by Bera, Ilia
Snap! A bolt fires from the weapon as I flip a switch. The bolt skims past my face, nearly killing me. Now is not the time to accidentally kill yourself, Olivia. I look down the alley where the bolt fired. On the ground is one of Carmine’s men, coat torn to shreds, and body ravaged, lying in a pool of blood. Down the adjacent alley is a similar scene—two men, ravaged, dead, piled against the wall.
Thing about wolves is, you never see ‘em comin’. I can hear Freddie’s voice echoing in my head. One dozen men, and not one of them saw him coming, not one called out for Carmine while we were in the bar.
Carmine throws Freddie down with force. As Freddie’s body hits the ground, Carmine swipes, like a golfer driving a ball four hundred and fifty yards. Freddie’s body slams against a brick wall, smashing the brick face. I can hear the snap of his bones breaking. He’s slow to get up, and Carmine’s taking advantage, galloping towards the injured wolf. You idiot, Freddie—I did this so you didn’t have to die.
I fire a bolt into Pesconi’s side. He grunts and stumbles. His skin is too thick, too tough; the bolt hardly penetrates an inch. I’m going to need more than a bolt to take the beast down. He doesn’t even look over at me, as if he hardly noticed a thing. I fire again. This bolt connects too, but again, it does little. He swats the bolts with his paw, snapping them, leaving the tips in his body. His eyes find me and he huffs before turning back to Freddie, as if to say, I’ll get to you. He’s not worried about me; he knows I can’t hurt him. That won’t stop me from trying. I fire the remaining bolts into his body—six bolts in total. He hardly flinches until the last one, which drives into his neck. He roars and spins around.
Freddie still struggles to rise to his feet. His legs shake. As he takes a step forward, he nearly falls, unable to bare any weight on one of his front paws. I wish he would just turn around and run—run away. He’s not going to do any damage like this. With this empty crossbow, neither am I.
Carmine continues to toss, swatting at his neck. Finally, he manages to snap the bolt free. A temporary inconvenience. His attention turns back to Freddie. I can’t let him kill Freddie. I came to Lemuria so the prick could live, so he didn’t have to die for what I did. If he dies, we both die for nothing. No.
I dive for Carmine’s silenced handgun. It’s heavy, difficult to lift with a single hand—even difficult with both hands. In Carmine’s giant hands, it looked like the kind of pistol a prostitute keeps in her handbag. In my hands, the thing looks like a cannon.
I shoot. The unexpected strength of the blast knocks me backwards and sends a shooting pain down my arms. Carmine screams, blood spraying into the air as the bullet grazes his side. The silencer on the gun does little to quiet the handgun or the loud echo that bounces down the streets. I take aim and shoot again, this time firing off rounds in rapid succession. I unload the whole clip into the beast. I lose count after ten shots.
Still, he stays on his feet, inching towards Freddie, as if nothing’s fazed him—as if eight crossbow bolts, a dozen bullets, and fifteen grams of ketamine were only a minor setback. I have nothing left to throw at the beast. If Carmine’s hand-cannon isn’t powerful enough, nothing will be. My teeth and nails are all I have left, and I know they won’t do anything.
That doesn’t stop me from trying.
I jump onto Carmine’s back and use the last of my energy to do any damage I can, pulling out tufts of hair, biting, digging my claws into his skin. He shakes me off and swats me away without even looking, as if I were no more than a pesky mosquito. The force of his paw is crippling, cracking my bones, leaving me breathless.
Carmine steps towards Freddie. “You stole from my family,” he growls
I try to pick myself up, but the pain in my muscles is too great. I’ve failed. I’ve let Freddie down. I’ve let all the gypsies down.
“I stole nothin’,” Freddie says, still trying to stand on his broken leg. His hair is patchy and matted with blood. “Those territs were never yours. They were ours—you took them from us.”
“I only took what you owed me.”
“Owed you for what?”
“Services. We gave your people protection—a chance to be something more than a bunch of dirty gypsies.”
“We never wanted your protection. Before ya, there was nothin’ to protect against. You’re a crook, just like your piece ‘a shit daddy.”
Carmine growls and leans forward, preparing to transition into a charge.
“Fuck you,” Freddie finishes. He staggers. Run, Freddie—you can outrun him. He doesn’t have it in him to run.
I want to scream to Freddie. I want to tell him how sorry I am, but I can’t. I can hardly breathe. I think one of my lungs is collapsed—punctured by one of my broken ribs. My plan backfired with a vengeance. Not only am I going to die, I’m being forced to watch Carmine kill Freddie first.
Carmine springs forward. He takes a few long strides and then, he hits the pavement. The ground shakes on impact. What just happened? I wipe the tears clouding my eyes to make sure I’m seeing straight. Carmine, nearly two tons of grizzly bear, is now a motionless lump of fur, five feet from Freddie.
Even Freddie doesn’t look too sure of what just happened, staring down at the fallen beast, still in wolf-form, still crouched defensively, as if the bear will pop up and attack at any second.
White foam dribbles out from Carmine’s nose. The ketamine—it finally kicked in—and it kicked in hard. My plot to kill Carmine, despite its hiccups, actually worked. Carmine is dead. Freddie is alive and is now stumbling towards me, in human form.
“Olivia,” he says, dropping down next to me. “Y’ okay?”
I look up at him, still too sore to sit up. “Hi,” I manage to say. I don’t answer his question in the slightest. He helps me over to a nearby wall and props me up. He keeps one eye on Carmine, still suspicious of the sudden collapse. I tell him about the water bottle and the ketamine.
He breaks into laughter. Somehow, I feel like the laughter is at my expense. “Ya honestly thought that was a good idea?” he asks.
I know it was a good idea. It worked, after all. His plan, to bite first and ask question later, wasn’t exactly a winner. “And what would you have done?” I can hear the thick sarcasm in my voice.
He laughs some more before responding. “I dunno. Not that, that’s for sure. What if he didn’t drink the water?” He stares at me with a grin, as if I never thought about that. Of course I thought about that, but what other choice did I have? He continues laughing. Prick.
Once he’s over it, I ask how he found me and he tells me that he followed me. When I ask how, he laughs some more, and then reminds me that he’s part wolf. He doesn’t explain any more than that, but I assume he means he could smell me, or something. I don’t really care how he found me, I’m just happy he’s next to me. I’m happy he’s alive, and that it’s finally over.
There’s no more Carmine Pesconi. And though I don’t know much about this Theria, I know that it’s a better place without Pesconi in it.
“A water bottle,” Freddie says, laughing again. “That’s so stupid. A fuckin’ water bottle.”
I push back the urge to reach down and squeeze his broken leg. “That fucking water bottle saved your life, you dumb son of a bitch.” The least he could do is show some appreciation.
He plants a kiss on my forehead and laughs. “God, I love ya,” he says. The kiss fills my body with warmth, washes away the pain.
I nestle my face against his chest. “I love you, too.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
GETTING EVEN
A broken leg, a broken arm, and three broken ribs don’t stand between Freddie and a chance at some action. I’m hardly in the motel for five minutes before he’s on top of me, both hands under my shirt, the pig. I can’t find a place to hold on. Whenever I put my hands anywhere on his body, he groans in pain. “Careful, that’s still tender,” he says more times that I can count. I insist that he goes to the hospital across the street, but he refuses.
He says that Lemurians make shit doctors.
Unlike Freddie, I went to the hospital. Shockingly, I had no more than a few cuts, a broken rib, and a broken wrist. At the hospital, a Lemurian police officer questioned me, wondering who’d beaten me up. I lied and said I fell down the stairs. I was at the hospital for two hours. When I got back to the motel, Freddie was waiting naked on the bed. I think he’d been waiting, sprawled out the whole time I was gone.
“Just go and have them look at you—make sure there’s no internal bleeding or anything,” I tell him.
He laughs my comment off and shakes his head. Did I say something funny? Or was that Freddie’s way of saying he’d sooner die of internal bleeding than see a Lemurian doctor.
I tighten my hand around his bicep. “Careful—that’s tender,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “Why don’t I go on top?”
He grins and his eyes flash. He rolls over, pulling me on top of him with the strength of a man who isn’t in any pain—who’s just being a big baby for pity sex.
“Is your tongue tender?” I ask
His grin expands, answering my question. I slide up his body, hovering my pelvis over his face. His hands glide down my sides, landing on my hips, pulling me down towards his mouth. I take his hands and move them over his head, to the bedframe. Then, I cuff his wrists to the frame.
His expression drops. “What’re ya doin’?”
“I lifted them off a cop, at the hospital.” I’ve also stolen the grin from his face.
His eyes flash again and he smiles awkwardly. I shake my head—of course he’s into bondage. “They’re too tight,” he says.
“Good, they’re ventice, too, so don’t try to shift,” I say, springing to my feet. I pick up my clothes quickly dress.
“Wait, what? What are ya doin’?” his smile is completely gone now and his lips are parted.
“I met some Lemurians who said they’ve been looking for you. Couldn’t say no to ten thousand territs.” I grab the door handle, look back at Freddie, and wink. His face is flushed ivory. “See you around, Freddie!”
“Wait! Liv!”
Two burly Lemurians wait for me in the parking lot. All I have to do is point towards the room, and one of the men hands me a sac containing ten thousand territs. The men head towards the room. I wasn’t kidding.
Freddie is a prick—without question, the biggest asshole I’ve ever met. I nearly died after the bastard sold me to Pesconi’s men. The least I can do is return the favour.
He’ll be fine. I know he’ll find a way out, and I know he’ll find me. And when he does, I’ll be waiting, and we’ll be even. There might even be wedding bells.
THE END
GLOSSARY OF TERMS
This mini encyclopaedia contains terms used in the Shifters of Theria series. There are no spoilers contained in this glossary. Knowing these definitions before reading is in no way necessary, but it may be convenient for readers who are new to the series.
Asgard (place)
A once small fishing town, Asgard has grown into a thriving metropolis and cornerstone of Theria’s fishing industry. Asgard is the home of the Asgard Meteor, a shirling team in the SAT with a notoriously hardcore fan base.
Beaunelle Vianna (brand)
An elite clothing company, based out of Vianna. Owned and operated by a therian named Beaunelle. Beaunelle Vianna is famously expensive.
bit (noun)
A therian coin, equal to ten territs.
Cidessa (place)
Cidessa is a beach town at the southern tip of Theria. It’s a popular destination for vacationers.
crown (noun)
A therian coin, equal to one hundred territs.
Elder (title)
An elite member of the therian monarch.
Elders’ Hall (place)
The official residence and official workplace of the king of Theria, the political heart of Theria. The Elders’ Hall is located in the province of Old Theria, in the town of Old Theria.
Lavallette (brand)
A luxury clothing company, based out of Vianna. Lavallette is best known for their heeled-shoes.
Lemuria (place)
Lemuria is the capital of the Thule province. It is a large city, with a population of five million therians. The vast majority of Lemuria’s residents work in the mining industry, and the town’s large center is also its industrial sector. Lemuria is the only city in Theria with two shirling teams: the Lemuria Treeskins, and the Thule Cloud. Lemurians invented Shirling, and the Treeskins and the Cloud are the two oldest teams, both with more Maerwynd cup wins than any other team. As of 2015, they are even with thirty-eight wins each.
loke (noun)
A shirling term; a little coat worn by peeps. The loke changes color relative to the peg that hits it. Teams earn points every few seconds a loke glows their respective color.
mark (noun)
A therian coin, equal to one territ.
Maerwynd Cup (noun)
A shirling term; the trophy awarded to the best shirling team in the SAT (Shirling Association of Theria).
mallock (noun)
Slang; a therian whose shifted form is that of a rodent, usually a mouse, or a rat.
Max Vettore (brand)
A luxury clothing company, based out of Vianna. Owned by Max Vettore.
nesting (verb)
A shirling term; nesting is the unlawful act of tampering with a peep(s), to keep it/them hidden from other players. Other tenses: nested (past), nest (future, past (passive)).
Old Theria (place)
Old Theria is a province of Theria.
2. Old Theria is a town in the province of the same name, and the capitol of Theria. With a population of less than ten thousand, Old Theria is the home of the king, the Elders, and the Elders’ Hall. It is also home of the Old Theria Red Knights, a shirling team in the SAT.
peep (noun)
A shirling term; the focus of play in shirling. Peeps are chubby birds, released into a shirling field at the beginning of a shirling match. Shrills attempt to peg the peeps to take control of their lokes. In modern shirling, living peeps have been replaced by a mechanical alternative, in accordance with the Peep Cruelty Act.
peg
1. Verb; a shirling term; the act of hitting a peep with a peg (see noun)
2. Noun; a shirling term; a peg is a non-lethal arrow, which is designed to explode on impact. Pegs are used by shrills in the sport of shirling.
Primea (place)
Primea is a Therian province. It used to be its own country.
primean (noun)
Slang; a therian whose shifted form is that of a non-human hominid, usually a gorilla, or a chimpanzee.
Quell Falls (place)
A high-altitude mountain town, famous for its harsh winter conditions. Quell Falls was originally built to be the stronghold for the king and later became a popular skiing destination.
Rebels (organization)
Commonly referred to as The Rebel Uprising, the Rebels are the political opposition to the king and the Royal Guard. The Rebel Uprising is a revolutionary army.
Regulation (government body)
A department designated to ensuring humans remain ignorant to Theria and therians.
regulator (title)
A therian who works for the Regulation department. Verbs: regulated (past), regulating (present), regulate (future).
Royal Guard (government body)
The body of troops of the Therian army. The Royal Guard directly serves the king.
shift (verb)
The therian ability to transform between human and animal form. Therians can only shift into one animal form. Their animal form is not chosen, but a genetic trait. Other tenses: shifted (past), shifting (present)
shifter (noun)
Slang term for “therian.” Some consider the term “shifter” to be derogatory.
shirling (noun)
The most popular therian sport. Shirling is played between three tea
ms of three to five therians. Teams track and peg peeps. A team can win by shwiffing all opponents, or by controlling the most peeps for the greatest amount of time. A shirling match is generally three rounds (or more, if necessary) lasting forty minutes each. Verbs: shirlled (past), shirling (present), shirl (future).
shirling field (noun)
A shirling term; the field where shirling is played.
shrill (title)
A shirling term; one who shirls.
shwiff (verb)
Future tense; a shirling term; the act of eliminating a player by shooting him/her with a peg. Other tenses: shwiffed (past), shwiffing (present).
sniff (noun)
A therian whose shifted form is that of an animal with exceptional smelling ability, usually a hound, or a mole.
