Briar on Bruins' Peak (Bruins' Peak Bears Book 7)

by Erin D. Andrews

  “Maybe that’s why you’re so strong.”

  I lifted my head and regarded her with some surprise. “You are saying this was her intention?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, it did not feel like parenting to me. It felt like anger and judgement.”

  “Hm.” She stood to move back to the center of the room as the fire had gotten too warm. “Even if she didn’t mean it to happen, you are very strong and very intelligent. Something made you that way.”

  We paused as my mother and Black Feather walked in. My mother nodded at me, and I nodded back, making Harper sigh in frustration.

  “Mama’n Larissa,” she said, “we were just talking about child and parent relationships.”

  “Oh?” My mother shuffled over slowly. She gently set herself down on the big, white couch with a loud groan and then settled back. “That sounds like a very dangerous conversation to have.”

  “It is. But it is important.” I stood. “Mother,” I asked, “did you raise me the way you did to make me strong?”

  To my surprise, a labored laugh came out of her. “Make you strong? No one can do this. A woman is either strong, or she is not. No one can do anything about it. If she is weak, you have to find a partner who can support her. If she is strong, the best thing you can do is get out of her way.”

  “Did you do this?” I asked, suddenly nervous. “Get out of my way?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. Leaning forward a little, she answered, “No one is perfect, my daughter.”

  “No. I suppose not.” I turned away from her and sat down by Harper. Black Feather looked around the room with a confused face and then just shrugged it off and sat on the other side of me. He tried to hold my hand, but I took it away.

  There was an uncomfortable silence, then my mother broke it. “My daughter,” she said, “how about you sing something for us? You always had a wonderful singing voice.”

  “I cannot sing for you, Mother. I am sorry.”

  “Hey,” Black Feather jumped in, “come on. Let’s sing the song you taught me.”

  “That is a song of welcome, not goodbyes,” I informed him and stood to leave the room.

  I walked out neither angry nor happy. However, I was frightened. The thing that scared me was the lack of emotion that I experienced. It was not the calm sense of peace that I felt out in the desert; it was as if my connections between my nerves and my brain had been severed. I could not be certain if it was my grand victory that had caused my sudden stoppage or if it was something that was changing inside of me. I seemed unable to love those days, and I suddenly had so many reasons to love.

  The outside of the palace was a continuous balcony that wrapped around the building in all directions. I strolled along this outdoor path on my own and looked up to see the Children glowing gently down on me. I stopped and waved to them.

  “Hello my children,” I called. They glowed a little brighter, and I smiled. “I miss you.” I closed my eyes and imagined them giggling in the sky. I laughed along with them for a moment, happy that they were there with me, even if they were ghosts of stars from the past. I still needed them.

  “Hi.”

  I jumped a mile and opened my eyes to see Black Feather watching me. “Oh. Hello.”

  He snorted at me. “Don’t sound so disappointed. We used to be lovers, you know.”

  “Of course, I know.”

  “Well…” He set his jaw and spread his arms in frustration. “I came to check on you, okay? I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

  “That is very nice of you,” I said. I stepped a little closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I did not mean to be rude. My apologies.”

  He picked my hand up and held it in his own. “Don’t worry. You can be rude if you need to. Just don’t expect me to be kind to you forever if you keep it up.”

  I smiled. “You are kind, little bird. Thank you. For your kindness.”

  He nodded. “Can I walk with you?”

  We turned and walked further along. As we went, we looked in the windows of the palace. In each room was another shifter family. Unlike the compound, here the furniture was soft and plush, everything was indoors, and electricity and water just flowed. We didn’t have to beg for it or steal it; it simply functioned.

  “Do you think they will ever want to live outdoors again,” I asked him, “now that they have had a taste of indoor life?”

  He nodded. “They’re all still shifters. I don’t think you need to worry.”

  We continued and went all the way to the other side of the palace where there were fewer families. They were the nocturnal shifters – the bats, a family of lorises, and a lonely aye-aye. We waved to them, and they responded by turning off their lights, a very friendly hello in the nocturnal world. It was not them hiding, it was a kind of invitation – come into the darkness with me.

  “Larissa,” Black Feather said, “I have been meaning to ask you about something.”

  “Yes, please,” I regarded the sky as I replied, but he pulled my chin down to make me look him in the eye.

  “You said in the desert that what you felt for me was something significant, but it wasn’t love. You said you didn’t have a name for it.”

  My formerly numb heart started to beat again. It went so fast it almost hurt. “I remember.” A big lurch took place in my stomach. Black Feather put his hands on either side of my face.

  “I was wondering,” he whispered, “if there was anyone else you had this emotion for. Anyone who you’re training? Teaching?” He stepped a little closer and added, “loving, maybe?”

  I shook my head as I began to tremble all over. “No. There’s no one else.” My voice was a very soft whisper, but he heard it. He nodded and pulled me in toward his chest.

  “I have a lot of room in my heart for you,” he mumbled, stroking my hair. “I know you don’t like romance, but I was thinking, with all these changes, maybe you could do with a partner.”

  “I don’t want a partner,” I told him. He pushed me away from him just far enough that he could look into my eyes.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  I touched his cheek with my hand, and he pulled me in close again. “Is it okay if I don’t know what I want? Not yet, I mean?”

  He nodded and tipped my face up to kiss me. We pushed together with our familiar ferocity and held each other tight.

  “I’ll help you figure it out,” he told me. “Whatever it is that you have inside of you. You don’t have to go through it alone. Not anymore.”

  We kissed again, more softly the second time, and I could a soft, distant singing. I didn’t know who it was, but in my mind, it was the Children looking down and celebrating the fact that my heart was awake and feeling all that it could feel once again.

  Book 3: Shifter’s Hope

  Chapter One

  Life Without Him

  The flames that chewed through my bed and all my clothes, also ate up the last photo I had of Boris. It was from our first home. The two of us were playing in the forest. We weren’t allowed in the playground with the humans, so our mom would take us to the woods and say, “No humans here! Go climb the trees and dig in the ground. Come home after you’ve had an adventure.”

  I always loved how she would do that, take a place made for shifters and turn it into something special. As if our place in the world wasn’t slowly closing in on us. As if we were safe and happy, free from the threat of humans everywhere.

  Boris was wonderful at finding some made-up little treasure. He would hold up a long stick and cry out, “I’ve found the lost wand of the old wizards!” Then we would spend the rest of the afternoon casting spells on one another, pretending to be frozen in place and hiding from the imaginary enemy, completely forgetting about the real one.

  That first home was my favorite. I probably only feel that way because I was so small at the time. I remember the cheap, formica, kitchen table; the old, ratty
couch, where we would fall asleep watching the same three movies every Sunday; the little patch of grass in the front. We felt like royalty in that house. Most of the shifters we knew lived in dilapidated apartments where neighbors could do something called “keep an eye” on their, supposedly, wild neighbors. That phrase always evoked bizarre images for me – a single eyeball resting on top of a person’s head and looking in all directions to see what he or she was actually up to all day.

  I don’t remember how my parents got that little place with the grass and the forest within walking distance. That was back when there was something of a forest. It was all little scrubby trees and brown grass, but we loved it all the same. It must have been a beautiful forest back when a lot more people were around. I once heard that there were even groups of humans dedicated to caring for the trees and the animals. It must have been a beautiful time.

  We were forced to move several times. I only cried the first time when I had to say goodbye to that soft, beautiful land where I had played for so many hours. Boris jabbed me in the arm when my tears fell.

  “Don’t be sad. They’re watching you.”

  “Who?” I sniffed.

  “Them.” I looked to see a group of tall men in black vests and shiny black helmets. Why would they be watching me? One of them had some kind of black object in his hand. It wasn’t until later that I would learn those black instruments were designed to shock shifters into behaving. I would be tased many times throughout my life, and every time it took me by surprise just how much it hurt.

  Our second home was one of those old apartments with no sunlight, voices coming through the walls, and brown water flowing through the faucets. Our dad was handy back in those days–back before he got sick. One day, I came home from scavenging and found him lying on his back under the sink, whistling while he worked on the pipes.

  “Hi, princess!”

  “Hi.” I kneeled on the floor next to him, then lowered myself all the way down to see what he was doing. “Why are you under the sink, Daddy?”

  “I’m making the brown water go away,” he responded, then reached out to give my ponytail a light tug. He always did that, and it always made me feel special.

  Dad kept his word. The water ran clear. Then he fixed the bed I slept on so that it wouldn’t be at an angle, and he made the TV work so we could watch the Bachmann stories and histories. I sincerely believed that my father was invincible and always would be. What proof did I have otherwise?

  There was no playing at the apartment. We had to scavenge to help our parents pay the bills. We tried going to school, but we were quickly expelled. I remember that hurt more than anything. Why are teachers allowed to forbid children from attending class? Who made that decision? I came home with a face covered in tears that my mother quickly wiped away.

  “Who needs school?” She took my hand and led me out to the street. “You see all those pieces of metal?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, those are worth money. From now on, you have a job. Collect those bits of metal and bring them home to me. Then we’ll go and get some money.” She smiled and scrunched down to put my face in her hands. “You’re strong enough to make your own way in this world. You remember that.”

  I guess I really had some amazing parents. They had nothing, but we were never hungry, never felt left out or pushed aside, and they always took the time to play with us and laugh with us. I really miss them.

  The burned photo is hot in my hand. I don’t know why that surprised me, but it did. Of course, a burned photograph would be hot; what kind of idiot was I, anyway? I watched as the little orange sparks continued to singe the edges little by little and mistakenly waved it in the air in hopes of putting them out. Of course, it backfired, (again, I must be some sort of simpleton), and the sparks grew into flames in no time. I dropped it on the pavement and stepped on it, but that only served to make the photo fall apart under my foot. My last photo. Way to go, Emily. Way to go.

  Tina, the wolf that killed Boris’ murderer, came over to see what happened, but as soon as she saw the photo bits, she just shook her head sadly. As if this had anything to do with her. As if it were her brother who had died.

  “I’m so sorry, Emily.”

  “What are you sorry about?” I wrapped the blanket I had saved around me a little tighter. “You already took care of his killer. You and I are square.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant–”

  “Whatever.” I turned away and waited for her to leave, hating myself every moment until she finally walked away. I wish I could tell her how much she meant to me, that she made the world better, that a part of my brother lived in her, and that she was amazing. But I couldn’t say those things without crying, and I would be damned if I would cry in front of Tina or anyone. No one got to witness my tears. I made sure of that.

  The rest of the night went by slowly. The other shifters ran for water down in the former prison (now home to the bats), and then ran it up with the help of the wildcats and their insanely strong legs. The flames only lapped up one corner of the palace, but it just happened to be my corner.

  “We have to find out what started this fire.”

  “We know what started this fire. Some human who fancies himself a hero.”

  “It wasn’t a human. It was one of the wolf pups. They love to play with fire.”

  “What are you talking about? Wolves hate fire!”

  It went like that for hours. I didn’t say anything; I just sat on the little wall that bordered the patio outside my room. I never thought I would live in a palace. I never thought a palace could be so full of loneliness.

  It wasn’t a bad deal, really. We’d kicked the president and his crew out a few months before and, to our surprise, they still hadn’t attempted to take it back. I don’t know where they went, but I was sure that they had gone somewhere far from us. Somewhere with another palace, with more people to frighten and rule over.

  All the humans were sure that we would put them into some kind of cage, feed off of them, and terrorize them at every opportunity. They seemed genuinely surprised when we didn’t even glance at them. We were all done with humans of the State. Who cared about them? They were a bunch of petty cowards. I didn’t want to waste my time hanging out with humans, much less digest them. Too gritty.

  Just kidding, I’ve never eaten a human. I’ve never even met a shifter who tried it. We’re all grossed out by the idea. It’s just a scary story the people tell each other, and we don’t do much to correct them. Sometimes, it helps to be the boogieman.

  The fire was put out, and people calmed down. I looked at the tall, burned pieces of lumber that had been my room and vaguely wondered where I would live. The other shifters who had lost their quarters were all chatting good-naturedly with those around them–wolves with wolves, eagles with eagles. I sat and listened to it all, hoping some unknown voice would speak up and say, “Emily! Come bunk with us. We boars have to stick together.” Of course, there were no other boars. Boar shifters are few and far between, and we often have to make do for ourselves.

  That night was the first time I saw just how on my own I actually was. First, I visited the bears in the west half of the palace. They had made themselves at home in the cavernous library and were stretched out in front of a warm fire (yikes), and were using piles of books for pillows and armrests.

  “Um, hey. I, uh, kind of need a new place to stay.”

  One of the male bears yawned, and a huge, booming bear voice came out of his human throat. “Oh. Was your room damaged by the fire?”

  I took a little step closer. “No, it was completely burned up. I don’t have anything left. I was hoping, since we’re all earthbound shifters and, you know, friends and everything, maybe I could just grab a corner in the back or…” I waited for someone to interrupt me, but all I got in return was a loud snore. My shoulders fell in disappointment. Well, bears were too sleepy for me. I need some shifters with a bit of spirit, anyway.

  I m
oved on to the wolves. Fellow earthbounds, energy galore, and I already had Tina as a friend. Surely, she would say something on my behalf.

  I knocked on a bedroom door, and the whole room exploded into a chorus of excited cries.

  “Hey! Hey, there’s someone here!”

  “Did one of you invite someone? Who could it be?”

  “Open it! Open the door!”

  I half expected a crowd of little puppies to greet me once the big, white entrance swung open, but all I saw were young, lithe, female wolves. I scanned the room for Tina, but there was no sign of her.

  “Hi. Hey.” I smiled, but the expression felt weird, so I attempted a casual lean.

  “Hi.” One of the younger wolves stepped forward and copied my lean with a wink to her friends. “So, what’s up?”

  “Actually, my room burned down in the fire. I was wondering if you had any extra beds here, or maybe just a spare couch or something…”

  This set off a fit of giggles among the young girls, several of whom started bouncing on one of the giant, silky soft beds. “Gosh,” my guard said, feigning concentration, “I don’t think so. Miriam?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do we have any space for any boars in here?”

  The girl, Miriam, gave an exaggerated sigh and shrugged as big as she could, arms spread out. “For boars? Nope. Don’t think so. Try the prison downstairs. It’s pretty roomy.” This made all of them giggle and got me to spin around on my heel.

  “The prison,” I said to myself. “Right. Like I’m going there.”

  After a few hours of polite ‘no’s,’ ‘I-don’t-think-so’s,’ and pitying head shakes, I headed for what used to be the most secure entrance of the palace. Its many locks and the big scanner for security rings were all broken, and the door opened easily, but I still felt like I was descending into a place I shouldn’t have gone at all.

  I walked down the metal steps and listened to the ring under my sneakers. I took a deep breath. “Don’t get emotional. Just ask politely and let them say no. Then just go sleep in the street or something.” Smiling again, this time in genuine hope, I approached an older woman who I hoped was the mom of the family.