Runaway (Fox Ridge Shifters Book 1)

by Marianne Hull

  She bit her lip, her eyes big. When she didn’t say anything, he continued.

  “Different species have different ways of doing it, but in the old days, a bear shifter would claw and tear the human until they almost bled to death.” When she gasped, he hastily added, “We don’t do that anymore. We thought that the clawing made the magic, but really it just took a little of a shifter’s essence. Blood or the saliva from a bite. One little bite, Crissy. That’s all it would take.”

  Her eyes were huge. “How do you do it now?”

  “We use anesthesia now. You would go to sleep and wake up a shifter.”

  He let her think about it for a minute.

  “They die if they don’t turn?”

  “Yes. In the nineteenth century, it stopped working for some reason. Human mates still worked, but not lovers. Clan Baumann lost a woman named Elizabeth. She was Neal’s. After that, he wouldn’t allow it anymore.”

  “So I can turn?”

  “Yes, Liebchen. It’s perfectly safe for you.”

  At her stunned expression, he added, “It’s funny how Fate works. We can no longer turn any human we want, but natural shifters are being born at twice the rate they used to. Our numbers are growing. We’ve become very secretive over the last few centuries, but it’s harder to hide our numbers.”

  Her expression turned hard. “You got me to agree to turning before you told me what it took.”

  “I would have. I promise you, Crissy, it will be all right.”

  She nodded slowly. “All right. I’m still on board.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Crissy couldn’t hold still. She knew she could trust Luke, but this leap was harder than the others. Life or death. She couldn’t choose to do it just for his sake, but needed to for her own as well. She had learned as much as she could, and the decision was hers. She was confident, yet…

  Charlie arrived at dusk with bags of gear. He stood in the doorway to the front room, shifting from foot to foot. Twice he opened his mouth, and twice he closed it without saying anything. Crissy assumed it was because she was in the room. Her gaze shifted from him to Luke. She also kept quiet.

  While Neal ushered Charlie downstairs, Luke settled into a living room chair and pulled her into his lap. “Just a few more minutes. How are you doing? I feel your nerves.”

  She was on the verge of dry heaves, but said brightly, “I wonder what I’ll be?”

  “A kitty cat.”

  “Maybe, but I’m nothing like Connie.”

  “A feral cat.”

  She slapped him on the upper arm. “Thanks.”

  “I mean it in the best way. You take care of yourself, and you’re wary of strangers.”

  She settled against him and nuzzled his neck. “I want to be a bear, like you, so we can run in the woods together.”

  “Neal and Hugh and I go out in the woods together every summer. We don’t have to be the same species.”

  Neal appeared at the top of the basement stairs. “We’re ready for her.”

  They would perform the turn in the farmhouse’s dank basement, a prison cell for shifter enemies on one side, shelves of dusty storage boxes and rusting tools on the other. Crissy, wearing a white robe, preceded Luke down, taking the steps slowly and cautiously. She shivered when she slipped the robe from her shoulders. Luke helped her lie on the long folding table in the center of the room and wrapped her in a blanket to keep her warm.

  Her hand gripped his. “How many times have you done this before?”

  “Only a few. Like I said, turning is pretty rare. I promise it’s safe. Charlie is here. He’ll make sure you make it out of it.” He pulled her hand to his mouth and placed a soft kiss there. It warmed her frozen fingers. “Our bond is strong, Liebling. Nothing can go wrong.”

  She gripped his hand harder until he winced a little. She let go.

  “What are you afraid of, Schatzi?”

  “Um. Dying?” She moved under the rough wool blanket, shoulders and knees dropping flat. “I’ll be okay.” Almost a question.

  “I promise. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  She shielded her eyes with her palm. “That overhead light is bothering me.”

  “Charlie needs to see. You can close your eyes, Liebling. All you need to do is lie there.”

  “I want to see your face.”

  So he put a smile on it, a genuine one. “I’ll be here the whole time.”

  “I’m ready,” Charlie said. He held up a mask. “Can we start?”

  She nodded even as the mask descended, causing a momentary claustrophobic panic before the cool air blew in her face.

  “Count backward from one hundred,” Charlie said, his face looming over hers as he bent down to adjust the mask.

  “One hundred, ninety-nine...” Down she went. Her sight narrowed, fuzzy at the edges, and the light yellowed. The voices around her grew louder, but she understood nothing. And still she counted, her voice now a whisper even she couldn’t hear. “Fifty-four...” Her chest hurt, her throat swelled. Panicked, she tried to wave a hand and hit Luke’s face. She gasped like a beached fish, unable to breathe.

  ###

  “What’s happening?” Luke yelled. Crissy’s breaths wheezed as she tried desperately to get air. Her hands and arms flailed.

  Charlie tore off the mask and flung it to the floor where it still hissed out the anesthetic gas. “She’s allergic to the anesthesia.”

  “Do something!” Luke yelled.

  “I am!” Charlie dug in his duffel bag with both hands. “We should have done this at my office. She’s gonna die for real if we don’t act quick. She’s dying too fast for the procedure.”

  Luke gathered Crissy in his arms and pulled her to a sitting position. It didn’t help, her breaths still coming in shallow gasps. They slowed, and the flailing ceased. Crissy, still conscious, stared up at him with big, tear-filled eyes. They never moved from his face.

  Charlie turned from his bag. “She’s suffocating, and I don’t have the right frickin’ crap in my bag. We should call an ambulance.”

  “No,” Hugh and Neal both said at once.

  “Yes. I’m the doctor, and that puts me over the clan chief right now. Aha!” He stood up with a syringe and a small bottle of fluid in his hands. He filled the syringe and plunged the needle into her arm in two swift moves. Nothing happened for a minute, then she took a whistling breath.

  Hugh said, “There’s a beast spirit in the room.”

  Charlie leaned over and turned off the gas. “She’s not going to get any nearer death than she is now.”

  Neal stood at Crissy’s feet. “But she’s not close enough for the beast to enter. She’s still awake. Luke, you need to do this the old-fashioned way. I suggest you do it now.”

  “I promised it would be okay, Neal.”

  “You no longer have a choice if you want her to turn. There’s no guarantee her beast will return. Get your clothes off.”

  “Neal,” Hugh began.

  “She runs from danger, Hugh,” Neal said. “I don’t like it, either, but it must be done. Ask forgiveness later.”

  Thinking back on it later, Luke knew he would never have done it if he hadn’t faced losing her for the second time in a month. It wasn’t like Neal to force him to do something against both their wishes, and he should have realized Neal was as frightened as he was. Crissy meant hope to their clan of singles and misfits. Everyone in the clan needed her.

  First laying Crissy back down on the table, he yanked off his shirt and jeans, slipping off his underwear and shoes all in one movement. For a second he noticed the cold cement floor against his bare feet. He took a moment to kiss Crissy’s clammy forehead. “I’m sorry.”

  He shifted. His big bear filled the small space between the table and the shelves, knocking into them. The shelves swayed, glass clinked from a box of canning jars, and a set of screwdrivers fell to the floor with a clatter.

  The unhappy beast sent him an image of a pair of dead cubs.
He didn’t like it the last time the clan did this, either. Elizabeth died, bloody and torn. At the time, Neal told him turning was no longer working without a mating bond, but Luke always wondered if it was something they did.

  Hugh, standing on the opposite side of the table, tugged at the blanket, exposing her. “Now, Luke.”

  Her battle for air sounded more ominous to bear hearing; her eyes remained open, wide with fear. He hesitated, claws poised above her bare torso.

  “Luke,” Neal said. “Go, dammit.”

  The claws descended and raked deep furrows into her smooth white skin between her breasts. Blood welled, but it was far from enough. He needed more. He bit down on her shoulder and shook his head to tear the flesh.

  Without proper oxygen, Crissy’s screams were pathetic things, the cries of a baby bird. She thrashed weakly, her eyes never leaving Luke’s. That was the worst part, and he couldn’t face it. Hugh moved to the head of the table and held her down.

  If a bear could weep, Luke would have; still, he clawed and bit and tore at Crissy’s skin until a ragged, bloody mess remained. He felt the magic well around her. Her eyes closed, but through the mating bond came one last emotion: betrayal.

  Blood dried and darkened on her skin, and the gashes began to gradually close. Turning the old-fashioned way was never clean and quick. Luke shifted to human and watched. He wiped Crissy’s blood from his face and fought the need to vomit. Neal stood beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. For several minutes they stood silent, until Crissy’s shape blurred, and slowly transformed into a bird. The men glanced at each other, uneasy.

  At last, Neal spoke. “Do you all know what this means?”

  Luke did, but for Hugh and Charlie he explained, “She shouldn’t be able to take her beast’s form for several days. It means the beast is in control, and Crissy—” His voice broke.

  “Crissy is in danger of becoming lost,” Neal finished.

  Luke inched his hand toward her. “She’s a red-tailed hawk, I think.” Crissy’s beast glared at it and backed away. He bent down and picked up his shirt.

  “What are you doing?” Hugh asked as Luke wrapped Crissy in the shirt and drew her to him.

  “She’ll be stunned from the transformation. If I have any hope of reaching her, it has to be now.”

  His steps made no sound as he crossed the basement floor, and he took the stairs slowly, trying not to jar her but mostly suffering from a sudden tiredness. He hurt inside. He sat, still naked, in the same living room chair they’d shared an hour before, and clutched his captive mate to his chest. Talking always worked with Crissy. She liked the sound of his voice. So he talked, telling her stories of Germany and the many places he had lived. All the while, he said her name at frequent intervals, hoping to reach the human locked inside.

  Luke barely noticed when Neal covered them both with a blanket. He talked half the night until, exhausted, he fell asleep mid-sentence. His arms loosened their hold on her, and the blanket and shirt both slipped down. The moment she was free, Crissy’s beast flew.

  ###

  When he woke, Luke found Crissy at the kitchen window, desperately tapping at the glass with her beak.

  “We’re losing her,” Neal said.

  “I’m her mate. She’ll come back to me.”

  “She may be already lost.”

  “She’s not lost!” It came out a hoarse rasp from talking so much the night before. He swallowed and lowered his voice. “It takes a while for humans to adjust to the first change.”

  “I’ve seen them a dozen times, Lukas. You have, as well. It’s never like this.”

  Crissy rocketed from wall to wall. Wings crashed into furniture. A floor lamp fell, and the bulb shattered in a scatter of sparks.

  “She’s going to hurt herself,” Luke said.

  “She’s a shifter now; she’ll survive. Whatever you do, don’t open the door.” Neal unplugged the lamp and held it at an angle in one hand. “I’ll go get a broom. You calm her down.”

  Neal disappeared into the hall, setting the lamp on the floor by the door as he went.

  “Crissy, Liebling, look at me. Come sit on this chair.” He picked up a wooden chair, set it firmly in front of him, and backed away. His voice modulated to the soft, deep rumble he knew she liked, he said, “Crissy, please.”

  His words had no effect. Crissy settled at the window, gripping the sill with her sharp talons, and beat her beak against the glass with jerky movements. Since she stilled for the moment, Luke tried to approach, one hand outstretched, but she scolded him with a harsh, guttural “Kreeeee” before taking off around the room.

  “I’m here, Crissy. Come back to me. I’m your mate. You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.” He had little idea what aspect of Crissy’s psyche set the bird off. Perhaps her basic instinct to run from everything that frightened or disappointed her in life. Perhaps she merely wanted to be free of walls. The bear was like that sometimes.

  He fought with the urge to let her out to fly. She needed it, but with the bird in control, he had no guarantee she would come back. When the beast took over completely, as hers had done, the human had little room for rational thought and no control over the body.

  Outside, a truck approached, Connie’s heavy pickup from the sound. He paid it no mind. Unmoving, he continued to whisper to her, a bit in English, more in German. The language was less important than the tone of his voice—soothing, coaxing. Surely the human in her could hear it.

  “Fingers and toes, Crissy. Think about your fingers. About wiggling your toes. They’re there.” Nothing. No reaction at all. The red-tailed hawk his mate had become settled on the dining table and screeched.

  Neal returned with a broom and edged into the room. “I don’t want anybody to get hurt on the broken glass, but maybe I should leave you alone with her.”

  The door to the backyard swung open, Connie on the mat, stamping her feet. “Hey, guys,” she said without looking up.

  Crissy’s hawk seized the moment, darting for the door. Connie ducked instinctively, and the door swung wide. A snap of wings and Crissy was gone.

  Luke rushed outside, calling her name. After so long inside, the harsh winter light blinded him. Following the sound of her heavy wing beats as she crossed the yard and headed out over the pasture beyond, he stumbled after her.

  “Crissy!”

  Clothes littered the yard by the time he reached the fence. He vaulted it and turned mid-air, landing on four bear paws. She flew surprisingly fast, but the bear could be fast, too. For a few minutes, he thought he might catch her, although he had no idea how he would bring her out of the air without harming her. Then she caught a thermal over the pasture and spiraled up and up, into the sky. Luke skidded to a halt and stared after her. The bear moaned, a long, harsh, plaintive sound. Crissy climbed higher, her circles growing wider, until she evened out and headed east.

  For a moment, his heart was a wasteland, disbelief making it impossible to feel, impossible to move. Not again. It couldn’t have happened again. As she grew smaller and smaller, becoming a speck in the sky, Luke’s horror swelled.

  It had happened again. He’d lost her. His mate was gone.

  Neal walked up beside him with an armful of clothes. The bear moaned again, and Neal said, “I know, old man. I know. Shift so you can talk to me.”

  The clothes were cold from sitting outside, but Luke shifted and swiftly pulled them on.

  “Where is she headed?” Neal asked.

  “East.”

  “She could be trying to migrate. I was reading up while you were out here. This far north, a lot of them do.”

  Luke fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. “She’s starting to drift south, too. She’s in Schmitt territory.”

  “Gott! What a mess.”

  “I have to go after her.”

  “How?” Neal asked, meaning what form.

  “In the car until the roads won’t get me any closer.”

  “You go into Schmitt territ
ory in bear form, you’re asking to get beat down hard. If Bernie finds you, he’ll just kill you rather than ransom.”

  “No he won’t.” He sighed and stared at the sky, darkening now. “Maybe.”

  “If he’s in bear form at the time. He’s absolutely crazy when it comes to us. Bernie will kill you, Luke.”

  “She’s my mate, Enolf,” Luke said, using Neal’s given name. “I must go after her. You know that.”

  “Do you want company?”

  Luke considered the offer before rejecting it. “No. Too many people might scare her off. And if I do end up on Schmitt land, I’ll need to go quietly.”

  “Lukas,” Neal said tentatively. Luke turned to see his face full of compassion and sadness. “You should maybe prepare yourself to fail. She may be already lost.”

  Luke clenched his jaw. “Lost or not, I’m bringing her home.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Bernie Schmitt knew his brother Franz watched him as he loped through his favorite meadow, crushing dry grass beneath his massive paws. The last snow cover had melted, leaving the meadow brown but not dead. Only sleeping. Bernie understood sleeping things. Things that hid, watching the world and waiting for the moment to burst forth. Sometimes he felt as if he had been sleeping for centuries. When he engaged the Baumanns—a taunt, a battle of words, a shoving match or even more—he came alive again. He lived in the past; the present was merely its shadow.

  Overhead, a red-tailed hawk soared, a dark shape in the pale winter sky. Franz hovered in the shadows of a line of lodgepole pines. Even after five hundred and sixty years, his brother still worried when he took bear form. Bernie sometimes wondered why he kept up the pretense, why he let others think he had no control. He and his bear had come to terms long ago. Mostly. Then he remembered how many times he goaded the Baumanns into retaliation. Even now he thought he could scent Luke Baumann near and wondered if maybe he was a little unhinged after all.

  Franz, in his bear form, darted out of the trees, crashed to a halt, and stood up on his hindquarters to stare at the sky. Moments later he shifted, standing naked in grass.