Bound to the Bear

by Kathy Lyons

  “I thought it was more about turning copper to gold.”

  She shrugged. “Well, that could be helpful, too. Do you know how underfunded the CDC is?”

  No, he didn’t. But he had fun asking her about it and hearing stories about the lengths her coworkers had gone to get toner for their printers or extra lab coats after getting burned or gassed or spilled on.

  He was smiling by the time they made it to the hospital. He could have sat and listened to her stories for years, but they were here. And worse, the moment he put the car in park, her expression sobered, and she touched his arm.

  “I need you to explain something to me.” He didn’t respond, but waited patiently for the question. It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t going to speak and then she fumbled with her words, unusually embarrassed. “So, um, can you sense…you know by smell or something?”

  “Sense what?”

  “If someone can…” She waved vaguely at his body. Then she frowned. “If there’s magic there? If they can shift?” Her hand gestured included the two of them. “You said you can feel the magic—”

  “Just in a general sense, and it’s everywhere.”

  “Right. But not everyone can shift.”

  She was asking if he could tell if someone had shifter DNA. It was valid question, and frankly, she was adorable in the way she fumbled, worried that she’d embarrass him or something. So even though he was smiling, he answered as honestly as he could.

  “I can usually scent it right before someone changes, if I’m standing close enough. And sometimes it’s really obvious if someone’s a shifter, though that’s not a hundred percent. We were pretty sure with Sammy for the past year, but it wasn’t certain until yesterday.”

  “I need to understand the biology of shifters. And I need you to talk to a hybrid girl and her parents.”

  His entire body tightened with alarm. “No. No talking to parents. No explaining things. Not my job.”

  She arched her brows. “You explained them to me.”

  “That was my job. Not anyone else.”

  “Didn’t Simon say you’d help me with whatever I need? Isn’t he your boss or something?”

  Yes. Simon was both his alpha and his boss. The Griz paid him to do a variety of tasks, but initiating someone into the shifter world was delicate, and not something he ever wanted to do again.

  He opened his mouth to argue, but she stopped him with a shake of her head. “There’s no one else.” Then she hopped out of his car and headed for the hospital.

  He would have argued further, but they were rapidly surrounded by people. Whereas he had made a point of driving through the quiet parts of town—Alyssa sent regular updates on any violent outbursts in the city—the hospital was one place where people would come. Not just because of the Flu, but because of injuries and all the regular reasons people sought medical attention. So he buttoned his lip as Cecilia seemed to power walk through the huge building.

  No one stopped them. She clearly belonged, and he did his best to make it clear he was with her. And while people eyed him warily—they always did given his size, race, and his big damn scar—no one questioned them. Pretty soon they were back on the floor where they’d first met what seemed like years ago but was really just yesterday.

  They went first to the same lab she’d been in before. Her coworker was awake today instead of drooling on his shirt. He greeted her without looking up from his microscope.

  “Get some sleep?”

  “Yeah,” she answered. “You?”

  “Enough.”

  “Any news?”

  “Couple DOAs came in. More of the same. Am working them up now.”

  “Brittany?”

  He sighed and sat back on his stool, his eyes focusing with surprise on Hank. Neither said a word though and he ended up speaking as if Hank wasn’t there.

  “Mom just came through the quarantine. She’s been in California visiting relatives.” His expression looked sad. “They’re bringing Brittany to consciousness now. Taking it really slow to see if Mom can help calm her down before she’s fully awake.”

  “Good,” Cecilia said as she grabbed a tablet from her workstation and started tapping. “This is Hank. He’s going to help.”

  Her coworker flashed him a grin. “Great. How?”

  Cecilia waved at him without even looking up as she headed out the door. Hank followed her, thinking that anything he said was likely to get him into more trouble, not less. So he kept his mouth shut as she took him down the hall to what she’d called “the Weird Ward.”

  “We talk to Mom and Dad first,” she said in a low voice. “To find out if they’re part of your club.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Give it a shot, Hank. We’re all clutching at straws.”

  Fair enough.

  They crossed into Brittany’s room. It was a normal hospital room if you counted a dozen or more machines whirring away as normal. A pale blond teenage girl lay unmoving, looking like she belonged on the set of Hollywood’s latest teen flick rather than with IVs sticking out of her…black bear arms. A closer look showed him that beneath artfully arranged blond hair, her ears were furry and rounded. Definitely a bear. And now that he looked at the silhouette beneath the sheet, he guessed that her hips and legs had bearlike dimensions. At least some. And then, of course, was the usual hybrid stench. Not strong, but definitely present beneath all the antiseptic smells.

  “My money’s on Peter, the father,” Cecilia murmured as she turned to greet the parents. Mom was holding her daughter’s hand and surreptitiously wiping away tears. Dad stood back a step, his expression stoic, but anyone with eyes could see the pain burning underneath.

  “You’d be wrong,” Hank whispered back. Shifters held pain differently than full humans. This man was large and broad, built for football, though he was obviously aging. Broad shoulders, straight spine, probably had some military experience in his background. But his gaze remained trained on his child. Shifters—especially those in pain—couldn’t resist scanning the environment for threats. Even if their body was tall, they tended to stand in defensible positions in a room. Tucked into a corner or braced near an exit. It was rarely conscious, but a trained observer noticed.

  Brittany’s father stood with his back to the door and his gaze never wavered. He was completely and wholly there for his wife and child. And when Mom looked up at Cecilia and Hank, he wrapped her in his arm and provided comfort in the way men do: with a touch, but no sound. Shifters were more likely to nuzzle and murmur. A purr or a whisper. Some sort of sound that soothed the animal inside even as it was meant to comfort someone else.

  The dad was not a shifter. But the mom, on the other hand, did all those things. She placed her back to the wall, she scanned everyone and everything. And when she cried—tiny little drops leaking steadily out of her eyes—she whimpered slightly and cleared her throat. “Hello, Mrs. Randolph. I’m Dr. Cecilia Lu. I’m so sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”

  “Call me Abby—” Her voice cut off as she cleared her throat again. Trying to help, the father grabbed Brittany’s untouched pitcher of water and poured her a glass. Hank’s nose twitched. It was hard to isolate scents in this place. Between the antiseptic smells, the various scents of terrified people, and of course the hybrid defensive stink, catching the stray waft of tainted water would usually be beyond him. But he was hyperalert in here, his animal side also watching for danger, and that scent was a big one.

  “Don’t drink that!” he snapped just as the mother pressed the cup to her lips.

  She gaped and drew back, her eyes wide as she stared at him.

  “Smell it. Can’t you smell it?”

  She sniffed carefully, her brows drawn together in a frown. The dad did the same, inhaling cautiously over the pitcher.

  “I don’t smell anything,” he said.

  Hank crossed over and took the pitcher out of the father’s hand. Yup, the taint was there, strong and nauseating. H
e set it aside with a heavy thump. Meanwhile, the mom was frowning over her glass.

  “This is Hank,” Cecilia said, her voice soothing in the awkward silence. “He’s here to help. He thinks the Detroit Flu is carried in the water.”

  “Do you smell it?” he pressed the mother.

  She set down her glass slowly. “Maybe.” She looked at him, and her eyes narrowed. Then her gaze hopped to her daughter, to the clawed hands and the furred arms.

  “You know,” Hank said quietly. “Or you guess, at least.” His gaze moved to the father. “Is he blind?” The term wasn’t universal among shifters, but it was common enough in Detroit.

  “What?” Mr. Randolph said. “What is he talking about?”

  It took two tries for his wife to answer, but she managed it. “Yes. He’s…blind.”

  “And you? Who taught you?”

  “My mother. I…um…I never…”

  She’d never shifted.

  Mr. Randolph stepped forward. “I’m not blind. What—” He stopped when his wife grabbed his hand.

  “It’s slang, honey,” she said, her voice still cracking with strain.

  Meanwhile, Hank kept pressing. “What about your siblings? Brother, sister—”

  “My brother did it once. We aren’t…we don’t…” She shook her head. “It’s never been a big thing for us.”

  He looked at Brittany. “It is now.”

  She swallowed, fear tightening her features as she took a half step backward toward the corner. Her gaze roved the room, and she clutched her free hand to her chest, her fingers curled into claws. Her husband turned to her, and she tucked tighter into his arms as she made tiny, almost inaudible whimpering sounds. Hank sighed. She was definitely half-shifter and her daughter, therefore, had enough DNA to activate, at least partially. Which made her a hybrid, although they already knew that.

  But he needed more information if he was going to help. “What clan are you?”

  It took Abby a moment to answer. She was busy breathing her husband’s scent and squaring her mind for what was ahead, but eventually she straightened and looked back at Hank. “Black bear. From the Grand Rapids area.”

  One of his own. There were few of them in the Detroit area, and technically she should have reported herself to the local bear clan when she moved here, but she’d never shifted. Most people like her just forgot. It wasn’t part of their lives, and they rarely told their spouses.

  “Don’t drink the water,” he said clearly. “We think it activates your DNA.”

  Which is when the father’s eyes lit up. “So you know what this is. You know how to cure it?”

  Cecilia hedged. “We have an idea. I thought Hank here could talk to Brittany as she comes out—”

  “No,” Hank interrupted. “It has to be her mother.” Then he looked at the woman. “Do you know how to do this? Did you see with your brother? You keep her eyes closed and get her to remember.”

  “There were triggers words with Owen. We all practiced them in case…” Her gaze went to Brittany. “But she doesn’t know anything about this. I never—” Her voice was rising in hysterics. She wasn’t melting down, but she was terrified, and he couldn’t blame her. To have thought that this part of your life was done and then have it endanger your child? Even he could see that it cut at her.

  “That’s okay,” he said quickly. Brittany was stirring. Her breath was deepening, and her hand twitched. “Think of a time when she felt powerful, pretty, or smart. Did she win something that made her feel really good about herself?”

  “We just went shopping for prom dresses,” she said, her voice uncertain.

  “No, no,” the father interrupted. “She’s a mathlete. Remember how happy she was when they’d just won regionals? She’s the only girl on the team.”

  “And the captain asked her out,” Mom continued with a nod.

  Hank smiled. “Perfect. Take her back to there. Don’t let her fully wake. Speak right in her ear.”

  “And get her to remember being—” Her words cut off.

  Being human. That’s what she wanted to say, but her husband was standing right next to her getting frustrated the more they excluded him from the conversation. She’d have to tell him the truth soon, but maybe now wasn’t the time. Not with Brittany starting to stir for real.

  Cecilia noticed, too, and she gestured for Abby to come to the girl’s side. Meanwhile, Hank pulled the curtains closed. This was a moment for privacy. And as they watched, both parents gripped their daughter’s clawed hands, but Abby was the one who spoke as she stroked her hand over her daughter’s eyes. She kept them closed as she murmured into the girl’s ear.

  “Hey, honey, I’m back. It’s Mom.”

  Brittany took a deep breath and started to move, but Abby kept her from opening her eyes. “Don’t wake up, honey. Not just yet. Just listen to my voice, okay?”

  She didn’t really wait for an answer, but Brittany must have heard because she stayed quiet except for how she tried to snuggle tighter toward her mother.

  “I’m just going to talk to you for a bit,” Abby said.

  Hank whispered. “Climb into the bed with her. She needs to smell you.”

  Mr. Randolph frowned at that, but didn’t argue. He helped his wife climb in and settle beside their child. Pretty soon she had Brittany snuggled against her chest as she stroked across the girl’s forehead.

  “Do you know what I’ve been thinking about?” Abby asked. “I’ve been remembering that day you won the mathlete regionals. Do you remember? The trophy was so heavy you almost dropped it. What was that boy’s name who caught it? The captain of the team? The one who asked you out to the movies to celebrate? George? Jeremy? John?”

  “Jordan.” The name was mumbled but it came out clear enough.

  “That’s it. My God, you must have gone through half my makeup that night.”

  “Did not. I have my own.” The girl’s voice was stronger now, still slurred from the drugs, but definitely conscious.

  “And then you came in and got mine. I tried to help you, but you said I had the stroke wrong. Like you’re supposed to circle blush on or something.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “A circle, honey? Come on. It’s blush.” She held up her daughter’s clawed hand. “Can you show me it again?”

  “Mommmm,” the girl grumbled. It sounded just like every teenager who wanted an extra hour of sleep.

  “Just like you did that day, remember? You’d just won regionals. That was exciting. My God, you’re so smart.”

  Her father spoke up. “We’re so proud of you honey.” His voice broke on that as he gripped the furred hand.

  “We are. And that night you went out to the movie with Jordan, but only after you showed me how to put on blush in a circle.” Abby opened her daughter’s fingers like you might spread the pads on a pet’s paw. “Show me how to put on my blush, Brit. Please?”

  The girl huffed back, her eyes still closed. “Can I open my eyes, Mom?”

  “Not yet. I’ve got a surprise for you, and I just need you keep them closed. Come on, honey, how do you—”

  “Like this, Mom.” Her hand flicked in a very specific motion that Hank didn’t even try to understand. But it was a hand. Somewhere between the beginning of the motion and the end, Brittany’s hand went from a thick bear claw to a normal girl’s hand. It even sported soft pink polish on her nails.

  Her father gasped suddenly pulling Britt’s other hand to his mouth. “Oh Brit,” he murmured. “Oh thank God.”

  Abby was smiling, too, as she pressed her kisses to her daughter’s face, surreptitiously wiping away the tears that fell. “That’s great, honey. That’s really great. Thank you.”

  “Can I open my eyes now?”

  “Yes, honey. Go ahead.”

  And here was the really tense time. Because sure, they’d gotten Brittany to revert to full human in the twilight before fully waking up, but that didn’t mean she’d keep the form. Not when she remembered where she w
as and why. From what he’d seen of other hybrids, any kind of fright could bring on the shift. And sometimes all it took was the memory of what they’d been not five minutes before.

  Which meant they had to somehow keep Brittany calm while they explained to her exactly what she’d become.

  Chapter 16

  Score one for the good guys! Cecilia grinned as both parents hugged their normal-looking child. It was a beautiful moment made even more striking because Cecilia couldn’t help but imagine holding her own child someday. One who had Hank’s quiet strength and Cecilia’s smart mouth. The kid didn’t even have to be magical. She just wanted the whole idea of it.

  Up until now, kids had been a someday kind of thing. Sure she wanted a family that shared makeup tips and teased about mathlete boyfriends but it hadn’t been high on her priority list. Not until Hank had started talking about babies. Suddenly she was thinking about children in a very real, very present way. And with a man she hadn’t even known yesterday morning. Was it possible? Did she want it?

  Yes, absolutely, but maybe just not this exact second.

  In her confusion, she turned to Hank. She wanted to see what he thought of the beautiful scene still playing out in front of them. But when she saw his face, she immediately sobered. He was worried. She saw it in the narrowing of his brows and the tight cast to his shoulders.

  “Hank?”

  He looked at her, and his gaze immediately cleared. No worry. Just warm brown eyes and a mouth that—

  “Why am I in the hospital?” Brittany asked, her words becoming sharper as her body continued to clear out the drugs.

  Cecilia’s gaze jerked back to the family scene. Oh hell. Brittany had woken up enough to ask questions. And from there, it was a short step to remembering which could lead them right back to panic. Obviously, the parents knew that as well.

  “Honey—” her father began, his voice tentative, but his daughter was there before him.

  “My arms!” she cried as she lifted them and spread her fingers. “My hands! They were…” She frowned as she moved them every which way. “I thought…”