Page 10 of Bloodbane
CHAPTER TEN
A Blessing in Disguise
{ R U B Y }
The words slam into my chest like a physical blow. Confusion crests into frustration. Of course this isn’t going to plan. Why would the universe buck tradition at this point in my life?
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’ve not lied to you once. I have no reason to start now.”
“Then it was self-defense. If you saved me from those men, then it means they meant me harm. That’s justifiable homicide.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me,” I retort. “Look, I don’t know if you’re incapable of accepting help, or you just have some kind of death wish, but I will wrap you up in a bow and hand you over to the cavalry if that’s what you really want. I’ll even send you off with a smile and a wave. But before I do, I need to know what happened out there, and you are the only one who can tell me.”
“Let it go, Evans. You are poking your head into places it doesn’t belong, and if you’re not careful, you may lose it.”
“I’m not worried.”
Grayson’s stare is unwavering. “You should be.”
“Despite what you think, I’m not stupid. I know there’s more going on here than you’re telling me. Whatever it is, we can handle it. You don’t have to be afraid, Grayson, we can protect you.”
“I’m not the one who needs protection.” Grayson sinks onto the bed as his head swivels toward the front of the station.
I shadow the action, frowning when I find nothing amiss.
Grayson’s voice drops low, stringing his words together in a rush, his intense gaze boring into me. “Take care today. The world is full of wolves in sheep’s clothing and they are more dangerous than you can possibly imagine.”
Milo barrels through the door, chased by a gust of white.
“I’m not sure you should be going out in this, it’s turned quite nasty.” His eyes widen as they settle on me inside the cell. “Uh, Ruby? Are you alright?”
Without answering, I turn back to Grayson, but he’s closed down again, his focus locked on the floor at my feet. Our game has come to an end, and I’ve lost. Again.
“Yeah, Milo. Just having a chat with our new friend, Grayson. Brushing up on my proverbs.”
I bend to collect the untouched food, and then, without a backward glance, I stride to the cell door, locking it after I pass through. Trying to reel in my racing thoughts, I snag a clear evidence bag from the supply cupboard and slide the hoodie inside. Milo comes to stand by me, watching as I scribble details on the bag. He waits until I’ve tucked it away in the bottom desk drawer before leaning close.
“I thought you said no one was to enter the cell,” Milo admonishes quietly.
“Things have changed.”
“Yes, Cooper had a thing or two to say on the matter.”
“I bet he did.” I hand Milo the keys to the cell door. “Mr. Grayson has a bad wound on his right side. It looks infected, but for whatever reason, he’s refusing medical attention. I’m not sure he understands how much worse it could get if left untreated.”
Milo’s fingers rub over the keys. “Are you sure it’s safe? After what he did to those bodies…”
“He won’t hurt you.”
I’m not sure why I’m so completely convinced of Grayson’s innocence—especially despite a confession to the contrary—but I would bet my life on it. I glance back at the cell. I had just bet my life on it, and now I’m betting Milo’s as well. But I know evil; Grayson isn’t it.
It’s clear everyone thinks I’ve gone mad, but there’s a crucial piece of the puzzle missing, one that holds the key to unlocking the answers that will sort this whole mess out and prove that I’m right. I just have to find it. The problem is, I have no idea where to start looking.
Milo places a hand on my forearm, startling me from my musings. “Are you feeling alright? You seem a little…”
“Off?” I finish with a tight smile. “Yeah, I think the concussion may have knocked me around more than I thought. Or I might be coming down with something.” My neck flushes warmly, recalling my earlier reaction to Grayson. “I don’t feel like myself today.” Milo’s hand slides down to my wrist, and warm fingers come to rest at my pulse point. I shake them off with a frown. “That admission was offered to my friend, not my doctor, Milo,” I say pointedly. “I’m fine. I just had a bad night. I’m sure after a good night’s sleep I’ll be right as rain—as a monsoon, even.”
Milo gives me the look that I hate—the one that says he can see through my bullshit and is judging me accordingly—so I do what I always do: ignore the look and change the subject.
“Got any advice?” I nod toward the door.
The long-suffering sigh is the only reprimand I receive.
“Be gentle but professional. Answer any questions they have, but maybe don’t mention…” Milo gestures to his jaw. “Oh, and make them sit before you give them the news. You don’t want them to hit the deck and need me to patch them up.”
“Got it.” I grab my jacket and shrug myself into it, zipping it up and pulling the hood over my head. “Maybe it should be you…”
I shove my hands deep into my pockets, a pit forming in my stomach. I’ve never delivered a death notification before. I’m not looking forward to my first being a two-for-one deal.
Floppy hair bounces as Milo shakes his head. “They’re going to have questions about the why and who more than the how , and since you let Cooper tap out, you’re the next in line. You’ll be fine. There are Benzos in your first aid kit if anyone gets hysterical and needs sedating.”
“Good to know.”
And it is good information to have. I wouldn’t mind downing a few sedatives myself and sleeping for a week. Sadly, my wants and needs never seem to align. I grab my keys and trudge to the door where I pause. I throw one last glance over my shoulder at Grayson, but he’s curled in his favorite faux-sleeping position.
With a wave to Milo, I slip through the door and out into the gusty, bright white morning. The snow crunches under my boots and blows around me as I pull my puffy jacket tighter, only barely resisting the urge to run back into the warmth of the cabin. I hightail it to my truck instead.
Fighting with the door against the whipping wind drains what little energy I have, and I only narrowly claim victory. I celebrate by turning the heater on maximum as soon as the engine roars to life. I hold my hands to the vents, waiting for them to defrost, wishing I had remembered my gloves. But the cold doesn’t hold my focus for long. All too soon, my mind is wandering back down the now-familiar path to the man in the cell.
Cooper’s jibes earlier had hit closer to home than I would admit out loud. On the surface, it’s easy to brush off my preoccupation with Grayson as professional. Especially since I haven’t been personally invested in anyone for a long time. For too long, maybe. Perhaps that’s the reason for my odd reaction: I haven’t been close to anything that hot since I accidentally set my kitchen on fire. The small voice in the back of my mind calls bullshit like it always does when I try to lie to myself. Yeah, the man is gorgeous—he would look more at home on the cover of a magazine than our jail cell bunk—but there’s something else, too. Something deeper.
I look around the cab, trying to imagine Grayson pushing my unconscious body over the seats and slamming the door closed, making sure I was safe before he crawled under the truck.
Could the feelings stirring inside me be faded familiarity, locked inside hidden memories, trying to break free? Did I see him on the lake? Did we talk? Why did he go to the trouble of saving me? Why didn’t he climb into the truck, too? Why crawl under it? It’s an odd choice, one that could have cost him his life if he hadn’t been found in time… or found at all. And maybe that would explain the burns on Grayson’s skin. Was it frostbite? How long was he out there before Cooper found us?
If I could only remember, I could repay my debt. Once Grayson’s free, the odd stirrings will probably disappear right along with him. I ignore the heavy sensation that thought brings, and set my jaw. I am not getting attached. He is not a stray kitten that needs rescuing and rehoming—well, not re-homing, at least. My life was perfectly fine before Mr. Grayson had been dragged half-dead into it, and it will be just fine when he leaves. Better than fine, I decide, putting the truck into gear and pulling away from the station. It will go back to quiet and uneventful, with no mysteries to solve, and all my ghosts once again laid to rest: their skeletons buried deep, hidden away where they belong. But I can’t do that without first finding the truth, and the truth is the one thing Grayson seems intent on keeping to himself.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel as I pick at the problem in my mind. Maybe I’ve been going about this all wrong. What if the answers don’t lie with Grayson? What if they’re wrapped up with the bodies in the clinic? If I know who they are, I can piece together why they were on the lake, and how they’re connected to Grayson. Maybe the task I’ve been given—to go and deliver answers—is a blessing in disguise. If I play my cards right, I might be able to come away with a few answers of my own. It’s a metric fuckton of ifs and maybes , but given my plan so far has consisted of nothing but a wing and a prayer, the new approach feels oddly solid.
The truck speeds forward with the heavy urging of my foot, suddenly eager, not apprehensive, to reach my destination.