Blake, Her Bad Bear: A Paranormal Bad Boy Romance (15 page)

“No,” Melissa said, moving forward staunchly, the heels of her boots clicking on the wooden floor, and moved her face within inches of Gavin’s. Her deep brown eyes scanned him and sized him up, a fiery stare that was worthy of the previous Alpha’s mate. At the back of the entrance, still struggling against his captors, Blake saw her nod at the novitiate. “He was one of Damian’s. Isn’t that right?”

“I am Ursa, my lady,” Gavin replied curtly, his face grim and set. The young man that Connor had so easily ambushed was dead, replaced by this stalwart youth.

“You’ve proven yourself,” Melissa said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Gavin did his best not to flinch away from it, even though it reminded him very much of a viper, something delicate and innocuous until it had sunk its fangs and spilled its venom inside of you. “There are going to be many changes in the Ursas soon… We need strong warriors like you.”

“I’m honored,” Gavin replied.

Melissa gave another nod and returned to the table where Connor had seated himself again and braced his head on top of his interwoven fingers. He leveled a gaze at the novitiate and said nothing, but the coldness in his eyes was unmatched except for the steel of his own bike and the waters of Beaver Creek itself.

The last thing Blake saw, before something heavy hit him in the back of the head and he felt a surge of nausea and a blanketing darkness, was Gavin exiting the town hall and walking down the steps toward him. He had slung the shotgun over his shoulder and his face was unreadable, a mask. In that moment, Blake wondered whether anyone—he or Melissa—could truly know for certain Gavin’s intentions.

You might have been right, Lily
, he thought, letting unconsciousness overtake him,
this may have been a stupid plan after all.

*

“Anything I can help you with?” Jimmy’s voice squeaked.

Lily looked in his direction. She had overturned the box of evidence that Gavin had acquired on top of a work bench and was going through it piece by piece, but having the overanxious and queer-looking mechanic constantly at her elbow had started to try her patience. He couldn’t have been any older than her, but he looked as if he’d aged prematurely. His white fine hair flared out at the sides, and he constantly took off his cap—revealing an advanced stage of male pattern baldness—and put it back on again.

His little house was more or less attached to the garage which was his livelihood, and it was a clutter of tools and spare parts. Oil stains were on everything, and the smell of grease was overpowering, and reminded Lily of visiting her father’s old warehouse. It was strange, the things that could evoke nostalgia, but she had other things to worry about. She tried to focus on the evidence in her lap, but every time she looked up through the dusty window, she kept thinking about Blake.

She still couldn’t believe how much had happened. The sound of the gun going off still echoed in her ears even though it had been hours ago. When he’d buried the SIG into his side and pulled the trigger, she had felt her whole world shake, as if all along it had merely balanced on some hidden blade. And it would take something as simple as a life ending for it to all come crashing down and shatter into irretrievable pieces.

Lily touched her stomach again, imagining the thing growing inside of her.

“It’s fine,” Lily said, when she saw that Jimmy hadn’t taken a hint. He was biting his fingernails and looked like he was inches from a panic attack. “Still looking. Can you do me a favor, maybe? I could really go for some tea or something. Or coffee, if you have it. Pretty please?”

Jimmy nearly jumped back. “Oh, man, of course! I’m sorry, I should have asked if you wanted something to drink ages ago! I’ll-I’ll get some water boiled. Uh, tea? I got tea, I’ll get tea,” he said, more enthusiastically than was necessary.
He’s probably just as worried about Blake as I am
, Lily realized, and felt renewed compassion for the awkward mechanic.

Giving him something to do was a good idea. He struck her as being similar to herself, in that they both needed diversions to center their minds. She dug back into the evidence. There was very little—most of it was coroner’s reports. What interested her were the photos though. It was hard to look at the glossy prints of the dead and blue-tinted body, and she tried to keep Blake’s face from invading the one that was quietly pensive in the pictures.

There was something odd about the hands. The bruises were extensive. She could understand why someone would make the deduction that he’d been trying to grip at the stones of a creek to try and get out. But if Gavin and Blake’s theory was right, that he’d been killed before entering the water, then what could possibly cause the odd bruise patterns.

She held them up to the light again and squinted. Something was familiar about the shape, though. Out of curiosity, she turned the picture upside down. She shook her head. That couldn’t be right? It was extremely vague—and up close it didn’t look like anything—but when she held the photo out in front of her at a distance the bruises almost made the shape of a face. Granted, it was a stretch, and the face was gaunt and a bit demonic, but the more she looked at it, the more it was harder to ignore. She pursed her lips, just as Jimmy came in again with a cup of tea and nervously put it down beside her.

“All I had was lemon tea, hope-hope that’s okay,” Jimmy said. “What do you think?”

“I think I may have something.” She smiled and sipped at the tea. It was hot and burnt her tongue, but she welcomed the pain. It woke her up and clarified her assumption. But she wouldn’t know for sure until she was able to talk with Gavin or Blake again.
Whenever that may be.
“You okay?” she asked, suddenly.

Jimmy blushed. “I-I’m always okay,” he said. “I’m used to it.”

“You’re human, aren’t you?” she asked.

He nodded sheepishly. “Born and raised,” he said. “But, sometimes I wish I’d been born—well, y’know, like them, like the others.”

“Why’s that?” she asked, leaning on the bench. The steam from her cup brushed across her face, veiling her eyes.

“Because then, maybe I’d be smart… maybe I’d be strong,” he lamented. His own hands cupped his tea and he looked despondent and distant. She felt her pity rise again for this strange creature that Blake had also suffered empathy for. “But that’s just silly to dream.”

“I think, from what Blake has told me about you, you’re pretty special,” she said. “He said you’re a genius when it comes to bikes and anything mechanical.”

“Ah, that’s just crazy!” he said, grinning boyishly. “I just have this thing wrong with my head that somehow I just see things —they just appear in my head and I can’t control it. I touch a machine and I just know how it works, y’know?”

Lily shook her head. “Nope.” She grinned. “That’s why you’re special, Jimmy—you’re unique. I’ve met very few unique people in my life, but you definitely qualify. You can always tell someone is unique, in the same way that you can just see how a machine works. Something in your gut, or your heart, right?”

That analogy seemed to get through to Jimmy and he nodded very quickly. “What about Blake? Is he also one of the special ones?”

His question cut to the bone and she bit her lip and touched her glasses again, pushing them up the bridge of her small nose. “Yes,” she replied before she had really thought about the answer. “I suppose, I suppose he is. Don’t you think so?”

Jimmy nodded, and sensed some sadness from her and closed his mouth. Their silence was interrupted by the sound of another motorbike trolling past, and both of them turned warily toward the window. Jimmy visibly relaxed when Gavin’s bike rolled into view, and the shifter got off his bike and stroked the smooth fabric of his bandana. His face was set like a trap, ready and willing to spring on the first thing that came within range, and Lily guessed the worst. Her stomach squirmed.

“There you are,” Gavin said, walking into the garage and pulling his bandana off. His blond Slavic sheaf of hair caught the light between the trees outside and shimmered like a golden brush of bristles. He had a handsome face, but it was young and hawkish still, and there was a note of indecision. “That went just about as well as we’d hoped,” he said and brushed past both Lily and Jimmy, heading for the refrigerator in the back. Without asking, he opened it and pulled a beer from inside, used the button on his jacket to pry the cap off, and drank nearly half of it in a single go. “He confronted everyone, but I don’t know what good it did. Melissa had him sent away, and god knows what they’ll do to him. As for Connor, he has the Ursas, the Blue Devils, and Eaters of the Dead on his side.”

“So it really is as bad as we feared,” Lily said, and then remembered the picture and grabbed it. “I had a question about this—there’s something that I didn’t quite understand.” He took the picture of the bruised hands. “Hold it out in front of you, what do you see?”

Gavin raised an eyebrow but did as he told. His round eyes strained as he held it out. “I don’t know, what am I supposed to be looking at?” He shrugged. “Looks maybe like a face. Like a screaming face. Creepy as fuck. So what?”

“The bruises on his hands.” She rubbed her lower lip. “I don’t know. I thought it might be significant. Blake would probably know more.”

“Well, he’s got himself captured.”

“Then we simply have to
un-
capture him, right?” She put her hands on her hips. She was not impressed with the helpless attitude Gavin had started to exhibit, and the fact he had half a beer in him wasn’t making matters any better. Of all three of them, Jimmy was on the verge of going crazy and Gavin was another beer away from breaking down—that made Lily the one to anchor them all to a single purpose, but she was overwhelmed by enough as it was. She hit her hand hard on the table, and the slap of it ran all the way up to her elbow, but she gritted her teeth and faced both of them. “C’mon, Gavin! Think! They took him—well, maybe Blake planned that all along, but at the moment he’s the only backup we’ve got. So what do we do?”

Gavin was momentarily startled from his stupor by her vexed look and lowered the beer bottle with a look of shame. Even Jimmy looked paralyzed. “Well, I’m sure there are those among the Ursas who are still loyal to us, but I wouldn’t know who to lay my money on at this point—I’m beginning to see Blake’s reasoning now. It may have had only one possible ending, but confronting the entire council and the other leaders in front of the town hall, and in front of Melissa and Connor, did serve
one
purpose. If there was doubt about Blake’s guilt among some of our tribe, this only helped to reinforce that guilt. I think, for a second, he even got through to Melissa, but it wasn’t enough.”

“So who can we count on?”

Gavin looked around, first at Jimmy and then back at her. “Someone I know maybe, but it’s still dicey.” He rubbed his chin. “You’re right, our first task should be trying to free Blake. After that, then we can try and bring some of this evidence against Connor—but we still have a flimsy chance at best.”

Lily looked at the photo again. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something told her the entire case rested on the pattern of the bruises. She shook her head, her black hair bobbing and swaying against her cheeks. “Okay, okay. You know where he’s been taken?” Gavin nodded. “Then contact your friend, we’re going to need his help.”

“
Her
,” Gavin corrected.

Lily gave him a look and nodded. “Then, we’re going to need a diversion.” She looked toward Jimmy who flinched again like someone had lit a match under his nose without him knowing about it, and his eyes darted back and forth. “That’s where you come in, my friend. We’re going to need something loud—and something bright. Think you can cook up something?”

Jimmy pouted his lower lip and adjusted his cap again, his brow damp with sweat. “For Blake, I’ll do anything,” he said assuredly, and without waiting for another command bustled back into the garage and began to root through the clutter of broken machines and bike parts while Gavin looked on in bemusement.
He may be a bit loose
, Lily thought
, but everyone else has underestimated him—that’ll be their undoing.

“You really believe in him, huh?” Gavin said, without looking at her. He put the beer on the table and left it alone. “Even I questioned my friendship with him—almost unforgivable. What makes you so unwavering, Lily?” She crossed her arms and didn’t respond, and Gavin gave a shrug, like he had received and understood some unspoken cue, and turned back toward the garage door. “I’ll see if I can get us any more allies—I’ll be back. Be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. We may not get another chance, and that’s assuming they haven’t killed Blake already.”

He said all of this without looking back, and Lily bit her lip when he mentioned Blake. She had done her best to avoid thinking of his death, of the possibility of it. Part of her wanted to imagine him as immortal, enduring everything with that calm reserved temperament and coming out the other end. No matter what.
What caused me to believe so fully in such a delusion
? she wondered.

Angrily, she threw the photo back amongst the litter of other evidence.

I love him
. The thought was a ghost. Little more than a moth’s wings, fluttering against some corner of her mind she had refused to allow herself entry to, if only because opening that door meant leaving it open forever. She had to keep her guard up. But to what end?