by Sky Winters
She screamed; she didn’t know what else to do.
“Calm down, calm down,” said Atticus, his voice as still and even as Olivia's scream was shrill and ragged. “You’re safe.”
“And Noah’s safe,” Tessa was quick to add.
When Olivia’s lungs were emptied of air and her head felt light from, she stopped screaming. Her eyes were lined with tears of fear and frustration.
“What…what are you people?” she demanded, scurrying up the couch and curling into a ball, trying to make herself small.
“Shifters,” said Roland, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “We can change our forms at will.”
“You’re what?” demanded Olivia.
“Sorry there’s no other way to explain it,” said Clyde. “But that’s what we are.”
“That’s right,” said Atticus. “Those bear forms you saw, well, it’s a power our family shares. Not sure why us, but our relations all have the same gift. Just the way it’s always been.”
“And…that’s why you’re out here.”
“You got it,” said Atticus.
“And now she knows,” said Ian, turning away from the window, his handsome face tight with frustration.
“Only a matter of time before she found out,” said Roland.
“Are you…going to kill me now?” asked Olivia, filled with fear.
“No,” said Atticus. “Nothing bad’s gonna happen to you, not if we have anything to say about it.”
He looked away pensively.
“But she can’t stay here,” said Tessa, finishing Atticus’s thought.
“That’s right,” said Atticus. “We took them by surprise now, but I’ve known men like him before; he’ll be back.”
Olivia hung her head, realizing that this meant her brief period of safe harbor was now over.
“Then I’ll get Noah and be gone before I bring any more of my problems here,” she said, resigned.
“No,” said Clyde. “That’s not what he means.”
He turned to Atticus. “Right?”
The women in the room looked at Atticus with concerned eyes.
“No. We can’t just send a woman and her newborn baby out into the woods. No way,” said Atticus.
He stepped away from the group. Olivia’s eyes fell on Ian as he stood by the window, as though wanting to distance himself from the conversation. Olivia wondered why, after his brief warming up to her, he now seemed back to his usual icy attitude.
“There’s the place in Vermont,” he said, his fingers on his chin in thought.
“That vacation house?” asked Roland. “No one’s been there for years.”
“Exactly,” said Atticus. “Perfect place to hide out.”
“What place?” asked Olivia, curious about this cabin where they were evidently thinking of sending her.
“It’s a vacation home in Finger Lakes Park, just five or so hours from here. It’s a family holding; we’ve owned it and the land around it for generations,” said Atticus.
“Right, I remember you telling me about it,” said Tessa.
“It’d be the perfect place for you to stay while this all blows over,” said Roland, the idea appearing sensible to him.
“But wait,” added Winnie, her arms crossed over her slim body. “We can’t be thinking about sending her there by herself?”
“Of course, not,” said Atticus. “Someone’s got to go with her.”
“We’ve got the twins,” said Tessa.
“And we’re both expecting,” said Winnie, referring to her and Melanie.
“Then that leaves…” said Atticus.
“The single man,” said Ian, turning around to face the group.
“Looks that way, Ian,” said Atticus.
“Send the man with no wife to babysit the girl. Why not? It’s not as though I have anything here to concern myself with.”
Ian’s eyes were narrow, his attitude one of cold indifference.
“You know you’re the best man for the job,” said Atticus. “I know the reason you have nothing keeping you here is…beyond your control, but that’s how it is.”
Olivia’s brow knitted in thought at this. What did Atticus mean by that?
Ian’s full lips were pressed into a tight line, his hazel eyes glowering. But he seemed to see this wisdom of his brother’s words.
“Fine,” he said, stepping away from the window, the green of the forest an endless stretch behind him. “Then let’s get this over with.”
CHAPTER 7
Ian pulled the car, a jet-black Land Cruiser, out of the garage. The back was loaded up with supplies, clothes, and food—everything they’d need for the trip and the first few days at the house. The Swift family was there to see them off, Atticus and Tessa each holding one of their twin boys.
Looking into the driver’s seat, Olivia could see that Ian’s face was grim and hard. She couldn’t tell if he was frustrated with her, or if he was simply ready to get the show on the road. She decided it was a little of both. In the backseat, Noah was strapped in, his small, wrinkly face calm.
“What happens when he comes back?” asked Olivia.
“We’ll figure it out; you just worry about staying safe.”
Olivia took a step back from Atticus and looked over the family that had been so kind and accommodating to her. She hoped that she wasn’t getting them involved in a situation that they wouldn’t be able to handle. But knowing their shifting secret, she realized that that was unlikely to be the case.
“Thank you all again; thank you so much,” Olivia said. “I don’t know what I’d be doing without you.”
“Think nothing of it, little lady,” said Atticus. “Us outsiders gotta look out for one another.”
Atticus stepped forward and gave her a hug, Tessa following after.
“You stay safe,” she said.
Olivia smiled warmly and got into the car, the interior warm compared to the chilly afternoon air.
“We ready?” asked Ian, looking forward.
Olivia took a look back at Noah, who was now sleeping soundly.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
***
They drove in silence at first, the thick-trunked trees of Bear Mountain moving past them steadily as they made their way down the unpaved curves of the road that led through Branlen. Noah slept quietly; Olivia was thankful for this, but knew that it’d only be a matter of time before he began crying over one thing or another. Occasionally, Olivia’s eyes flicked over to Ian, his expression flat as her gaze hung on his strong profile.
Once in Branlen, they stopped in the town center to gas up. Olivia stepped out, walking on the cool asphalt with her bare feet, still enjoying the increased sense of mobility that came with not being nine-months pregnant. She looked up into the blue sky, the sun beaming down on the gas station. After Ian was done filling the car, she climbed back in, checked on Noah, and then they were off.
“Thanks for doing this,” said Olivia, breaking the silence. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything, then,” said Ian, his eyes still fixed forward.
Olivia complied, choosing to not say a word. Being alone with Ian—aside from Noah, that is—was strange for her. She had by this point accepted her attraction to him, though she knew better than to act on it. But being alone, just the two of them, in some far-flung vacation home made her wonder what sort of relationship they might develop when they were forced to be together.
For now, she allowed the silence to dominate, passing the hours by watching the tree-dense slopes of Bear Mountain disappear behind them. The journey ahead held promise of more rolling hills packed with tall, heavy-leaved trees as they drove north through the woods of northern New York.
After a time, the slopes grew softer and softer, and the trees lessened in density. Olivia could see more and more into the horizon, and after some hours, they crossed the border into Vermont. Ian kept silent, occasionally switching lanes to pass slower-moving cars.
But a few hours into their trip, Noah roused himself out of sleep with a yawn followed by gentle gurgling. Olivia knew that within seconds he’d explode into frantic tears, and her stomach tightened at the prospect of angering Ian.
Sure enough, Noah’s face turned a deep red, and his deafening cries filled the small space of the car.
“Can you do anything about that?” asked Ian, finally speaking.
“Um, yeah, sure,” said Olivia, leaning into the backseat, her hands rubbing Noah’s tiny body. “He’s probably just hungry.”
“Then you should feed him.”
“I know,” said Olivia. “We should stop.”
Ian took in a deep breath, as though steeling himself against the frustration he felt over losing time. But he complied, flicking on the blinkers and pulling into a rest stop. Once parked, Olivia retrieved Noah from the backseat and held him close, feeding him as she walked through the grass of the rest stop.
Ian leaned against the car, looking off into the middle distance. After a time, Noah calmed down. Satisfied and full, he ceased crying and eventually went back to sleep.
“Done yet?” asked Ian, still looking away.
Olivia looked at Ian, noticing that it seemed he was making a special effort not to look at her and Noah. At first, she thought it might’ve been out of politeness, wanting to give a nursing mother her privacy. But now it seemed to be something different. It almost seemed to Olivia that something about her and Noah, something about a mother and child, put Ian ill at ease, as though it were difficult for him to look at.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Then let’s go. We should get there before sundown.”
Olivia turned west and saw that the sun appeared to be only a few hours off from setting. A chill wind blew, and she secured Noah in his seat before getting back into the car. Ian started the engine, and within minutes, they were back on their way.
After a time, a stretch of green, low, sloping hills appeared in the distance. It was a similar environment to Bear Mountain, but greener, and without the steep peaks of upstate New York.
“Is that it?” asked Olivia as the park drew nearer.
“Yeah,” said Ian. “Finger Lakes Park. We’re going to a town called Woodford.”
“One small town to another, huh?” asked Olivia.
“I suppose,” said Ian.
So much for conversation, thought Olivia.
Eventually, they arrived in a small town not too dissimilar from Branlen. The small, hand-painted sign near the road announced that they were now at a place called Woodford. The downtown area of the city was nothing more than a smattering of buildings—a grocery store, a library, a city hall—though it wasn’t without its small-town charm. Ian drove through, not stopping, and mere minutes later, they were back out into a forested area. They made their way to a small, paved road that led into the woods.
After a half-hour or so, they arrived at a two-story house made of light-brown wood, with an overgrown stretch of verdant lawn out front, a curving driveway looping through it. A fountain of gray, cool-looking stone sat in the middle of the lawn, the water it held dark and still, and covered in dead leaves. Despite its problems, it struck Olivia as much more cheerful and cozy than the spare, depression cabin that she was anticipating. The property that it sat on was vast, though mostly overgrown. It appeared to Olivia as a place that held undeveloped and unseen potential.
“We’re here,” said Ian, as they pulled into the driveway loop directly in front of the red double doors.
The car came to a stop, and Olivia flicked her eyes back to Noah, who was still sleeping. She was surprised that he’d handled the car ride so well, and thankful—she didn’t want to give Ian another reason to be annoyed with her.
Ian hopped out of the car and grabbed his and Olivia’s bags. As she undid Noah from his seat, she watched Ian heave the suitcases effortlessly out of the back of the car, carrying two in each hand up the small flight of stairs that led to the front doors, his triceps taut and bulging below the sleeves of his gray t-shirt. Olivia observed the display of casual strength with a slightly slacked mouth, impressed, and intrigued.
The secret of the Swift family had yet to fully sink in. Watching the men shift into their bear forms was, without a doubt, the strangest sight she’d ever been witness to, and she’d seen a few things during her marriage to Brody that she was confident most people hadn’t. Ian pulled open the door and stepped into the darkness within, and Olivia wondered if being with a man like him truly was the safe choice. Sure, the Swifts had been nothing but accommodating, but…this, the bear aspect, was something she wouldn’t have expected in a million years as the reason why the Swifts lived the way they did. She would’ve been less surprised to come down to the living room in the middle of the night to the sight of the family wearing strange robes, lighting candles, and beckoning her to join their doomsday cult.
But she’d chosen the devil she didn’t know, and here she was. Noah pressed firmly against her breasts, she stepped up the stairs, the wood creaking under her weight. Looking down at their worn, stained surface, she wondered if they were safe to step on.
Too late for concerns like that, she thought, stepping over the threshold.
The interior of the cabin was dark, cluttered, and dusty. The entry room was spacious and high-ceilinged and led into a living room where a run-down set of furniture was arranged around a coffee table of dark wood, a fireplace that was filled with clutter and ancient, half-burned logs in front of the setting. The kitchen was to the left, and a dining room containing a table piled high with junk was to the right. The floor was soft with a thick layer of dust, and the back windows that looked out onto the magnificent stretch of open grass beyond were streaked with grime. She was half-expecting a pack of raccoons to scurry out from behind one piece of furniture or another.
“It’s…quaint,” said Olivia, looking around.
“It’s a shithole,” said Ian, dropping their bags onto the dusty tapestry that covered most of the living room floor. “None of the family’s been here in years.”
“Why?” asked Olivia, looking around. “The house itself is nice, the view’s great. It’s cozy.”
Ian flashed her a skeptical glance. “’Cozy,’ is one way to put it.”
“It has a lot of potential.”
“Maybe so,” said Ian. “I’m just concerned with getting it suitable for staying in tonight.”
Olivia glanced over at the wood stairs that led to the second floor.
“Should we check out the upstairs?”
Ian nodded in approval, and they headed up to the second floor, which was just as much of a disaster as the first. The hallway was dusty and dingy. Art had fallen from the walls and crashed to the ground, and the walls were thick with grime. They walked down, Ian throwing open doors as they went. There were four bedrooms upstairs, but only one was in a clean enough state to have someone stay in it overnight. The rest were simply too dirty, and would require a thorough cleaning before being habitable.
“You and Noah can have the bedroom tonight,” said Ian, looking into the relatively clean master bedroom from the threshold. “I’ll sleep on the couch downstairs.”
“Oh, nonsense,” said Olivia. “The bed’s huge; you can take one side, I’ll take the other.”
Olivia’s face reddened as soon as the words left her mouth. She’d offered out of courtesy, but couldn’t help but feel as though her attraction factored into the suggestion.
Ian offered a wry grin.
“Couch should be fine. I’ll start getting this place fixed up tomorrow. We’re here until Atticus gives us the all-clear, so we might as well be comfortable.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Olivia, though she wondered just how safe Atticus and Ian could keep her from Brody.
“You go ahead and get settled; I’ll clear out the fireplace and get some heat going.”
I can think of another way we could do that, thought Olivia, followed by her sc
olding herself for thinking such a thing.
Ian brought Olivia’s bag up to the master bedroom, and she spent some time unpacking, clearing some space, and getting Noah’s crib set up. Noah cried a few times as they settled in, but a few lullabies were enough to soothe him. She put him down for the night, and headed downstairs.
The warmth of the fire touched her skin as Olivia descended the stairs. Next, she heard the soft crackling of the flames in the fireplace, and then she spotted Ian sitting on the couch within the flickering half-circle of the fire, a glass of red wine in his hand, a book on his lap.
Olivia stepped out of the cold that hung in the air of the rest of the house and warmed her hands by the fire. The heat felt wonderful on her skin, and she spent a minute crouched in front of the stone fireplace, warming her body to the point of being uncomfortable.
“We should have enough wood for tonight,” said Ian. “I’ll chop some more in the morning before I take a look at the heater downstairs.”
“Thank you,” said Olivia, realizing that neither were tasks she would’ve been able to handle without him.
“We can start tidying the place up tomorrow, too,” he continued, setting his book face-down on the coffee table.
“That, I think I can manage,” said Olivia.
She stole a glance at the book he was reading. It was Jane Eyre, which surprised her; a man like Ian didn’t strike her as the nineteenth-century-literature-type.
“There’s a bottle of red open in the kitchen,” he said before taking another drink from his glass. “Help yourself.”
Olivia realized that other than the sip she’d had with Ian the other night, she hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since she found out she was pregnant. Unlike Brody, she’d never been a big drinker, but she did enjoy the occasional glass of wine. Towards the end of her pregnancy, Olivia found herself fantasizing about that first sip of booze she could have guilt-free, but events since Noah’s birth didn’t lend themselves to much relaxation.
She stepped into the kitchen, noting with pleasure that it was less dingy and disgusting than she might’ve expected an abandoned kitchen would be, and poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle on the counter. She sniffed the drink, letting the soft scents of the wine flow into her nose, her eyes closed in delight at the treat that awaited her. Returning to the living room, she sat on the couch, took a sip of the wine, and let herself sink deep into her seat.