Novikov threw himself at Stevie, but she turned and her tail caught him around the throat. She wrenched the pro hockey player one way, then the other. Then she began banging him against the floor. Over and over.
Shen grimaced, wondering if there was any way to stop Stevie when she suddenly glanced in Conridge’s direction and froze, mid-slam; poor Novikov hanging from her prehensile tail.
There was nothing but silence in the room, everyone sort of waiting. Waiting for Stevie to do something. And she suddenly did.
She flicked her tail, sending Novikov sailing across the room to crash into the wall at the far end, leaving a healthy dent before sliding to the floor and landing on his face.
Blayne, who’d been caught in Stevie’s maw all this time, was spat toward the other end of the room. Then Stevie turned her big body and opened her maw.
Shen girded himself for another one of her destructive roars, but before she could do anything, Irene Conridge spoke.
“Well, well, well.” Cold as ice. That was Dr. Conridge. Cold as ice. “If it isn’t the little prodigy that couldn’t.”
Shifted Stevie jerked back as if Conridge had punched her. And, in that second, she shifted back to human.
Naked and pointing her finger at Conridge, Stevie marched forward. “You . . . you!”
Conridge laughed. “Eloquent as always, I see.”
Stevie started running toward Conridge, and Shen pushed past Stevie’s sisters and caught up to her before she reached the unmoving full-human, grabbing Stevie around the waist and lifting her up. He prayed she didn’t shift again. Her weight alone would crush his sturdy panda bones to dust.
“You evil cow!” Stevie spit out, her wiggling naked body over Shen’s shoulder. The only way he could hold on to her was by gripping her bare thighs and, sometimes, her ass. “Did you really think you’d stop me? Did you really think you’d block me from getting into CERN?”
“That was a pity hire,” Conridge mocked.
“Pity?” Stevie screeched, sounding not like the emotionally wrecked female Shen had seen the last hour or so, but more like a crazy person he’d avoid on the Manhattan streets. “You arrogant cun—”
“Time to go!” Shen yelled over Stevie’s next insult, carrying her out of the ballroom. He stepped into the hallway, and Kyle—still being held back by his older brother—pointed at the stairs a few feet away.
Shen carried the still-screeching Stevie up the stairs. Although now her screeching was indecipherable. It was just angry yelling. There might be words in there somewhere, but he couldn’t make them out.
He carried her into the first empty room he found and kicked the door closed. Then he placed her on the floor and pushed her away from the door, afraid she’d try to charge it. She didn’t. Instead, she yelled, “Pity? I was a pity hire?”
Shen thought a moment before replying, “Soooo, we’re just not going to discuss the fact that you can turn into a one-ton, tiger-striped honey badger?”
“That’s right!” she immediately barked back. “We’re not going to discuss that! And it’s closer to two tons.”
Shen nodded. “Okay then.”
chapter FOUR
Charlie helped Stevie’s cat toy to her feet. “Are you okay?” she asked, wincing a little when dark brown eyes lashed over to her.
“No,” the woman snarled. “I am not okay.”
“You’re still alive,” Charlie said, trying to sound helpful. “That’s good, isn’t it?”
The woman started to speak, stopped herself with a grunt, and turned away from Charlie. She went over to help the dude with the tusks, and Charlie faced her sister.
“Ooops,” Max muttered. “This has turned awkward.”
“Ya think?”
“What are we going to do?”
Charlie looked around at the damage to the ballroom. Half the ceiling was on the floor. Parts of the wall had big holes in it, and one section was just outright destroyed. Several windows had been blown out. The floor was scored with claw marks.
Charlie blew out a breath. “I don’t know how we’re going to keep a lid on this.”
“Kill everybody? Burn the house to the ground?”
Charlie knew her sister was just kidding, but still. She shoved the smaller woman before facing the cat toy and tusk dude. Max skidded across the floor about fifty feet and, when she stopped, she laughed, “I was joking!”
Ignoring her sister, Charlie looked at the pair, the woman helping the now-human male up. “I am so sorry about all this.”
“She’s dangerous,” the woman warned. She got the male to his feet and then faced Charlie again. That’s when the woman’s shoulder suddenly jerked forward, a loud snap! ricocheted throughout the room.
“What, exactly, is going on with your bones?” Charlie had to ask.
“Really?” the woman barked, moving toward Charlie, finger out and pointing. “You are going to stand there and judge me?”
“Well, you have to admit it is strange.”
“Strange?”
The male put his arm around the woman’s waist and pulled her back, which Charlie appreciated for many reasons, but mostly because he used the woman’s body to block any further sight of his dick. Something Charlie didn’t really need to see at the moment.
“All I’m saying,” Charlie attempted to reason, “is that as hybrids. . . we’re all a little strange. So there’s no reason to point fingers. Or say anything to anyone about this little incident.”
“Incident?”
“Well—”
“Your sister is a menace!”
“You hugged her,” Max reminded the woman when she again stood beside Charlie. “Which is the same thing you did to me at the Sports Center.”
“Shut up!”
“I’m just suggesting,” Charlie went on, “that we keep this among ourselves. No reason to bring in anyone else. Not when we’re all a little . . . different.”
“Different?”
The male suddenly sighed and told the woman, “You really need to stop screaming-slash-repeating everything she says, Blayne. It’s getting annoying.”
The woman spun on the male, now pointing a finger at him. “Annoying? ”
* * *
Stevie pulled on the T-shirt that the giant panda handed her before continuing with her rant. “That woman is such a bitch!”
“Dr. Conridge isn’t that—”
“Do you know,” she cut in, not in the mood to hear him speak, “she actually wrote an article for Science America, in which she disputed not only my theories but my actual belief system?”
Shen frowned. “Your belief system in God?”
Stevie stared at the bear. “What God?”
“Okay,” he said. “So it wasn’t about that. Good to know.”
* * *
Max watched the couple bicker over who was more annoying. She didn’t understand people. They argued over the weirdest shit. Wasn’t life hard enough without making yourself miserable over bullshit?
Kyle and his brother stepped behind Max and Charlie.
“Are you two okay?” Coop asked.
Max shrugged. “We’re fine.” Of course, they were used to all this. They’d been there when Stevie began shifting around the age of eleven, when she hit an early puberty. Back then, she’d shift into a honey badger the size of a full-grown tiger with, of course, those stripes.
Charlie had immediately been freaked out by Stevie’s size. Afraid that the other breeds wouldn’t accept her as she was. Charlie always felt the need to protect Stevie, and for good reason. But after the first time they saw their baby sister shift while she was studying for the SATs at their grandfather’s dining table, Charlie’s concern grew exponentially. Because Stevie clearly didn’t have control over her issues. She panicked easy. She cried easy. She exploded into rage real easy. And when she did all three at the same time . . .
Max, however, was less worried because the one thing that Stevie had over both her and Charlie was her ability to
self-analyze. She understood how dangerous she could be. How unstable. She was the first to insist on seeing a therapist, on retiring from music because of the pressure it put on her, on learning calming techniques, on getting medications to manage her depression and panic. Anything to help her deal with her issues.
Max respected that more than anything else her sister did. It wasn’t easy to be that self-aware, but Stevie was. And she was good at it. What she didn’t understand, she learned. She read books. She talked to specialists. She didn’t shy away from her problems. She embraced them and learned how to deal with them, taking care not to lose what made Stevie the prodigy, the genius, but also ensuring that she wouldn’t harm anyone.
So what had just happened, Max knew, would eat away at her baby sister. Would torture her in a way it would never torture others.
Unless . . . of course . . . she found something else to distract her first.
And while Max was trying to come up with something that would be a worthy distraction, Stevie stormed into the ruined ballroom—thankfully in her human form and in a long T-shirt—and stomped her barefooted way over to a smirking Irene Conridge.
“And let me tell you something else!” Stevie snarled at Conridge. “If you think that I—”
Shen ran into the room, placed his hands on either side of Stevie’s hips, lifted her up, and quickly left. Apologizing the entire way.
“Sorry, sorry. I’ve got her. I’ve got her. No need to panic. Everything is just fine.”
Even though Max couldn’t see either of them, she knew that Shen carried Stevie back up the stairs because she could still hear Stevie bitching about it, complaining that he wouldn’t let her go and how wrong Irene was as a scientist and a human being.
This went on until a door slammed closed somewhere in the house.
Max smiled at Charlie. “I’m starting to like that bear.”
* * *
“Put me down this instant!”
Shen did as he was ordered, now that they were safe in a bedroom.
Stevie faced him, her face beet red from anger. “I am not done with her.”
“I know. But I’m not sure this is the time to start raging at important people.”
“Important? Irene Conridge? Really?”
“Look, I won’t even pretend to understand what you two are bickering about—”
“Bickering?”
“—but you nearly tore this house down around a very nice family of jackals. Maybe you should take a break.”
Her eyes widened and Shen prepared himself for the explosion to follow.
“I . . . you . . . if . . .” Stevie suddenly screamed. Not loudly or wildly. But in frustration. And then she sat down on the edge of the bed. “Dammit, you’re right.”
Shen frowned. “I am?”
“Yes. You are.” She looked up at him. “Why do you find that so surprising?”
“I’ve been working around this family for a while now. I have yet to meet a current or former child prodigy who has ever told me that I was right about anything. You’re the first.”
She let out a long sigh before replying, sounding a little tired, “Because I’m even weird among the prodigies.” She finger-combed her hair behind her ear. “And if I hurt you—”
“I’m fine. Not even a scratch.”
“But that woman . . . is she alive?”
“Blayne?” Shen couldn’t help but smile. “Trust me. If you didn’t kill Blayne outright . . . she’s fine.”
“She scared me,” Stevie admitted. “I wasn’t expecting—”
“I know.”
She shook her head. “Who goes around hugging strangers from behind?”
Now Shen sighed. “Blayne does.”
* * *
“This is not my fault,” Blayne Thorpe insisted to her husband.
The mammoth man had a very large indent in his forehead and was bleeding from lacerations on different parts of his body while Blayne’s bones were busy snapping back into place. But neither seemed the worse for wear. Thankfully. Irene could only deal with twenty or thirty issues at one time. A few more and she might get frustrated.
“Look at this!” Jackie said, gesturing to the walls. “Those wild dogs are going to make such a big deal about this.”
“You do know that you are also a wild dog? Jackals, dingoes, the bush dog, the coyote, and, as much as it annoys them, the gray wolf are also included on that list. So talking about the owners of this house like they are some lower form seems nonsensical to me.”
Jackie slowly faced Irene, her lips pursed, one foot tapping. Eyes narrowed.
“Too soon?” Irene asked, before she snorted a little laugh and walked out of the room.
She’d just started up the stairs when she heard Kyle.
“Aunt Irene?”
“Stay, Kyle,” she ordered, chuckling when he did exactly as she’d said.
Since no one in the family was on the second floor of the house after the drama in the ballroom, she found Stevie Stasiuk-MacKilligan easily, chatting with the large protector that Kyle often used. Shen Li was one of the few people who could tolerate her best friend’s son although Irene had been surprised to find out that he was a great panda shifter. Such an odd breed for humans to choose to shift into . . . then again . . . she’d just seen a giant honey badger tear apart her friend’s rental home, soooo . . .
Without knocking, Irene pushed the door open and stepped in.
The young scientist jumped to her feet and there was a sudden and disconcerting appearance of fangs.
“You’re not going to ruin this part of their home, too, are you?” Irene asked. “Where will the children sleep?”
“Dr. Conridge—” Shen began, but Irene waved his concern away and closed the bedroom door.
“It’s all right, Shen. Miss MacKilligan and I are old friends.”
The fangs receded while MacKilligan’s shock grew, large blue eyes blinking wide. “We are not friends.”
“Is it because I often forget who you are?”
“No, you don’t. And it’s Doctor MacKilligan. Or Ms.”
“Oooh,” Irene couldn’t help but mock. “A tiny feminist, are we? My generation breaks all the boundaries and your group comes in and pretends to be above it all?”
MacKilligan started toward her but Shen was there to catch her, pulling her back.
“Perhaps we can all meet later,” he suggested. “For a tasty lunch? Or coffee!”
“Yes, that’s what we want,” Irene teased. “For your little friend to shift into King Kong in the middle of a Starbucks on Fifth Avenue.”
“King Kong?” MacKilligan screeched, coming for Irene again. But the bear caught her around the waist, held her back with big, strong arms.
“How dare you—”
“I’m just joking,” Irene said, not letting the girl finish. “Can’t your generation of trailblazers take a joke?”
Irene moved across the room and sat in a large club chair, crossing her legs and staring at the seething MacKilligan and uncertain Li. “Now, we must figure out what we’re going to do about you, little miss.”
“Do about me?” MacKilligan snapped. “You mean put me down like a stray dog?”
“Trust me. If any government gets its hands on you, they’ll treat you much worse than any stray dog. In fact, you’ll be lucky if all they do is put you down.”
* * *
Stevie stopped struggling in Shen’s arms and stared at the woman she’d hated since she was fourteen. She’d been working on her dissertation for her first PhD. It had been suggested by one of her benefactors that she take her work to Irene Conridge in Washington State for a “frank overview.” As someone who had read all of Irene Conridge’s books before she was six, she was thrilled by the very idea.
Until she’d actually met Conridge. Without even looking at her, Conridge had tossed Stevie’s manuscript onto her desk and sneered, “Is that really the best you can do?”
Shocked, Stevie had taken her paper and
gone home. She’d worked for a few more months before going back to Conridge.
And had gotten nearly the same response, “Really? Is this the best you can do?”
Another few months of work. Her sisters began to worry. Her stress level went up. But she wasn’t about to be defeated. Her idol wanted a perfect dissertation, so she’d get one.
The third time she’d sent her dissertation ahead and followed a week later. With her long legs up on her desk and her black and gray curly hair in a very messy bun, Conridge had asked, “Honestly, child, is this really the best that you can do?”
That’s when Stevie’s rage had welled up. She could feel her fangs itching to break free. Her claws nearly clearing past her nails. She knew there was only one way to hold back the tiger-striped badger yearning to break free and tear a chunk out of Conridge’s very human throat . . .
“As a matter of fact,” Stevie had snarled, “it is the best I can do, you old cunt!” Then Stevie had swiped her dissertation off the desk, making sure to knock down the pictures of Conridge’s smug husband and their smug-looking children, and stormed out.
The fact that the third iteration of her dissertation ended up winning nearly every award known to science for that year short of the Nobel—and she’d only lost that to an entire group from Norway who’d invented a functioning mechanical heart that worked in pigs—meant nothing. All those awards and citations and newspaper articles spouting about how she was the future of science were boxed up somewhere in her grandfather’s house in Wisconsin. She couldn’t even bear to look at them. Because all she’d wanted was Conridge’s approval, and she’d never gotten it. Something she’d hated the old bitch for ever since.
At the time, Charlie had been terrified that Stevie would walk away from science, and Stevie had definitely entertained the thought. But, to quote Max, “She’s too stubborn to give up shit.”
And Max had been right. Although Stevie felt the disappointment every day, she’d refused to give up something else she loved after she’d already walked away from music.
Stevie pushed Shen’s arms off her waist and walked around the bed until she could sit on it while facing Conridge.
“So what do you want?”
“To help you.”
In a Badger Way Page 6
