Old Fashioned_A Temple Verse Series

by Shayne Silvers

  Oh, and she told me about her city’s sizable werebear population.

  Including where they liked to vacation.

  “Aye, the bears,” I replied, grinning.

  Christoff growled, hoisting his children a little higher against his chest. “What bears?”

  “The bears in Alaska,” I explained. “Weren’t ye listenin’?”

  Chapter 19

  A half-naked woman stepped out of what I could only assume was the bedroom before I could explain to Christoff what I was referring to. And by half-naked I don’t mean in lingerie, but naked from the waist up. I glanced back and forth between her and Callie and cleared my throat. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize ye had company…” I said, drifting off uncomfortably.

  Callie glared at the woman, while Christoff did his best to ignore her and her assets. His attempt at fidelity was admirable, really. “Claire,” Callie hissed, “put some clothes on! There are kids in here.”

  The woman, Claire—a petite, curvaceous blonde—blinked owlishly at all of us. “When did we start taking in strays?” she asked. She took a deep breath as if to huff at the inconvenience of dressing, then froze, staring at Christoff’s turned back. She sniffed the air and growled, the sound low and menacing and inhuman.

  Christoff glanced over his shoulder, and I realized his eyes were that same, chocolatey brown from before. Callie held a hand out towards both of them, “Now, now. Play nice, you two. I just bought this apartment. Claire, this is Quinn. She’s one of the girls I met in Vegas this past weekend.”

  Claire pouted. “The trip you wouldn’t let me go on, you mean?”

  “It wasn’t my place to invite anyone. I was invited,” Callie replied, rolling her eyes. “Quinn, this is Claire. As you have probably already figured out from the fact that she’s still not wearing clothes, not to mention the fact that she sounds like a lawn mower when she’s riled up, Claire is one of the local werebears. She’s also my best friend.”

  Claire’s face wavered between irritation and pride as if she couldn’t decide which part of Callie’s introduction to focus on. Pride won out. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, waving. “Now, who’s your friend?”

  Christoff sighed and turned. His son dipped his face into his father’s neck shyly, while the daughter gurgled and stared around the room, head lolling. “I am Christoff.”

  “Christoff…runs a bar in Boston,” Callie explained, as if recalling the details, I’d shared with her for the first time. Frankly, given how drunk we’d been by the time we talked about our mutual werebear friends, that wasn’t particularly surprising. Now that Claire had been properly introduced, in fact, a few hazy details were resurfacing on my end. Like the fact that Callie’s best friend turned into a Polar Bear when she shifted.

  Which was pretty fucking cool.

  Pun intended.

  “And he’s a werebear,” Claire said, sniffing pointedly.

  “And he’s a werebear,” Callie replied tiredly.

  Claire sized up the short, muscular Russian man with his greying temples and his stoic features. Her gaze flicked back and forth between his two children and, at last, she smiled. “Well, welcome to Kansas City.”

  Christoff’s eyes widened, clearly panicked. “We are in Kansas City? We have to go back. I have to find my wife before they…” he drifted off, realizing he held his children in his arms. “Please, we must return home,” he said, imploring me.

  I nodded but held up a hand. “That’s why I called Callie, here,” I explained. “But we can’t go back until your kids are safe. That’s where the bears come in.”

  Claire waved her hands. “Wait a second, what about the bears?” She glanced at Callie, who seemed bothered by something, though I wasn’t sure what.

  “I think Quinn plans to ask the bears for help. To take in the kids. But this is the first I’m hearing about someone else being in danger. And you two still haven’t explained who I saved you from,” Callie added, making sure I knew that she’d done us a favor by pulling us out.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” I said. “He still hasn’t filled me in on the details.”

  Christoff hung his head. “This is a lot to explain.”

  “Well,” Claire said, wandering back into the bedroom, hopefully to put on a damn shirt, “you’d better be ready to spill your guts when we get to Alaska, then. Armor isn’t going to let you walk away until we’ve heard the whole story.”

  “Armor?” I asked.

  “He’s the Alpha of our Cave.”

  “Cave?” Christoff asked.

  “I guess you could call us a sleuth, technically,” Claire yelled. “But it just sounds weird.”

  “But you are bears,” Christoff said, brow furrowed. “Bears do not do this. We live alone.”

  “Not us. Don’t worry, you’ll see for yourself soon!”

  “So, you’re alright with me taking them?” Callie asked.

  “Sure. But we should both go.” Claire poked her head around the doorway and gave Callie a level look. “Beckett’s there, getting a handle on things.” Callie’s face immediately darkened about a dozen shades, making me momentarily nervous, but Claire continued on. “Besides, Armor might get upset with you for bringing in strangers without warning.”

  Callie took a deep breath, and then slowly nodded. Then she folded her arms over her chest. “You just want to see Kenai,” she said, barely concealing a grin.

  Claire blushed and ducked back into the bedroom. “Whatever. You all should put on some layers,” she called out. “It’s gonna be chilly.”

  “Yes, because clothes are important,” Callie muttered, rolling her eyes.

  “I heard that!” Claire yelled over the sound of a blow dryer turning on.

  Callie sighed and held out her arms, a wide and gleeful smile on her face. “Alright, well, while she’s getting ready…gimme the baby.” Christoff hesitantly passed his daughter over and watched first in surprise, and then amusement, as Callie bounced the little girl, making funny faces and noises at her.

  “See,” I said, nudging Christoff. “She’s a much better babysitter than I would’ve been.”

  “Yes, much,” he agreed, too quickly.

  I scowled at my bartender, ignoring his giggling daughter being thrown into the air in front of me.

  That was it, no more tips for Christoff.

  Chapter 20

  True to Claire’s word, Alaska was cold. It was also bright; the sun had yet to fall on this side of the country by the time we arrived, which was a little off-putting. I shivered the instant we stepped out onto the wide, white plain, then tapped my jacket, shirt, pants, and shoes. Within seconds, I looked like a North Face cover model—sans stocking cap—and breathed a sigh of relief. Claire and Christoff seemed oblivious to the cold, wearing little more than windbreakers. The children, meanwhile, had been bundled up in a couple of Callie’s bulky sweaters and were both clutching their father tightly. Callie herself had thrown a thick fleece coat over her leather jacket and her boots had given way to galoshes, though I hadn’t seen her change shoes. I caught her glaring suspiciously at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Where did you get those?” she asked, pointing to my clothes.

  “Oh, these old t’ings?” I said, twirling. “A little present from a Valkyrie. No big deal.” I frowned as I finished, still wondering where Hilde and the rest had ended up and whether or not they were alright. I’d tried calling before we left for Alaska, but Jeffries’ phone had gone straight to voicemail. Unfortunately, I didn’t have anyone else’s number. All I could hope for was that we’d come back and find them safe and sound when our business with the bears was concluded.

  Callie’s eyes narrowed, assessing my clothes. “Well, do they tell you when demons are approaching?” she asked, imperiously.

  “No,” I replied, cocking my head. She looked pleased. “But they do repair themselves,” I added, noting how the tears had mended after I’d ducked through the hole to the building whe
re I’d found Christoff.

  “How about bullets?” Claire asked, folding her arms, fidgeting with a bracelet of pale leather etched with dark symbols of some kind on her wrist. “Do they protect you from bullets?”

  “No,” I admitted, turning from one to the other. “Apparently, though, there’s a way to turn ‘em into a badass suit of armor. I simply haven’t figured that bit out, yet.” I didn’t care what Hilde said; I was definitely going full-on She-Ra at first opportunity. I mean, what’s the point of having magical threads if you can’t roleplay in them?

  Callie turned and whispered something to Claire, who nodded. “We’ve decided you owe us for helping you,” Callie said. “You’re welcome to pay us back in clothes.”

  I chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do. They’re a wee bit hard to come by, from what I’ve been told.”

  Two figures emerged from behind a snow bank that glittered in the sunlight. I took stock of our surroundings and realized that Alaska was far from the desolate landscape I had imagined. Mountains rose up in the distance, and a crystal-clear lake spread out for miles behind us. It was breathtaking…although that might also have been the altitude; the thinner air was noticeable at this elevation.

  Claire took a step forward and waved to the newcomers.

  Callie frowned.

  “What is it?” I whispered.

  “Nothing. That’s Kenai,” Callie said, nodding towards the larger of the two men. “Claire’s been crushing on him for a few weeks now.”

  “I’ll cut you,” Claire threatened out of the side of her mouth, still smiling at the newcomers.

  “And the other?” I asked, staring at the smaller man. He was handsome and obviously fit—even beneath his jacket I could tell he had an athlete’s body. I’d have even called him attractive if it weren’t for the brooding, angsty expression on his face.

  “Beckett,” Callie replied, though her tone suggested she had nothing to add on that front. Or maybe a whole helluva lot to add.

  “Play nice,” Claire urged.

  Callie shrugged stiffly and thrust her hands in the pockets of her coat. Kenai, the bigger of the two newcomers, waved us forward—a broad, bulky, bearded man with a deep tan and an easy smile—and threw his arms wide. “Welcome,” he said. “Claire, who are your friends?”

  The other man, Beckett, stayed a step back, studying his boots. Tension was suddenly thick in the air. There was the obvious strain between Callie and Beckett, of course, but also a fair amount surrounding Kenai—who seemed like the jovial, let’s-grab-a-drink type, but who was also clearly wondering whether we were friends or foes.

  “This is Christoff,” Claire said, indicating the older Russian man. “And his children. He wants to talk to Armor. He has a request. Bear-to-bear.”

  Kenai’s eyebrows rose. “Ah, I see. And this woman?” he asked, eyeing me up and down.

  Claire bristled. “That’s none of your business, you big furball.”

  Kenai laughed and held out his arm for Claire to take. “It doesn’t matter. Armor will find out. Come on, I’ll escort you.” Claire scowled but eventually took his arm, resting her head on his shoulder as they walked back towards the snow bank and whatever lay beyond. Beckett trailed them, leaving us to take up the rear.

  “So,” I said, trekking alongside Christoff and Callie, who had insisted on taking Christoff’s little girl for the duration of our walk, “what’s the story with Beckett?”

  “Former cop. Betrayed me. Betrayed us all. Joined up with a group that hunts down Freaks and sold us out.” Callie replied, her tone clipped and cool. She spoke softly, but I could tell Beckett—with his enhanced hearing—heard every word; his head hung lower and lower as she filled me in. If Callie noticed, she didn’t seem to care. “He came to his senses, but not before taking a blow from Claire in her werebear form. He’s here learning how to control his baser instincts and avoiding me. Which is for the best.” She said that last bit a little louder, just in case.

  I nodded in understanding; neither of us were the type to let things like that go—very much the never forgive, never forget types. Although she and I had clashed more than once upon meeting each other for the first time, I’d come to appreciate her no-fucks-given attitude and her irreverent sense of humor—even if it routinely toed the line between sarcasm and spite.

  “So, d’ye want me to kill him?” I asked, teasingly, knowing I couldn’t even if I wanted to; I’d left the assault rifle back at Callie’s place.

  Showing up armed for bear when you’re about to ask a bunch of bears for a favor?

  A bit counterintuitive.

  Callie grunted, then grinned thoughtfully. “No, but if you get a chance to dick punch him like you did that poor kid…”

  “That was an accident!” I hissed, glaring at her.

  Callie shrugged, but I could tell she was in a better mood, so I let it be. “Oh,” Callie said, “keep in mind that things may be a little different here than what you’re used to. And don’t stare. They don’t like it when you stare.”

  “Who?” I asked, eyebrows knotting.

  “Them,” Callie replied as we cleared the bend. Down below, in a bowl-shaped valley ringed by huts and cabins, stood a host of people milling about, exchanging small talk, most of them completely butt-ass naked.

  Oh. Right.

  Eyes to myself.

  Got it.

  Chapter 21

  Armor, the Alpha of the Kansas City werebears, lounged on a massive throne in the middle of the room like some sort of bear deity. Below him, next to the throne, a tiny, adorable bear fastidiously cleaned his paws. His son, maybe? Other than those two, Kenai and Claire were the only other werebears present; Beckett had wandered off shortly after we entered the basin the werebears called home. Callie had taken the children to the far side of the room and was busy playing peek-a-boo with the little girl, giving her giggle fits. The slightly older boy sat and stared at the massive bear, eyes wide as dinner plates. Christoff hadn’t wanted to part with them, of course, but Claire had insisted.

  “Armor will have questions,” she’d explained. “They’ll be safe with Callie. Safer, really, if he doesn’t like your answers.”

  I wasn’t exactly sure why I was being called up to the front of the class, too, but decided not to rock the boat. Maybe they wanted a character witness, or maybe they wanted to vet me and make sure I wasn’t a threat. Either way, I had nothing to hide.

  Well, less than most, anyway.

  Armor hunched forward, settling his titanic paw on the arm of the throne with a thud. “I’ve been informed that you have a request to make of us,” Armor said. “But we do not know you, and therefore do not trust you. We don’t make a habit of aiding those we do not trust. What do you suggest?” The Alpha’s snout swung around, and his eyes met mine.

  “Me?” I asked, jerking my thumb towards my chest.

  “Yes, you,” Armor replied, lips curling back in what I hoped was amusement.

  I frowned at Christoff, who seemed as surprised as I was that they’d asked me and not him. I noticed the small bear had perked up and seemed unusually interested in my response—his beady little eyes locked on my face. I considered Armor’s question and finally shrugged. “Well, assumin’ knowin’ someone leads to trust, I suggest ye lot get to know each other and go from there.”

  Armor nodded. “My thoughts exactly. So, stranger,” he said, swiveling his gaze to the man beside me, “tell us about yourself.”

  Christoff nodded, though his head hung so low afterwards that he may as well have been sentenced to the gallows. “My name is Christoff Peterson,” Christoff began. “I am—”

  “That won’t do,” the diminutive bear said, his words a little garbled as he gnawed on a rock. “If you can’t at least tell us your real name, you will always be a stranger.”

  I held up a hand, frowning at the bear I’d taken to be a child. “No offense to the Snuggle Bear,” I said, “but that is his name.” It was a ridiculous thing to accuse Christoff
of, as if they were looking for an excuse to tell him no.

  Armor bristled at my comment, like an overprotective father, but the tiny bear held up a paw.

  “It’s alright,” the tiny bear said, chuckling at me good-naturedly. “But please, call me Starlight from now on.” The bear, Starlight, rose to stand on his hind legs, maybe half as tall as I was, at most. “You should know that Starlight is the name I go by, but not the name I was born with. Just as I know that Christoff Peterson is the name he has chosen for himself but was not the name he was given at birth.” The bear’s eyes twinkled mischievously, and I suddenly had the impression that he was older than Armor, despite his stature. It was something about how he stood—that hunched, bow-legged stance that afflicts the elderly.

  “He is right,” Christoff said, flicking his eyes at me before staring at the ground. “I swore off my name, the name given to me, long ago.”

  “But it haunts you,” Starlight said. “Your name is at the heart of why you have come.”

  Christoff marveled at the little bear as if he were some sort of prophet. “How do you know this?”

  Starlight waved that away and settled back down on his haunches. “Tell Armor the truth from now on, if you want him to help you. Remember your proverbs. The burden is light on the shoulders of another.”

  Christoff flinched and bowed his head. “Yes. You are right.” He raised his chin and the hard, fierce gaze of the man who’d held a rifle on me settled on Armor, who growled in response to the sudden change. “The name I was given, along with my comrades, was Alexie Stepanov,” Christoff said. “It means Defender of Crown.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, ignoring my dumbfounded expression, to stare back at his two children, who Callie had corralled into making a miniature snowman. He seemed relieved they weren’t listening. “Today, I own and run bar. But, many years ago, I fled from Russia. I left behind who I was, hoping to find better life. I did this. I changed name. I found wife and had children. Made family.” He bowed his head. “But they have found me, somehow.”