*
Molly flat out refused to come with her this time.
“Last time we did this I had to walk a mile down some backwoods, creepy road hunting for cell coverage. No thank you.”
“But we’ll have a truck this time.”
“No thank you.”
This time, she put on running shoes and jeans. She pulled the gun holster down from the back of her closet, and tucked her .22 caliber pistol into it, covering it up with a light leather jacket. The gun had been a birthday present from her mother, who worried about her moving to the “big city”. Sierra made it out to the shooting range once a month or so, and wasn’t too bad a shot. She wasn’t that good a shot either, so mostly she hoped she never had to use it.
She decided to go after dark, hoping that might help her presence go undetected. She still had no idea what she was hoping to find, or who, exactly, she was worried might find her looking.
After sitting patiently through Molly’s unsuccessful attempt to talk her out of it, Sierra set off in the rented black F150 just before sunset.
Thankfully, she’d had her GPS on during the previous trip, or she never would have been able to find that unmarked dirt road again. Where the Prius had lurched on every bump, the F150 lightly jostled. It practically scoffed at the deadly mud bog that had sucked her in last time.
The road wound through the trees for another twenty minutes, twisting and turning until Sierra had no sense of direction anymore. The good news was it remained a single road, no veering paths she could elect to follow, or inevitably get lost on.
No road signs though. No markings of any kind. The longer it went on, the more curious Sierra became about where it was leading. Surely, the city had not planned this road (if you could even call the narrow, single dirt lane cutting through the words a road). Yet someone had put it in. Someone was clearly also maintaining it. Here and there she spotted patches of gravel filling sinkholes. In some places, there were dirt piles and tree branches on the sides of the road where someone had recently cleared it. And the many sets of tire tracks looked fresh. It was like a glorified driveway. A single road with no turns could only mean it went to a single place, and this place was alarmingly well off the beaten path.
Suddenly, she could see lights up ahead through the trees. Sierra immediately shut off the headlights and killed the engine, not wanting to attract any attention. She hopped out of the truck and continued down the road on foot. She could only pray that no one else would be coming or going down the road any time soon. The foliage was too dense to pull the truck off the road, let alone to try to hide it. Her sneakers squished softly in the mud as she hiked towards the lights. She noticed after a while the lights were flickering like bonfires or torches. There was a lot of noise filtering towards her now, too. Voices. People shouting. Yelling in…fear? Anger? No…cheering. It was the unmistakable roar normally associated with sporting events. And something else too. A different kind of roar. More like animals.
Sierra slipped into the trees next to the road as she drew closer.
The road led out into what looked like a small housing project. There were at least thirty nondescript houses lined up in rows. The houses had a rough look to them, more like cabins, but without the charm. They were mostly unpainted, rough wood the constant rain had turned black, and green with moss. Were there people living out here?
Sierra crouched low and hugged her body against the buildings, trying to avoid the windows. It didn’t look like anyone was home. She suspected they were all out cheering for whatever event was taking place. Sierra pressed on towards the noise. Between some of the houses, a large space had been devoted to a vegetable garden. She spotted grape vines, rows of corn, and tomato plants. There was even a little pot growing in one corner. The garden could have easily fed all the people who lived in these houses. It was then that she noticed several fruit trees scattered among the buildings. There was a well next to the garden and a distillery propped against one house. It appeared that this was a self-sustaining community. She thought of hippie communes. Then she thought of cults. Did these people just want to live off the grid, or did they have something to hide?
Sierra ducked behind a trash can and peered over the top, finally able to see the source of the noise.
Men, women, and children were gathered in a circle around a pit. The area was lit up with tiki torches and the light of the full moon. Most of them looked a lot like Eric. Lots of tattoos, blue jeans and boots or no shoes at all, and torn up clothes. Lots of long hair in braids or dreadlocks. They were drinking PBR’s and cheering for the action down in the pit. A lot of them were waving money and placing bets. The kids were either watching the action down in the pit or playing on the outskirts of the crowd. Some of them were clutching sparklers. There was a mom sitting at the edge of the pit, breast-feeding a baby while scolding another child.
Sierra craned her neck to see what they were all looking at.
Bears. Two of them. Seven foot tall, 500 pound black bears. The larger of the two, one with deep black fur, let out a roar and launched itself at the smaller white one. The white one dodged, then slashed his claws at the larger opponent.
They were fighting, Sierra realized, in horror and amazement. Like medieval bear baiting, these people had captured wild bears just to watch them kill each other. It made Sierra sick to her stomach. The formally friendly, community sporting event vibe she had gotten from the scene before seemed perverse now. This was animal cruelty any way you spun it. No better than dog fights.
She looked away as the black one pinned the white, baring his long yellow teeth at his throat. She didn’t want to see the end.
Is this what Joe was hiding? Bear fights? Illegal gambling? Is this what the charity money went to? Bile rose in Sierra’s throat as she recalled kissing that monster the night before. She should have trusted her instincts about him.
The fight was clearly over. There was muttering from the crowd about the next round. Cheers and applause came from the victors and the unlucky bettors surrendered their cash.
“Look, I’m good for it,” she heard one man say to another. “I left my wallet in the house. I’ll be right back.”
The man started walking right towards her. Struck with a terrible vision of being thrown in the bear pit, Sierra frantically searched for a place to hide. Desperate, she ran around the corner and let herself into the darkened house, praying no one was home.
She shut the door quietly behind her and looked around.
The house had a small kitchen with scrubbed wood table currently taken up by a jigsaw puzzle. Kid’s artwork adorned the refrigerator. The living room had a stained floral patterned sofa and a glass topped coffee table. There was an old cathode tube style TV.
And in the middle of the living room was a cage.
And in the cage was a little girl.
The girl was about six. She was wearing footie pajamas with frogs on them. She had dark skin and her hair was pulled up in two poofy pigtails. Whoever put her in the cage had provided her with a sleeping bag and pillow, but the girl wasn’t sleeping. She was staring up at Sierra with big eyes.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I’m Sierra. What’s your name, sweetie?”
“I’m Brenda.”
*
“I don’t know you.” Brenda said. “Are you from outside?”
“Yes.” Sierra told her. “Brenda, who put you in this cage?”
She was afraid to ask why she was in the cage.
“Mean people took me away from my mommy and daddy. They said they had candy. Then they locked me in here and they didn’t give me any candy.”
“Has anyone hurt you?” she asked.
“Not yet. But they said they would. Please help me, Sierra. You have to let me out.”
Sierra examined the cage. The bars were inch-thick steel. There was a massive lock on the front.
“Brenda, sweetie, do you know where the key is?”
“The mean people keep it on
top of the refrigerator.”
Sierra rushed over to the refrigerator. There was the key, just like she said. Sierra shoved it into the lock and pulled the door open. Brenda scrambled out of the cage and hugged her.
“Thank you, Sierra.”
Startled, Sierra returned the hug.
“It’s going to be okay, sweetie. I’m going to get you out of here.”
She took Brenda by the hand and carefully opened the door of the house. No one was outside. It sounded like another fight had started. Hopefully that would keep everyone distracted. It wasn’t far back to the woods to their right. If they ran for it, they could hide in the trees and make their way back to the truck. She would take Brenda straight to the police, and then she’d lead the police right back here along with every photographer on staff at The Post. She was going to nail that lying bastard Joe to the wall with this.
“Let’s go this way!” Brenda said, and darted off towards the fight.
“Brenda!” Sierra called in the loudest voice she dared. “Come back! That’s the wrong way.”
Sierra chased after her and caught her by the hand.
“My car is this way. I’ll get you out, I promise, but you have to listen to me.”
Brenda froze in her tracks. She looked up at the full moon and her body shuddered.
“Uh-oh.” Brenda said.
“What’s the matter?” Sierra asked her, tugging on her hand. “Come on! We have to go!”
Brenda shuddered again. Tears sprung into her eyes.
“I thought I could do it, but I can’t.” she said.
“What are you talking about, sweetie?”
“You have to put me back!” Brenda said, pulling Sierra back towards the house. “You have to put me back in my cage right now! And then put the key back on top of the refrigerator so mommy and daddy won’t know I got out!”
“Brenda, calm down! You’re not going back in that cage. You’re safe now. I’m taking you to the police.”
“No!” Brenda protested, as she tried to tug free of Sierra’s grasp. “No you’re not safe! Let me go! I can’t do it!”
“Shhh! Keep your voice down!”
“HELP!” Brenda screamed at the top of her lungs. “Mommy, help!”
Frantic, Sierra tried to pull her away around the corner, praying everyone was too distracted by their blood sport to notice. Brenda dug her heels into the ground.
“I said let me go!” she shouted and raked her nails across Sierra’s forearm.
The scratch cut straight through her leather jacket and deep into her arm. The pain seared and bright red rivulets of blood poured out of her arm. Sierra let go of Brenda’s other hand in surprise. She clutched her arm to staunch the bleeding and stared in horror at the child in front of her.
Brenda was holding her hand, the one she had scratched Sierra with, out in front of her. Where there should have been fingernails there were now deep, shiny black hooked claws. Chocolate brown fur had sprouted on the back of her hand. As Sierra watched, the fur began to sprout on her face as well and push its way out the top of her head.
“I’m sorry.” Brenda said.
Her hands were rapidly changing shape, forming themselves into padded paws. Her arms and legs ballooned out and burst the seams of her froggie pajamas, leaving ribbons of fabric on the ground. The child dropped to all fours and opened her mouth to make room for the yellow fangs that were forming where her baby teeth used to be. Her face began to change, morphing into a long snout that better accommodated the teeth. Her ears became small and round and moved to the top of her head, settling in almost the exact place her pig tails had been before. Now completely covered in brown fur, the last thing to change was the eyes, which remained eerily human right until the end before shrinking and turning black.
Now standing where Brenda had been was a black bear cub.
The cub regarded her for a moment and cocked its head sideways. Sierra approached it cautiously.
“Brenda?”
The cub roared at her and charged. Sierra screamed and ran as fast as she could, not even looking where she was going. The cub chased her towards the crowd around the pit. The people backed away, clearing a path as she ran past them, steering clear of the angry cub. Panicking, Sierra kept running, knowing the cub was gaining on her. She tripped on a rock and fell face first on the ground. Quickly, she flipped on to her back and tried to scramble to her feet, shuffling backwards as the cub ran at her.
Then with an almighty roar, the huge black colored bear leaped out of the pit and positioned itself between the cub and Sierra. It stood its ground and roared into the cub’s face. The cub let out a meek squeaking noise and sat down, complacent.
The white bear, the one she had been sure had his throat ripped out, scrambled out of the pit. Using his teeth, he picked the cub up by the scruff of her neck and carried her away.
The crowd was pointing at her now, muttering. The black bear turned towards her. Sierra watched, fascinated and appalled as the change she had witnessed in Brenda happened in reverse. The bear shrank. Fur vanished in clumps as the paws stretched themselves into human fingers. He stood upright as his head took shape again, the ears moving back into place and the teeth shrinking into that familiar smile.
Sierra knew who it would be long before the shift finished. Joe was standing naked in front of her now as she pulled herself unsteadily to her feet.
CHAPTER 4
One of the people in the crowd handed Joe a pair of pants. He took his time pulling them on, clearly not ashamed of his nakedness (and he had nothing to be ashamed of).
“Joe,” Sierra asked shakily, “what the hell is going on?”
Joe didn’t answer. Instead, he walked up to her and rudely ripped off her jacket. He eyed the wound on her arm.
“Did she bite you or scratch you?”
“She scratched me.”
“She should have bit her!” someone yelled from the crowd.
Those were not friendly faces out there. They were all staring at her. They looked angry and scared.
Joe turned to address them. “Everyone this is Sierra. She’s a friend of mine.”
Eric trudged toward them, wearing only blue jeans like Joe was. His long white hair whipped out behind him.
“The reporter, Joe? Really?” he exclaimed.
At the word “reporter” a fresh burst of angry murmurs stirred though the crowd.
“Is Brenda alright?” Joe asked him.
“She’s fine. Sneaky brat’s tearing up her sleeping bag.”
Sierra was startled by the realization that Eric was the white bear. She looked uneasily at the crowd around her. Where all of them…what would you call them? Werewolves? Werebears?
“Tell me you’re going to bite her now.” Eric said.
“No.” Joe said.
“Fine. I’ll bite her.”
“No one is biting her,” Joe said firmly.
“Joe, what’s happening?” Sierra asked.
She looked around wildly for a way out, but the angry crowd was closing ranks around her, their eyes glittering in the torchlight.
“Is she really a reporter?” someone called out.
“You better bite her or fucking eat her, Joe. We can’t just let her leave,” Eric said.
A few members of the crowd shouted out their approval.
“Everyone calm down!” Joe said loudly. Sierra immediately recognized it as the voice he used during speeches. Dominant, commanding, but also calming and reasonable.
“Now, I can assure you I did not tell Sierra about this place. She followed me here. But I can also assure you she has no intention of telling anyone else. You’re all perfectly safe. She’s sorry for the scene she caused, and didn’t mean to put anyone in danger. I’m going to take her home now.”
Joe grabbed her by the arm and started to march her away though the crowd.
“What if she does tell someone?” Eric asked and he stepped into their path.
“Then I will deal with her.�
�
“But that’s not good enough! How can you be sure-”
“Are you challenging me, Eric?” Joe asked, fury blazing in his eyes.
The crowd went silent. After a moment’s hesitation. Eric looked down at his feet.
“No sir.”
“Good.”
Eric moved aside and they walked back out of the town.
*
They walked in silence back to the truck. Joe climbed into the driver’s seat and held out his hand for the keys, which Sierra handed over mutely. Joe turned the truck around and tore down the dirt road like a bat out of hell.
Simply Bears: A Ten Book Paranormal Bear Shifter Romance Collection Page 83
