Page 4 of Bloodbane
CHAPTER FOUR
Fate's Wit and Wrath
{ G R A Y S O N }
Ruby waits until the roar of the truck engine fades before approaching the cell. Her movements are slow, halting, as if her instinct has identified me as a threat, but the rest of her hasn’t quite caught on. She stops ten feet from the bars, her fingernails scratching at the faded denim stretched across her thighs.
“That’s an awful lot of blood on you. If even some of it is yours, it would probably be a good idea to let us patch you up.”
The searching gaze blazes over me as hot and unrelenting as the sunlight that had scorched me earlier. I keep my hood up and head down, hoping it’s enough to discourage further discourse. But my current predicament should be clue enough that Odin is not granting any wishes today, least of all mine.
“You don’t have to suffer through the pain. Milo, ah—Doctor Murphy has all the good stuff to help… morphine and, uh, you know, all the other ‘phines I’m sure. He’s a good man. He’ll help you if you’re hurt.”
Ruby takes a step closer.
I know better than to rise to the bait. Or, I should .
Against my better judgment, I raise my face, locking eyes with my would-be captor.
Ruby recoils, stumbling backward two steps before she forcibly stills her retreat.
“Oh, Jesus.”
Not quite.
Dark humor sparks inside me, momentarily rising above the physical torment, the corner of my lips twitching minutely. They stay sealed, though, waiting for the human to turn tail and flee.
But to Ruby’s credit—and my surprise—she recovers quickly.
“That looks like it hurts. A lot .”
After seeing the marred skin of my hands, I can only imagine the condition of my face, but Ruby’s voice is gentle and kind, and her eyes don’t dip away in horror as I expect. The fleeting urge to tuck my face back down, to hide from the pitying look is gone in an instant, but the uncharacteristic cowardice assaults my very core. My kin would be shamed… if any still drew breath. The thought deepens the crease between my brows.
At my continuing silence, Ruby takes two steps forward, reclaiming her earlier position. She squares her shoulders, her gaze still locked on mine.
“If you want to refuse medical treatment, that is your right. I’ll respect it even if I don’t understand your— oh .” Ruby’s lips tug to the side. “Can you understand me? Do you speak English?”
Railing my teeth together does nothing to stop the grunt of pain from escaping as a tremor wracks my body. That damn pity is back in Ruby’s eyes, and I curse the shifter venom coursing through my veins. Lycan bites: the gift that keeps on giving.
“Yeah, I have to call Milo. I don’t think you can refuse treatment if you don’t understand treatment is being offered, right? And we can’t let you die because of a language barrier.” Ruby advances again, shoving a hand through her already messy, dark hair as her thoughts continue to run unchecked through her lips. “I could try and find a translator… but then, I don’t know what we’re translating to—”
My heavy sigh is the residual stirrings of humanity intrinsically linked to annoyance rather than the biological need to expel air from my lungs. Of all the humans in the world, I had to save one with a damned moral compass.
“I do not require medical assistance,” I grind out. The declaration is undermined by another violent tremor rippling through me. I tighten my hold around my legs, anchoring my hands with my nails. It’s inelegant but effective.
Ruby looks dumbstruck for exactly five seconds before she finds her composure. After snapping her mouth closed, she advances another two steps.
“There’s no shame in asking for help. In fact…” her swift inhale is heavy with anticipation, as if trapping the air in her lungs will fuel whatever resolve she’s building. “I’m going to level with you. I actually need your help. There are some blanks that need to be filled in, and you can’t do that if you’re dead. So if you don’t want to ask for help for yourself, would you maybe let the doctor check you over for me ?”
Some blanks. Of course.
There’s no way in Helheim that this woman could have experienced what she had this morning—to have the veil lifted from her candy-coated little world—and be walking around like nothing has changed. I thought she’d been guarding her cards close to her chest until Jones left, unwilling to show her hand. I was wrong. To Ruby, nothing has changed. She mustn’t remember anything.
“I appreciate your candor and concern,” I murmur dryly, “but I’ll be fine.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Ruby mutters. “I know you can’t see all of this—” she gestures vaguely at my face with her palm out, fingers splayed, “—but it does not look great. You should probably get some kind of cream for those burns, maybe a shot of penicillin. Definitely some fluids.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Her eyes—one the color of dark honey, the other sea-glass green—narrow as full, chapped lips turn down. She gives a curt nod. “Fine. No doctor visit.” After a pause, she takes another step closer. “How about a trip down memory lane instead? Care to give a statement? You know, just in case you’re wrong and don’t make it through the night.”
My lips lift briefly despite my best efforts to remain impassive. The human is tenacious, I have to give her that. Ruby’s frustration at her memory loss is obvious, but no peace will be found in the answers she seeks. By some small mercy, the Fates have spared her: the shiny veneer of her world remains intact. Any truth I share would do nothing but distress her, and possibly place her in danger’s path once more. The thought twists my gut. Ruby’s fate should be of no consequence, so why does the idea of this human coming to harm vex me?
Ruby gnaws on her lower lip in the stretching silence. When she finally speaks, the crack in her composure is audible.
“I shouldn’t tell you this, and God, why am I telling you this? I just… I’m completely out of my element here. We’ve never had to deal with a murder before, let alone two in one day.” Another step closer. “And the pool of suspects is ridiculously shallow, pretty much down to a you-shaped puddle. Of course, if you want to tell your side of the story, I’m happy to hear it. It might clear things up and save Coop from calling in the cavalry to come and collect you.”
The threat of human justice holds no sway over me. I’ll be gone before consequences can find purchase on my shoulders. The small cabin-cum-police station is simply the nearest port in a storm of sunlight, one easy enough to leave once my strength returns.
If it returns.
Without a response, Ruby rushes to fill the dead air, closing in another few paces as she does. “Look, if there was maybe some kind of, um, corrosive liquid involved,” she says gently, gesturing toward my face again as she takes another step closer to the cell, “and it’s a case of self-defense, that would change things.”
Curiosity finally loosens my tongue. “You would believe whatever tale I sold you? Take my word and release me?”
“I would find it easier to believe than the alternative.”
“Which is?”
“That you killed two people—mutilated them—unprovoked. That you’re a cold-blooded killer.”
Cold-blooded. Killer. Right on both counts. I stare up at Ruby, now only a step back from the bars.
“Because someone like that wouldn’t leave a witness,” Ruby continues. Her hoarse whispers pour over her lips more quickly now. “You couldn’t have known I wouldn’t remember anything. Taking a chance like that doesn’t make any sense if you killed those men—whether for revenge or sick, twisted pleasure.” She takes the last step forward. “If you killed them, why not me, too?” Ruby rubs at her chest with one hand and wraps the other around a steel bar.
The frantic thrum of her racing pulse echoes in my head, and I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to block it out. The desperate ache of my fangs and the ferocious thirst scorching my withered throat eclipse all other agony ravaging my body.
“What happened out there? I need to know. Tell me. Please .”
Spurred on by pure instinct, I lunge toward the bars. The filth in my blood slows my movements enough to give Ruby time to react: startling and recoiling backward, though her hand remains clutching the bar between us. I curl my hand over hers, trapping it against cold steel.
The world shrinks to the scent of salty beads clinging to Ruby’s brow, the metallic perfume of blood freed from broken flesh, and the vibration of fear feeding into me through warm skin.
Ruby gasps as my grip tightens, but she doesn’t pull away. She stands frozen, staring at me with wide eyes.
Pure need flares inside me. My instincts scream to jerk the waif forward and crush her against the metal bars. To sink my fangs into her tender flesh. I can almost taste the velvety liquid cascading over my tongue as it rushes down my throat. My lips part as I run my tongue behind the sharp line of my teeth.
I want to taste her. I want to drink her dry.
The vision of Ruby’s lifeless body slumping to the ground flashes before me: the pink in her cheeks turned pale, those mismatched eyes, blank and unseeing, the staccato of her heart, silent. It’s enough for the threads of my restraint to finally catch, though they’re stretched dangerously thin. Wrenching my hand from the smaller one under mine, I snap my jaw closed and press my lips into a tight seam as I stagger backward.
“Okay, so, I, um—” Ruby clears her throat roughly, oblivious to how close she’s just come to bleeding out into my mouth.
She releases the bar, twisting her hands together as she takes a couple of shaky steps away. The lines etched into her face are easy to decipher: trying and failing to process what just happened. But the human mind possesses a very impressive self-preservation mode, and instead of pressing for answers, she seeks solace in returning to the safety of her earlier line of questioning.
“I can help you if you let me. Was this self-defense?”
I remain silent, aware I’ve tempted the Norns more than enough for one day.
Outside, the sun is finally retreating to the horizon, filling the room with a gentle, golden glow. The harsh stripes of light from earlier have faded. Soon, moonlight will filter through the same window, bringing peace in place of pain.
The springs of the cot creak under my weight as I lower myself back onto the thin mattress. I turn away from Ruby, signaling the end of my cooperation.
But either Ruby doesn’t understand or else refuses to accept my withdrawal. “Were there only three of you? Do you know the other men? What happened to your face? Do the wolves have anything to do with this?” Desperation bleeds into frustration with each unanswered plea.
Her hope turns leaden in the stretching silence.
I trace Ruby’s movements without sight once more as she finally gives up and returns to the desk. She slumps down into the office chair.
“You know what? At this point, I’d settle for a name.”
A groan chases a dull thump: her head meeting the desk.
My gut roars at me to control my tongue. Ignoring my better judgment has not fared well for me thus far.
I should have learned my lesson years ago: humans are as dangerous as the sun, though they burn from the inside out. But whatever lure Ruby possesses—the one that had me battling shifters in sunlight—still has hold of me now, strong enough to compel conversation. I lean my head back against the bars and give myself over to folly.
“After you.”
The chair topples to the floor with a crash. Hurried footsteps approach the cell once more without so much as pausing to reset the chair.
“Ruby Evans. And you are?”
“Grayson.”
“ Grayson ,” Ruby repeats softly. “Are you sure you don’t feel like sharing anything else? Maybe why you’re covered in blood? Why you were out on the lake in the first place? Or why Cooper found you under my truck?”
My eyelids finally lift. I turn just enough to catch sight of Ruby in my peripheral vision. “You’re asking all the wrong questions, Evans. You don’t need to know how I ended up under your truck, only how you—”
“Head’s up!”
Cooper barrels into the cabin and lobs a flash of silver at Ruby. Caught off guard, she spins, noticing the keys too late, cursing as they bounce off her chest and clank to the floor.
“Aw, man. Zero out of ten.” Cooper shakes his head.
“Not everyone has your freakish hand-eye coordination,” Ruby huffs as she bends slowly to retrieve the keys. “Especially while on the losing end of a concussion.” She runs her thumb over the jagged edge of the truck key as she turns back to me. “Only how I, what ?”
So much desperation haunts the question that I almost break. Almost. But the deputy’s arrival is serendipitous. Ruby is tenacious and determined. Providing her with a clue would be tantamount to giving her the answers she seeks, and I don’t want to be the one to tell her that the things of her nightmares are real. Odds are she wouldn’t believe me even if I did. I’m not even sure I believe it. Lycans can’t shift without a full moon, and yet, that is exactly what I had watched happen this morning. How can I explain something I don’t understand myself?
Without a word, I slide my aching frame over the mattress, curling up on my side, deliberately facing the wall. I close my eyes and imitate the steady breathing of a human at rest.
The scene behind me is easily conjured without relying on sight. Burgers and fries shift in the paper bag being twisted absently in Jones’ hand as he hovers in the doorway. Ruby stares down at me through the bars, her annoyance evident in the sharp, rhythmic clicking of metal on metal as she fidgets with the keys.
“Rube? Are you okay? Rubes?” Cooper’s hurried footsteps bring him closer. “ Ruby! ”
“ What ?” Ruby snaps, then softens. “Sorry. I know, I’m going. There’s a hot bath and a bottle of vodka with my name on it.”
“You do know you’re not supposed to mix alcohol with painkillers or a head injury, right?”
“I’ve survived worse. Besides, something tells me the only way I’m getting any sleep tonight is with a little chemical assistance.” Ruby lowers her voice as matched footsteps retreat toward the desk. “No matter what happens inside that cell, you stay this side of those bars. If something goes south, you call Milo and me and wait. I mean it, Coop.”
There’s no answer from Jones, but Ruby must be satisfied because the rustle of fabric is followed by light footfalls moving to the door. I filter out the sounds of Jones moving about the station, focusing instead on Ruby’s progress, and how the truck pulling away makes something in my gut coil unpleasantly.
The torpid state the bites have triggered must be hazing my mind. Either that or I’m closer to eternal damnation than I thought. And wouldn’t an ending such as this be a fitting ode to Fate’s wit and wrath?
My claim to Valhalla had been torn asunder the night my blood was cursed. My place in the Hall of the Fallen had been stolen from me. Yet somewhere in my too-long life, I’ve come to take my damnation for granted. I had lived my mortal life preparing to die in battle, yet my true death may be dealt by my own hubris, here in the middle of nowhere.
Mine will be a meaningless demise that won’t be rewarded with golden halls—no, monsters never journey through gilded gates to be reunited with fallen kin. My human life had been forfeited to ice and torment, and so it shall continue in true death, echoing through eternity in Nástrond.
But not yet. Not before I claim my vengeance and the pound of flesh I’ve been hunting. That is the only reward I seek. Then, I’ll finally greet the sunrise with open arms.
This fascination... connection… whatever it is that Ruby stirs in me is a dangerous distraction. I can’t be turned from my path. I won’t. Not when I’m so close.
Ruby Evans does not matter.
Ruby Evans does not matter.
The mantra feels as hollow as my soul. All I can do is pray to the gods that by morning, I’ll have convinced myself that it’s true.