In a Badger Way

by Shelly Laurenston

  Charlie had the feeling that Van Holtz thought because she was half wolf, she’d respond to him like the rest of the wolves in the world seemed to. But she didn’t. Because she was also half honey badger and because her wolf grandfather hated the Van Holtz Pack. “Rich pricks,” was how he described them.

  And Van Holtz was rich. His family had a chain of very expensive restaurants around the world and he had private offices in almost all the major cities in the States and Europe, complete with a full staff. All those offices weren’t for the restaurant business, though. Van Holtz was also in charge of an organization called The Group. They took care of shifter problems and, to The Group, those shifter problems included hybrids. During the time he’d been in charge, Van Holtz had somehow managed to also team up with Katzenhaus, which protected the cat nation and the Bear Protection Council (BPC). Those two organizations protected their own species worldwide and, until recently, didn’t really bother with hybrids unless they had to.

  But, according to a very smug Van Holtz, “That’s all changed. We protect everyone now, don’t we, ladies?”

  And, at the time, he’d put those wolf eyes on Mary-Ellen Kozlowski of Katzenhaus and Bayla Ben-Zeev of BPC, and what he got back was a less than enthusiastic, “Yeah. Sure.”

  Of course, the protection of the MacKilligan sisters wasn’t what really had Charlie dealing with any of these people from shifter worlds she knew very little about. It was the problem that was surrounding Charlie and her sisters. The same problem that had been making their lives nightmarish ever since they’d been born. Her father. Always her father. But this time he’d brought company with him. The Guerra twins out of Italy. Caterina and Celestina. Two very vindictive, angry wenches who were not only Freddy MacKilligan’s half-sisters—which had been unknown to Freddy and the rest of the family for most of the twins’ lives—but who had also just found out they were honey badger shifters.

  Angry, vengeful, spiteful honey badger shifters.

  Short of a war involving nuclear powers, there was no other worse combination in the universe.

  Add in that they were very wealthy women with no real boundaries, and everyone in this room knew that the Guerra twins had to be dealt with. Quickly.

  Since they’d last been seen at the wedding of Charlie’s cousin, however, the twins had gone deep into hiding and had been very quiet, which did not fool Charlie or her sisters at all.

  Those bitches weren’t gone; they were plotting.

  “There is something else we need to discuss with you,” Van Holtz said, his folded hands resting on his giant desk.

  Ahhh, here it comes.

  “About your Uncle Pete . . .”

  Charlie gazed at Van Holtz; then she looked over at Max.

  “Do we have an Uncle Pete?” Charlie asked her sister.

  “We have several Petes. A few Peters. Most are out of Glasgow.”

  “This is your Uncle Pete in New Jersey.”

  Charlie stared at Van Holtz again before asking her sister, “We have an Uncle Pete in New Jersey?”

  “Maybe. MacKilligans have a lot of Petes.”

  “He is your father’s uncle, actually,” Van Holtz clarified.

  “So he’s our Great-Uncle Pete,” Charlie said. “Yeah. We don’t know him.”

  “Well, sadly, he has died.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And we believe that he was murdered.”

  “Shot in the head somewhere in Brooklyn?” Charlie guessed. “Because we’ve lost a few MacKilligan men that way over the years.”

  “No. He died in his bed.”

  “A MacKilligan dies in his bed and you think he was murdered? MacKilligan men don’t usually end that way.”

  “What makes you think it was murder?” Max asked. “If he’s our great-uncle, isn’t he, like, a thousand years old?”

  “Not quite.”

  “MacKilligan men, when they’re not shot in the head,” Charlie explained, “they tend to live a very long time. Sadly,” she added, thinking of her father. The man who would not die.

  “There is evidence he was suffocated. Maybe with a pillow. . .”

  Charlie frowned. “Are you sure he’s a MacKilligan? Because that doesn’t sound right.”

  “My sister’s correct,” Max said. “Most MacKilligan siblings start trying to kill each other with pillows by the time they can crawl.”

  “It’s true,” Charlie insisted when she saw the look of growing horror on Van Holtz’s very handsome face. “My sisters and I didn’t do that, of course. But, then again, we weren’t babies together. So we missed the whole infanticide period of the honey badger childhood. Anyway, what all that means is most of our family has developed a tolerance for that sort of thing. I’m not saying a badger couldn’t be killed that way, but it would take ages to put one down with a pillow. And a lot of strength to keep them pinned to the bed.”

  “It’s really just faster to shoot them in the back of the head,” Max said. “We specify back of the head because shooting them in the front causes damage but doesn’t always kill. We have very hard heads. So, depending on the bullet, it may not actually rip through the skull and get to the brain.”

  “And we have quite a few cousins that, if a bullet did hit them in the brain, we’re still not sure it would actually do any damage because they are that stupid.” Charlie glanced at Max. “Right?”

  “Absolutely. I hit one of my cousins with a bat once . . . it did nothing. It was wood. It broke . . . on his head.”

  “And Max took a really strong swing—”

  “Okay!” Van Holtz barked, holding up his hand. “Please stop. I can’t listen to this anymore. What I’m telling you is that we are certain your great-uncle was murdered. That’s all you need to know.”

  “And we need to know that . . . why? Exactly.”

  “Because. There’s going to be a funeral. A large one. We’ve heard your relatives from Scotland will be coming.”

  Charlie leaned back in her chair and stated flatly, “We’re not killing our cousins for you.”

  Van Holtz’s eyes grew ridiculously wide. “That is not what we’re talking about!”

  “It’s not?” Max asked. “Because it makes sense. They’ll all be in one place and we can pretty much just mow them all down. Women and children first!”

  “No!” Van Holtz yelped before he looked away and took several deep breaths. “That is not what we’re asking.”

  “Ohhhh,” Charlie said. “So you just want us to go to the funeral so we can spy on our family. Right?”

  Van Holtz glanced over at his younger cousin Ulrich Van Holtz, who everyone called Ric.

  “I see.” Charlie brushed nonexistent lint off her jeans. “Because a honey badger family is not nearly as important as a pack or pride or a teddy bear picnic.”

  “I don’t think bears call themselves . . . that.”

  “Look,” Ric said, “we’re not trying to have you do anything you don’t want to do. And we are not interested in family business information. But we were hoping that you could provide us with information about—”

  “Our Uncle Will,” Charlie finished for the also good-looking younger Van Holtz. Did all their males look that good?

  “Your uncle is a very dangerous man,” Ric went on. “We’re not even sure how he’s being allowed in the States, but he is and we want to know why he’s coming here.”

  “I know why he’s coming here,” Charlie replied, glancing at her sister; Max smiled back because it was hitting her too. “If Will is coming here, he’s coming here for one reason. And that’s to make my dreams come true. He’s coming here to kill my father.” She clapped her hands together. “Isn’t that awesome?”

  Van Holtz stared at them for several seconds before he admitted, “Sometimes I have no idea how to respond to you.”

  * * *

  Shen continued to stare at the closed cabinet door until he realized someone was standing beside him.

  “Did I hear roaring?” the kid next
to him asked.

  Shen looked over at the teen he was paid very well to protect. It was why Shen was living in this house with three women he wasn’t related to or dating. Because even his family needed space from the seventeen-year-old. But Stevie liked the kid and, to Shen’s continual surprise, Kyle Jean-Louis Parker liked Stevie. Shen hadn’t thought the kid, a child prodigy, liked anyone.

  “Yeah,” Shen replied, “you heard roaring.”

  The kid then asked, “Stevie?”

  “Stevie.”

  “Huh. What did you do?”

  “Nothing. I even cleared out the bears that were sitting in the kitchen eating sticky buns.”

  “Oh. There were other bears here?” He nodded. “Yeah, that’s gonna freak her out. She is only comfortable around you giant pandas and the Dunn triplets.”

  “That’s why I got rid of them. But she still wouldn’t get out of the cabinet. And when I went to check on her again, I saw fangs that really shouldn’t belong to . . . anyone on this planet.”

  “Fangs?” Kyle frowned. “She flashed her fangs at you?”

  “She didn’t flash anything. She tried to take my face off.”

  “That’s not good. That’s really not good.”

  “I get that, but I’m not exactly sure what we’re supposed to do if she won’t come out.” He shrugged. “I guess we can wait until her sisters get back.”

  “I don’t think we should do that.”

  “Why not?”

  Kyle took hold of Shen’s arm and pulled him into the living room. “We have a slight issue.”

  “Kyle, when you say, ‘We have a slight issue,’ I know that you mean we have a big fucking problem. What big fucking problem do we have, Kyle?”

  “Um . . . well . . . Stevie has mentioned to me that she’s concerned her meds have not been working lately, which happens sometimes with certain medications. And especially when you’re dealing with a honey badger metabolism.”

  “Wait . . . what? What are you talking about?”

  “Stevie has a panic disorder. Her meds help her control it. Usually. But she’s a shifter and a hybrid who’s part honey badger. . . so fixing that issue is not as easy as finding an overpriced Manhattan psychiatrist and getting a new prescription. She’s been in contact with her doctor but he’s in Germany and the meds are on their way, but there’s no guarantee they’ll work and—”

  “You know,” Shen finally cut in, “this sounds like not my problem. Or my business. So I think I’m just going to go—”

  “No, no. We have to do something.”

  “I really like you better, Kyle, when you don’t care about anyone.”

  “I care about those who are important. And I deemed Stevie important many years ago. What she can do with her brain will make a difference in this world . . . unlike yours.”

  “Yes, insulting me will definitely make me more eager to help.”

  “I’ll say it again . . . we have to do something. Now.”

  “Why?”

  Kyle again grabbed Shen’s arm, this time more urgently, and dragged him back into the kitchen. Then he reached up and opened the cabinet door. Shen was ready to jump back in case Stevie tried to bite his face off again. But she didn’t. Instead, all he saw was her cute naked ass bumping and grinding because the other half of her was trying to crawl through a hole she’d dug inside the top of the cabinet. He could hear her claws tearing into the wood, brick, and whatever else she was coming in contact with during her desperate escape out of the now-safe kitchen. He was sure that if she’d hit titanium, she’d tear that out too. She wouldn’t let anything get in her way.

  “You see?” the kid pointed out. “She’s burrowing.” He closed the cabinet door. “If we don’t deal with this now, she’ll destroy the entire house within the hour.”

  “Where are her sisters?”

  “They went out with Berg. So it’s just you and me.”

  “And what do you suggest we do?”

  The kid was silent for a moment before he asked Shen, “My sister’s paying for long-term disability insurance for you, right?”

  * * *

  There are bears. There are bears. There are bears. Run away! Run away! Run away!

  She heard her rational voice attempt to reason with her irrational brain. You’re fine. The bears are gone. You’re safe. Just calm down!

  But she couldn’t calm down. She couldn’t listen to her rational voice. She couldn’t stop herself from tearing into a home that did not belong to her.

  All she knew was that she was in great danger and she had to get away. By any means necessary! Oh. Wait. That was from Malcolm X. Was that appropriation? That felt like appropriation. Good God, what was happening to her?

  You are spiraling, her rational voice warned her.

  And she knew her rational side was right. She was spiraling. But she couldn’t help it. Her system was in overload, her meds had stopped working, and if she didn’t get away, she would shift right inside the house, destroying it and possibly half the neighborhood in the process.

  So she kept digging. Nothing would stop her from digging!

  * * *

  “This is not my problem,” Shen argued. “This is a MacKilligan problem.”

  “Stevie is one of my best—”

  “Only.”

  The kid glared at him. “I have friends.”

  Shen squinted at him. “Do you?”

  “She is one of my best friends and I will do what is necessary to care for her.”

  “Then call her sisters and let them deal with it.”

  “I told you they’re out with Berg in the city. It’ll take them time to get back here. The house will be gone and Stevie will be underground by then. Burrowing her way through the neighborhood and destroying a lot of house foundations in the process. I’m assuming the bear neighbors won’t take that well.”

  No. They wouldn’t. But still . . . “I will not accept responsibility for her. I barely want to do that for you.”

  Lips pursed, the kid pulled open the cabinet door again, and now Shen could only see Stevie’s bare feet. They hung out the hole she’d dug, twisting and twirling as she continued to work her way through the inside of the building to get out.

  “Dammit,” Shen muttered. The kid was right. At this rate, she’d dig a tunnel that went straight from the kitchen to the roof.

  Sighing, Shen reached up and grabbed Stevie’s feet.

  “You should be doing this,” he growled at the kid when Stevie screamed and started to kick at him to get away.

  “I’m an artist. I can’t risk my hands. You know that.”

  Smirking little prick. Honestly, the things Shen did for money.

  Going up on his toes and taking a good grip on her ankles, Shen pulled down and out, yanking Stevie from the safety of her burrow and slamming her to the floor.

  He cringed. He hadn’t meant to pull so hard, but that slam to the floor didn’t stop her either. Nope. Stevie just kept screaming, swinging giant claws, and kicking out her feet while letting everyone know, “You’ll never take me alive! You won’t eat me alive!”

  Deciding that no female was pretty enough to deal with this level of bullshit, Shen flipped her over, grabbed her around the waist, and lifted her off the floor. He tucked her under his arm like a big sack of rice, making sure her arms and legs were pointing away from him, and started toward the front of the house.

  “Get her something to wear,” he barked at the kid.

  “Where are we taking her?” Kyle asked, grabbing what looked like a bright yellow dress off a chair in the dining room.

  “I have no idea,” Shen admitted. “But we can’t keep her here.”

  “You’re right.” Kyle raced toward the front of the house so he could open the door for him. “But I think I know exactly who can help us. She’s in town right now. So it’s perfect.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  Kyle glanced at the still fighting Stevie. “Just trust me.”

 
; “I don’t trust you.”

  “We’re taking her to someone who can help. I promise.”

  Shen hoped so. Because Stevie had abruptly gone from screaming and swinging to completely rigid and hissing. It reminded him of a stray cat his parents kept finding behind their house. It kept pissing back there and the smell reached into his mother’s kitchen. Every time their father tried to remove the cat, it acted just like this.

  They reached the SUV parked in front of the house and Shen jerked his head toward his back. “Get the keys. Open the doors.”

  Kyle pulled the keys from the back pocket of Shen’s jeans. He remotely unlocked the vehicle and reached around Shen to open the back door.

  “Once we’re on the road,” Shen continued as he moved forward to place Stevie inside the vehicle, “we’ll call her sisters. Tell them to meet us at your family’s . . . family’s . . .”

  Shen stopped to assess the situation.

  Stevie had spread her legs and arms wide so that she could clamp her feet and hands against the SUV’s metal carriage, stopping Shen from pushing her inside.

  Honestly, he had not expected that. Why would he expect that? Why would he expect a grown woman with tiger and honey badger DNA in her system to act like a common house cat?

  Taking a breath, Shen again tried to push her inside, using his chest against her back. After the second failed attempt, he barked, “Seriously?”

  That got him another hiss.

  “You know what we need,” Kyle ruminated. “A cat carrier. We probably don’t even need a big one either. Stevie can make herself into a small ball without much effort.”

  “What?” Shen asked. Then he barked, “Shut up.”

  Man, he wished Stevie’s sisters were here. This was what they were really good at. At least Charlie was. She knew how to calm her baby sister down, coax her out of cabinets without violence, and keep her from tearing Max’s eyes from her head. Shen didn’t know how Charlie did it and, to be honest, he didn’t have time to learn. It was early. He was hungry. And all he really wanted to do was sit down and eat a few pounds of the bamboo that he had stowed in his room. Not play nursemaid to a former prodigy with panic issues because a few grizzlies and polar bears were in her house.