The Bear's Home

by Emilia Hartley

  Amara walked quietly down the hall at the hospital, her soft-soled shoes making virtually no noise. She hated hospitals; hated everything about them. The bright whites and the pastel colors, the fluorescent lighting, the sickly sterile smell that was supposed to be a cover for the dead and the dying. It was all awful.

  Every time she stepped foot in this building—set foot in this wing—she had horrible flashbacks.

  She was twelve years old, crying at her father’s bedside as the nurses turned off his life support system and the machines breathed in and out for him one last time, her mom and sister behind her. She felt his lifeless fingers go limp in her hand.

  She was fifteen years old, lying flat on her back. This time it was her in the hospital bed, not her father. There were tubes everywhere; in her nose, her throat, her wrists. Her clavicle had been broken, the skin torn open by the wolf’s teeth when he attacked her. She would have a nice, ugly scar. The bone had snapped in two, leaving the flesh shredded on top of it. She could feel the stitches stretch and pull each time she breathed.

  She was twenty-three, sitting in the chair across from her grandfather’s bed. The cancer had been eating away at him for the last two years, and his medications had finally stopped working. And then the pain had gotten to be too much. The night before, after telling her one last story about the legendary men who could turn into beasts, he had slipped into a coma. The doctors said he would never wake up.

  Over the years, she had been in that same hospital walking those same halls countless times to visit friends and family members that had fallen victim to the wolves. Her best friend, Becca, had been in and out of hospital care since they were teenagers due to complications from the attack; out of the three girls Kal went after that night, Becca had suffered the most. Still, even Zoe had been a patient. The doctors claimed she suffered from PTSD, a side effect of the trauma. Granted, at those times, her injuries were alcohol induced and self-inflicted.

  Now she was there for Donny. She didn’t know him that well, but he was a regular at Murphy’s Tavern, and his youngest brother, Carl, had been in her grade at school.

  Reaching his room, Amara knocked lightly before pushing open his door. The small space was full. The entire Jones family had taken up residence on the available tables, chairs, and couches the hospital room had to offer.

  When she entered, Clarence rose from his seat near the window and rushed to greet her. He wrapped her in a hug, encasing her in the stench of beer, sweat, and cigarettes. Amara felt her stomach turn but forced the feeling to subside. As questionable as his personal hygiene might be, Clarence was a sweet man, and right then, he was worried about his brother.

  “Oh, Amara, it’s so nice of you to make it. Donny would have loved to see you. He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, you know. He owes you his life. We all do.”

  Amara’s eyes widened. “No, no you don’t owe me anything.”

  “You saved his life!”

  She shifted uncomfortably. It was true that she had chased the wolf off, even shot him with her gun, but she was beginning to feel guilty that she was condemning one wolf clan while siding with another. Hadn’t all the wolves been using her town as if it were a battleground? Strathford was supposed to be Mountain Clan territory, but the Valley Clan had been using its streets and its people to get the biggest reaction from their rivals. Amara’s town, the humans, they were just collateral damage. Hadn’t Neveah’s and Isiah’s reactions proved how little human life actually meant to them? She should be disposed of immediately. Isn’t that what Nova’s own mother had said? How could she claim to have saved Donny’s life when she was sleeping with one of the people who had put his life at risk in the first place? And now, if they brought wolves in from the Falls Clan, there would be even more potential enemies to worry about.

  It almost made her worry about Sadie and Kal seem trivial. Almost.

  Amara forced a smile. “It was the least I could do, Clarence,” she told him. She didn’t have to make a moral decision right then. No, what she had to do right at that moment was give the Joneses what they really needed, and that was a sense of safety and comfort. “I’m glad he’s safe now. How’s he doing?”

  Next to the bed, his mother, Julia, shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was a widower, and the mother of four strong boys. They all lived and worked on their family farm. Julia was a kind woman and friends with Amara’s mother. She’d lost her husband when the boys were little. It didn’t seem right that she should lose another loved one to the same enemy.

  Carl rose from the couch. He was a tall man, and burly, with a thick mop of golden brown hair, rounded cheeks, and kind, blue eyes. They’d been friends since they were children. He’d even been her date to the Winter Formal their freshman year in high school. For a while, she thought he’d even leave town to go to college. But then the attacks got more and more frequent, and he’d been too afraid for his family to leave them short-handed on the farm.

  Amara reached out a hand and patted his arm. “They said making it through the night was a good sign,” Carl told her quietly, careful not to let his mother overhear. “But since early this morning, there’s been no change. The good thing is that he still has brain activity. They’re hopeful that if his body can heal fast enough, he’ll make a decent recovery.” Carl furrowed a worried brow and lowered his voice. Amara had to lean in to hear him. “But right now, we’ll just be lucky if he makes it another night.

  “He’s right torn up, Amara. We’re damn lucky you showed up with that gun when you did.”

  Amara stayed another fifteen minutes or so, using her own family as an excuse to get away. She was worried for Donny, and her heart went out to his family, it really did. But if she didn’t get out of that hospital soon, she was going to scream.

  When she finally made it out the big double doors at the front of the building, she took in a gigantic gulp of crisp, fresh air. If she never had to step foot in another hospital again, she wouldn’t be all too happy.

  Amara dug out her phone and turned on the ringer. Three missed calls and four text messages. She clicked on the little orange icon. All the calls were from Mitch. The texts too.

  They called a mandatory Council meeting at ten o’clock that morning. Zoe even said the mayor was going to be there. Everyone wanted to know what happened last night.

  Amara, did you get my messages? His text said. Are you going to the council meeting? If you meet me out front, we can go in together.

  Seriously, Amara, where are you? The meeting’s about to start.

  Fine. I’m going in without you. I’ll save you a seat in the back.

  Crap. If there was a Council meeting that morning, she definitely needed to be there. As her grandfather’s heir, she had been asked to take his seat on the Strathford Town Council. She glanced at her watch. It was already 10:15. The hospital was only twelve blocks from City Hall. If she ran, maybe she could slip in without anybody noticing.

  Zipping her coat up to her chin against the harsh wind whipping down the street, Amara took one moment to wish she’d been able to down an entire pot of coffee like she did most mornings, and resolved to do her morning run without her caffeine motivation. It wouldn’t be the first time, but it wasn’t her favorite way to start the day. This had definitely not been her best morning.

  She was breathing hard and wishing she’d worn a lighter jacket by the time she reached that red brick building that served as their city center. She hadn’t run that hard, fast, and long since high school. What a rush. Still, she should have been there twenty minutes ago and, judging by the amount of people she could see jammed within the room, going in unnoticed would pretty much be impossible.

  Amara took a deep breath and opened the door. She’d intended to ease the door shut, but before she could, the metal handle was ripped from her hands by the wind, and slammed shut behind her.

  Chapter 7

  All eyes turned to stare at her. The Mayor, who had been mid-speech, fell sile
nt. Damn it. She didn’t want to draw attention. Oh well. Smiling sheepishly, she searched the crowd for Mitch. He waved at her from the second to last row.

  “As I was saying,” the Mayor continued, “these wolves are becoming a problem, and we will need to band together to stay vigilant and keep them from stalking our streets.”

  Amara ducked around her neighbors and threaded her way through the crowd of people to the empty seat beside Mitch. She took off her coat and tucked it and her purse beneath her chair.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Mitchell hissed from the corner of his mouth. The woman in front of him turned to shush him over her shoulder. Mitch just rolled his eyes.

  “Sorry,” Amara whispered back as the Mayor droned on about composing a Neighborhood Watch. “I had some things to do this morning and then I went to visit Donny in the hospital. I couldn’t turn on my phone there. It’s against the rules.”

  A pained look crossed Mitch’s face. “How’s he doing?”

  “No change. The doctors are hopeful, but it’s still touch and go.”

  “I would like as many of us to volunteer to walk the streets at night as we can,” the Mayor said, among murmurs of agreement from the town.

  Amara stood. “Excuse me, Mr. Mayor, but while these groups of people are walking through the empty streets of Strathford to fight off a pack of deadly wolves, will they be armed?”

  The mayor stuttered for a moment, just the hint on panic creasing the skin around his eyes. It was common knowledge he was against guns—a fact he hadn’t been completely forthcoming with in his election. If he had, he never would have been voted in. “Armed? Well I…”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t want your loyal citizens to be sitting ducks for a pack of wild animals to suit your political needs. Would you?” Crossing her arms over her chest, Amara raised a brow and waited.

  “Well, no, of course not. I mean, yes, of course, they will be armed.”

  “Good. Then I would recommend going out in groups of no less than ten at a time. Each group will need to have a leader that they agree to defer to, otherwise, the whole thing is pointless. And, each member should be proficient with a firearm.” She turned her attention to the crowd. “If there is anybody who needs a lesson on learning to shoot a gun or tips on perfecting their aim, myself or a friend will be more than willing to teach you.” She had every intention of roping Nova into the tutorial.

  The mayor finally seemed to have recovered. “Now listen here, young lady, you can’t just go offering to teach people to shoot a gun.”

  “Why not?” Mitchell asked, standing up beside her. “She’s one of the best shots in town. She was taught by her grandfather, who was the best shot in town.” He pointed to a series of plaques on the wall behind him. “Reigning Strathford Shooting Champion, six years in a row. Who better to teach us?”

  The mayor huffed out an angry breath, but it was clear that he’d been beat. “Fine. She can teach you.”

  Amara beamed. “Wonderful. I work Monday through Saturday nights at the bar, but until we get this under control, I’ll lead Sunday’s Watch.”

  Sunday night, Amara crouched down low, peering over the ledge through the lens of her scope. It was a quiet night, but she wasn’t stupid enough to let it fool her. Every other attack in town had happened on a quiet night as well. She couldn’t see Nova and his wolves, but she knew he was out there. There was no way he would have let her go alone, and in truth, she was glad. As much as she claimed she didn’t need a babysitter, she felt safer when he was around.

  She adjusted the volume on her radio; she needed to keep in touch with the rest of the group. There were ten of them all together, and she had sent them out in groups of twos and threes.

  She wasn’t sure where her sister was that night—she’d said she had plans—but she hoped it wasn’t alone. But she hoped it wasn’t with Kal, either.

  Behind her, Mitchell paced up and down the rooftop. He hadn’t stopped pacing since they got up there, actually.

  “Mitchell,” Amara all but growled through clenched teeth, “seriously, would you stop? You’re driving me nuts.” The constant movement of Mitch’s feet was setting her on edge. As if there wasn’t already enough to be worried about.

  Behind her, Mitch slowed, but didn’t stop. Amara sighed inwardly. She loved Mitchell to death - he was one of her very best friends. But sometimes, the lack of spine on that guy drove her damn near insane.

  “I can’t help it,” he admitted. His voice had that intense, hyper-active tone of someone high on caffeine. What could be bothering him so much? “All these wolf attacks have me on edge. And Zoe. Shit. Don’t even get me started on Zoe. She’s so freaked out, she’s drinking like a fish. And you know how that girl gets when she drinks.”

  Amara nodded. Of course she did. She’d poured Zoe into a cab or into her bed more times than she cared to count. Taking care of that girl and her issues was a full-time job in and of itself. Zoe was a mess on a normal day. She could only imagine how she must be taking these recent attacks. She also knew how Mitch handled emotional females.

  He didn’t.

  “Are you being supportive?” she asked, although she already knew the answer.

  Pausing mid-pace, he bit his lip. Mitch gave a noncommittal shrug. “Well, um, you know. I’m trying, I guess.” Amara merely raised a skeptical brow. Mitch groaned. “Okay, okay. So maybe not so much. But being with Zoe isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world.”

  Amara chuckled. “Hey pal, you chose her, not me.”

  Mitch’s lips twitched. He sighed. “I guess I could be a little bit more…”

  “Understanding? Sympathetic? Supportive? Compassionate?”

  “Yeah. Those.”

  Amara wrinkled her nose. “I’d work on that if I were you.”

  “Hey, hey!”

  Mitch and Amara stared at each other with equal looks of alarm. Amara suppressed a laugh as Zoe climbed over the small wall at the edge of the roof. She glanced up at Mitch, who was sitting there dumbfounded, like he’d just gotten caught doing something wrong.

  The brilliant smile Zoe had worn when she first appeared, faltered. She looked from Mitch to Amara and crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes narrowed.

  Amara was determined to look anywhere but at Zoe, who was now approaching Mitchell as if she would like nothing more than to drag him off that roof by his collar. Which, she admitted, would actually be fun to see.

  To Amara’s delight, Sadie climbed up behind Zoe, followed by Nova. As quickly as she could, she unfolded herself from her perch on the ledge and went over to greet them. Nova’s face was grim. And, as the next person climbed over the ledge, Amara understood why.

  Kal stepped down onto the roof with ease. He was tall and built, with tawny eyes, russet-colored brown hair, and tanned skin. He eyed Amara with a wanting that made her uncomfortable. Nova clenched his fists.

  “Nice to see you again, Amara,” Kal crooned. Amara shuddered. There was nothing she’d like more than to punch him in the face. Although, him being a shifter and all, she would probably break her hand. Maybe she should work on another way to vent her frustration.

  Looking around at each of them, Sadie’s eyes widened. “I know you guys don’t like each other, but really? Is there something going on here that I don’t know about?” A chorus of no’s filled the air, which made her even more skeptical. “Okay,” Sadie said slowly, “if you say so.”

  Amara pulled her sister aside. “Sadie, please be careful.”

  “Careful? Of what? The ladder?” Her eyes narrowed. “Oh. Of Kal. Amara, we have been through this.”

  “He’s not a good guy, Sadie.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  Amara cringed, knowing the only answer she could give would never be sufficient. “I just do.”

  Sadie scoffed. “Well, that isn’t good enough. I thought you said you would back off?”

  “I did. I’m trying. I just, Sadie, I just don’t want you to get hurt.
”

  Sadie rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fine. Drop it, Mara,” she said, and Amara fell silent. There really wasn’t anything else she could do.

  Beside her, Zoe glared at Mitch who was watching Amara. “Why do you look so guilty?” she demanded. Mitch’s flustered reply was cut off by Zoe’s dramatic eye roll. “Whatever, Mitch.”

  While Zoe and Mitchell got into what Amara termed their daily argument, she went to Nova. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you—because I’m not. At all—but what are you guys doing up here?”

  Nova grinned that grin that made Amara weak in the knees, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I came to keep you company. And to send Mitch home because I’m willing to bet you’re devising a dozen ways to kill him right about now.”

  Amara snickered. “This is true. But why did you bring everybody else with you? This is supposed to be the Neighborhood Watch, not the Neighborhood Soap Opera. I mean, come on. Mitch and Zoe are fighting, Sadie and Kal are making out. I want to shoot him in the face, I’m betting you’re trying not to tear him limb from limb. This is a freak show!”

  Nova pressed his mouth to hers, effectively silencing her. It made her head spin. “Relax, Amara. Everything will be fine.”

  “Oh, hey,” Sadie said, coming over to them. “Mom wanted me to remind you that both of you,” she stared pointedly at Nova, “are expected at dinner tomorrow night.” Her smile was bright and excited. She grabbed Kal’s hand. “We’ll see you then!” Turning, she headed for the ladder and eased herself down. Thankfully, Mitch and Zoe went down after her.

  Kal stood his ground, leering at Nova. “Looks like we have more in common than you thought, Lowery. You may have gotten the older version, but I got the younger, new and improved, model.” Both Nova and Amara glared at him. “See you at Mommy’s house.” Laughing, he turned to leave, and Amara grabbed Nova’s arm to hold him back.

  “You can’t fight him now,” she cautioned. “No matter how much you might want to.”

  “Why not?” he growled.