“Dragon? Like fire-breathing giant lizard, dragon?” Laura was astounded.
Gus nodded. “Shifter dragon.”
“There really is such a thing? I thought dragons were a myth.”
“They’re incredibly rare, and they were hunted after the last time the world fought the Destroyer. Some went into hiding. Others—many others—were killed. Babushka’s line descends from a dragon shifter who mated with one of her ancestors. She knew him when she was little.”
“That’s amazing,” Laura said. “And kind of sad. I hate to think of any shifter being hunted like that.”
They finished their meal and lingered over coffee to discuss the gallery.
“There’s really only enough unique pieces from the local tribe to cover the displays we just set up. The remainder of the stock will stay in the store room and be used to replenish, since a lot of it is duplicates of the same, or similar, items,” Gus noted. “That leaves plenty of room for Kamchatka arts and crafts on that other wall.”
“What kinds of things do you think they’ll send?” Laura asked as she sipped her coffee.
“I know Peter’s granny makes nesting dolls, only they’re not people. They’re bears.” Gus smiled at her over the rim of his coffee mug.
“Nesting bears?” Laura mused, chuckling. “Sounds funny to me. Birds nest.”
Gus laughed and shook his head. “They’re cute. You’ll see,” he told her. “I’m not sure what the rest of the Clan does, but it’ll lend an exotic feel to the gallery, I bet. Nobody else in town had Russian stuff. Babushka set up a little stall for a while next to Peter’s shop, but I think she got bored with running it, especially since we haven’t had many tourists yet. She uses the space mainly as a workshop.” He sipped his coffee then broached a new subject. “How about the corner where the white wolf is painted? I hope you’re planning to put some of your own work there. Do you have enough supplies? I can get you canvases if you want to paint, or more antlers if you want to carve.”
She was pleased by his offer, and his thoughtfulness. “I’ve got enough antler for now,” she told him. “As soon as I finish making the gifts I’m giving to the people who have helped me, I’ll start work on items for sale. Do you really think folks will want to buy them?”
“Honey, if your murals are anything to go by, you’re going to be famous for your art. Mark my words,” he told her, beaming his approval.
“I don’t really want to be famous,” she replied, truthfully. “I’d rather just be able to make enough money to pay my bills and have a bit of financial security.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he said, his expression full of confidence in her abilities. “You’re going to do very well, indeed.”
“Is that a Shamanistic proclamation?” she teased.
Gus tilted his head. “Something like that,” he replied, surprising her. “I just know you’re going to do well. Your art has spirit. It speaks to the soul. People will see that and want to have it in their homes. Guaranteed. So, you’d better get cracking on something to display. When people see these murals, they’re going to want smaller versions to take home.” He thought for a moment, then seemed to get an idea. “In fact, we could have photographs taken of the murals and made into postcards or note cards they could buy in the shop. What do you think? I could have them printed up, and you, as the artist, would get any profit above the cost of printing.”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” she said, right away. “The gallery should get some of the profit, since I made the murals for the gallery.”
Gus scowled. “Ten percent towards overhead for the gallery, which I consider very generous of you. Not a penny more. You’re the artist. They’re buying your art.”
“Well, all right. If you’re sure. I just hope people want to buy them, because if not, we’ll be out the cost of printing with nothing to show for it.” Worry made her bite her lower lip.
Gus slid forward on his chair and kissed her, using his tongue to soothe the spot on her lip she’d worried. When he drew back, his gaze met hers. His smile was gentle.
“Trust me, sweetheart. This is going to work better than you can even imagine.” He sat back, and a mischievous light entered his eyes. “I will even offer the cards up for sale on the gallery’s website. I think people all over the world will be buying them without even having to see the murals in person. Wait and see.”
“The internet?” she asked, still unsure about the technological terms for things she had yet to encounter.
Gus nodded, grinning. “I’ll show it to you, and I bet you’ll want to know more. In a little while, you’ll be online shopping with the best of ‘em. Guaranteed.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Later that afternoon, Babushka arrived armed with photos of her homeland. Gus left the ladies to their discussions after greeting Babushka with a warm hug. The old lady watched him go with a speculative gaze that settled on Laura.
“He is good man, that one. Powerful, but his strength is tempered with a pure spirit,” Babushka offered her opinion seemingly out of thin air.
Laura nodded. “I have met shaman before. I don’t underestimate his gentle appearance. I know he is fierce.”
“And gentle,” Babushka reminded her. “He is different than other bears. He walks a more spiritual path.” The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you know shaman?”
“Among the Inuit,” Laura told her.
“Human holy men?” Babushka wasn’t exactly dismissive, but she didn’t seem all that impressed, either. “It is a sacred thing for a shifter who can see the Goddess in action. Your Gustav is more special than you probably realize.”
That said, Babushka brandished a large envelope that seemed stuffed with paper. She put it down on the counter to the side of where the register had just been installed and opened it.
“Photos of my homeland,” she said without preamble. “Coastline. Forests. Local wildlife.” She spread the photos out across the wide counter as Laura bent closer to get a good look. “Is similar to Pacific Northwest in places. Probably more like Alaska coast because of climate. See?” She pointed to the rocky shore and the lush dark green of the forest.
Laura was getting great ideas for her mural. She could already see it taking shape in her mind’s eye. All she needed to know was more about the kinds of bears in that rugged land.
“I’ve heard your bear is much larger than others,” Laura said quietly, trying not to be rude. “And that your fur is more burgundy than brown.”
“This is true. We are mostly big. Like Kodiak bears. Have you seen?” Laura shook her head in the negative. Babushka shrugged. “No matter. Take grizzly shifter and add ten percent. And fur is different. Denser. More red. Not like Soviet flag, but like fine dark wine,” she said, chuckling. “Though, of course, we prefer strong vodka to fruity wine.”
She laughed some more as Laura studied the photos. She had a strong idea of what she would paint. It wasn’t complete yet, but she’d get there.
“Now,” Babushka went on, reaching for the large satchel she’d been carrying but had put on the ground as they talked. She lifted it and reached in with one hand. “Gifts. This, for Gustav. Is, like Sheriff Brody carves with his chainsaw, a self-portrait…of me.” She placed a carved box in the shape of a bear on the counter, a big smile on her lined face. The bear had burgundy fur.
“Is it a nesting box?” Laura asked in wonder. The workmanship was exquisite.
Babushka smiled gently at her. “Try and see.”
With great care, Laura took the box into her hands and opened it. Sure enough, there was another smaller box inside. It was just as beautiful, with just as much attention to detail. She opened that one, and there was another inside. And another. And another. All together, there were five burgundy Kamchatka bear boxes, and each one was gorgeous.
“Oh, Gus is going to love this,” Laura enthused. “It’s fantastic.”
Before she could say anything else, Babushka reached into her bag agai
n, and came out with another box carved in the shape of a bear—this one with the unmistakable creamy coat of the spirit bear. Laura’s breath caught in admiration.
“This is for you, Laura. A welcome gift.” Babushka handed the box to Laura, who took it with stunned appreciation.
“It’s Gus, isn’t it?” Laura asked, breathless as she looked from the box to the old woman and back again.
“It is. Just like you have painted him,” Babushka added, looking pointedly at the mural of the giant sequoia and the cream-colored bear. “He is a special one, that boy.”
Only a bear as old as Babushka would ever be able to call Gus a boy, Laura thought with some amusement. But the old lady was right. Gus was special. Laura’s little heart went pitter-pat just thinking about him. She had better change the subject before she gave herself away.
“Thank you so much for the gift,” she said, already planning a gift she would make for Babushka in return. “Is it true… I mean… I don’t want to be rude, but Gus said something about there being a… um… dragon in town. He seemed to imply he was a relation of yours.”
Babushka looked at Laura with an appraising eye for a long moment before she spoke. “It is not something we used to discuss, but everything about this town is not normal.” She chuckled at her own small joke. “My grandfather was dragon. The dragon who came here recently is distant relation, but we claim him as family. Poor boy grew up as an orphan among humans.” Babushka shook her head, clicking her tongue with a disapproving sound. “He is good man, but is hard for a dragon alone in the world. He is part of our Clan now. I have adopted him, as the Americans say.” She smiled at that, and her expression lightened. “So, cat—or dragon, in this case—is definitely out of bag now, I suppose.” She shrugged philosophically.
Babushka left the gallery a short time later, and Laura set right to work on the mural of Kamchatka. She already knew what she was going to paint and that she was going to put a tiny figure flying in the distance that might look like a smudge to most casual observers, but any shifter in town would know what it really was. A dragon. A shifter dragon. Just the idea of there being such a creature in this world boggled Laura’s mind.
She painted, thinking about how cool it would be to actually see a real dragon flying overhead. Who knew? Maybe, if she stayed in Grizzly Cove long enough, that daydream might just happen.
She filled in the trees and foliage working from the photographs Babushka had left behind, leaving space for several large bears walking along the shoreline. She wanted to depict a family containing several generations from cubs to venerable old Babushka. The vignette formed in her mind and transferred rapidly onto the wall as her brush stroked paint over the flat surface in strategic ways.
Lost in the work, she almost didn’t notice when the outer door to the building opened, but when the door to the gallery clicked open a moment later, she got a distinctly uncomfortable feeling between her shoulder blades and a flash of pain behind her eyes. She turned, gasping, as she came face to face with the newcomer.
It was the Alpha bear. John Marshall. Arguably, the most powerful of the bears gathered here, because he led them all. She knew this. She’s met him before. But this time… This time, something was different.
That inner…thing…that had been stretching and growing and growling inside her was looking at him through her eyes, and the hatred it felt stunned her. She froze. Her muscles went into a sort of rigor as the paintbrush fell from her hand. She stared at him, a helpless observer in her own body as something evil pushed to get out. To get at him.
“You have to leave,” she sobbed, even as she tried to hold back the power that was building. “Please!” She still couldn’t move. “Go! Before it hurts you!”
John’s steps faltered as he looked more closely at her. Whatever he saw must have convinced him of…something. He turned on his heel and shouted over his shoulder as he exited. “I’m getting help!”
The moment he was out of sight, she sagged, still not quite in control of her body, but definitely closer to it than just seconds before. It was as if the Alpha bear had taken the compulsion with him when he left her presence. She had a dreadful fear that she knew what that meant.
He was a trigger. Seeing him would spark an attack from whatever it was those evil bastards had planted inside her. She hoped he was smart enough to realize what he’d been seeing and not to come back into her line of sight.
She stood there, not daring to move even as she regained control of her body. She felt really strange. As if something had broken loose inside her. Like some alien awareness that thirsted for violence was just waiting to use her for its own evil ends.
Tears started to fall unheeded down her face. She should have known it was all too good to be true. She had been starting to believe that she might just be able to have a fresh start here in Grizzly Cove, but now, that dream was crashing down around her feet.
They wouldn’t let her stay. Not when it was clear that something had been done to her while she’d been held prisoner for so long. Something had changed. She didn’t feel right. She knew, on a fundamental level, that somehow, someone had done something to use her against her will.
She was a sleeper agent. A Trojan Horse. An unwilling accomplice to plans others had made to attack Grizzly Cove—and, in particular, the Alpha bear who had brought this town together. It came so clear to her suddenly. They had well and truly fucked her over. Not only had she been prisoner for so very long that she had retreated to another realm to get at least partial escape, but they’d hedged their bets. Her captors had turned her into an unwilling weapon, as surely as a child put in a bomb vest by some insane fanatic, to do their bidding.
She was so screwed.
She was going to lose everything she had thought she had just regained. Marilee. Gus. The town she was coming to love. The people she had befriended here. It was all going up in a puff of smoke before her streaming eyes.
She sank to her knees in utter despair, sobbing for all she was worth.
Gus approached the building at a run. John was standing just outside the building, in the street, watching the entrance carefully, out of view of the windows. He’d called Gus and filled him in. Luckily, Gus hadn’t been too far away. He’d been just down the street, working on something with another of the guys when the call came in.
He’d dropped everything and hit the ground running as soon as he heard what John said. Something was wrong with Laura, and John had retreated at her demand. It looked like what they’d feared might actually be true. She might have been programmed by her captors to lash out at John or the other residents of Grizzly Cove, and the programming was only just coming into play.
Gus swore as he slowed to confer with John. He would go in—he was the only one who could—but he wanted to know everything that had been observed, first. John didn’t wait. He started his sitrep the moment Gus was in range and talked fast and concise, as they’d all been trained to do, providing facts, observations and, in John’s case, suggestions and encouragement. He wasn’t their leader for nothing.
As fully prepared as possible, Gus walked into the building and then approached the door to the gallery, which was still wide open. He saw her at once, kneeling on the ground, crying her heart out.
Pain sliced through his being. She looked absolutely heartbroken, and he thought he understood why. The Laura he had come to know—had come to love—was a good person. She would never have looked crosswise at John or anyone else. That something had made her go rigid and warn him off meant that something was very wrong, and Gus was very much afraid he knew, at least generally, what it was.
“Laura, love… Are you all right, now?” Gus spoke softly, approaching her cautiously.
At his words, she looked up, tears making wide tracks down her cheeks. Her face was scrunched up in pain and regret, but at least she didn’t look like she was about to let loose with a magic lightning bolt and fry his ass or anything. He moved closer, crouching down in front of her.
“It almost took over,” she whispered, hiccupping with the sobs that still tore through her shaking body. “It almost lashed out at John.”
“Is it still there, trying to take over?” he asked cautiously. “Or are you in control, now?”
She tilted her head, seeming to consider his words as her tears slowed. “I think it’s gone. It wanted John. It hated John.”
“But it doesn’t hate me?” he asked with a small grin, trying to coax her out of her crying completely.
“It doesn’t have any say in the matter. I don’t hate you. Not by a long shot.” She reached out for him then, and he took her into his arms, hating the way she trembled in fear and sadness.
He stood, lifting her in his arms as he walked out of the gallery and toward the back stairs that would lead up to the apartments. He knew John would see them. Gus had no doubt that more than just John was now watching everything that went on in the building, from the shadows. As long as Laura didn’t see them, Gus figured whatever was hurting her from the inside out wouldn’t activate. Whatever she felt for him seemed to countermand any desire the internal programming might have where he was concerned…at least, for now.
He would take advantage of that for as long as he could. He wanted to stop whatever it was and free her of the evil taint. He wasn’t letting her go—not to death, nor to exile. They had to find another way. He would not release her that easily. She was in his heart now, and he would keep her there, always.
Marilee was at the top of the stairs to greet them. John must have called ahead, knowing that if Laura hadn’t hurt Gus, then she definitely wouldn’t harm her only child. Marilee looked frightened but determined to help. Still, Gus wasn’t going to expose her to an unknown level of danger, right now. It was enough that he took the chance of whatever was inside Laura blowing up in his face. He wouldn’t allow Marilee to take that same chance. Not to the same extent, at least. He wouldn’t deny the mother and daughter a few moments to talk, but he wasn’t going to expose either of them too long, just in case.
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