Wren and the Werebear

by Aubrey Rose

  Matt held out the note to her and she took it up in hands that were all of a sudden shaking. A tight fear clenched her lungs as she read the piece of paper.

  Infection spread to lungs... major complications. Need to operate. Five hours.

  The words went through Wren's brain like a poem that she couldn't make sense of. How could her dad be hurt again? It wasn't fair. It didn't make sense.

  "I didn't write this down," Matt continued, "but she said she'd call back when the surgery was done. That should be in a few hours."

  "Thanks." Wren folded the paper, crisping the folds between her fingernails until the page was folded down to nothing. "I'll be back in a few hours, then. I guess."

  "I'll keep an eye on the phone, just in case. I'm so sorry, Isabel."

  "Thanks," Wren said. Her mind was numb, her body deadened. Matt pursed his lips, as though deciding whether to offer any other words of comfort, but instead turned and walked away back to the hotel.

  Wren stood there for a moment, her fingers touching the folded piece of paper, turning it in her fingers. She tucked it into her pocket.

  "Your dad?"

  Wren raised her head to see Dawson staring at her, an inexplicable expression on his face. She realized dully that she'd told him her parents had been in a car crash.

  "Dawson, listen."

  "Your parents are alive?"

  "I'm sorry." Wren closed her eyes, trying to block everything out. There was too much happening here. Too much that wasn't work. She was here to kill a shifter. That was it. Her family... Olivier... Dawson... none of this was supposed to get in the way of her work. And yet here it all was, raining down over her head in a cold rush.

  "I'm sorry...I'm sorry to hear about your dad," Dawson said, his face twisting in uncertainty. "Why did you lie to me?"

  Wren shook her head.

  "I didn't want anyone here to know anything about me. I wanted to get away."

  "Your name isn't Isabel, is it?"

  She breathed in, then exhaled. She didn't want to lie to him again.

  "I—"

  "You didn't even look when Matt called out to you." Dawson stood watching her with a curiously suspicious expression. She ached to have his arms around her. She needed—

  No. She didn't need anything. She swallowed the pain and looked into Dawson's eyes. They were cold, guarded.

  "No. No, it's not."

  "What's your name?"

  "Wren."

  "You sure about that?"

  "Of course!"

  Dawson ran a hand through his hair, biting his lip.

  "I don't like it when people lie to me."

  "Dawson, I didn't mean—"

  "That's alright. I hope your dad is alright. Really."

  "Dawson—"

  "I gotta go. Gotta work." His voice was cold, and there was something else in his words that she couldn't quite recognize. Fear, maybe. Before she could pin it down, he turned his broad shoulders squarely away. "I'll see you around."

  Wren's mouth was dry. Every piece of her wanted to run after Dawson, to wrap her arms around his body and hold him close to her. She wanted the safety of his arms, she wanted his consoling touch. She wanted him to tell her that it would be okay, that there was nothing she could do here, a hundred miles away from her only family.

  Tears threatened behind her eyelids and she blinked them resolutely away.

  She had a few hours. She had to find the tracks.

  Yes, that's what she would do. She would take her mind off of everything and focus entirely on tracking this monster down. Then when her mom called back, she could talk to her dad. She could tell her dad that she'd done it, she'd killed the shifter who'd killed Tommy. He'd be proud of her. Everything would be fine, it would, just as soon as the mission was accomplished.

  And who needed some dumb ranger, anyway? Not her. She didn't need anyone. She was strong. She was the best. She was an assassin, and nothing in the world would get in her way.

  Gritting her teeth against the tears, she began the long climb up the mountain loop.

  Chapter Eighteen

  At the top of the loop, she caught the fresh tracks of a bear. It led out and down the other side of the mountain, into the valley.

  Wren pulled her gun out and held it at her side, ready for anything. She followed the tracks down, trying to be as quiet as she could. It was colder in the dense growth of redwoods and pines down on this side of the mountain. Her sneakers slipped from time to time over the muddy leaves, and she caught herself each time.

  It wasn't even that cold, but the wet air made her breath puff white in front of her. Tense throughout her entire body, she kept moving, kept tracking. At the top of the next ridgeline, she approached a copse of redwoods that clustered in a circle. The tracks went straight into the circle of trees. She moved slowly, silently, her gun aimed in front of her.

  She passed into the circle of trees and smelled cut wood. Around her, the only thing she could hear was the sound of birds calling in the high branches of the wood. The giant redwood in front of her was gouged with clawmarks. She stepped forward and examined the clawed wood. Sap was already beginning to seep from the tree's wound, but it was certainly a fresh cut. The scent of the tree was cloyingly sweet; it hurt her head. She reached out to touch the bark—

  Her cell phone rang. Jumping back, startled, she fumbled for the phone in her pocket. She left the copse of trees and checked the clearing as she raised the phone to her ear.

  "Marty, you scared the shit out of me," she said. "I'm tracking the bear."

  "You're tracking a shifter."

  Wren's brows knitted together and her pulse jumped a beat faster.

  "You got the second sample?"

  "It's a match," Marty said. "They just got the results back from the lab."

  "A match to the East Coast shifter?"

  "That's right. I'm sending all the agents we have to Maugham now. They want to take this one alive."

  "Alive?"

  "To see if they can find whoever it was they were sending the letters to. They're saying there might be another shifter over where you are. Maybe even a few of them."

  "Okay," Wren said.

  "If it attacks you, Wren, don't hesitate," Marty said. "Kill that fucker. But if you can wait until the other agents get there, that would be better."

  "Sure. Tell them that the trail starts at the top lookout on the trail loop. I'm following it now, Marty." Wren kept her voice low, her eyes darting around the forest that surrounded her.

  "Is your phone charged?"

  She checked.

  "Half-charged."

  "Use it as a transmitter, okay? Just hit video on and keep it—oh, I don't know. You have a shirt pocket?"

  "Yeah, yeah." Wren's heart was pumping hard as she fiddled with the phone and put it facing outward in her shirt pocket. The video camera just peeked over the pocket. Her fingers were shaking.

  "Good?" she whispered.

  "Good." Marty's voice came low and crackling from the pocket.

  "Okay. Continuing to follow the trail."

  "By the book, Wren. You'll have reinforcements soon."

  The bear tracks led her clearly across the hillside, and she followed the path easily, even with her heartbeat thudding in her ears. Every muscle in her body was tensed and ready to fight. Step by step, she made her way through the trees.

  Coming around a cluster of redwoods, she stopped dead in her tracks. The bear was right in front of her on the trail, just fifty feet away.

  It growled, its black fur bristling along the ridge of its backbone. The sound traveled through the thick air of the valley and made Wren's skin prickle. She lifted her gun and aimed it directly at the bear's face.

  "You see this Marty? Send our guys in," she said to the cell phone in her pocket. She wanted the shifter to know that it was useless to resist, that there were other agents coming.

  "Already on their way," Marty said.

  "Turn yourself in!" Wren yelled at the blac
k bear. The huge, hulking figure snarled at her, and she looked into his eyes. There was an intelligence in them that made her nerves quiver.

  "Don't make me shoot you," Wren said, moving towards the bear slowly. It backed away, its huge paws leaving deep tracks in the leafy forest floor. "If you run, I'll shoot."

  The bear whined, twisting its head, and continued to backpedal. Wren kept her gun aimed right between its eyes. If it started to run, it would be a dead shifter.

  She wanted to kill it now. Thinking of Tommy, her jaw clenched. The CSE might want to interrogate this monster, but it had killed her friend. She almost wanted it to turn and run so that she had an excuse to shoot. But instead, it was backing up slowly, backing against a copse of pines. She would have it trapped there.

  "Come on, you stupid animal," Wren murmured, moving forward. "Come on—"

  The ground moved under her feet. The bear let out a roar just as she lost balance, and she realized too late that she had walked into a trap.

  The rope hidden under the leaves snapped against her ankle and she was yanked sideways. She landed hard on her side and rolled, her gun falling away from her, and heard a crack at the same moment she felt the sharp pain in her right arm. White explosions obscured her vision with agonizing pain.

  "Ahhh!"

  She rolled down the slope, her arm clenched to her chest. Each turn brought with it another shooting pain, another involuntary cry. Her feet scrambled for purchase. Reaching out with her good hand, she grabbed a branch and stopped herself rolling any farther.

  "Wren? Wren!"

  Her cell phone was down at the bottom of the slope. She could barely hear Marty's voice. She looked around for her gun. Her gun. She needed her gun.

  Above her the bear roared. She looked up and saw her gun halfway between her and the black bear. It snarled again, its white teeth dripping cords of saliva.

  With a cry of pain, she scrambled forward, up the slope. If she could get the gun, if she could only get the gun—

  The bear came crashing down the slope. Just as she was reaching for the weapon, it reached her and swatted her away.

  The blow hit her directly on the head, and she flew sideways, landing on the ground. She skidded down the slope, leaves and mud coating her limbs. Her arm was broken. It was definitely broken. She pushed herself up with her left arm and turned to face the bear. The world spun dizzily and she pressed her hand to her temple, stumbling down to one knee.

  The huge creature in front of her growled again, and she swore she saw a glint of pleasure in its eye. She tried to get up again, and stumbled again. She had no weapon. She was injured. The bear was just playing with her.

  Turning to crawl away, she heard the black bear breathing heavily, grunts and sniffs. She clawed at the forest floor with her left hand, pulling herself forward inch by inch. She couldn't run from this creature, but instinct screamed at her to try.

  Behind her the bear roared, and she looked back to see it backing up, getting ready to charge. The bear's snout twisted in a low rumbling snarl, and then its jaws opened as it let out a deafening roar. The sound echoed off of the walls of the valley and filled her ears.

  The bear pawed the ground and started to charge.

  She would not close her eyes. She would die facing her enemy. The roar in her ears made her whole body trembled as the bear charged, coming closer, closer—

  Just before the monster could reach Wren, another bear came rumbling out from nowhere and barreled into the side of the black bear. Wren gasped as the huge golden grizzly slammed into the bear's side and the two creatures tumbled down the slope.

  Two bears, one black, one golden. At the bottom of the slope they circled around each other, snarling. The black bear lunged forward, and the grizzly snapped at it, sending it scurrying back. The grizzly was half again as big as the black bear, but Wren knew the black bear was clever: a shifter, after all. It crouched back on its haunches and growled menacingly, its intelligent eyes darting back at Wren even as it faced off its opponent.

  Wren scooted backwards, one eye on the dueling animals, the other searching for her gun. There it was! She scrambled up, her broken arm howling in pain with every motion. Even if the grizzly killed the shifter, she would still have one bear to contend with. And the other agents were supposed to be coming soon.

  The grizzly stood on its hind legs. Upright, it looked twice as big as the other bear, and the black bear cowered in front. The grizzly tilted its head back and roared, sending the birds in the branches above flurrying away to safety.

  The black bear snarled back, then turned and lumbered away, crashing through the underbrush.

  No! She couldn't let the shifter get away!

  Wren hopped up the muddy hillside, stumbling and falling on her good arm more often than not. Finally she reached the gun. She took it in her trembling, mud-slippery hands and turned around to see the grizzly bear coming up the slope toward her.

  It was huge, its golden brown fur matted with mud from the tumble down the slope. Its yellow eyes locked onto Wren's, and its hulking shape showed its muscles moving under the thick pelt. Jesus.

  She raised the gun, realizing too late that the safety was on. Her fingers fumbled with the lock, but before she could snap it off her eyes refocused on the bear in front of her.

  The grizzly was... changing. It stood again on hind legs, but this time it looked smaller. Its fur rippled across its body, and its claw retracted into its paws. The limbs shrunk, twisting. The snout, too, shrunk back and morphed and—

  "Oh my god," Wren whispered, her hands still holding the gun out in front of her. It couldn't be. It wasn't.

  As she watched, the bear's body disappeared and became the body of a man. A man with light hair and a thick muscled chest. He raised his head, and his golden brown eyes locked onto Wren's.

  "Dawson." The name came off of Wren's lips like an accusation and a plea at the same time.

  He stood there naked in front of her, his hands outstretched. Wren froze, the rush of blood roaring through her ears like the howl of wind through the pines. Or the crashing of waves onto the cliffs. Or... or...

  A bear.

  "No." Wren shook her head, unwilling to believe it.

  "Wren—"

  "No." She choked on the word. "No. Not you."

  "Wren, please—"

  From over the hill she heard the shouts of the CSE agents coming in for backup. Dawson looked up to where the noises were coming from. Then he looked back at her, pleading silently.

  A flash of memory. His touch. His hands on her body. The bear's paw swiping across Tommy's face. Her hands clutched the cold metal of the gun. She lowered the barrel and swallowed the hard lump in her throat.

  "Run," she whispered.

  Dawson did not wait or argue. He turned away and ran, moving through the trees quickly. Wren's heart ached as she let the gun fall to her side, watching him go. She saw a flash of skin, and then fur glistening in the sun, and then he was gone.

  Chapter Nineteen

  "So the bear had a trap laid out. A rope that caught you."

  "Yes."

  Wren sat at the edge of the bed in her hotel room, her broken arm stretched out for examination by the medical assistant they'd called in. The official agent questioning her sat on a chair opposite the bed. She was higher ranked, an official from CSE that Wren had never met before.

  "And what about the man in the recording?"

  Wren winced as the medical assistant wrapped a bandage around her arm to brace it.

  "What man?"

  "Here's a drink, agent." The other CSE agent handed her a drink that smelled like it had a lot of rum in it. Wren sipped it appreciatively, wincing again as the alcohol hit the back of her throat. Immediately her arm felt less painful. She looked up at the slim blond official who had a clipboard in front of her.

  "At the end of your transmission recording, we got a glimpse of a man running away. The shifter. It's blurred, but we made out his path. We have agents tracking
him down now."

  Wren's throat tightened. What if they find Dawson? What if they kill him?

  "Could I have..." She held out her empty glass, and the other agent poured her another drink.

  "It was the bear," she said, avoiding looking at the questioning official. She hoped the recording didn't show them anything else. "He must have shifted back into human form."

  "Did you see the man?" the official asked, tossing her blond hair back over her shoulder.

  "Not really," Wren said, lying. Had they seen both bears?

  "Not really?"

  "I was dizzy. The bear hit me on the head and knocked me down." Wren took another sip from her drink. It calmed her, made her numb to the pain. Numb to the fear that Dawson was being chased right now, as they spoke.

  "Hello? Isabel?"

  Wren raised her eyes to the hotel door. Matt was standing in the doorway.

  "You can't be in here," the blond official said, standing to block him.

  "Wait! It’s okay," Wren said. "I'm waiting for a call."

  The official frowned, puzzled.

  "Nothing new," Matt said. Wren exhaled, her body still twisted with tension. She couldn't relax with no news. "Your mom called about a half hour ago, but they said it would be a while yet. I just thought I'd—I'd let you know. What is all this? What happened?"

  "I took a fall in the woods," Wren said, looking away. She hated to lie to such a nice person as Matt.

  "Who are these people?" Matt stepped forward into the hotel room. "You guys have government plates on your cars—"

  The other agent blocked his path before he could come inside any more.

  "I'm afraid you're going to have to leave," he said.

  "Matt, I'll explain later," Wren said. To her relief, he nodded and left, glancing up and down suspiciously at the agent's suit as he walked out the door.

  "Had you ever seen this shifter before?" the official continued.

  "Before?" Wren was confused, her mind swirling. Who was the other bear? Was Dawson really the killer they were looking for?

  "Before the attack. Before you saw him as a bear."

  "Oh, no," Wren lied. "No, I never saw him before. I don't think."