by Amy Star
Cheyenne’s eyes narrowed in blatant skepticism. “Safer how?” she asked slowly.
“Just explaining it is going to be complicated,” he replied. “Just…come to the office with me,” he tried, tone turning faintly beseeching. “I can show you what I’m talking about.”
Cheyenne’s skepticism wasn’t lessened in the slightest, eyes narrowing further. Harry held his hands up in a pacifying motion. “No funny business. Daphne can come too, and there will be plenty of other people in the building.”
For a moment, Cheyenne said nothing, but finally, slowly, she agreed. “…Fine.”
*
When they were standing in an empty conference room at the office building, neither Cheyenne nor Daphne expected Harry to start nonchalantly stripping off his clothing.
“Hey, whoa, whoa, what the fuck?” Cheyenne demanded sharply. “Is this some sort of a joke or what?”
Harry said nothing, as if he wasn’t even listening, and Daphne reached out, closing her hand around Cheyenne’s wrist and giving it a tug. Cheyenne fell into step beside her, but their attempt to get to the door was unsuccessful, considering Harry was standing right in front of it.
The last of his clothing hit the floor, and then he…changed. It was difficult to tell exactly how the change happened. There was a sort of popping sound from displaced air, but other than that, Harry simply looked one way one moment, and another way the next moment, as if changing shape like that was a perfectly normal, natural thing to do. Granted, considering the nonchalant ease with which he did so, it stood to reason that, at least for him, it was perfectly normal and natural.
Harry was a bear. Not a teddy bear or even a reasonably small bear, and not even just an average bear. No. Harry was an enormous bear, large enough that he looked like he could have fit both Cheyenne’s and Daphne’s heads in his mouth at the same time if the urge struck him. He was dark brown, paling slightly to an almost golden brown along his back. His eyes were the same dark, nearly black shade of brown as always. He blinked placidly as Cheyenne and Daphne stared, gaping at him as if the sky had opened and a heavenly choir of angels had begun descending.
Cheyenne regained the ability to speak, as she nearly shrieked, “What the fuck?” and began backing away, pulling Daphne with her as she did, though Daphne herself remained silent, as if she had lost all ability to do anything other than stare in blank, slack-jawed amazement.
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, and with the same lack of pomp and circumstance, he transformed back and began picking his clothing up and pulling it back on. “As I said,” he offered eventually, as he was buttoning the last button of his shirt, casually continuing a conversation from the cafe, “I’m not sure if there will be any complications with the pregnancy. There are a few extenuating circumstances.”
“What the fuck?” Cheyenne repeated, albeit slightly less emphatically than the first time. “You can’t just—how—what—I don’t—” Finally, the babble of half-formed sentences came to an abrupt halt, and Cheyenne dropped to a crouch right there, her face hidden behind her hands. Beside her, Daphne was still staring blankly. She hadn’t moved at all, as if her batteries had simply died the instant Harry transformed.
Harry waited until Cheyenne dragged her hands down her face and shakily straightened back up to her full height before he stated plainly, “I’m a were-bear. I’m not actually human. Considering that, there could be some complications with the pregnancy, and I would rather have you close at hand in case anything goes wrong.”
Cheyenne swallowed and linked her hands together on top of her stomach. “Are…are there more like you?” she wondered slowly.
“Most of my family. Various other families across the globe,” he confirmed. He paused for a moment, and with some reluctance he admitted, “Lorraine is a lioness.”
Cheyenne’s jaw worked silently for a moment as she tried to process that new bit of information, and finally Daphne snapped back to the present, her gaze zeroing in on Harry’s face as she hurried to force out the words, “Wait, wait a second, hang on.” She shook her head minutely and planted her hands on her hips. “You turn into a wild animal. And, more importantly, Lorraine, who there’s already a history with, also turns into a wild animal. And you want Cheyenne to move back in with you.” She laughed, sharp and ugly. “And then what, throw her into a pit of vipers?”
“No one is going to hurt her,” Harry replied tersely, reaching up to massage his forehead with one hand, as if he was staving off a growing headache. “I only have the best in mind.”
“Your opinion on that matter doesn’t really mean much,” Daphne pointed out. “Considering you’re about as observant as a tin cup.”
“You can come along too,” Harry offered finally, and to his credit, he only sounded a little exasperated. “Until you’re comfortable in the knowledge that I don’t plan on hurting anyone. I’ll even pay the lease on your apartment while you stay with us.”
Daphne’s eyes narrowed slowly, as she did nothing to hide her suspicion. She mulled the words over for a moment, before she sighed slowly and said, “Alright. If Cheyenne agrees to move back in, I’ll go too.”
Harry looked sharply at Cheyenne, and for a moment, it seemed like he had simply been taking it as granted that Cheyenne would move back in, and she couldn’t quite refrain from rolling her eyes. She reached up and dug the heel of one hand against her eyes, before she dragged her hand down her face. “Yeah, alright,” she agreed, her words lackluster. “To make sure there aren’t going to be any sort of complications or…whatever.”
Harry’s mouth twisted to one side in faint displeasure, but if he had expected Cheyenne to be peppier about the matter, then clearly, he didn’t actually know what sort of situation he was in the middle of.
*
Harry’s house was a sight to behold. It was, of course, in one of the wealthier sections of the city. It was a great stone behemoth sitting on a foundation that likely could have survived the meteor that took out the dinosaurs, with a wraparound porch and stone columns holding up part of the second floor. The stone was dark grey—nearly black—and spotlessly clean, the wrought iron fence that separated the yard from the sidewalk managed to look appropriately ominous to anyone who wanted to trespass, and the doors, roofing, and windows were all just pale enough to make it so the house didn’t actively look like it was haunted. The yard, while nothing enormous, was still nothing to sneeze at.
During the warmer months, the gardens flourished, tended to nearly religiously by a small army of gardeners and landscapers, though at that point summer was giving way to autumn (and farther out of the city, autumn had already well and truly set in) and only the most stubborn of the flowers were still in bloom.
Bubbling and burbling quietly, there was a pond in the backyard, partially hidden away by a small cluster of weeping willow trees, and very carefully heated throughout the year, so the three enormous koi, all speckled gold and black on white, could be comfortable year-round. A pathway made of flat stones wound its way through the yard, starting at the gateway and branching towards the porch and towards the pond, and weaving through the gardens.
It was a beautiful house, albeit a little dour when the gardens weren’t in bloom, and the inside matched the outside brilliantly, both in cost and in moodiness. Even with that moodiness, Cheyenne had loved living in the house, and she had loved going through paperwork beside the pond.
Just at that moment, though, she was a little too aggravated to truly appreciate it all.
“You don’t need to keep your job,” Harry pointed out, helping to carry suitcases into the house. Cheyenne rolled her eyes and started up the stairs ahead of him.
“I can’t just sit around the house doing nothing all day,” she replied blandly once she was at the top of the stairs. “And seriously, it will be months before I even need to think about maternity leave,” she added. “This baby is still a tiny bump. I don’t know how far along I am, but I know enough to know that it’s still just a li
ttle bundle of goo in there.”
Harry wrinkled his nose slightly. “There’s a mental image.”
Cheyenne shrugged with the arm that she wasn’t carrying anything with. “Such is the glory and beauty of motherhood,” she returned loftily, turning and continuing down the hall. She had to remind herself halfway along that she was heading to the guest room, rather than heading to the master bedroom. Old habits died hard, as it turned out.
She left the bag she was carrying in the guest room and stepped back out into the hall, where she walked past Daphne, looked around at the hallway, and silently mouthed ‘what the fuck?’ to herself.
That had been Cheyenne’s reaction the first time she was in the house too. It could be a lot to take in sometimes.
*
Cheyenne’s first doctor’s appointment—her first with regards to her pregnancy, at any rate—was nothing particularly exciting. Her morning sickness had been slow to set in to begin with, and she had ignored it for so long in hopes that it would go away that she had essentially missed the entire first trimester of her pregnancy, as her doctor was estimating that she was roughly four months along. But other than that, everything seemed normal for the most part, and both she and her growing passenger were given a clean bill of health.
When she filled Harry in on the situation that evening, Lorraine was in the room, making a note of Cheyenne’s update.
“Does she really need to be here?” Cheyenne groused. “I find it a little hard to believe any of this is actually any of her business.”
Lorraine simply smiled that beatific smile and assured her, “I promise, none of my notes are for my personal collection.”
Really, if talking shit was an Olympic sport, then Lorraine would take home the gold medal for subtlety. And of course, Harry continued to be pleasantly oblivious, just nodding along with Cheyenne’s words, though he did wonder with some bemusement, “Is it normal for it to take four months to realize it?”
Cheyenne rolled her eyes. “No, but I didn’t want to be pregnant, and I was in denial,” she returned in a deadpan.
Harry cleared his throat and glanced away. That seemed to be the end of that conversation.
*
Even after a few days, it was still a little odd to be in a guest room in Harry’s house, considering the last time she had lived in his house, she was sleeping in his bedroom with him. Not that the guest room wasn’t nice, but it seemed very small and sterile compared to Harry’s room. Still, the closet was decently large, the bed was a comfortable queen size, the dresser and the desk were high quality and spacious, and there was a bathroom right across the hall.
“This room is huge,” Daphne remarked, standing in the doorway. “Compared to our rooms at the apartment, at least.” Cheyenne hadn’t bothered to take a look in Daphne’s room at that point, though it was likely that it would be very similar to her own.
Daphne stepped into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, beside Cheyenne. “Holding up alright?” she asked, tipping her head to the side just enough to bonk it against Cheyenne’s shoulder.
Cheyenne heaved a sigh and toppled over backwards, sprawling out on her back across the bed. “I guess,” she replied. “It’s good to know I don’t actually have to pay for anything for this.” She patted her belly as she said it. “And at least we’ll be living in luxury for a while.” She fell silent for a moment before she cleared her throat and added slowly, “But, uh…I didn’t quite tell Harry everything I learned at my appointment today.”
Daphne flopped down beside her. “Something wrong with the baby?” she asked carefully.
“Babies,” Cheyenne corrected her, lacing her fingers together on top of her belly. It seemed so strange to think about it like that, when at that point they were still a barely noticeable little bump.
“…Babies,” Daphne repeated. “As in, more than one.”
“Three, to be exact,” Cheyenne confirmed. “Triplets. They’re fine, or at least as fine as anyone can tell when they still barely even exist, though the doc’s eager to watch me like a hawk. Risk of complication increases with each extra baby.” She snorted. “Who would’ve thought?”
“Holy shit,” Daphne breathed in response, looking absolutely gob smacked yet again. Granted, not to quite the same extent as she had when she learned that the people just a few rooms away could turn into animals.
“Yep,” Cheyenne agreed, her tone deceptively mild as she said it. “I’m going to be busy in a few months.”
“Are you going to tell Harry?” Daphne asked slowly.
Cheyenne heaved a sigh. “Yeah,” she confirmed. “Just…not when Lorraine is in the room.” Her nose wrinkled with distaste. “I don’t know, something about her just puts me on edge. Like that creepy guy in high school where you had to slam your journal shut every time he walked behind you.”
“I get what you mean,” Daphne agreed. They lapsed into silence for a few moments, just staring at the ceiling. Eventually, Daphne observed, “I didn’t expect that whole ‘bears have litters’ thing to carry over once they were shaped like people.”
Cheyenne snorted out a messy laugh, and then burst out laughing.
She was tired that evening, considering everything that seemed to have happened all at once, and it felt good to laugh it all off. She could have a freak out about everything some other time, considering she hadn’t even considered herself ready for one child, let alone three. Just then, though, she was too tired to freak out, and she was going to consider that a good thing.
*
By all logic, Cheyenne should have gotten along with Lorraine just fine. They were both sensible. They were both practical. They were both tidy and organized. Neither of them took any shit from anyone. They had similar priorities on what was important to get done in a day and in what order. They should have been able to find common ground at some point.
And yet, Cheyenne couldn’t stand her. Even if Lorraine had never made any inappropriate motions towards Harry, Cheyenne was fairly sure they wouldn’t be able to get along. Cheyenne valued being a genuine person. She could fake a smile or a laugh when she needed to—her current job would be impossible if she couldn’t—but on the whole, she preferred to just be herself.
And Lorraine…was very rarely herself. That placid, nearly saintly smile never left her face. She never stopped speaking in that light, sing-song tone. She was less of a person and more like an elaborate doll, just waiting for someone to wind the key in her back to make her dance. But even so, the gears turning in her head were obvious. It was clear she wanted something, and it was clear to everyone but Harry himself that she wanted Harry.
Cheyenne supposed it was no longer her concern; Harry wasn’t hers anymore. But considering Lorraine hadn’t even had the manners to wait until Harry and Cheyenne weren’t a couple for some other reason, and she had the ego to just go for it even when Cheyenne was in the room, Cheyenne did not like the idea of Lorraine getting Harry in the slightest.
And maybe Cheyenne should have just left well enough alone. Lorraine was, after all, apparently a lioness and thus capable of dealing a great deal of damage to Cheyenne, and if the past had proven anything at that point, it had proven that Lorraine probably could have severed Cheyenne’s head from her neck, and Harry wouldn’t notice a goddamn thing. So maybe just staying quiet and letting everything play out would have been better.
But Cheyenne wasn’t going to do that.
She didn’t start flirting with Harry again, of course. And she didn’t act on her own. Daphne wasn’t thrilled with the situation, but she saw the same gears turning in Lorraine’s head that Cheyenne saw, and she was always happy to help Cheyenne when she had a cause to fulfill. So really, she didn’t need to flirt with Harry to disrupt Lorraine’s plans. One or the other of them—or ideally both of them—simply needed to always be near at hand whenever Lorraine was trying to speak with Harry about anything that wasn’t related to work or business. Considering they lived in the same house as him, it wasn�
��t exactly difficult.
Harry seemed perhaps a bit confused at first on their insistence on keeping him company, but when Cheyenne spun a tale about wanting things to go as smoothly as possible because if the house was like a war zone then the stress wouldn’t be good for the baby, he accepted it readily enough. Lorraine watched them with keen eyes while she smiled and assured them, “That’s wonderful news.”
And Cheyenne and Daphne never interrupted whenever Harry and Lorraine were discussing professional matters. After all, those sorts of conversations weren’t exactly threatening, and they didn’t want to be bad house guests. And besides, Harry would have actually noticed that, and he would have put his foot down.
And they couldn’t do it all the time, of course. They both still worked full-time jobs, and they weren’t going to jeopardize their own jobs just to give Lorraine a hard time. They weren’t so vindictive that they were going to loop around to self-destruction. They had limits and neither of them was crazy.