Blake, Her Bad Bear: A Paranormal Bad Boy Romance (9 page)

There was a small turnaround that had once been a landing for an old logging operation and he parked his Harley next to it and stood at the tree line. With his eyes closed he took in a deep breath and tried to calm his mind. His leather jacket fell off his shoulders and he winced at the cool forest air as it bathed against his bare flesh. His muscles flexed, causing the ancient Nordic tattoos to ripple almost as if they were truly alive, animated by the human who wore them as a symbol of his pride and his heritage. The blue and black ink writhed as he crouched low, pulling his pants off and setting them beside the jacket.

He tried to weigh the risks. Yes, if any of the cops or the Ursas found him wandering around near the scene of Ogre’s death, that would be hard to justify. On the other hand, if he was in bear form it would be even more suspicious if he was caught—even though he knew that as far as stealth was concerned, it was his best option. His sense of smell and hearing as a bear was far superior to his own human senses.

With his eyes still closed, he took in a deep breath through his nostrils, allowing his bear senses to come alive again. The time he spent as a human was as much a hibernation for his inner-shifter self as the winter was a hibernation for his wild cousins. To wake from it was both disorienting and refreshing.

In his mind’s eye, he tried to focus on the single burning flame that always smoldered there. It was a constant reminder of who he truly was: a beast. He opened himself to it, giving into a primal urge that spread through his body, overwhelming him, and he fell to his knees and planted both hands deep into the gravel of the landing. The change was gradual and excruciating, as always.

Bones came apart and reknitted under his flesh with horrible popping sounds. A dense mat of black hair suddenly sprouted from his back and his arms, down his legs, even the top of his head, almost like a time-lapse of insistent undergrowth reaching for the sunlight. His face began to cave into itself, the structure reshaping in a terrible alteration as his jaw slid back and a heavy muzzle took its place. Teeth grew like daggers from his mouth, and he let out a snarl.

In moments, it was over. A full grown grizzly stood on all four legs and huffed, swinging the slow lope of his head back and forth as Blake readjusted to his bear shape. For a moment, there was only bear. The human part of his mind had been buried under the impatience of his animal self, and was only now slowly swimming back to the surface of consciousness. Blake scratched at the dirt and looked back at his bike, remembering who he was.

Yes
. The death of Ogre.

He turned back to the woods and ploughed into the forest. Even without knowing the direction in which he had come on the bike, his nose was able to pick up the telltale signs of blood. It was as if the forest was drenched in it, and he could sense the other animals, the wild ones, cowering in their dens. They could sense the death as well, and had all retreated. It made the gullies of interspersed creeks and long aisles of dark bowed conifers seem somehow emptier, dejected. Iy was as if everything was balanced on a moment, waiting for the final shoe to drop, anticipating something evil or foreboding. Blake tried not to let it get to him as he headed due west, following the acrid iron tang of blood. It became stronger the closer he got, and he instinctively slowed down.

Through a break in the trees, there was a glimmer of red and blue again, the distant sound of human voices. The ambulance Sarah had mentioned, no doubt; a man in a dark coat, presumably the coroner, was bent over a shape on the ground, but Blake couldn’t get a good look. The scent of bile and ichor told him all he needed to know. Ogre hadn’t just been killed. He’d been torn apart. Normal wild bears didn’t come out this far, as a rule, which meant the only other possibility was, indeed, a shifter. The reality of the fact hit him like a bullet between the eyes and he growled low in his throat and took several steps back, testing the air.

It was hard to make out exactly what was going on, but it looked like they were taking pictures and a crew of paramedics nearby had a gurney.
Rest in peace, brother,
Blake thought, offering a sort of primitive and atavistic prayer for his fallen comrade. Through the haze of blinking lights and the heavy stench of blood, it was difficult to discern anything else, but he took a step back into the woods and raised his nose anyway. Ogre, in his human form, was a potent scent, almost as overpowering as the reek of his own innards—but as Blake sat back on his haunches and let the subtle nuances of the forest alight against his keen nose, he began to pick up other traces.

There was squirrel, the tang of elk, a few deer—where they mule or white-tail?—and the remnant pungency of other humans, but that scent was old. But there, almost at the periphery of his awareness was something else, distinct, like a brass note clanging out of the distance, and his black beady eyes flashed open.
Shifter
. Unmistakable, though it was far too light a smell for him to be able to pinpoint as belonging to a specific member of the gang—or any other gang, for that member.

Moving further back into the wood, Blake stepped lighter, trying not to alarm anyone else to his presence. There was a thick patch of heavy turret ferns against the hillside and he made his way slowly toward it. Even despite his girth and great weight, he was able to be surreptitious—for anyone not looking directly at him, he seemed to balance his movements against the natural rustling of the trees and bushes.

There
, his human mind echoed.

The scent was stronger here, and he saw the scuff of upturned earth. Someone, something, moving fast across the forest floor, but they’d been clumsy in their retreat. Dipping his low snout to the ground he followed the evidence of a path until at last it wound back across the flat expanse and dipped down into a gulley. As Blake peered between two dead logs, he almost gave away his position with a startled huff.

There in the bottom of a creek was another bear.
No, not a bear,
he realized. His grace was bulky, limited by too much time in human form, and he hadn’t found his feet as a true bear yet. It was undeniably a shifter, though Blake couldn’t make out any distinguishing marks. Something told him, though, that it was a member of the Ursas. He cursed himself for not having spent more time trying to learn the names and faces of all the new novitiates. For the past year, he had been taking his position as Beta seriously alongside Damian.

Who are you?
he growled, and ducked low. The other shifter was a black bear with a pale muzzle and impossibly dark hair that covered him head to paw. It was so dark that when he entered or passed through the shadow cast by the canopy of trees above, Blake almost lost sight of him again. The shifter was very clearly trying to keep a low profile, and was only now taking notice of the obvious trail he had left behind. Blake followed at a distance as the shifter circled, using the creek to cover his tracks and his scent. It wasn’t until they both came back to the flat field that led to Ogre’s murder scene that Blake felt something like dread prick at his senses.

The shifter was several hundred feet ahead and oblivious, but was taking up a position in the cover of foliage where he could watch the police cruisers from a distance. The ambulance had packed up the body and was pulling away, but there was still a contingent of officers huddled at the side of the road. Seemingly satisfied, the shifter sat up again and started back the way he’d come—Blake held his breath until his brother had passed by before following him again. Part of him wanted to confront the shifter here and now. He was just a small black bear; if it came to a fight, Blake would have the upper hand, at least. But he had to wait until they were further away so as not to draw unwanted attention.

Biding his time, he stalked the shifter again for another hundred meters. His paws carefully chose soft places on the earthen floor, avoiding nests of branches that might give away his position. Blake was so concerned with switching his attention between stepping lightly and between tracking that he almost blundered into the other shifter and froze.

The shifter had stopped short as well, and his black ears were raised. It took another minute for Blake to notice what had alarmed the bear—the scent reached him before he saw her. A human, no doubt about it. But what was a human doing this deep in the woods? She wasn’t part of the police contingent, he could make that out at least. A hunter, a mushroom picker, perhaps?

It was amazing how noisy a human could be in the woods. Both shifters heard her long in advance of actually seeing her. Through a veil of ferns and between the trees, Blake could only make out occasional glimpses of her, and it was too far away to tell if he recognized her from such a distance. What he
did
notice was the reaction of the other shifter.

The black ears on the smaller bear had laid flat, a sign of aggression. Blake tried to focus the rational part of his human mind. If, as he suspected, the shifter was involved with the death of Ogre, and was lingering here in order to observe how the police handled it, then his reaction to this human presence in the woods was understandable, and unavoidable.
If he’s already killed another shifter, then getting rid of a human witness is just another step in the wrong direction
, Blake realized. Additionally, if his pervasive suspicion that someone was trying to set him up was true, then adding another innocent casualty to the list of offenses would only incriminate him further.

Another growl barely scraped his throat. The other shifter was huddled and taking tentative steps toward the human. She looked lost, although her back was to both of them. Something about her was familiar, but at the same time totally foreign. Whoever she was, she was definitely not a resident of Beaver Creek. Maybe, a tourist. Blake’s claws dug into the ground as he saw the other shifter creep toward her. His intent was clear, and Blake prepared to intervene. The last thing he needed was collateral damage.

It happened all at once. The black bear shifter leapt into the clearing, snarling and giving his position away to the woman who turned with a shriek, her eyes wide, but somehow managed to keep her feet. Blake, meanwhile, remained silent as he trampled down the hillside, sliding through the undergrowth like a grizzled shade.

The woman, young and muscular, somehow managed to dive to one side as the black bear reached for her. The momentum of his weight carried him across the slippery humus of the ground though, and there was a look of surprise in his face. Clearly, he had meant to kill her in a single go—Blake leapt forward, impressed by the clarity of awareness she had demonstrated in avoiding the shifter’s attack.

As he entered the clearing, the black bear shifter suddenly recoiled. All three of them were arranged in a triangular formation. It would take the same amount of time for the black bear to reach the woman, who had tripped onto her back and was holding her ankle, as it would for Blake to intercept him. Clearly, the shifter was caught in a debacle, and Blake saw a very human dilemma color the bear’s eyes. He hadn’t expected to meet another shifter, and certainly not a grizzly—but at the same time, the hungry gaze he leveled on the human told Blake that whatever his intentions were, whatever his orders were that had been given to him while in human form, they would eventually trump good sense.

He has no choice,
Blake realized, never letting his attention drift from his enemy. In his peripheral vision, the woman was breathing hard, trying to scramble back. He didn’t have to look at her to know that fear was etched into her features. Two giant bears were less than ten meters away from her on either side. He had no time to worry about that, though.

The other shifter snarled and roared, and stood up on two legs in intimidation. Blake remained level on all fours. He had no need for that sort of posturing. The black bear roared again, and his claws raked into the earth. It was only a fraction of a second, but his black eyes locked like round pebbles on the woman again, and Blake didn’t miss it or misinterpret.
Whatever happens, he can’t let her live,
he realized.
He’s willing to go as far as it takes.

Blake had no particular inclination to save anyone, but neither did he condone the useless and bloodthirsty slaughter of an innocent human. What stopped him as he took another step into the clearing, closing the distance between him and the other bear, was a more selfish prerogative. Whoever the shifter was, he was behind a conspiracy designed to entrap Blake, and Blake had every intention of getting to the bottom of it. Even if that meant tearing chunks off his enemy until they confessed. The grizzly snarled again, bubbles of saliva foaming at his jowls.

The black bear charged. The woman didn’t scream, but let out a startled gasp again as she saw the bulk of a black shape rushing toward her. She was still on her butt, and her ankle looked swollen even from where Blake was standing. He had been waiting for this, though—his own legs flexed hard as he ploughed forward, trying to intercept the other shifter.

The two of them hit one another hard, and it was like two walls colliding into one another. The air left Blake’s lungs as he gasped and tried to keep his momentum moving. Time slowed to almost a pause as both bears broke to one side, less than a foot from the startled human. It was hard to tell because of the speed and the massive dose of adrenaline flowing through his hot blood, but as Blake passed by, he glimpsed again the woman’s startled face and that same recognition ignited behind his eyes.
Why this familiarity?
he had time to wonder as he landed hard on his side.