by Meg Ripley
“Mason!” Someone shouted and I turned with the group to see a man approaching. He held up a hand to us and hurried over to Conner.
They had an intense conversation, then Conner made his way over to us. “I found out where Mason’s been. Turns out that the croc who killed Logan and Alaina is dead. The shifter in the cell next to him didn’t like him much, either and clawed him to death. A wolf.”
I searched his face to see how he was taking it. Justice had been served, but he hadn’t had a part in it.
I turned him to me and hugged him. I whispered, “You okay with this?”
“Yeah,” he said in my ear. “At least I don’t have to worry about him again.”
By the time we left that night, our spirits were high. Peyton fell asleep in the car on the way home, having played so hard. I felt wholly accepted and thrilled to be joining the clan, and Conner had found some peace, knowing his brother and sister-in-law’s killer was finally dead. The question of why it was Logan and Alaina had been answered weeks ago, when the conclave interrogated the croc. The two of them had witnessed a crime: the croc had a truckload of poison and was about to contaminate the clan’s water supply. They’d been spotted, and later that day, turned up dead, conveniently before they could identify the croc who’d tried to wipe out the entire clan. Knowing that, and now having the killer gone for good, seemed to bring some sense of healing.
As we lay in bed that night, Conner tracing circles over my little baby bump, I said, “I have a confession.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I’m a little jealous that I’m not a shifter. I think, if it were an option, I’d want to become one. To be more like you.”
He kissed me. “You are like me. More so than some of my clan.”
“You know what I mean. Especially with that mind link. Could be handy.”
“It can also be a pain.”
“Even still. I hope the baby is a shifter.”
He pulled back to look at me. “You do?”
“I do. After meeting your clan, I know that it would be a good thing.” I saw something by his ear and turned his head. I broke into laughter.
“What?”
“When they smashed that cupcake in your face, they did a good job.” I swiped my finger just inside his ear and showed him the light blue frosting.
He licked it off my finger. “Still yummy.”
“I can think of better places to put that finger.”
“Oh, can you now?” He wiggled his brow and tickled me.
“Stop! Stop!” I laughed and tried to get away from him. “Wait! I have a name idea!”
“What?”
I pulled my lip into my mouth. “You can say no, and it’s totally fine. But I thought it would be a nice tribute to name him Logan.”
Tears rose in his eyes, and he kissed my stomach. “I can’t think of anything more perfect.”
21
Jessie
Epilogue: Two Years Later
“Logan William Griffin!” I shouted. “Put that down right now!”
My toddler held a metal fork just a little too close to the electrical outlet. He was going to shove it in; I could see it in his eyes.
He stared at me, and as I moved closer, he defiantly jammed the fork into the socket and I screamed. “Don’t!”
Sparks flew and he shrieked. I heard Conner’s footsteps running closer and Peyton called from somewhere in the house. The lights didn’t flicker, so that must have been a good sign.
“Logan!” I screeched. “Are you okay?” I turned him over, frantically scanning his body for burns. He cried loudly, and when I took the fork from his hand, he threw himself down on the ground and pounded his fists on the floor.
Conner reached us and bent over him with his stern daddy face on. “Logan, stop this right now.”
“Fork! Fork!” he yelled.
As he twitched and cried, I saw his tiny body start to shake. It reminded me of when Peyton had spontaneously shifted.
“Conner…” I said. “Is he…?”
“I think so. Just give him room.”
With a hideous shriek, black fur emerged from Logan’s delicate skin. His mouth stretched wide and his teeth grew into fangs. His little hands, still sticky with jelly from breakfast, lengthened and sprouted claws.
He stood there, a tiny bear cub, looking shocked and scared. Conner pulled off his clothes and shifted, then he grabbed him in a hug and held him as I watched in awe.
My son was a shifter. We hadn’t been sure. For all the talk of the scent, there hadn’t been much of anything either way. Some of the clan said he definitely was, some said there was no way. There’d been a pool going since he was born two years earlier, and in that moment, I laughed to myself, wondering who had won.
Peyton came to see what was going on and sat with me, petting Logan and nuzzling into Conner. After some time, Logan shifted back and fell asleep and I took him from Conner, who shifted back himself.
“Well, now we know,” Conner said. “Logan takes after his namesake in more than just looks.”
I smiled at my husband. “I wonder what this one will turn out to be.”
Conner put a hand to my swollen belly. “I guess we’ll know soon...or at least in a few years.”
“I’m glad it’s a girl this time,” Peyton said. “Since I already have a brother.”
I patted my belly, and the baby moved. “She’s glad, too.”
“Can we name her Alaina?” Peyton asked.
I met Conner’s eyes and we smiled at each other. We’d had this conversation already and thought it would be a fine choice for a name. We’d use my mom’s, Michelle, for a middle name since we’d used Conner’s dad’s, William, for Logan’s middle name.
“I think that’s a great idea,” I said, pulling Peyton in close to join our hug.
With a loving, devoted husband, two amazing kids and another on the way, my family was complete. My heart swelled at the thought; I could ask for nothing more.
THE END
Sneak Peek of Alpha’s Second Chance
Werebears Of The Everglades
1
Owen
I stepped out into the brisk morning air with my bare feet, stretching tall as I filled my lungs. The sun peeked over the tree tops, lighting the morning fog in oranges and pinks. From where I stood on my cabin’s porch, I could just make out the glint of Shark River off in the distance. Perfect morning for a run.
That time of year—the wet season in Everglades National Park—the air was full of bugs in the heat of the day, but before the sun came up, the swarms were fewer and the air tasted cleaner. The temperature was just below 70, but in a matter of hours, the hot sun would raise it closer to 90. With the bugs, running would be unbearable, so I chose early mornings or late nights to tear through the forests.
I pushed down my shorts and boxers, stepping out of them both in one swift move. My feet touched dew-ridden grass for only a moment. Seconds later, my thick, hairy paws were trampling the wet blades in their place. I shook out my black fur and stood tall, roaring louder than any natural bear would dare.
Owen! Ezra signaled to me through our shared mind link, Up already, chief?
Surprised to hear you rumbling around, Ezra. I didn’t think you got up this early unless there was tail to chase.
There’s always tail to chase, man.
I could almost hear the wink in his words. Who else is around?
We both paused, waiting for another voice or two to chime into our mental conversation. All was quiet in the clan.
Just you and me, Ezra said. Though, I should clarify. I’m not up early.
I laughed. If you stay up all night until the sunrise, I think that crosses the line from up late to up early.
Whatever makes me look better. Where are you at, anyway?
I crossed the edge of my property into the boundary of the park. No one was technically allowed to live on park grounds, so my hand-built cabin sat just over the line. It felt like park
living, but without the legal hassle.
Touring the park before heading toward the office. You?
Umm, you think you’ll need me today?
I rolled my eyes. You are the most unreliable ranger I’ve ever met.
Hey! he said back, I didn’t earn my place as your second in command by slacking off. Maybe you should ask me why I haven’t slept.
Okay. Humor me.
The cool air rustled through my fur and my nose filled with the scents of various animals. The small family of key deer who lived nearby were out foraging, it seemed. I sent a scattering of herons into the sky as I ran too close to their nesting place. Their wings stretched out far, letting the large birds glide peacefully. Smaller game bolted when they heard or smelled me, and I wished I could’ve assured them all, “It’s okay, it’s just me. I’m actually a really nice guy and I won’t hurt you.” Well, unless the full moon was out. Though I tried to not hunt in bear form too often, it was sometimes necessary.
Ezra took a mental breath and began his tale. Okay. So, it started out innocently enough. I was out with some of the clan last night, Mason and Conner, and we were minding our own business, having some beers. Then this asshole croc comes up to us and starts his shit—
Wait, wait, I interrupted. Which croc?
Dunno. I’ve seen him before, though. He’s local. Anyway, he was all like, “Pfft. Looks like you bear boys could use some company.” While he had, like, a chick on each arm. Whatever. We weren’t trying to pick up any ladies. So, we were all just kind of like, “Whatever, prick,” and roll our eyes. The place is crowded, you know? And he was just calling us bears in the middle of the joint. Stupid. But then he knocked over a beer, on purpose. Of course, he was all like, “Whoops, silly me.” Just being a jack ass.
Ezra, I interrupted again, when do you get to the part about why you were up all night?
Patience, oh wise, Alpha. I’m getting to it.
Is there a shorter version?
Fine. So, we ended up outside fighting the guys. Just fists, all humaned out. People are watching. Afterward, one of the chicks he was with was making eyes at Mason. I guess he impressed her with his mad fist throws. They ended up leaving together, but the croc did not like that one bit. He threatened to follow and attack them, so me and Connor beared-up and chased them home, keeping watch to make sure they were safe. The croc never showed, though.
So, you looked out for Mason while he took a booty call.
If that’s what you want to call it. I just think we were being good brothers, looking out.
Get some sleep. Come in at noon.
Thanks, Boss.
Ezra?
Yeah?
Did anyone get hurt?
Not us.
Good. Now get some sleep.
He went quiet after that, and Ezra wasn’t one for silence, so I assumed he had shifted back. When I finished my run, I rinsed off in the shower and dressed for work. Being a manager of rangers at the park, I was on the first shift in the morning. It was part of my job to assign the rangers to the tasks needing to be completed, man the radios, and check in with the other departments. Then, I’d go off to do my own tasks for the day.
I parked my Jeep and entered the ranger station, heading right for my office. The office assistant, Rachel, smiled when she saw me. “Morning, Owen.”
“Morning.” I poured a cup of coffee and picked up the thin stack of reports that had come in overnight. They were still warm to the touch and sitting in the printer’s output tray. “Looks like things were pretty quiet last night.”
“Last night, they were. This morning…” She widened her eyes and blew out a breath. “You have several messages waiting for you.”
“Great.”
I shut the door to my office and hit the blinking red button on my phone. I was told I had five waiting messages. Rachel wasn’t kidding. Usually, I had one or two at the most.
The last message had me running out the door the second I’d finished listening to it.
“Owen.” It was one of the human junior rangers, Pete. He sounded out of breath and distressed. “We need your help. A kid is stuck in the grass river by the overlook. I have the small cat, but I think we’re gonna need the big bear.”
I tried to stay calm as I hopped into our larger utility vehicle, lovingly called the big bear. I had no idea why Pete would have only taken the smaller utility vehicle—the small cat—for something like this. And I also had no idea why he hadn’t called my walkie. All the rangers carried walkie talkies so we could be reached immediately if there was an emergency, which it sounded like this was.
I drove fast over the dirt and stone paths that made up the roads and ranger trails through the park. One and a half million acres was a lot of space to cover, but luckily, Pete wasn’t too far from the main ranger station. It took me only a few minutes to reach the overlook he mentioned.
When he saw me pull up, he ran over. “Thank goodness!”
“Why didn’t you use the walkie?” I asked, holding it up.
“Oh, I…” He scratched his head and looked around. “Sorry, sir.”
“And why in the world would you bring the small cat for a rescue mission?”
“Oh, well, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal at first and I…” He turned and gestured toward the small crowd that had formed.
Two other rangers pulled on each of the kid’s arms while another junior ranger watched. A crying, shrieking woman, who had to be the kid’s mom, stood off to the side, loosely held back by a big man who was likely the father.
I took charge immediately. “Hello, folks. I’m Owen, the ranger manager here. Don’t you worry, we’ll get him unstuck in no time.”
I assessed the situation. The grass river was tricky. It looked like solid grass in many places, but water hid beneath. If you didn’t know and walked too far, it was nothing but mud and muck. And this kid had walked too far.
His hiking boots were barely visible in the mud. He looked terrified and could only be about eight or so. I walked as close as I could to him without getting stuck myself.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Robbie.”
“Okay, Robbie. The first thing I want you to do is stay calm, okay? Worst case scenario, we just untie your boots and your mom and dad get mad at me for losing them in the mud.”
He nodded and kept his eyes on me.
“Now. Take this rope and wrap it around your waist.”
I held the end of the rope out to him and he did as he was told.
“Now, I’m going to get in my UV there and press the gas real slow, but it will give you enough of a lift that you’ll start to feel yourself being pulled up and out. When you feel that, don’t panic and don’t fight it. Just hold on tight and let the rope do its thing, okay?”
Robbie nodded again and held the rope tightly enough to make his knuckles white. I walked back to the big bear, where the other end of the rope was attached to the back roll bar.
I watched in the rearview mirror as I slowly pressed on the gas; soon, I saw Robbie pop free and splash into the wet, swampy grass. When I got out to check, he was still mostly upright from hanging onto the rope, and he still had both shoes. I stepped into the water and scooped him up, then handed him to his grateful mother.
“Oh, thank you, thank you!”
The boy vanished from sight in a flurry of hands and arms making sure he was okay.
“Thanks,” Pete said, still looking flustered.
“I want a full report by noon,” I said and drove off, heading back to the station. I’d need a few more cups of coffee if the day was going to start like this.
If you enjoyed this preview of Alpha’s Second Chance from the Werebears Of The Everglades series, you may download the entire story HERE. Available with Kindle Unlimited.
Sneak Peek of Ranger Knox
Werebears Of Acadia
1
Hannah
I pull into the spot where my Airbnb host said I could le
ave my car and look around me. It’s my first time in Bar Harbor, and though my surroundings look more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen on the Travel Channel, I’m not here to admire the foliage: I have an ulterior motive. Sure, the magazine could force me to use my vacation time, but they couldn’t keep me from writing while I did.
I’ve been trying to work my way up to a full-time editorial position with New World for about a year, and when HR told me that I had to either take my vacation time or lose it, I hatched a plan to work on something while I was away. The magazine has its one-thousandth issue coming out in a month, and I figured--I hoped--that an exposé on the controversial history behind the National Park Service would put me in a better position to get ahead. So, I scheduled my vacation time and booked an Airbnb in Bar Harbor, a quaint little tourist town right outside of Maine’s Acadia National Park, and started to plan my research.
I’d gotten the idea from a piece I’d read recently, which delved into how the National Park Service came into existence. Of course, there had always been green spaces that rich people bought up and set aside as conservation areas, but there was something in the article about the founders--something I couldn’t put my finger on--that struck me as a little odd. Aside from that, I’d come across these wacko conspiracy theory websites claiming the national parks were actually set up for some kind of nefarious purpose. The theories I’d read speculated they were being used as reserves for fossil fuels or gold and other precious metals; the most interesting and least likely to be true theory was that the lands had been set aside by freemasons and other occult groups in power for the sake of performing secret ceremonies.
I grab my laptop case and backpack off the passenger seat and check my phone to make sure I’m on time. Mary, the woman whose house I’m staying in, seems to be a fairly accommodating host, based on the messages we’ve been exchanging, anyway. Her place is more accessible than the hotels in Bar Harbor, and considering it’s the height of foliage season, much cheaper. I lock my car out of habit, even though I can’t imagine anyone on the sleepy little street stealing from me.