Shifters' Storm

by Vonna Harper

  Well, she was back. And it was too late to apologize to her mother.

  “Where’s your wife?” she asked Joe. “Isn’t she always with you?”

  “Deana’s been sick. Well, not sick. She needs a knee replacement. That keeps her off her feet.”

  “I’m sorry. Will she be having surgery—”

  “Not unless I win the lottery. We’re self-employed, don’t have insurance. Don’t have anything except this.” He indicated the bar.

  After a minute, Joe left to tend to the needs of his other customers. Wishing she knew what to say to Joe, Rane continued to sip her wine. Even with the TV blaring, she could hear rain hitting the metal roof. No matter that she was tired and hungry, she couldn’t quite talk herself into going home. If only the small, well-built place her mother had loved didn’t feel so empty.

  Sighing, she looked toward the front door, then shook her head. Surely she hadn’t been hoping Songan would walk in, and even if she had, it wouldn’t happen.

  Enough with the sexual energy building at the base of her spine.

  Enough with asking herself if the grizzly might be contributing to her mood.

  “You didn’t get married, did you?” Chip asked. “I thought for sure you would.”

  Chip’s unexpected question accomplished what she’d been unable to do on her own, which was get her mind off sexual matters. She turned toward him, then was sorry because he hadn’t brushed his teeth for a while. Apparently dental hygiene took a backseat to keeping one’s work equipment running. But if the company was that important, shouldn’t he be heading for Eagle Pass since the city was a good hour and a half away?

  “I didn’t realize my marital status mattered to you,” she said.

  Chip shrugged. The gesture sent his beer belly to jiggling beneath his padded flannel jacket. “Just making conversation, Rane. You were the best-looking girl to come out of these mountains. Too good for me, remember? I figured someone would have snagged you by now.”

  “Guess I didn’t take the bait. Mom told me you married Kathy Framer.”

  “Had to,” Chip muttered. “Got me two sons and a daughter, not that I see much of them since the divorce.”

  Another wave of sympathy for Chip caught her by surprise. Maybe he could have done a better job of planning his life, but this was what he was stuck with. Logging with his brother put food on the table and paid child support right now, but what about after the current government contract was over?

  “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling inadequate. Did everyone in town have financial problems? Enough to make them do reckless, crazy and illegal things? Enough to turn them into killers?

  “Just like I’m sorry about what happened to Jacki,” Chip said. “I thought I knew everything there was to about these mountains, but she… Just goes to show what an education will get you. She had a career, a damn secure one. Now she has nothing.”

  Much as she hated hearing that, Rane couldn’t disagree with Chip. For all the bureaucracy that went with working for the Forest Service, it could turn out to be a life-long career.

  Unless the employee was murdered.

  Rane stayed at the Sawmill for the better part of an hour, sipping slowly and talking to several other people from the past. A couple of men offered to buy her drinks, then backed off when Joe gave them the evil eye. When Joe privately asked why she was putting up with this, she decided to tell him the truth, that she needed to learn as much as she could about the people who had made up her mother’s world.

  “I’m not a detective,” she’d said unnecessarily. “I’m hoping someone will say something that, I don’t know, will trigger something in my memory. Mom and I talked a lot, which means I got all the gossip.”

  She hadn’t mentioned the possibility that her mother’s killer might have been in the Sawmill.

  Joe had hugged her to his sticky apron but hadn’t added anything to what little she’d learned from those conversations. Either Joe tuned out the wagging tongues loosened by the liquor he sold, or he didn’t want to encourage her poor excuse for an investigation. Or concern for his wife’s health came before anything else.

  Alice and her friends had left before she did, saving her from trying to decipher the older woman’s expression. She couldn’t imagine Alice approving of her coming alone to the bar and allowing herself to be surrounded by men who weren’t the town’s most upstanding citizens.

  Fortunately the rain had let up. There wasn’t much snow mixed in with it, but according to the news she caught on the truck radio, things were going to get colder in a few days. That coupled with the accompanying clouds added up to one thing: winter’s first snowstorm.

  Then what, she asked herself as she unlocked the door to what had been her mother’s place. Should she stay here and risk not working for the Service in Alaska after all? Her supervisors were being understanding about her need to take some time off, but they could only leave that wildlife biologist position out of Homer vacant for so long.

  She couldn’t remember her or her mother ever locking themselves in while she was growing up, but she did so. After putting away her groceries, she started a toasted cheese sandwich. Then she went into what had been her childhood bedroom and took off all but her shirt and jeans. She put on slippers, turned on the TV in the living room and flipped her sandwich over.

  A police investigation show was playing. She’d never understood the appeal of graphic crime scenes but stared at the screen until she smelled something burning. After scraping off the burned parts, she plunked herself on the couch in front of the TV with her dinner and a glass of milk on the coffee table. Tonight she wasn’t going to think about the nights her mother had spent doing the same thing; she wasn’t!

  Jacki had had at least two romantic relationships after her daughter moved away. The one she’d talked the most about had been with another ranger who’d been transferred up to Washington State. Instead of asking for a transfer herself as Jerry had wanted, she’d chosen local spotted owl research over him.

  Prescott had entered the picture less than a year after the relationship with Jerry ended. He’d been and still was a Fish and Wildlife employee. Whenever Rane asked about him, Jacki had given her a brief answer and changed the subject. Finally her mother admitted that Prescott was married. Separated but not talking divorce.

  A few awful times right after Jacki went missing and Rane was sick with fear, she’d wondered if her mother had decided she couldn’t live without Prescott. By day’s light, she’d acknowledged her mother was stronger than that. Her belief in her mother had been confirmed when Jacki’s body was found. No way could the bullet that killed her have been self-inflicted.

  An ad for a luxury car came on. As she watched beautiful people speeding along a deserted stretch of highway in a black convertible, she wondered what made advertising companies think that would sell cars. Her job paid relatively well, but she’d never be in that driver’s seat. Besides, she didn’t want to be.

  That led to the question of what she was going to do with her life now that the most important person in it was dead. Murdered.

  “Damn it, enough!” Upset and angry at herself, she extracted the knife her mother had given her from her backpack. Today had been full enough without throwing questions about life direction into the mix. Placing the knife on the couch next to her, she leaned back and closed her eyes.

  Did she really want to see Songan again? He might be her only chance of learning the truth about her mother’s death, but there was a lot of baggage where he was concerned.

  He turned her sexual cranks. Absolutely no doubt about that. When he became human, he gave new meaning to the word hunk. Not only could he make professional athletes and bodybuilders wave the white flag of surrender, sex with him had always been wildly satisfying. For someone who spent only roughly half his time as a human, he sure as hell knew what a woman—this woman—needed.

  Was sex enough?

  Standing, she carried the dinner remains into the kitchen an
d returned to the living room. The crime show had started again, not that it mattered, because she had no idea what the plot was about. Her mother’s house was about fifteen hundred square feet, which she figured was more than enough room for one person, so why did she feel as if the walls were squeezing her in? She’d spent the day outdoors. She’d had great sex. She should be tired and brain dead. Tomorrow was soon enough to revisit the awful questions surrounding her mother’s death. Give it a rest for one night, all right. Find a spot of peace.

  No longer listening to her self-directed argument, she paced from one end of the room to the other and turned around. Thinking to retrace her steps, she lifted her right leg. Her slipper hit the short brown carpet.

  Jacki had bought tan drapes to cover the large living room window. Judging by the dust patterns in the fabric, she’d seldom used them. The window provided a view of the forest that grew nearly up to the house, but although Rane wished she was looking out at dripping tree branches, she hadn’t opened the curtains she’d drawn before leaving this morning.

  Damn it, death had changed so much.

  Now, however, even with her heart hammering against her chest wall and her feet dragging, she headed toward the window. Something or someone was out there.

  Chapter Seven

  The child he’d met the first time he’d ventured out of the forest had called him Ber. Although the boy’s father had apologized and explained that his small son was trying to say Bear, from then on he’d introduced himself as Ber. He might not know much about adult humans, but he’d never doubted the little boy’s wisdom.

  Tonight, standing outside the house of the woman he’d followed out of the mountains, Ber nodded in admiration of her ability to sense his presence. Until he’d heard her start toward the window, he hadn’t been sure what he was going to do, whether tonight might change everything for both of them. But it had to be done. Why not now?

  The drapes pulled back. Staring at the slender, strong woman from earlier today, he tried to put himself in her place. She was looking at a six and a half foot tall man with wavy, pure black hair that came to his shoulders. Maybe she couldn’t tell that his eyes were equally black or that he hadn’t shaved for the better part of a week, but hopefully his sheepskin jacket and worn jeans would keep the truth of his musculature from her for a while longer.

  Her hand went to her throat, and she pulled back. Instead of screaming and shutting the curtain again, however, she stared. Her startled yet steady glare sliced into him, making him wonder if he’d ever felt this vulnerable.

  Him, vulnerable? Shouldn’t that be her?

  “Let me in,” he said loud enough to be heard through the glass. The request shocked him. He hadn’t intended to move so fast, hadn’t planned things out well enough.

  “What? Who are you?”

  “They call me Ber,” he told the woman who probably saw him only as a shadow. “I need to talk to you.”

  About what? she mouthed.

  My life and your role in it. “I’m not armed.” Hoping she could read his lips, he spoke distinctly. “I won’t hurt you.”

  Her eyes widened, but she dropped her hand from her throat and opened the window a crack. “You expect me to believe that? What are you doing here?”

  I don’t have a choice. “Looking for you.”

  “You know something?”

  The instant the words were out of her mouth, the woman didn’t look as sure of herself as she had moments ago. There was a melancholy about her that touched a part of him he barely comprehended. “Yes,” he said, even though he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Please, let me in.”

  Maybe his request made the difference, but then he might never know why she stepped away from the window. Several seconds passed before he heard a clicking at the door, and it opened. When he walked over to where she stood in the doorway, warm air reached out to caress him.

  She smelled of soap and woman.

  “Ber,” she said, looking up at him. “Is that what you said your name is?”

  He’d told her it was what people called him. “Yes.”

  “I don’t recognize you, and I know just about everyone who lives here.”

  “I’m new to the area.” In ways you can’t comprehend.

  “Look, I’m reluctant to let you in. I think you understand why. Why don’t you tell me what this is about. If you know something about my mother—”

  “I do,” he lied.

  The sorrowful look returned, and he understood that taking advantage of her grief was the opening he needed.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “The house is getting cold.” Even before he’d finished, he acknowledged how much he was risking for both of them if she let him in. “I saw you at the bar earlier.”

  “Did you? I didn’t see you.”

  Because he’d been outside. “Oh.”

  “Look,” she said, “I don’t want to have to pull things out of you. If you think you can get me to pay you for—”

  “I don’t think that.”

  “Why are you coming to me instead of the sheriff’s deputy?”

  Her left arm remained down by her side, while she occasionally rubbed her right hip. Accustomed to studying all movement, he wondered what that said about her. If only he knew more about what went on inside women’s minds. “You have more at stake.”

  “Yes, I do. All right, come in. Wait. There’s something you need to know. A lot of people are keeping an eye on me these days. If something happens to me, the investigation will start with who was at the Sawmill.”

  Only they couldn’t, because he hadn’t been among the drinkers. Also, her house was set back from the road, and except for him, no one was out tonight. No wonder she was leery about letting him in. As he closed the door behind him, the sense that he’d made the right choice grew. This woman lived alone.

  Not taking her gaze off him, she backed toward the couch and indicated he could take a chair at the other end of the room. She slowly sat. Her straight and alert body had him comparing her to a deer. He wanted to see her run, to watch the long slender legs propel her through the forest. In his fantasy, he’d be running behind her. Moving swift and sure, he’d overtake her. When he caught up to her, he’d bring her down, trap her under his greater weight.

  No! He wasn’t a beast tonight. Would never be, around her.

  “I lied,” he said, done with pretense. Either she’d accept him for what he was or—what?

  Her nostrils flared, and she started to stand, stopped. “About what?”

  Surprised by the lack of panic in her voice, he continued. “I don’t know anything about your mother. That’s not why I’m here.”

  Chocolate eyes widened. “Then you have thirty seconds to explain. Otherwise, I’ll make you leave.”

  How, he came close to asking but didn’t.

  “We met earlier today. In the meadow where the young elk had been killed.”

  “No way.” She shook her head. “There wasn’t—oh shit.”

  Understanding spread over her and took her from beautiful to exquisite. She might be the only woman on earth capable of fully comprehending what he’d said.

  “Ber,” she whispered. “Bear. That’s what you are.”

  “Yes.”

  “A shape-shifter.” Her mouth barely moved.

  “Like your elk, yes.”

  “He isn’t mine. He—you saw him change.”

  “Yes.”

  Looking resigned, she nodded. “And what took place between us.”

  From the moment responsibility for his kind’s future had fallen on his shoulders, he’d worried that no woman would be able to comprehend what he needed from her. He’d be forced to give up too many secrets in his attempts to get through to her. Even if she finally accepted the truth, she’d remain horrified. She’d reject him. Now, however, he’d found a human who understood what it meant to inhabit two bodies. Everything had changed.

  But was it enough?

  “Y
ou had sex.”

  “So?” She sounded defensive. “We’re consenting adults. We—what does this have to do with you being here?”

  Surprised by her reaction, he stared back at her. Instead of being shocked and angry, she’d gone straight to the heart of what tonight was about for him.

  “You accept one shifter,” he told her. “I need you to accept another—me.”

  “Oh crap.” She raked her fingers through windblown hair. “Let me get this straight. You’re not just a human being, you’re also a bear. A grizzly.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, just like that. Look, I’m trying to wrap my mind about this. Elk shifters have lived in the Chinook Forest for generations. I guess there can be other kinds of shifters. Just because I’ve never seen or heard—but you’re a grizzly, not a black like we have around here.” Her breath whistled as she exhaled. “It’s overwhelming. More than I want to try to handle.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Leaning forward, she stared at him. “You’re big. The whole grizzly thing—in a weird way, that fits.” She again ran her hand through her hair. “I don’t want to be having this conversation. You knocked on the wrong door. Whatever you were thinking when—my mind’s already on overload from dealing with what happened to my mother. I don’t need—”

  “What happened to her?”

  “You really don’t know.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “She was murdered.”

  “Murdered?” Like today’s elk? “What’s your name?”

  “My name?” A little of the color drained from her cheeks. “What are you doing here if you don’t even know that? I’m nothing to you. Just get out.”

  The weight already pressing down on him increased. “It isn’t that simple. I told you my name. What’s yours?”

  She looked all around the cozy room, then back at him. If only he could tap in to what she was thinking.

  “Rane.” She sighed. “Rane Haller. Mom named me for what was happening the day I was born and because nature means—meant a lot to her.” Her gaze narrowed. “You said you watched Songan and me have sex. He and I talked about Mom. Surely you heard that.”