The Truth About Kadenburg

by T. E. Ridener

  “Why don’t we go into the garage?”

  The garage was hardly big enough to fit the truck in, let alone the seemingly mile high pile of junk her uncle kept around it. It nearly always smelled like mold and the small light bulb hanging down from the center of the ceiling barely managed to illuminate a third of the area. Uncle Arnold was a hoarder and refused to throw anything away. He always said he could use this or that for something-even though he never did, and the tiniest things held sentimental value to the guy. Sometimes Presley thought about staging an intervention.

  Cautiously stepping over an old tire that rested against the dirt floor, Presley hugged her arms around herself from the chill that met her as soon as she entered the room. Her eyes stayed on her uncle as he moved towards his bright red toolbox. She remembered the exact moment in time when he bought that. They had gone “yard saling” one early Saturday morning when he spotted it sitting alone on a table. That was the same morning he bought her first bicycle.

  “No more secrets,” he started as he grabbed a screwdriver to toss into the toolbox. He turned his head to glance at her over his shoulder and Presley could see the conflict on his face. “That’s the new policy between us, isn’t it?”

  Despite the frown tugging at her lips, Presley nodded.

  “That’s what I thought,” he murmured as he turned back around to face her. He leaned against the table as he scratched the side of his neck. His green eyes met hers and he sighed. “I reckon you need to know about your aunt Natalie.”

  “Aunt Natalie? I don’t have an Aunt Natalie.”

  “Yes, you do,” Uncle Arnold nodded. “Or you did. I don’t reckon you’d want to claim her anymore.”

  “Why not?” Presley asked, suddenly defensive. “If she’s my aunt, I’ll claim her. Why didn’t you ever tell me you and my mom had another sister?”

  “We don’t have another sister,” he replied quietly as he let his head fall back to peer at the ceiling momentarily. “She’s your father’s sister.”

  Presley felt a jolt of disbelief gripping at her heart as her mouth fell open. Did she hear that correctly?

  “What the hell?” Presley asked angrily. “Why would you keep that from me? I have an aunt on my father’s side and you never told me!”

  “Wait a minute before you get mad,” her uncle insisted as he held his hands up in front of himself. “You need to know the story behind it first.”

  “What do I need to know?!” Presley bellowed. “I have family on my father’s side, which you previously allowed me to believe otherwise, and you never told me about her!” Presley was shaking with sudden rage as she curled her hands into fists.

  “There’s a damn good reason I never told you!” Her uncle thundered as he slammed his palm against the edge of the table. He hit it with such force that it sounded like a whip cracking and Presley immediately froze. Even with the worst things she’d done as a child, he’d never yelled at her like that before.

  It felt like someone was squeezing their hand around her heart while simultaneously tugging at each organ in her stomach as Presley lifted her eyes to peer at her uncle again. He was visibly shaking. His eyes were downcast as his face glazed over with an unreadable emotion. Was he angry? Sad? Presley couldn’t quite tell in the moment, but part of her wasn’t sure she wanted to know what brought on the sudden outburst.

  “Natalie was your father’s older sister,” he finally said as he turned his back to her once again. He busied himself with putting tools into the bright red box, the clink of metal hitting metal ringing loudly in Presley’s ears. “She always despised what we were. She was ashamed to be an ursithrope.”

  A pang of guilt made its presence known in Presley’s chest as she frowned and looked down at her bare feet. She didn’t mean to despise it. She was more upset with the fact it had been hidden from her for so long and it had caused so much grief. Wouldn’t anyone be angry over the fact that who and what they were caused them to lose a child? She was justified with her feelings at the moment, wasn’t she?

  “Don’t even think like that,” her uncle’s stern voice jarred her from her thoughts and she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. He frowned as he shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking right now and it’s not true. Natalie knew who she was from day one, Presley. Her parents loved her more than anything in the world and they would’ve bent over backwards for that girl. It wasn’t anyone’s fault she hated herself so much.”

  Presley swallowed the painful lump that formed in her throat as she nodded in understanding, but it didn’t make her feel any less guilty. She could tell that this particular topic bothered him a lot more than it bothered her. She was only upset she’d never known about an aunt until now.

  He kept her a secret for a good reason, she thought. Especially now that you know the truth about what you are.

  It was still difficult to come to terms with her new reality. Her entire life had been a lie, and it made her feel more anger towards her mother for abandoning her than ever before. Weren’t mother bears supposed to have a love so deep for their cubs that they wouldn’t leave them until the cub could fend for itself?

  Obviously not, she thought bitterly as she looked up to see her uncle standing right in front of her.

  Uncle Arnold lifted his hands to cup her face in between them, tilting his head slightly.

  “I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this has been on you, Pretz. I never should have hidden the truth from you, kiddo, but I just wanted you to have a shot at a normal life. That’s all I ever wanted for you. I didn’t want you to turn out like your mom, or end up hating us as much as your aunt Natalie,” he frowned. “I especially didn’t want you to end up dead like your father.”

  Presley flinched, her eyes closing tightly as her mind wandered back to her dad. He was such a scarce topic of conversation, yet one question lingered on the tip of her tongue anyway.

  “Is that why he died?” She asked quietly. “Because of what we are?”

  “No,” he shook his head slowly, but then stopped. He sighed. “No, Presley. Your father’s death was much more complicated than that.”

  “Complicated? What happened to him, Uncle Arnold? Why did my father die?” Her voice betrayed her, quivering with emotion as she searched his face. She needed answers. She’d lived her entire life without knowing the real truth, and it was time for that to change.

  Arnold turned away from her again, moving towards his beat up truck before he rested his palms against the hood. He shook his head slowly as he sighed. “Your aunt Natalie would’ve given anything to be something else,” he stated in a grave tone. “And she finally got her chance when Breslin Connor came to town.”

  “Breslin Connor?”

  “He’s the alpha that Dimitri’s talking about. If we were in high school, he’d be the ugly bully who takes our lunch money and claims a specific cafeteria table as his own.”

  “He sounds like a douche,” Presley commented, though she hardly meant it to be humorous.

  Uncle Arnold chuckled lightly as he turned his head to glance at her again. “Well if that’s what you want to call him, we’ll go with it. He’s not anybody I ever wanted to be friends with. I knew he was bad news from the moment he set foot in this town.”

  “So they’ve been here before,” Presley speculated. “Is that what Mr. Bamey was talking about? What happened back then?”

  “Stupidity happened back then,” Uncle Arnold responded as he scratched furiously at the skin beneath his chin. He heaved a sigh before he turned to rest his lanky form against the passenger door of his long-time mode of transportation. He crossed his arms over his chest as his eyes settled on Presley again. “The elders thought it would be a good idea to try and reconcile with the werewolves, which obviously wasn’t such a smart move on our behalf. I knew those hell hounds weren’t trustworthy, but no one listened to me.”

  Presley’s brows knitted together as she shifted, her hands resting against her thighs as she leaned forward sligh
tly. “The elders? You mean like, old people who oversee the laws and stuff?”

  Arnold laughed. “If you want to look at it that way, I suppose. They were just the older ursithropes. My parents, your father’s parents; just to name a few of the ‘old people’ you’re referring to.”

  “Why did they want to reconcile with the werewolves if we’re meant to be natural enemies?”

  Uncle Arnold gave a roll of his shoulders as he lifted his eyes towards the ceiling, focusing on the flickering light bulb hanging overhead. “We only wanted to have peace with them. We are not violent creatures, Presley. We strive to be harmonious with every other living thing on this earth. We intended to have a truce with the lycanthropes.

  “The elders were alarmed to discover the lycanthropes were living only two towns away from us. My mother, along with the others, was terrified of what they would do if they caught one of us out on our own. I know that you never experienced it, Presley, but mother ursithropes are extremely protective and they will do anything to ensure their cubs aren’t in harm’s way. The female elders planted the seed of hope that we could prevent any future disputes,” he sighed, shaking his head.

  “It didn’t really work out that way, did it?” Presley asked as she chewed her lower lip.

  “No,” he shook his head. “Your mother was pregnant with you when the lycanthropes made their first appearance here. Their alpha, Breslin, gave off the impression that he was willing to comply with our laws. He promised no harm would come to us or our children and they would keep their distance. He said they only wanted the same thing we wanted; to live in peace.”

  As her uncle became silent, Presley frowned. “He lied, didn’t he?”

  Uncle Arnold let out a low breath as his brows furrowed and a pained expression came over his face. He rubbed the back of his neck as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He seemed terribly uncomfortable as he continued the conversation. “You need to understand that what happened next is what molded us into what we are now, Pretz,” he said in a quieter voice. “It’s the reason that there’s only us and the Bameys left in this town.”

  Presley’s brows shot up on her forehead as she tucked some blond hair behind her ear. “You mean there were more of us back then?”

  Arnold nodded. “Yes. There were ten families here back then, and we were all happy to blend in with the humans. We had no qualms and we were able to fit in. Our existence was peaceful until Breslin betrayed us.”

  “How did he betray you…I mean, us?”

  “We were hospitable to the lycanthropes when they visited. We allowed them to eat at our tables and we offered them shelter for the night. I promise you it is not something they would do for us, but our elders-my father especially-were convinced that showing kindness to the lycanthropes would influence them to be better beings. They were gravely mistaken.”

  It was killing her how her uncle was dragging the story out. She just needed to know what happened and why it was so bad. She gazed at him intently as she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Did she really want to know what had happened all those years ago? Did she really want to know how her father died and what her seemingly treacherous aunt had done to cause it?

  “The night before the planned celebration of our truce with the lycanthropes was meant to take place, I awoke to the most horrible smell you can imagine,” his face skewed into agony from a memory that Presley was certain had plagued him for too long. His eyes glistened from moisture as he lifted his hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “I can’t forget that smell.”

  “What smell?” Presley asked, though after she asked, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to know.

  “Burning flesh,” Uncle Arnold replied as he gazed at her sadly. “They tied him to a tree in the middle of the woods and dowsed him in gasoline. By the time I got to him, it was too late.” He bowed his head, ashamed.

  Presley felt the icy grip of dread tightening around her lungs as she licked her lips, forcing herself to ask the next question.

  “Who, Uncle Arnold? Who was tied to the tree?”

  He didn’t meet her gaze as he shook his head, a shaky sigh leaving him.

  “Your father.”

  Fifteen

  Dimitri watched Lorcan silently as he paced the room. He seemed to be uncomfortable with the idea of leaving the premises; leaving Presley alone. Dimitri could understand it; or at least he thought he could. Right now wasn’t an ideal time for the remaining ursithropes of Kadenburg to be separated. His pack was lingering nearby, waiting to attack, and the girl’s uncle decided to send The Bameys back home. How did that make sense? Did he really think he could handle Breslin on his own?

  He could sense the panic surging through the younger ursithrope’s body as Lorcan bounded towards the front door, only to be stopped by his father as the older male grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

  “Now wait just a minute,” his father said sternly. “You need to respect Arnold’s decision. He asked us to leave politely, and I reckon we did.”

  “I shouldn’t have left!” Lorcan replied angrily. “How the hell is he going to fend off a pack of wolves on his own with an inexperienced female as his only aid?”

  “I’m fairly sure that Arnold can handle himself,” his father reassured him as he ushered Lorcan back into the house.

  Lorcan shot a glare in his father’s direction, his body visibly tense and shaking as he muttered a few obscenities under his breath.

  “Lorcan, Sweetie, please try to calm down,” his mother urged as she stirred some honey into a steaming mug of tea. “It’s been a terribly long day and all of us are tired. It is best to rest now. Arnold can protect her.”

  “And what if he can’t?” Lorcan argued as he glanced towards Dimitri. “You think she’ll help him? She’s too new. She’ll get hurt.”

  I’m fairly sure she could handle herself, was what Dimitri wanted to say, but he knew that wasn’t entirely true. Liam had been strong, and brave. That didn’t prevent Breslin from killing him.

  His insides twisted in anguish and he felt nauseous from the thought. Dimitri leaned against the counter as he turned his eyes to Mrs. Bamey.

  “Can I get a cup of that?”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Bamey smiled as she returned to the kitchen to prepare another cup of tea. “There’s no use in getting riled up right now, boys. I don’t sense any immediate danger from that ridiculous alpha of yours, Dimitri.”

  “I doubt it’ll stay that way,” Dimitri responded as he lowered his gaze to his fingers. His knuckles turned white from the grip he had on the edge of the countertop. “Can I help you with anything, Mrs. B.?”

  Hearing Lorcan scoff caused Dimitri to lift his head again, just in time to watch the ursithrope disappear down the hallway. The sound of a door slamming a few seconds later echoed in his mind. Did he say something wrong?

  “Oh no. No thank you, Dimitri. I started brewing this pot as soon as we got home. I’m afraid these situations can become quite stressful and the only way to calm anyone down is through the soothing effects of honey. Do lycanthropes even like honey?”

  “I like honey,” Dimitri shrugged. “I’m not very big on eating fish, but I do like honey.”

  “How does a person dislike fish?” Mrs. Bamey asked, nearly horrified at the possibility. She poured another mug of steaming tea and then spooned some honey into it; her eyes were still on the tall, auburn haired man as she shook her head.

  “Just the same as a person dislikes pepper,” Dimitri offered with a grin.

  The two ursithropes in the room immediately wrinkled their noses in disgust at the thought of pepper. It was safe to assume no descendent of a bear enjoyed the spice, but it was for a good reason; they were extremely allergic to pepper and took every measure necessary to avoid it.

  “Oh, honey. We do not speak of pepper!” Mrs. Bamey laughed, holding the cup out for Dimitri to take.

  “Thanks,” he lifted the cup to his lips, sipping at it lightly as Mr. Ba
mey entered the kitchen.

  “How’s your face?” The older male asked, opening the fridge to rummage for leftovers.

  “Healing,” Dimitri nodded as he instinctively lifted a hand to touch a fading bruise on his cheek. “Thanks for asking.”

  Mr. Bamey grunted in response as he pulled a pack of fish sticks from the freezer and then made his way to the microwave.

  Dimitri supposed he should’ve been thankful that the man even asked about his face. That was progress, wasn’t it? At least he wasn’t trying to kill him anymore.

  “You can’t even tell it happened,” Mrs. Bamey insisted as she smiled at Dimitri. “Your face is just as handsome as I’m sure it always has been.”

  Dimitri couldn’t help but to smile. Mrs. Bamey was actually a very nice lady. Who knew that ursithropes could be so kind?

  It’s only because you were mated to her son, Genius. It would be a different story if Liam hadn’t bit you.

  Why was it that his voice of reason always had to sound in and ruin things? Dimitri decided to ignore his mind as he took another drink of his tea and gave Mrs. Bamey a boyish grin. He envied that Liam had grown up with an actual family. All he’d ever known was a pack, and they expected him to behave in a military fashion. There were never kisses or hugs, or even an utterance of the word ‘love’. He’d been brought up as a soldier in his alpha’s army and nothing more.

  He always enjoyed when Liam spoke of his family, which was often during their time together. Liam spoke so highly of them; and with such love. Dimitri had been eager to meet them and he could tell Liam really wanted that, too. The sadness tugged at his heart again as he gazed at the floor. If only Liam could see this.

  “I miss him, too,” Mrs. Bamey said as she nudged his side gently.

  “Hm?” Dimitri blinked, staring at her in temporary confusion.

  “Liam,” she responded with a tender smile. “I miss him every day.”

  Dimitri forced a small smile and a nod of understanding. He’d never had the chance to talk about Liam so openly before.