“Is that enough? Should we wait for prime time tomorrow?”
She shrugged and looked up at him. “Really, it’s your call.”
“Let’s make it prime time tomorrow so they can’t accuse us of trying to slip this past people.”
“Done.” She typed on the screen for a moment. “I’ll go make those phone calls.” She smiled.
“Still think this is exciting?” he said.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Her smile had turned mischievous. “Oh, and don’t read your speech over until just before the conference tomorrow or you’ll start changing things that don’t need changing. Trust me.”
“I already do.”
Chapter 5
The reporters had flocked to City Hall in droves. At the back of the crowd, TV cameras had been set up on tripods and were pointed at the front steps. Gia had never seen so many cameras and microphones in her life—not in person. It looked like they were waiting for the president. She fidgeted in her chair, waiting for her cue to approach the microphone. She didn’t have to say much, but she still had butterflies in her stomach. She glanced over at Brock, but he was looking down at his phone looking cool and detached. The crowd doesn’t bother him, she thought. Or else he’s got the best damn poker face I’ve ever seen. He might also have the best face I’ve ever seen, period. Not the time, Gia.
Looking at Brock was a dumb idea right now, and looking at the crowd just made her sweat, but there was nowhere else to look. Finally, someone tapped her on the shoulder and said, “They’re ready.”
Gia nodded and looked at Brock. He had put the phone away. “Let’s do this,” he said softly. She nodded again and went to the podium.
“Good afternoon,” she said, and a hush fell over the crowd. “Thank you all for coming down. Mayor Brock Tandell is aware that the incident that occurred at the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport has left many people feeling concerned over public safety in our city, and he would like to speak to those concerns today.”
She returned to her seat as Brock stepped up to the microphone. Watching the crowd was a lot easier now that she didn’t have to speak in front of them. She scanned the cameras, looking for all the different logos, trying to compile a mental list of which stations were present.
“Good afternoon,” Brock said. “In 1945, the world was shocked to learn of the existence of shape shifters. Over the last seven decades, the majority of the population have never encountered a shifter, or at least they haven’t realized it if they have. For hundreds of residents of, and visitors to, New Orleans last month, that changed when many of you witnessed firsthand or on television the reality of shifters.
“As one of the few shifters in North America whose identity is publicly known, I feel it is my duty and responsibility to share what information I can about our culture, about our laws, and about how the whole shifting thing actually works.
“I would like to put minds at ease. I am not immortal. While being a werebear does heighten my senses in human form and increase my physical stamina, it does not grant me an extended life span. In fact, most shifters have a low pain tolerance while in their human form because under extreme duress we’re at increased risk of an uncontrolled shift.
“And that brings me to the incident at the airport. This was not a deliberate attack. It was not domestic terrorism. And it most certainly was not a political stunt. In my previous statement, I mentioned that he was afraid of flying and of security officers and police, but new information has come to light. In an attempt to relief his anxiety, he was taking an herbal supplement. Medications often do not react well with shifters, so he hoped that something natural—lavender, chamomile, valerian, green tea leaves… things any of you might take to help you relax in a stressful situation—would work for him as well. And apparently, they did.”
The crowd erupted in a flurry of shouted questions and protests that startled Gia. Her eyes darted over the faces, but most of them looked eager, flushed; they wanted information, not blood. Her eyes settled on a man, long and lean and tanned. He was young, possibly younger than her—it was hard to tell from here. He didn’t have a notepad or tablet or any form of recording device. He was wearing a t-shirt snug over a lean muscled body, so it wasn’t likely he was hiding a weapon, and yet he made Gia uncomfortable.
Brock raised his hand, and after a moment it was quiet enough for him to continue. “He didn’t know that there were also stimulants in the pills he was taking. The pills were designed so the sedatives would kick in first, calming him, and then the stimulants would kick in, pushing him back toward an anxiety attack. This caused him to take the pills more and more frequently. The added stress of flying, an unfortunate confrontation with security, and the fact that he skipped breakfast that morning causing the pills to be digested that much faster, all contributed to this uncontrolled shift.
“This information has been given to the police, and they are attempting to track where the pills came from. The shifter in question has pled guilty to charges of vandalism, destruction of public and private property, and resisting arrest. He received conditional sentencing earlier this week. In addition to that, he is being monitored closely by the local werebear clan and must shift, in a controlled and safe environment, a minimum of once every forty-eight hours, in an attempt to prevent another uncontrolled shift.
“It is my duty as mayor not only to keep you informed but to provide you with helpful information, such as what to do if you are present when a shifter changes to their animal form. First and foremost is not to panic. Clear the area quickly and quietly as you would in any other emergency situation. Inform emergency services. Do not attempt to approach the animal or scare it away. Werebears and werewolves are both predatory animals. Retreat from them the same way you would if you encountered a bear or coyote while camping. One of my missions as mayor is to see our police officers, police tactical units, and EMTs educated on how to deal with shifters in their animal form.
“I can tell you from personal experience that shifting is disorienting. I come to in my bear shape and everything is out of focus, sounds are muffled, lights are too bright. In those first moments, I am most likely to lash out simply because I cannot identify if the thing approaching me is friend or foe. As humans, we believe in identifying a threat before reacting, but the bear runs on instinct and will defend itself without question or hesitation, so it is critical that you get away from a shifter quickly when they are changing.”
Gia heard something in his voice, a painful honesty, and she wondered if anyone else in the crowd heard it. He almost sounded vulnerable, as if sharing his own experiences of shifting was like sharing some inner secret of weakness. Would they report on his sincerity, his humanity? Or would they sensationalize his darkest secrets? Did they understand that he was putting himself on the line, exposing himself for them? She was pretty sure she knew the answer.
Where did he go? In the moment, she had taken to scan the crowd for some sign that they understood the depth and importance of Brock’s confession, the stony-faced young man had disappeared, a ghost in the crowd. Her eyes skimmed along from face to face, searching, but he was long gone.
“I would offer one more reassurance. Shape shifting is a genetic condition. You cannot catch shape shifting any more than you can catch Down syndrome, cystic fibrosis, or hemophilia. It is not a magical curse or an infectious disease. You cannot be ‘turned’. Shape shifters have long been forbidden by their clans from donating blood, as no one knows how humans would react to a transfusion of shifter blood. My father was a shifter, my mother was not. They are not the first mixed couple in history and certainly not the last. Intermarriage and intimate relations between humans and shifters cause no ill effects in the human partner.”
“So, you’re okay with having a human woman as a wife?”
“That is changing the subject,” Brock said, chuckling. “And I’m not sharing my list of ‘what I look for in a potential partner’ with you from the steps of City H
all. You’ll have to wait for a talk show interview, I’m afraid.”
Everyone chuckled or at least smiled at that. Would the hard-faced man have smiled? Gia wondered, still looking for him.
“I have received letters from concerned citizens asking what I am going to do about shifters on a legal front. Registration is out of the question. We do not ask homosexuals to register themselves. We do not ask people of specific religions to register themselves. We will not ask shifters to register themselves. I believe that goes against the fundamental freedoms of this country. Shifters already inform their doctors of their genetic condition and most inform their lawyers as well. Under clan law, a shifter must tell the person they are dating before they have intimate relations and before they propose. Discussions between clans are ongoing on the subject of medical alert bracelets so EMTs are aware of the potential for a person involved in a car accident to shift while in care. We are walking a fine line between freedom and safety. Shifters want to know they are safe from persecution, and humans must be kept safe from the dangers of living side by side with shifters.”
“So shifters are dangerous?” someone asked.
Brock chuckled. “Cars are dangerous, guns are dangerous, wild animals are dangerous, dogs can be dangerous, hell walking up a flight of stairs can be dangerous. The world is dangerous. Right now, standing in front of you, I am not dangerous. If you approached me while I was in my bear form I might be. Our human minds are there, in the bear or the wolf, and we have some control—how much depends on the shifter and on the situation. We are careful around things that have the potential to be dangerous. I am asking people to be careful around shifters to minimize the risk of dangerous situations.”
The question and answer went on for some time after that, but Gia wasn’t paying attention. Someone asked something about weed. Someone else asked about the cost of the training programs he wanted to introduce. She knew that some of the reporters were simply looking to clarify parts of Brock’s statement. The rest were hoping to bait him into saying something controversial, shocking, or easily misconstrued.
It seemed like the press conference was winding down and fewer people were shouting questions. Finally, Brock said, “If there’s nothing else …?”
And that’s when Gia spotted the hard-faced man on the edge of the crowd—and he was no longer alone.
Chapter 6
“He’s lying!”
Brock’s whole body went tense as the words rang out across the lawn. His eyes quickly settled on the threat, a group of young men near the sidewalk, off to one side of the crowd. They were dressed tough, snug shirts, jeans, heavy black boots, a few had piercings. His heart was pounding, and he was suddenly very aware of the little things around him.
Security was pouring out of the building. Behind him, Gia gasped. He hoped she had enough sense to go back inside. Reporters were turning to get pictures of them. Questions rippled through the crowd.
“I think every politician since Honest Abe has faced that accusation,” Brock said into the microphone. The chuckles from the gathered reporters sounded nervous. The men were not obviously armed, but they were intimidating.
“There are more shifters out there than they let on,” the young man shouted.
“I have acknowledged the existence of only three werebears—myself, the young man who shifted at the airport, and our clan leader. Everyone knows about Michael Hemming, the actor, so that makes four. I should hope there are more shifters than that in North America.” His calm replies seemed to anger the shouter and agitate his followers.
“They’re worse than blacks! They’re trying to foul our humanity with their devil-curse. This one was elected to pave the way for them here in New Orleans. You’ll see. Soon other cities will have shifters in seats of power. They could already control the police! We won’t know unless we know the identity of each and every shifter. That’s why he’s against registration. He doesn’t want you to see how deep the conspiracy runs. He doesn’t want to reveal how close they are to taking over everything.”
“Sir, I’m sure that nothing I say here today will convince you otherwise, but I have to ask you to stop spreading your fear and your hatred. New Orleans is a city of blended cultures unlike any other in our country. In the face of rising racial tensions, let’s not add a hatred of shifters to the list of bigotry we as a nation have to overcome. We have lived peacefully alongside you for generations. Honestly, in this era of digital media, instant communication, and global networking, it’s actually harder to keep a secret than ever before. Conspiracies are easily revealed and impossible to conceal. And I, for one, do not approve of such things.”
It was lame, even he knew that, but he had to say something to counter the charges being laid publicly against him, even if those charges sounded insane to him. I’m guessing this is the Human Order, he thought.
“I’ll prove he’s a liar!” the man shouted.
Where the gun came from Brock didn’t know, but he shouted, “Gun! Get down!” The microphones amplified his words, and the speakers hummed with feedback for a moment, adding to the panic of the moment.
Security rushed forward as Brock dove for the ground. Gia was crouched behind the chairs. Her eyes were wide and her face was flushed. Her face turned to him, and he could see the fear in her eyes. The urge to protect surged through him, and he scrambled to his feet, moving toward her.
The shot echoed off the building, and people in the crowd screamed. Gia screamed, her hands going over her ears. Brock heard the whistle of the bullet and moved instinctively away from the sound, even though he knew that by the time he heard the whine it was too late to move.
He grabbed Gia and hurried her toward the building. If he was the target, he wasn’t going to be the greatest body guard. More shots rang out. She was stumbling along, whimpering. He smelled sweat and fear and blood.
They got inside as security locked down the building. Gia sagged in his arms breathing hard.
“I think she’s been hit,” Brock said. He sat Gia on the floor and crouched over her. The wound was obvious, a tear in her jacket sleeve that was seeping red.
With extreme care, Brock helped her out of her jacket. Someone behind him said, “I have first aid. I can …”
“So do I,” Brock said.
“The blood …”
“I’m fine,” Brock growled.
The helpful young staffer backed off, hands up. When he was far enough back, Brock took his eyes off him and went back to Gia’s wounds.
Her shirt was ruined too, but he left it on her for decency. Instead, he tore the sleeve off. He could buy her another. And another jacket too. He would do that for her. It was a graze wound, an ugly tear in the skin of her arm. “It doesn’t look too deep.”
“It hurts,” she hissed between clenched teeth.
“It’s going to hurt for a while,” he said.
“Do you want an ambulance?”
“No,” Brock said. “We don’t know how well armed they are. They may be waiting for an ambulance to pull up. I need bandages and pain killers.”
He wrapped the wound securely and offered her the pills and a glass of water. She took them and then leaned back against the wall. Feeling suddenly helpless, he settled himself beside her. The stone wall was surprisingly cool.
There’s nothing you can do to help her, he thought. Just focus on your self-control.
The minutes ticked by. Around him people talked, but he didn’t focus on the words.
“You’re sweating.”
He smiled at the sound of her voice, but his eyes stayed closed. “It’s hot.”
“City Hall is air conditioned.”
“Then I’ll cool down soon.”
“Your skin looks clammy, like you’re the one who got shot.”
“If I had gotten shot, I’d know it. You’re feeling better, I take it?”
“Hurts like a bitch,” she said, “but my head is clearing. I’m getting better and you’re getting worse.”
&nbs
p;
MUNDO (BBW Bear Shifter MC Romance) (MC Bear Mates Book 2) Page 41
