victor flipped through the book, a page of notepaper dropped out. It had been marking the section of Canos lore. Victor picked it up and found Randall’s script, messier but now somehow much more graceful than his seven-year-old self.
Victor, it started, his name in careful loops. I want to start out by saying thank you. Thank you for finding me. Thank you for being kind enough to stop and speak with me in the Cairo hospital. Thank you for being the one good thing out of my nightmare. I called you my Beatrice, and that is very true, but I think more than that you are also my Virgil. You have been a light during a time when I have found it very hard to see forward.
I know that this is good-bye. I know that the ending is not what I would have wished. But I just wanted to tell you that even if I had known, if I had looked into your eyes and seen this moment, I would have fallen for you anyway. Because you were something wonderful.
Thank you, for what you gave me, for the memories I now have. I feel a little bit like a medusa myself, I think. I have a part of you that will always be with me.
I hope you enjoy the book. It was one of my first in German, and it has been a favorite. And now we are even, at least so far on the book front. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for the rest.
I will miss you, my (for a little while, at least) medusa.
Randall Lewis
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought
Save, where you are, how happy you make those.
So true a fool is love, that in your will,
Though you do anything, he thinks no ill.
Victor found he was smiling as he reached the end of the note, though it was a bittersweet expression. So, Randall truly thought it was over. That shouldn’t hurt as much as it did. Victor had half known it already, and Randall had enough reason to want it to be over.
He had hoped that Randall might consider giving him another chance, but with what Randall was currently going through with his family, Victor knew he already had a lot on his mind. He was stressed, exhausted, and worried. The last thing he needed was a medusa with self-destructive tendencies.
Still, it wasn’t completely over. Victor just hoped that Randall would perhaps be willing to consider what they could have together if Victor could figure out the mess that was his mind. So he would simply have to do that.
Unfortunately, sorting out one’s mind wasn’t as clear a mission as, say, doing the dishes. There was an objective but no obvious steps, and it wasn’t something that could be done halfheartedly or forced. He couldn’t hurry the process along, and he couldn’t tidy the metaphorical dishes into the sink and pretend they were done.
Victor folded up the note and tucked it into his pocket. He didn’t want to lose it.
He slept uneasily that night. Too many thoughts swirled around his mind, too many what-ifs and doubts. Every time he woke up, he spent half an hour lost in his contemplation again before managing to fall back asleep.
By the time morning came, Victor was so thoroughly grumpy he seriously considered the idea of attempting to sleep through the day. That, however, would not be possible with rowdy wolves constantly running past the tents and shouting to one another across the camp. He reluctantly got up, got himself dressed, and ended up nursing a mug of tea at a makeshift table near the campfires.
Further pursuing the medusa journals wasn’t helping, and Victor was starting to get frustrated. Randall had theorized that his character flaw was linked to his blood, but while Victor saw the logic in that, he simply didn’t have a clue how to fix it. He was well aware of the medusa love of knowledge, but it wasn’t that, specifically.
He had his head in his hands in frustration when he felt someone sit next to him.
“Deep in thought?” The Gray Lady’s smooth tone washed over him.
Victor didn’t want to dismiss her, because he did respect her—even more after he’d seen her life and her future—but he didn’t particularly want to speak to anyone. “One could say that,” he sighed.
“You’re not the first medusa I’ve known in my lifetime,” she said. “I knew your distant ancestors, those who would hollow out the ones who dared meet their eyes. The bloodline has weakened, but the effects of the visions on the medusa are still the same.”
It occurred to Victor then that the Gray Lady had the potential to be even more useful than the medusa journals, as she might have seen a pattern in their lapse of sanity. Before he could ask, she continued speaking.
“I know you have looked into Randall Lewis’s eyes. But have you done that before? Have you looked into someone that you were involved with?”
That was an odd question, Victor felt. “Twice. I didn’t love him, but I did very much like him. Before that the eyes I met belonged to people on the streets, casual acquaintances, people I barely knew.”
She gave a thoughtful hum, studying him over the cup of tea she sipped at. “And did you realize that medusas tend to hold on longer to the visions of those they care for?”
“I didn’t know that.” He only glanced very quickly at her, unwilling to risk even getting close to looking into her eyes again. What she said held… interesting ramifications. Victor was so tired he didn’t want to think about it right then, but he supposed he had to. “The last person I cared for was a vampire. I looked into his eyes twice.”
The Gray Lady grimaced. “That must have been unpleasant.”
It hadn’t been. Victor had very much enjoyed looking into David’s eyes. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“To feel that bloodlust, that cycle of craving blood and pain?” She shook her head. “As a wolf I cannot imagine anything worse. We are bound by the moon, but we are not forced to obey it. Vampires are destructive, obsessed creatures.”
“It’s hardly their fault,” Victor protested. “They don’t ask to be a slave to that. I’m sorry, but all you have to do is run around on the full moon. They have to drink blood from the living to even stay alive, when they were once victims themselves. Damning them for their instincts and necessities is not fair.”
The Gray Lady’s expression tightened, but she didn’t reply right away. She and Victor sat in silence for a while, each drinking their own tea and watching the comings and goings of the pack. Victor began to feel that perhaps he’d been a bit too blunt, and he wanted to apologize, but he personally felt he had nothing to apologize for. So many people hated vampires and forgot that they had perhaps the rawest deal of all in the supernatural community.
Instead, he said, “Randall told me that I was self-destructive.” Why he was telling her this, he wasn’t sure. Maybe he just needed someone to speak to, much like the night at the bar when he’d met Dylan. “I have no idea how to fix it. I don’t even know why I have that tendency.”
She smiled. “You looked into the eyes of a vampire and now wonder why you crave a hurtful cycle of pain?”
“I was already looking for, er, adventure, so to speak.” Victor shook his head. “I doubt it’s related.”
“Can you honestly tell me that you would have looked into the eyes of an immortal back then, though?” Out of the corner of his eye, Victor could see the Gray Lady looking at him. “I heard your conversation with Randall outside my house. He was right; you had every chance of losing your mind.”
Victor let out a slow exhale. “No,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t have.”
When he’d met David, all he’d been looking for was anything that wasn’t a life of boredom. He had asked to look into David’s eyes a month after being with him—Victor had dated before, but they had been humans, and therefore relatively easy to understand. David had been much more complex, and Victor had wanted to truly know him.
After that, he had started offering David his blood. He’d thought at the time that the two events had not been connected. Then he’d traveled to Cairo with him, into a situation he’d known full well was dangerous. He and David had broken up, but Victor had still traveled with a van full of wolves and an unstable mercenary to go see a wolf pack. And then he’d looked into the eyes of an immortal.
“Damn it,” Victor cursed lowly.
She was right. Randall was right.
“You wouldn’t happen to know if there’s any way to stop feeling so close to someone’s memories, would you?” he tried.
The Gray Lady had a touch of regret in her expression. “I do not. I may have known medusas, but none very closely. That is something you are going to have to discover for yourself.”
“I’m surprised you’re helping me,” Victor had to point out. “I’m doing this so that I can be with a wolf. I thought you didn’t approve of such pairings.”
“I don’t,” she said simply. “But there is one thing I have learned with the activities of your group of friends. You are going to attempt to be with that wolf no matter what I say. I may as well help fix you so that you at least don’t make him completely miserable.”
“Thank you,” Victor said dryly. “I’m touched.”
The Gray Lady stood, looking down at him. “Then go help yourself, Victor. Make your own memories and try not to dwell on mine. I will be remaining in contact with you.”
Victor blinked at her in surprise. “Why? You clearly don’t like me. That’s completely understandable, but you hardly need to call me up every once in a while.”
“You have my memories.” She narrowed her eyes at Victor. One long, graceful finger nudged gently at his temple. “There are a lot of people that want to know what I know. Now that you have that information, you would be considered the easier access point for that knowledge.”
“Oh. Right, then.” Victor really didn’t like the sound of that, but there was nothing to be done about it. He couldn’t exactly purge the memories from his mind.
“And, Victor? Don’t go spreading around what you saw about the future.” With that, the Gray Lady left, her retreat as silent and regal as her appearance.
Unfortunately, she had just left Victor with yet more things to think about.
VICTOR SPENT two more days at the camp before he went home. The wolf children had been glad to hear the end of the story and sad to see him go. He’d gotten enthusiastic good-bye hugs from a few of the wolves, even though they barely knew him.
The pack needed the van far more than Victor did, so he enlisted the help of Mallory to drive him to the airport. The flight was awful, as usual, and Victor spent the whole time drinking as much red wine as he could to be able to deal with the turbulence. No more drinking to excess was a wonderful thought, when both of his feet were on the ground. Horrid flights demanded alcohol. Baggage was a nightmare, though at least getting a taxi didn’t require too much waiting.
He arrived home with much relief.
Victor lived two blocks from the college he taught at. The area was the nicest in the city, full of old mansions and modern townhouses. Victor’s house wasn’t a house. It was a two-wing mansion complete with gardens, a groundskeeper’s house at the far edge of the lawn, and tasteful dark wood mixed with light stone.
The house had been in his father’s family for six generations now. It was stuffy and drab, dusty in corners Victor never bothered to go into, with floors that creaked and groaned from age. He’d hated coming here on holidays from boarding school, and he had hated it even more when it was passed down to him after his parents’ passing.
What was he supposed to do with all this room? Even when his grandmother had been alive, the place had hardly been filled with light or cheer. No, it was stodgy with Rathbone tradition seeped into every plank and board. They’d visited here once a year while Victor had been growing up. When he’d been off to school, his grandmother had passed, his grandfather had slowly curled in on himself as the madness took hold, and his parents had moved overseas to care for them.
Then the house had been the thing looming during every break. He’d sat in the library and read; he’d haunted the rooms, promising himself he’d never be stuck there.
And yet, here he was. The last of the Rathbones in the great, rattling Rathbone manor.
To be honest, he still loathed the place, though not quite as passionately. These days he just hated that he only regularly used about five rooms when there were forty-one of the damn things, and he had to bring in maids every month to keep it in shape.
The rooms he didn’t use were mostly kept closed off, the furniture covered in protective sheets. The paintings were similarly covered, and all the antiques were locked away in dust-proof cabinets. Every day, Victor walked down the hallway that was filled with portraits of his family line, and every day he winced at the fact that he would be the last of the bloodline. He had no interest in having biological children. More to the point, the opposite sex held no appeal for him at all.
But now, as he walked through the empty halls and looked into long-disused rooms, Victor began seeing use in them.
He had offered the Lewises a place to stay. It was close to the best hospital in the state, and it would mean they wouldn’t have to worry about household bills. Victor looked at a room that overlooked the gardens, the lawn stretching to a small wooded area at the base of the hills, and thought that Edwin would like this space. He poked around a room with high ceilings and a worktable that had once been used for carving wooden sculptures. Perhaps Anthony would like this one, given how much he liked working with his hands.
He saw the potential for Randall to fit into his own room. Victor didn’t even use half the cupboard space; there was more than enough room for Randall. Victor thought he might like the antique furnishings and the small shelf of books Victor kept close at hand.
Victor sat on the edge of his bed and wondered if he should invite the Lewises once more. Randall hadn’t reacted well to it, and in retrospect Victor could see how a wolf would understand that offer, especially a wolf who was trying to adjust to becoming the head of the family amidst his brother’s illness.
Even as he thought that, he walked into the next room and started taking the sheets off the furniture. Victor retreated at the clouds of dust he brought up, sneezing violently and cursing himself for forgetting to call the maids in while he’d been away.
He retreated into his bedroom, scowling and rubbing his nose. Victor typically kept his room tidy, but there were a few photographs scattered over the top of a chest of drawers that caught his eye. They were photos he’d taken in Cairo. He’d gotten physical copies printed of some, since he preferred it that way, and he hadn’t really looked at them since he’d picked them up in the tiny Cairo photo shop. Most of them were just images of the sights Victor had seen, the pyramids, the streets around the hotel.
One of them was of David.
Victor carefully picked up the photo. He had asked David if he could take a photograph of him staring directly into the camera lens—David had snorted a bit and called him daft, but he had done it. Later, Victor had looked at the photo on his camera screen, finally able to gaze into someone’s eyes without fearing for his sanity.
He looked at it again now, studying the deep brown of David’s eyes. And he was surprised to feel only the smallest twinges of emotion. Victor still missed David, but somewhere along the line he’d stopped wanting to be with someone like him. He just missed him because he honestly liked him and wanted to remain in touch. The last he’d heard of David, unfortunately, he was off in parts unknown. He hoped David was safe.
His and David’s relationship had ultimately been too destructive for both of them. David had been addicted, and Victor had only made that addiction worse. Now Victor understood why he had been stuck in the cycle of self-destruction so strongly after David was gone.
Victor smiled faintly as he smoothed a finger over the photo. Now that he understood, he could overcome. It was time to put David’s memories aside as best he could and move David himself into the category of friend more than ex. He opened the top drawer and put the photos on top of scattered old Christmas cards and other photos. Memories, all of them, that he now had to put in the past so he could focus on the present.
He wanted to help the Lewises. He wanted to be with Randall.
And maybe, if he was lucky, he could show Randall he could be a good partner.