He looked torn. She could tell he wanted to give in, but something was holding him back. He bit his lip, and her blood rose.
“You know what?” She slid her hand in his pocket, pulling his phone back out. She saved her name in his contacts, then handed it back to him. “When you get that fence post out of your butt, give me a call.”
And then she walked away.
CHAPTER FIVE
Joanna slammed the front door, stomping through the house, up the stairs, and to her room. And then she slammed the bedroom door, too, just for good measure.
She flopped onto the bed with a huff. She was in a foul mood. She’d spent the twenty minute drive from downtown Sitka stewing over Sherman’s indecision, her mother’s rudeness, and her dissatisfaction with her life in general. She’d graduated from college with a degree in graphic design two years ago, and she felt like she hadn’t done much of anything since then. She still lived at home with her mother, two younger sisters, and grandfather. She still worked in the bait and tackle shop her grandfather owned, though now her mother ran it.
And she still sat back and took it every single time her mother criticized her. Every single thing she did was wrong. Everything from the way she wore her hair to the way she spoke was picked apart. Her plans to make a website for the shop, to update the signs and advertising, were a frivolous waste of money. And forget about moving out. To hear her mother tell it, Joanna could barely be trusted to make toast. And even then she’d probably burn it.
Like Joanna’s resentful thoughts had conjured her, her mother opened the door. Without asking.
Joanna bit the inside of her lip as she sat up straight. God, she really needed to get out of this house. She was actually regressing. Her thoughts were no different from a sullen teenager’s. Even this mood was more befitting one of her younger sisters. Actually, Bianca’s overall attitude, at fourteen, was usually more mature than Joanna was acting right now.
“What were you doing with the bear-man?” her mother demanded, without preamble.
Joanna bit back the retort she wanted to give, that she’d been about to fuck his brains out in the middle of the Sitka Public Library. “We were just talking. Why?”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Joanna Sky Killfeather. What were you doing with the bear-man?”
Joanna took a deep breath. “I was talking to him. I met him while I was hiking a couple of weeks ago. We were talking about how pretty the mountain is this late in the summer.” She tried not to let the half-lie show on her face, but she was sure she’d failed.
Her mother’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline, her eyes widened in outrage. “You see? This is what happens when you go out into the woods. The woods are full of danger. They’re dark, and dank, and unsafe.”
Joanna frowned. They’d had this argument so many times. It was all a bunch of nonsense, as far as she was concerned. The old Tlingit superstitions about the woods, about the mountains, even about bears, were just that - superstition. Silly old religion that no one believed anymore. There was no truth to the old mothers’ tales. The woods were perfectly safe, if you kept your head on straight and your eyes open.
Her mother’s hands flexed, like she was trying to get a grip on something. Probably her oldest daughter’s neck, Joanna thought bitterly. “Let me make myself clear, Joanna. You are not to see the bear-man again. You will not go near any of his friends. You will stay off that mountain.”
Joanna opened her mouth to object. Even though he was reluctant to get involved with her, she didn’t want to give up Sherman. She was drawn to him in every way. His body drove her crazy, his smile lit her up. Even his mind turned her on.
And she could no more stay away from the mountain than she could stop breathing. It was a vital part of her. Her father had shared that mountain with her, opened her eyes to its wonders, taught her its secrets. God, she missed her father. He was the only one who could stand up to her mother. Until he left.
And Joanna knew that his abandonment was the reason her mother was so bitter now. She used to be better. She’d always been tough, sure. But once upon a time she’d been tolerable. Joanna missed the days when her mother could laugh, rare though it was. The house was always so dour these days, so silent. Like a funeral home. Except when her mother snapped at one of them. Then the old wood-panelled walls echoed with her wrath.
Like now. “You will not disobey me,” her mother said, in that commanding tone that told her the subject was closed.
Joanna couldn’t manage to say anything polite and submissive, like her mother undoubtedly wanted, so instead, she said nothing. Her mother nodded, her face a study in grim satisfaction. Then she left, shutting the door firmly behind her.
Joanna rubbed her head, which hadn’t stopped pounding all night. She sat on the bed, staring at the wall for what felt like hours. She traced every knot and grain, looking without seeing.
Finally, she heard the cry of a bird through the opened window, startling her out of her stupor. She couldn’t see the bird, but the stars overhead and the position of the moon told her it was close to midnight. She grunted as she stood, stretching her stiff, achy muscles. She felt strange. Her skin was tight, like it was restricting her movements, and her blood felt like it was boiling. She sighed. She was probably just tired. She needed to get some sleep anyway. The shop opened at four a.m., and Joanna always worked the first shift.
So she changed into her pajamas, washed her face, brushed her teeth, and braided her hair. She removed her pendant, setting it on her dresser carefully. Then she climbed into bed, slowly drifting off into a fitful sleep.
CHAPTER SIX
Two hours later, Joanna woke with a start. She sat upright, stretching her arms. It didn’t feel like enough. Her arms were too short. She needed to reach farther, but there wasn’t space enough to do it in her tiny bedroom.
She set her feet on the floor, but they heavier than usual, like they were made of lead. Her whole body was expanding, like her insides were too big for her skin. She felt like she was going to burst.
She walked out into the hallway, not even bothering with shoes. She was sure they’d be too small, that her feet had grown while she slept. She looked down, surprised to see that they looked just the same as always, long and bony like the rest of her.
She propelled herself down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out onto the back porch, though she could hardly say how she did it. Her limbs felt awkward, like she was trying to crawl when she ought to walk. Or fly.
She stopped short, smacking into the porch rail painfully. Where had that come from? People couldn’t fly. She knew that. And yet, once the thought had entered her brain, she couldn’t banish it.
She stepped out onto the lawn, still feeling caged in, even on the open-air porch. She needed to move. She needed to… run? Yes, that must be it. She would go for a run.
So she moved her long legs, breaking out into a stilted, stumbling run. She didn’t care that she was barefoot, that she was still wearing her ratty old Power Ranger pajamas that were too small, that it was the middle of the night. She just needed to move.
She picked up speed as she ran out onto the dirt road behind the house, going faster and faster, until she felt like she was flying.
And then she was flying.
She’d felt a pinching sensation just now, as though her insides were rearranging themselves. And then she was airborne. She opened her mouth to shout in surprise, but instead, she let out a piercing cry. It was an inhuman sound, more like a hawk or…
An eagle. She sounded like the bald eagles that she’d sometimes seen circling Blue Lake, when she would take her dad’s creaky old rowboat out on a humid summer afternoon to fish or swim.
She cried out in surprise, but again, it was the piercing shriek of a bird of prey that reverberated back to her.
And she was flying. Though she’d never done it before, though she didn’t know how, somehow, she was flying. She felt the wind blowing cool and he
avy between her… feathers? Yes, she had feathers on her arms. No, not arms. Wings. She had wings now.
She circled, some instinct she didn’t know she possessed telling her how to position her wings and her sleek new body so that she banked to the right. She wheeled around, enjoying the sensation of flying. The sensation of freedom.
She flew for a long time, until the sky began to glow pink and the air grew warmer. She realized with a start that it must be well after four. She should be at work right now. Her mother would have had to open the shop on her own, something she’d be furious about. But she couldn’t bring herself to care. Her human self seemed almost insignificant now, in comparison to the majesty of being an eagle.
Eventually her wings grew tired, and she was thirsty. Her sharp eyes spotted a rippling surface ahead, reflecting the bright light of the sunrise. Blue Lake. Without even realizing it, she’d flown up the mountain.
She dived, somehow managing to land without too much trouble, though she did skid for a moment before she got her footing, Her talons seemed to slide through the hard ground like a sharp knife through cheese. She’d have to get used to that.
Because she was a shifter now. She didn’t need to look in the mirror-like surface of the lake to know that she was an eagle. But she was still curious to see herself.
She hopped forward, spreading her wings slightly to steady herself. She swivelled her head from side to side, marvelling. Her wingspan had to be nearly nine feet.
She paused at the shore of the lake, steeling herself. And then she inched forward, looking down at her reflection.
Her mouth opened in shock, and in the lake, her reflection opened its beak. She had a crown of white feathers on her head and neck, almost like a hood, and her body was covered with shiny, dark brown feathers, not unlike the color of her human hair. Her beak was huge and lethal looking, the sharp hook at the end perfect for catching and killing prey, like the fish lazily swimming in the lake below her.
She inhaled sharply through the nostrils at the top of her beak. She was glorious.
She took a longer look, noting every detail, every little variation in the color of her feathers. She preened, revelling in her beauty. Her eyes, she noticed, were the same as her human eyes. Where golden, birdlike orbs should be, she saw her own hazel eyes staring back at her, an odd mix of brown and gray, with flecks of blue. Just like her father’s eyes. She was the only one of her sisters who’d inherited them.
She dipped her head, drinking deeply from the cold, clear water of the lake. Feeling curious, she darted her head out, spearing a fish with her talons. It was so easy that she could have laughed. Just a flick of her foot, and she had snatched the fish. Another flick, and she had snapped it in half. It was easy to see why eagles were at the top of the food chain.
But she was still human enough that the idea of eating a raw fish, bones, scales and all, repulsed her. So she left the fish on the shore, hoping some other predator would find itself lucky to happen across a fresh kill. And then she took off into the skies again.
She headed off in the direction of the city. She wasn’t ready to go home yet, wasn’t ready to face her mother, to explain where she’d been, what had happened. She wasn’t ready to be human again.
Not to mention, she wasn’t entirely sure how she’d even shifted into her eagle self. And she had no idea how to shift back, either.
She wheeled high over the city of Sitka, her eagle eyes taking in the sights. The waterfront was bustling at this hour, with everyone going to work, getting coffee and breakfast, or just out enjoying the morning sunshine. She soared above the docks, watching as a cruise ship came to a stop among the charter boats and pleasure crafts. She moved out over the Sound, watching the commercial vessels as they trawled for halibut and cod.
Something flashed white in the corner of her eye, and she moved closer. A fishing boat, smaller than some of the others, chugged to a stop out in the open water. There were five men on board. Two had white-blonde hair, which must have been what caught her eye. She turned, preparing to fly back to town. Until she saw another of the men standing on the deck of that little fishing boat. A man with dark tanned skin, horn-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose.
Sherman.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Joanna flew closer to the boat, almost like she had no control over herself, as though something in the boat drew her in, like a homing signal.
Or someone. She had a better idea now of why she’d been so drawn to Sherman. She thought that maybe her blood had recognized his, one shifter to another. She’d thought from the start that their attraction was almost animalistic. It made her crazy, made her bold and confident and aggressive in a way she’d never been before. It must have been instinct, pulling them together in spite of themselves.
She landed precariously right at the stern of the little fishing boat. She nearly tumbled off when the boat pitched and rolled on a wave, and she screeched.
Five heads whipped around at the noise, and if she were in her human form, she would have laughed at the nearly identical looks of shock on their faces. Five pairs of honey-colored eyes widened, looking awed and a little fearful. She supposed it was kind of odd to see a bald eagle this far out to sea. Not to mention she was perched on a boat, casual as you please.
“What the fuck?” The nearest man, well-built and with black, shaggy hair, stepped toward her cautiously.
“Is that a bald eagle?” another man said. She looked over at him, noting that he had the same white-blond hair as the man she’d seen in the library last night. He was younger than that man, though, no more than twenty or so.
“I thought they were extinct or something?” the other blond man said, and she realized he was the man from the library. She could see the strong resemblance between the two, and figured they must be brothers.
A man to her right laughed, and she turned her head to look at him. He was middle-aged, maybe fifty, and he looked like an aging biker, with his long, graying ponytail and tattoos. “That’s what I thought, too.”
“No, they’re not endangered anymore. They used to be, but we brought them back through conservation efforts,” Sherman said. She swivelled her head to look at him, nodding her head in appreciation. He was so smart. She’d always had a thing for nerdy guys.
“See? Told you that environmental studies degree would come in handy,” said the older blond man.
His younger brother chucked him on the shoulder. “You’ve literally never said that.”
The biker laughed again. “That’s true. You’ve done nothing but give him shit for it in all the years we’ve known you,” he said. His voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“Guys, this is freaky,” the black-haired man said. He was staring at her with narrowed eyes. “Does it seem like it’s listening to us?”
“Dude, it’s an eagle, not a chimpanzee. It’s not that smart,” the younger brother said.
“Yeah, but look how it’s following the conversation with its head.”
The older man chuckled. “Have you been eating those mushrooms that grow in the backyard again?”
“That was one time, Matthias,” the black-haired man replied with a scowl. “One time. You know I’ll eat anything when I’m the bear.”
Matthias. Matt. She knew she had heard his voice before. That day in the woods, the first day she’d met Sherman. He was the one that had interrupted their passionate interlude.
At that thought, she turned to look at Sherman, unconsciously hopping closer to him. He was watching her thoughtfully, like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve.
Bearly Christmas Page 161
