by Etta Faire
“Not a good time for one of those,” I said to myself, like timing was the only thing I should be concerned about.
Just as I pulled past the first old, dilapidated gate that was always left open for convenience, I realized there were headlights behind me. Someone was following me. And it was obviously a large vehicle, like a truck.
Justin. He was coming to say he was sorry, not that we were fighting. But it was about time.
I slowed down to let the lights get closer, thinking about the full-on grovel session I was going to make the man go through as soon as he caught up. That was the least he could do after calling me moody and childish.
I quickly texted: “Is that you? Hope you’re prepared to apologize.” I didn’t get a response. We were probably too far into the no-cell-phone-coverage area of the hill for that, though.
When the truck got close enough, I realized it easily towered over my vehicle. Much too big to be Justin’s and it also wasn’t exactly slowing down like you’d expect oncoming traffic to do. I threw my foot on the gas pedal but it was too late. The truck hit the back of my Civic hard, shooting me forward into my seatbelt. A pain shot up my neck and my teeth smacked together.
Had the good ole boys network lost its flipping mind? How obvious was it going to be if I turned up dead?
And there was my problem, right there. I’d been trying to apply logic to a situation that defied it.
As mad as I was, I needed to do something. I gently turned my car around to head back down the hill to safety, but the truck backed up and blocked my way, like it was daring me to try. It revved its engine, gray exhaust pouring menacingly from around the sides of the black vehicle. I pressed the park button on my hybrid and revved my engine too. Two could play at this game. My car gently hummed, just as pathetic as I thought it’d be. But I needed to let this guy know I was not intimidated. I probably should have been, though. It wasn’t going to take much to send my car into a “stranded-without-granola-bars” area of the hill.
We stood there a moment, both of us revving and humming, until I backed up to try to turn around and go up the hill. Even though he was in a truck, I could probably make it up to the house faster because I’d done it so many times. Maybe get a little help from the ghosts at my house and the house itself if I was quick enough.
I heard the roar of the truck’s engine again just as I was about to put my car into drive. It crashed into the side of my vehicle, spinning me around. Left was right and right was left, and I suddenly had a flashback of splashing around in the lake, coughing out water, knowing that a human could only tread water for so long.
My final moment was coming if I wasn’t careful. But just like Gloria, it wasn’t coming without a good fight. My car finally landed in the snowbank, my head smacking against the steering wheel while the taste of blood formed along my bottom lip. I checked my car over. The passenger’s side door was dented, but everything else seemed fine. Facing the opposite direction to the truck now, I saw the driver in my mirror, wearing black, face obscured by a dark ski mask.
I tried to pull forward. But my wheels spun helplessly in the snow without moving the car. I pushed harder on the gas.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
I was stranded. All the guy had to do now was drive back down and I’d probably die here. Damn those granola bars.
Just in case leaving me stranded wasn’t his plan, I grabbed my coat from the back, the mace from my glove compartment, and the Swiss army knife that probably wasn’t going to do much. And waited.
The truck backed up again, but not like it was turning around to leave. I didn’t even turn off my car. I unbuckled my seatbelt and took off into the snow, ducking behind a boulder that was sitting nearby. I threw my coat on, zipping it up and readying my mace and my knife. Snow fell all around me as the bitter cold shot through to my bones.
He’s going to demolish my car, I know it. Or he’s coming after me.
My nose ran and my hands shook as I shivered with my mace, listening to his truck just idling there, taunting me.
My breath puffed out in little clouds in front of me, giving my location away. I tried to slow it down. But I was just getting colder and more hysterical. I sniffed in a tear. This was a game of cat-and-mouse, all right.
And this sicko wanted me to make a move, or freeze to death.
And that’s when I heard it. A growling noise.
The noise was low and loud and I turned my head this way and that to try to tell where it was coming from. It didn’t sound like the birds from the channeling.
A dark shadow emerged from the other side of my boulder, followed by the largest black bear I’d ever seen. It didn’t even hesitate, and neither did I. I threw myself against the rock as it charged past me and over to the truck.
And I realized I had a chance to run back to my nice, warm car.
As soon as my butt hit the seat, I slammed the door shut and locked it, not that bears could open doors. Then I somehow held in my fear-pee, watching as the humungous rodent-like beast scraped the paint and metal of the truck, breaking the side window with what seemed like a mere tap of its paw. A long series of expletives came from the man in the mask. “What the… I’ll kill you,” he yelled over and over again in a voice I didn’t recognize. The bear opened its jaws, drawing its head closer to the man.
The truck shot backwards in reverse, sliding along the snow as it turned around and took off down the hill without the man killing anyone.
And I let my face fall into my hands. I took one long breath after another, thanking my lucky stars until I remembered that whoever was driving that truck probably wasn’t about to call for help for me when he got back down the hill. And I was still stuck in the snow. With a bear. And no rations.
I cursed Rosalie’s stinky sachets right now. If I hadn’t defiantly stuffed them in my pockets, I might have had some ghost help right now.
“Shouldn’t you be hibernating?” I whispered to the bear as I ducked down into my seat, hoping the large animal would forget about me.
No wonder that thing was so angry. We’d either woken it up or it was a shifter, helping me.
Please God let it be a shifter.
My head suddenly smacked against the side of my window, knocking me out of my pity party, as my car lifted on its side then fell back down again.
I screamed then got it together. This could still be a shifter.
Somehow, I got myself to peek out, into the humungous jaws of the angry bear, who didn’t at all seem human or like he was helping me. He smacked his side into my window, and I tried to stay calm through the jostling. Maybe this thing would accidentally kill itself while trying to kill me and then I would have a whole bear for rations. Or maybe, it would get tired and leave. There were still many options if you were delusional enough.
Those were the thoughts I clung to, until my Civic let out a sad, metal-crushing noise that let me know it was tagging out of the fight. It was no match for the animal swinging its weight into the side of it, over and over again.
After a minute, the rocking stopped.
I no longer heard a thing. I peeked out the window, my finger on the trigger of the mace the whole time, even though I had no idea if mace worked as bear spray.
The bear was scampering off in the direction it came from.
And I threw my car into drive, surprised that my wheels no longer spun when I put my foot on the gas pedal. I jerked unsteadily forward on wobbly tires. The bear had freed me. I knew for sure it was a shifter now.
“Thank you,” I yelled to no one.
As soon as I got home, I swung the veranda door open, and stood in the kitchen a second, enjoying every ounce of relief I was entitled to. I’d escaped death once again, but I couldn’t let myself stop for too long. I ran to the phone, not even checking to see if I had any messages. Oddly, I thought about calling my mother first. I stopped mid-dial, reminding myself I was the adult here. And she was probably in Mexico with her Nettie, anyway.
“Potter
Grove Police Department,” the familiar voice said.
My hand shook and I could barely keep the receiver up to my ear.
“Hi Christine. It’s Carly. I need to report a crime,” I said, my voice cracking. I told her all about the attempted murder with the truck and the bear smashing out the guy’s window. “Look for a truck with a broken window and scratches on the paint.”
As soon as I hung up, Jackson was by my side. “What in the world happened?” His faded eyes were large and concerned. It reminded me of the good years we had, how gentle and caring he could be when he tried, even when he was mad at me.
There was a knock on the door and I jumped out of my seat, hyperaware of everything at the moment, my nerves and adrenaline still in high gear. But I was also acutely aware that the guy in the truck could easily have come back. I should’ve told the police to come here first. I hadn’t even heard a vehicle pull up the hill.
“Don’t answer it,” my ex said.
The knock got louder. “It’s me, Justin.”
I ran past Jackson and threw open the door, falling into the cold thick arms of my boyfriend.
“You got my text,” I said, pulling him inside. I kissed his cheek and his lips. I barely noticed my ex-husband fading into the background. “You were right. Someone just tried to kill me. This investigation isn’t worth it.”
“No, you’re the one who’s right,” he replied, pulling away. He hobbled over to the sofa.
He took off his jacket and his sweater, revealing spots where bruises were forming along his arm just under the sleeve of his t-shirt. “This town has too many secrets, and it’s time we started exposing them.”
He looked at me, and I knew. The bruises were right in the spot where the bear had smacked against my car.
Chapter 27
Strange Like Me
I spent most of the night at the police station, filling out a report and trying to describe the truck and the bear, making sure my description of the animal didn’t sound a thing like the gorgeous man holding my hand.
Caleb was about as concerned as I thought he’d be, scratching at his dyed-dark goatee while raising a skeptical eyebrow at me. “So, you say a bear saved your life?”
Justin squeezed my hand, and I pulled away. “It sounds crazy, I know.”
“It sounds like a joke,” Caleb snapped. “You pulling my leg?”
I felt like Gloria when she’d tried to tell the police about the growling birds.
Justin stepped forward. He was about half a foot taller than Caleb, broader too, and he towered over the smallish man. “Carly’s Civic is right out front,” Justin said. “You can have a look at it yourself if you think she’s joking.”
“I’ll get to that if I think it’s worth it,” Caleb replied.
“Since when is crime not worth investigating? Probably since you’ve been having your deputy clean trash cans and file reports,” I yelled.
Justin pulled me outside before I could say anything else.
“I’m sorry. I’m making things worse,” I said.
“Probably.” He kissed me. “But thanks for trying to make it right. And I’m sorry for calling you moody and childish.”
It was hardly the groveling session I’d been expecting, but I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek anyway. The cold night air was already making me shiver, and I curled into the warmth of his jacket. “And I’m sorry for calling you a confusing, jack-ass bastard. That was in my car later, so you didn’t hear it, but I thought you’d want to know.”
He took me home, offering to stay with me and help me get a rental car the next day.
“I think you should go to the seance with me,” I said as we walked up the steps to my back porch.
“Too weird,” he replied.
I leaned in and whispered as close to his ear as I could get. “Now that I know your secrets, you can’t pretend mine are the weird ones around here.”
“Your secrets are weird.”
“Said a talking bear.”
He nodded, stomping his large boots onto the mat just outside Gate House. We went inside, and I pulled him straight through the kitchen and the living room and over to the stairs. “Come on. I’m making a pros and cons list. We’ll see how you do,” I teased. “How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s fine,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was in pain or not.
“That’s a pro. Holds up well under pressure.” I was on the stair in front of him, yet I was still shorter. I kissed his cheek and made my way to his lips. I knew they’d be scratchy from his not-so-closely-shaved beard. I threw my arms around his neck and he easily lifted me, carrying me up both flights of stairs. If he was in pain, he did a good job of hiding it.
“I’m so glad you’re strange like me,” I said.
“I don’t feel strange.”
“We never do.”
He stopped at the strands hanging along my bedroom door frame, sniffing and touching them.
“Rosalie’s recipe for keeping ghosts out of my room,” I said.
“I have to get this recipe,” he replied, carrying me through the doorway, closing the door behind us.
I woke in his arms the next morning and it felt so good I almost forgot I had a seance to prepare for, and no idea how to prepare for it. Somehow, I needed to find evidence from today that tied Myles Donovan and the rest of his gang to the crime from 1957 in order for Gloria to get her justice. And no one in this town was helping.
But right now, the only thing I cared about was the bear beside me in bed.
“Good morning,” I said the moment Justin opened his eyes. “So, how does this superpower of yours work, anyway?”
He blinked several times, his eyes barely focusing. “Wait, what?” He shook himself like he was trying to wake up. “Superpower what?”
“The shifting thing,” I replied. “How does it work?”
He sat up along his pillow and I snuggled into him, smelling his neck. I could never explain why, but I always loved smelling his neck. It always made me feel safe and connected to him. Now, I wondered if it was because he smelled like a bear. I took another whiff. Lingering cologne and sweat.
He didn’t answer me, so I went on. “Do you need to get angry to change?”
“You mean, like the Hulk?” His voice was curt as he looked at the ceiling. I could tell he didn’t want to answer my questions. I wasn’t sure why.
“No. I have more control over it than a comic book character. It’s painful, yet compelling.”
I nodded. It sounded a lot like the way channeling and the curse were to me.
“And how did you even know I was in trouble last night, anyway, Dr. Banner,” I asked, sitting up.
“I had a feeling.” Justin turned over to face me.
“Like a spidey sense?”
He always looked good in the morning. It was easier for men to rock the tousled, bed-hair look. I wondered if it was even easier for bears. I nervously twisted my frizzed-up curls into a makeshift bun, trying to get there.
I didn’t want this new information about him to change things between us. I tried to look comfortable like nothing had changed, even though it had.
He ran a hand through his hair, and I noticed every muscle in his bare chest and arms. “I’ve been checking this area a lot since you told me about the snowplow incident. When you have a gorgeous, stubborn girlfriend who refuses to carry a gun and likes to stir up trouble in a town that doesn’t like to be stirred, you pop in every once in a while to make sure she’s okay.”
I knew he was looking for a thank-you, but I wasn’t feeling it. “I don’t need protection,” I said.
“I know. I wasn’t asking.”
I mindlessly ran a finger over his bare chest. It wasn’t even hairy like you’d expect a bear shifter to be. “But thank you.”
He was right. I probably should’ve carried a gun, but I didn’t really like those. Plus, I had horrible aim. I changed the subject. “So, how many shifters are there? How does this all work?
And…” Something came to me. “Is your neighbor a shapeshifter too? Neither of you were cold in the parking lot the night I was over despite the fact you weren’t wearing coats. And that weird phone call in the middle of dinner. Was that like your top-secret, superhero call? I bet your whole apartment complex is full of bears, huh? And you all forage in the Dead Forest…”
“What? Now you’ve gone one-hundred percent out of your mind.”
His smile was crooked, his teeth straight. He leaned over and pressed his mouth over mine, stopping my line of questioning with a long kiss. When we came up for air, he said, “One of these days we’ll have a long talk about this whole thing. You can ask me questions about shifting and I’ll ask you questions about being a medium.”
“Deal.” That was seriously a no-brainer. I could talk all day about the oddities of being me. I wasn’t sure he was ready to hear those oddities, though.
“But we have to get going soon,” he said. He got up and I watched him walk across my room to find his clothes and get dressed, muscles rippling like he stepped out of an erotica book. The man certainly did not need a spin class, which was a good thing because the man also did not know how to ride a pretend bike.
And he was right. I still had a seance to plan and a multimillionaire to cook, and slowly, so the frog wouldn’t know.
Chapter 28
Double Trouble
The rental car made a weird grinding noise every time I turned on the heat. The radio didn’t work, and the tires slid even more in the snow than my Civic. But it was cheap, and when cheap is all you can afford, you just drive like a grandma while listening to the beat of your heat grinding. It took me half an hour to get from the car rental place to the Purple Pony.
I knew as soon as I pulled in, Paula Henkel was either buying more snacks at the Bait n’ Breath or she was harassing Rosalie. Probably both. Her large white truck took up two spots in the lot, like usual. As soon as I stepped inside, I noticed Lynette was there too.