by Hattie Hunt
Juliet abruptly took a step back, her small nostrils flaring. Ice-blue eyes narrowed, her hair a complete shock of white as her bear—her polar bear—rose to the surface. “What are you?”
It seemed like the entire damned society was going to find out soon enough. Would she ever get used to this? People knowing? Ripley grimaced. “Padfoot.”
“Oh, blessed saints.” Juliet clasped Ripley’s fingers between her hands and beamed at Brett. “What luck. You have a padfoot?”
Brett’s lips curled in disgust, and he looked away.
Juliet’s smile extinguished, replaced by a folded expression of question. Then the question dissipated as bear ears peaked from the top of her head, and her hair became true fur.
“Padfoots aren’t treated well here,” Ripley said quietly, trying to calm the polar bear before she lashed out at her fiancé. Even if she was slightly curious to see how that would turn out. Brett had earned himself a good walloping. “Especially by the Elliots.”
Juliet raised a cool eyebrow at Brett and tucked Ripley’s hand into the crook of her elbow. “Well, the Yazzies do. You’ll be my guest, and any who wish to start a fight can do so through me.”
Ripley tried not to appear as awkward as she felt, though she could feel the heat rising on the back of her neck. “Thank you?” Why did feeling accepted feel so wrong?
Joe gave Ripley a look as if it say, See? This could work.
No. She shot him a glower. This couldn’t work, and he knew better.
“What happened?” Juliet asked, her opposite hand resting on top of Ripley’s in confidence.
Neither of the boys said anything, trailing behind the women leading the way through the woods.
Ripley shook her head and stopped. “A rabid wolf bit Brett.”
Juliet frowned at Ripley. “Shifters are immune.”
“Apparently not.” Ripley wanted to remove her hand from the woman’s grasp, but Juliet’s fingers had tightened over hers. She didn’t want to insult her only ally, either. Though, what did that even matter? Ripley didn’t. Want. To. Stay. Why was it so hard to remember that? She pulled in a deep breath. “My padfoot can see the sickness spreading through him.”
Juliet dropped Ripley’s arm and stumbled back. Bear ears flattened, her blue eyes widening. Fur lengthened, transforming back into long, white hair again. “No.” The word was barely a breath.
“Yes.” Ripley shouldn’t be the one explaining this. Damned pansy fucking boys. “There aren’t stories, because—well, I don’t know why.”
“It’s really bad,” Juliet said, her voice recovering. “The worst stories are kept secret.”
“Which is stupid.” Ripley nodded, her lips tight. This woman had sense. She was impressed.
“I agree. Why keep it hidden?” The initial moment of panic gone, Juliet pulled Ripley’s hand back to the crook of her elbow.
“Ignorance makes people feel safe?”
“But it kills them quicker.”
“And isn’t that sometimes a blessing?” Ripley didn’t like that she could say that out loud without flinching. She’d seen entirely too much in this life.
Juliet sighed, her bear ears retreating fully back into her human head. Her hair yellowed and became blonde, her bright blue eyes dimmed and became green. “There is a cure. There has to be.”
Ripley hoped so. “Snow said there is, but that she’s never seen it work.”
“It will,” Juliet said with real hope in her voice as she looked over her should towards Brett.
Ripley hadn’t seen real hope like that in a long time. Her insides twisted. Truth gnawed bitterly at her heart.
“Why?” The question exploded off her lips before she could stop it. “Why do you believe so hard that it’ll work? Because it’s you? Because it’s him?”
“Because we won’t die this way.” Juliet said it with conviction, even though her face looked stricken.
Ripley stopped, pulling her arm away from Juliet. She measured her breaths, eyes flicking between the unspoken question on Juliet’s lips and the hope and conviction etched on both the boys’ features.
Juliet’s optimism had spilled over onto Brett. Joe wholly denied the truth of the situation.
They all needed a dose of reality, or they might as well start digging Brett’s grave right now. She needed to let the padfoot forward, meaning she would be pushed back. But it was something they needed to see, something they needed to hear.
Taking in a deep breath, she retreated inside her own mind. Her padfoot stepped forward easily, taking control of her body, changing the pitch of her voice. “You’re going to kill those you love the most first.”
A cold shiver ripped through Joe. She had changed in a blink. Her eyes glowed silver, and her voice rasped too deep.
His heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t his Ripley anymore. Her padfoot had come forward.
“You will go crazy.” Her voice was raspy, her cold, dead eyes locked onto Brett.
Joe didn’t know what to do, how to react.
“Your bear will ravage those around you.” Her lip curled further, twisting her entire expression into something foreign. “You will infect those you love.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Wispy smoke rose from Ripley’s hair, and the embers of pale flame shot out as if she stood on the edge of a Hellfire pit.
A chill swept down Joe’s spine. He reached for her. Maybe if he could get her to remember him, she’d remain a woman, step away from what had to be Hell. “Rip.”
Her eyes blinked.
Was she in control? Was this the padfoot? Was this why so many people feared the padfoot?
He needed his Ripley back. Not this thing.
Her silver eyes jerked to him. She raised a hand, sparks flicking towards him.
Joe stumbled back, the hair on his knuckles sizzling.
Ripley’s gaze flashed back to Brett without losing a beat. “Your precious Juliet?”
That had to be the padfoot. The words twisted like poison on her tongue. Where was his Ripley?
“Together, the two of you will rip out the throats of those closest to you. Your niece.” The padfoot chuffed a chuckle. “Your mother.”
Joe’s eyes widened as he shot a look at Brett.
Brett stood frozen, mouth gaping, eyes hollow.
“That,” the padfoot huffed with a snarl, “is what crawls up your veins, what rushes to your heart, what you carry with you.”
“There is a cure,” Juliet said, but the conviction was gone from her voice. She had turned white again, but only because the blood had drained from her face. Her bear was nowhere to be seen.
The padfoot straightened, rolling Ripley’s head to the side, eyes on Juliet. It blinked once, and the silver light went out. Her expression relaxed but her shoulders tightened, and she clenched her fists. “It’s not good, Juliet,” Ripley said, her voice sounding like hers again. “I need to you understand.”
Joe trembled, unable to look away from Ripley. This woman. How could he love something so…lethal? The padfoot was uncaring and, apparently, stood on the precipice of Hell. And it was part of her.
A tremor rippled through Ripley’s heart as she spared a quick glance for Joe. She’d never shown another her padfoot’s face. Not like that, anyway. Maybe now, Joe would get it. Maybe now, he’d back off, realize that his people had it right. The padfoot was something to be feared.
Judging by the startled look on his face, her padfoot had done a good job.
She turned back to Juliet. Somehow, it was easier to talk to her—this stranger who loved Joe’s brother, who would suffer through this nearly as much as Joe would. She closed her eyes, knuckling her temples as she drew in a breath.
When she looked up again, Juliet was waiting, questions racing through eyes suddenly too old for her delicate features. “I don’t just see his death. The longer he remains alive and the closer the sickness gets to his heart, the more death fires I see.”
“Death fires?” Juliet aske
d, her voice small.
Ripley almost wished she’d kept her damned mouth shut. Joe looked like he was terrified of her now. Brett seemed stunned, and Juliet, the one person who’d accepted her as a padfoot without question, now looked at her the way everyone else did. “Yeah,” Ripley grumbled and shook her head. When would she learn just to shut the fuck up? “It’s just how it looks. I don’t know who he’ll infect. There’s just more fires.”
Juliet looked at Brett, her eyes glossy. “And the cure?”
How many times would Ripley have to repeat herself? “No good. Snow hasn’t seen it succeed. She said it makes things worse.”
Juliet looked down, dissecting the forest floor with her thoughts. “We’ll try the cure.”
Damned optimist.
She raised her chin. “And if it fails, Brett and I will disappear. We’ll run away. We’ll hide.”
“Hide where?” Ripley demanded.
Joe took a step forward, his brow furrowed, lips pursed. He had stuffed his hands into his pockets, and he looked between the three of them. He had drawn their attention but said nothing.
Probably because he didn’t know what to say. How could he? Ripley’s hand rose slightly, to…what? Comfort him? She was the damned padfoot telling him his twin brother was going to die. No. She couldn’t offer him comfort. What the hell was she thinking? She brought her hand back to her side.
Juliet quirked her lips in thought. “I know of a place we can go. There are no other shifters.”
“If the cure fails, it will get worse.” Ripley could see the vestiges of hope returning, and she pursed her lips.
“And I know of something that will repress the bear.” Juliet’s shoulders peaked as she shrank into herself. “We’ll use it to get us to safety and then we’ll just disappear until…” She trailed off, shaking her head.
“He’s dead?” Ripley asked.
Juliet leveled her gaze to Ripley’s. “Yes.”
Well, it wasn’t much, but it was at least a plan. Ripley shrugged. “Okay.” No matter if they thwarted too many certain deaths. Her padfoot would be keeping track. She’d have to find others to feed his hunger. But of course, she couldn’t tell them that. Hopefully, they moved quickly—took care of whatever they were going to do. However they were going to do it. So long as they took their impending death with them.
“In the meantime,” Juliet said with a breath, taking Ripley’s hand in her own, “you will be my guest.”
And in a blink, everything was peachy. Was Juliet fucking insane?
“Snow is working on the cure?”
“Yes.”
“Then, there is nothing for us to do but wait. And you can keep an eye on my Brett until the cure arrives.”
Ripley avoided her gaze. That. There wasn’t a single thing in all of that that was a good idea.
“You will be my guest, and we will get married in two days. And then we will face whatever comes at us together.”
It was so romantic, Ripley wanted to barf.
With a glance at Joe, she had to suppress a smirk. He seemed to be on a similar page.
Ripley wanted to fall back, to talk to him, see how he was doing, but Juliet was a polar bear. She wouldn’t be deterred, and she kept a firm grasp on Ripley’s hand until they reached Elliot’s sprawling home.
The Elliots weren’t rich, but they weren’t hurting for money either. They were a tight knit family that all lived under the same roof. Everyone had jobs, all of them bringing in money to help support the household. It was a good plan, for a clan of bears. In human society, not so much. When a kid grew up, they moved out as soon as possible. They were a failure if they didn’t, even though moving out required more money than the average new adult could afford. Even on the crappy side of town.
This house sprawled across a swath of green grass that reached out to a forest. The thick trees protected it from the view of their nearest neighbors.
Not that it mattered. It looked like most of the neighbors were there anyway, lounging on camp chairs, under temporary pavilions, and on the beds of trucks. Ripley didn’t recognize even half the faces. Troutdale wasn’t that big. She should at least know most of the faces, even if she didn’t know names. Granted, she’d been away for years, but this was Troutdale. People didn’t exactly flock to its streets.
“Most of these are bears,” Juliet said, patting Ripley’s hand, sensing her discomfort.
Which was weird. Ripley glanced at the taller, larger woman from the corner of her eye. Juliet had just found out the love of her life was dying a horrible death. That they might both be forced to live out the rest of their relatively short lives in solitude—if they could even find it—and she was offering Ripley comfort? Juliet was either too nice for her own good—
Or a complete idiot.
Or an asshole who couldn’t care less.
Ripley took in a steadying breath as Juliet led her right into the heart of bear country. From what she could tell, Juliet was just a straight up nice person. Which was stupid. Nice people were eaten alive in the real world. Or worse.
“My family came down,” Juliet continued, her voice breathy and the grip on Ripley’s hand tight.
Maybe she wasn’t offering Ripley comfort. Maybe it was the other way around.
Well, Ripley wasn’t good at giving anything, so she just hoped that the fact that she was still allowing Juliet to hold her hand would be enough. In reality, all Ripley wanted to do was to shift back into a padfoot and run out of there. Not because she enjoyed being a padfoot, but because as a dog, she had four fast feet instead of two slow ones.
“There’s a lot of them.”
No shit. Ripley realized should probably say something. “So, where do you come from?”
A smile bloomed across Juliet’s face. “No North Pole jokes?”
“I’m not dumb.” Though, Ripley could see the jokes there. “Your spirit animal is a polar bear. That doesn’t mean you’re from the polar north.”
Chuckling, Juliet stopped at a table topped with several plates of meat. The smell wasn’t strong, so the meat had probably been sitting out for a bit. She picked up a brat and nibbled on it. “Montana, mostly. Though, Uncle Bob and his kin come from North Dakota.”
Ripley shivered. “So, the North Pole.”
“Good point.” Juliet offered the brat to Ripley and then gestured to the table. “Go ahead and eat whatever you want.”
Ripley shook her head with a grimace as Cheryl noticed them from a distance. Joe’s mother was the last person she wanted to talk to right now. “Nah, I’m good. Tuck told me to be home by seven for dinner.”
“The Chief of Police?”
It was weird talking to someone who didn’t know the history.
“Yes,” Cheryl said, stepping up to them. “When her parents died, no else wanted her.”
“How cruel,” Juliet said quietly, meeting Cheryl’s gaze defiantly.
Cheryl’s lips flattened as she slid her dark gaze to Ripley. “I don’t remember inviting you.”
Juliet raised an eyebrow, white fur bristling along her shoulders, her eyes losing their green and shifting to blue. “I invited her.”
Cheryl’s dark brown fur shifted along the back of her neck, and her grizzly ears protruded on top of her head. “You’re not family yet, Juliet. You don’t get to invite the trash to my home.”
“Where I come from, the padfoot are honored.”
With a snort, Cheryl turned her cool gaze on Ripley. “Trying to gain a little respect? Your brother was supposed to be the padfoot, not you.”
A warm hand slid into the small of Ripley’s back as Joe joined the conversation. “Well, it chose her.” His tone didn’t exactly scream confidence, but at least he was on her side at the moment. Ripley knew allowing her padfoot to talk to him and Brett probably wasn’t the greatest idea, but it had been necessary.
On second thought, maybe it had been good. The position of his hand on her back wasn’t exactly affectionate. Ripley watched from the
corner of her eye, waiting for him to look at her, but he didn’t. Joe was distant, which was a good thing. For him. For her.
Even if she could feel the tension in his touch, that subtlety was lost on his mother, which was probably the point.
Cheryl looked over Ripley’s shoulder, probably meeting her son’s gaze.
And now Ripley was in the middle of that mess too. Great.
Cheryl’s eyes narrowed, and she blinked once, deliberately, before finding Ripley’s gaze again. “Stay away from my sons. We don’t need your kind tainting our lines.”
“Cheryl,” Juliet said, her low bear tone harmonizing her natural voice in a weirdly poetic—yet dangerous—cadence. “This line of disrespect will not be allowed.”
Several of the men nearby rose to their feet, bristly bear fur poking through their shirts and peeking over shirt collars as they formed a half circle behind Juliet.
The air buzzed with intense silence as Cheryl’s clan slowly joined them, furless, but intimidating and in number.
Ripley tried to keep her expression calm, but she was about to crap herself. She shoved her hands into her pocket so no one would see them shaking. Shit. There were a lot of bears. She was one little dog. They were bears. Most of them grizzly or polar, so not great odds for the dog.
Cheryl drew herself up. “Stay away,” she said carefully, her steely gaze set on Ripley, “from my sons. Padfoot.”
Ripley stepped back and flicked her hands out in front of her in mocking surrender. “Fine. No problem.” She jutted her chin towards Brett. “He’s your problem, then.”
Cheryl’s eyes squinted in confusion, but Ripley spun on her heel and started away.
“Ripley,” Juliet grabbed Ripley’s arm, turning her back. Juliet’s ears were erect, her dense arctic fur glistening in the sun. The shadow of a snout was outlined on her face beneath blue eyes blazing with anger.
Ripley shook her head, pulling back her arm. “I gotta jet anyway.”
Juliet’s eyes softened slightly as they studied her, and something twinged in Ripley’s chest. Regret? As much as she wanted to get out of there, Juliet was different. Good.
Against the rules.
“Keep running,” Cheryl snarled. “Dog.”