The Bear's House Guest

by Amy Star

*

  Elizabeth woke up to the smell of sausage cooking and coffee brewing. She stared at the wall in front of her for a moment, wondering where the hell she was and who was cooking, until the events of the night before caught up to her, and she remembered that she wasn’t in her own house. She was in Ambrose’s. Presumably, Ambrose was cooking. It was his kitchen, though he was definitely wealthy enough to have his own cook, just going by first impressions.

  Slowly, Elizabeth sat up, prying herself away from the pillow with a force of will, her blanket falling away until she was sitting at the edge of the bed, her feet on the carpet. It took another moment before she managed to actually get to her feet, feeling as if she hadn’t slept at all. She reached up to run a hand through her hair, cringing as her fingers caught on tangles and knots, and she gave up on the effort almost immediately. She didn’t bother with putting her clothes back on, instead making her way back to the kitchen in the t-shirt and boxers she had slept in.

  She came to a halt in the kitchen entryway, and finally she used it as an opportunity to get a good look at her host. It hadn’t really occurred to her the night before, considering everything else that had been going on.

  Ambrose was a tall man. Elizabeth wasn’t short, but she was pretty sure the top of her head would only come up to about his nose. He looked like he was about a decade older than her too. He had dark, mocha-colored skin just a few shades lighter than Elizabeth’s, and his hair was dark brown and wavy, shot through with gold and auburn. After a moment, he glanced over his shoulder at her, and she could see that his eyes were a strange color, caught somewhere between dark brown and black.

  He grinned, evidently completely at ease with having a stranger in his house, and he offered a pleasant, “Food should be ready soon. Make yourself at home.”

  Elizabeth nodded slowly as he turned his attention back to the stove, and she took a moment to watch the way his shoulders moved through his shirt. She was pretty sure he would be able to bench press two of her without even breaking a sweat. She pulled her gaze away before he could catch her staring and wandered into the living room portion of the great room, strolling leisurely around the perimeter of the room as she glanced over the various photographs, each of them in frames on the walls.

  He had a big family. None of the photos were labeled, but there were a dozen different people in the pictures in various combinations, and there was enough of a family resemblance to make it obvious that they were related.

  They all looked so happy, each and every one of them. Maybe it made her a bad person for feeling a twinge of jealousy over that fact, but she didn’t think it did. Her family life had never been picture perfect, after all. And the photographs on the wall made it seem as if it was being flaunted at her. It was an irrational thought, and she knew it, but she couldn’t quite tear her gaze away until she heard Ambrose inquire, “Everything alright?” from in the kitchen.

  At last, Elizabeth wrenched her eyes away from the pictures to look at him, and she cleared her throat. “You’ve got a really big family,” she observed, inching her way towards the kitchen table again before she could get sucked back into her own internal monologue. Ambrose was plating food by then, so it seemed like a good time to take a seat regardless.

  He grinned and headed for the table, a plate in each hand. “Yeah, there’s basically a whole tribe of us,” he agreed. Elizabeth had a question which seemed sort of important, given the current circumstances, but she wasn’t actually sure about the etiquette of asking such a question. Luckily, Ambrose seemed to have some idea of what was on her mind, as he added, “And yeah, a lot of us are bears. Not all of us—my dad wasn’t, so it skipped a few of my siblings and of course my cousins and my aunt on his side weren’t—but more than half of us, at least.” He set a plate down in front of Elizabeth, set the other plate down at his own seat, and fetched a pair of forks and knives. Once he handed Elizabeth her silverware, he finally sat down.

  Breakfast was sausage, eggs, and toast. The eggs sort of gave the impression that they were initially supposed to be sunny side up before that failed and they turned into scrambled. None of it was over- or under-cooked, so Elizabeth was pretty content with what was in front of her, especially after she scooped some eggs onto a slice of toast, took her first bite, and promptly realized she was starving. She hadn’t had time for dinner last night, in between finding a pack of enormous not-really-animals feuding in front of her house and then walking three miles, on top of the four miles she had already walked that day.

  Within just a few minutes, she had scarfed down the entire plate, and she couldn’t even bring herself to feel embarrassed about it. Considering how long she had lived alone, tended to herself, and worked a job where nine times out of ten she had hay in her hair, being appropriately lady-like had never really become a priority. If Ambrose felt inclined to comment, he offered no sign of it and said nothing about it, instead finishing his breakfast at a more sedate pace.

  Elizabeth fidgeted in her seat until he was finished, and finally she could hold her curiosity in check no longer. No sooner did he set his fork down on his plate did Elizabeth burst out, “So, what are you? Are you, like, a werebear or something? Do you transform on a full moon—no, wait, it wasn’t a full moon last night. Scratch that one. Can you turn people into a bear if you want to? Are people who turn into animals a super common thing I’ve just never heard about until now? What the fuck is going on?”

  Ambrose’s eyebrows steadily rose as she just kept going on, until finally she got out everything she wanted to say, and apparently he couldn’t quite hold back a laugh.

  “Ah…I guess you could say I’m a werebear, if you want. I’ve always just gone with ‘shifter,’ personally. Wolves are more likely to go with the were-animal naming convention, and even a lot of them just stick with shifter. And no, I can’t turn anyone else into a bear,” he replied dryly. “It’s a genetic thing. I got into it a bit earlier with my family. And we’re not…super common?” There, he didn’t sound especially sure. “I mean, I don’t actually know how many there are in the world, and generally if I meet others it’s because they’re having trouble hiding. The ones that are really good at blending in are…well…really good at blending in, so I’m not going to know about them.”

  “And…what do I do?” Elizabeth wondered, and almost immediately words started spilling out again before she could help it. “I mean, I have to work tomorrow, and I don’t have a car, and even if I did it would be back at my house, and I don’t have any clothes, and…” She closed her mouth with a click when Ambrose delicately cleared his throat.

  “I can drive you to work tomorrow,” he pointed out, “and we can head out to buy a few essentials this afternoon. Realistically speaking, they should be done with their scuffle in the next few days, so you’ll be safe to go home, and when I drive you to work and pick you up, I can use it as a chance to keep an eye on the situation.”

  Slowly, Elizabeth sighed, and she pushed her plate away just enough that she could slump down onto her arms on the table. “I guess that’s all I can do, then,” she mumbled against her arms. “Thanks.”

  She was grateful for the help. Really, she was. It just didn’t sound like there was much either of them could actually do until it blew over on its own, and that was a disheartening thought. Even so, she was glad she didn’t actually need to handle it on her own, and she was glad she wasn’t literally in the middle of the mess. She was pretty sure that would end up with her being a messy smear on her lawn. She just…had to hope Ambrose was right when he said it would only be a few days. But patience had never been her best skill, if she was being honest with herself.

  At least her situation wasn’t hopeless. She had been in too many hopeless situations. She didn’t need any more than she had already dealt with.

  *

  Shopping that afternoon was a simple affair. Despite his rather apparent wealth, he was perfectly happy to respect Elizabeth’s wishes to pay for her own clothes, and he didn’t tr
y to insist she buy anything fancy; she was content with a few basic t-shirts and a sturdy pair of jeans.

  They chatted the entire time, surprisingly. Elizabeth hadn’t expected to have anything in common with him, but as it turned out, their interests aligned in more than a few places. Similar politics: they were both generally on the liberal side. Similar taste in books: they both enjoyed sci-fi and fantasy and anything that didn’t make them simply feel like they were reliving their own lives by proxy. Similar tastes in music: alternative rock was the best way to go, but anything with a decent enough bass would do in a pinch. Similar tastes in television: neither of them watched much, really.

  They got on like a house on fire, strangely enough. By the time they were driving back to Ambrose’s house, they were swapping stories about high school as if they had known each other for years.

  “…and, I mean, it seems like every school has some sort of senior prank every year, so I don’t need to explain that, but it could get so weird sometimes.” Elizabeth snorted out a laugh and rolled her eyes. “Like, one year, one of my classmates decided the best prank would be to bring in a quartet of sheep and let them go in the school before classes started for the day, and to make it even better, they were numbered one, two, three, and five.”

  Ambrose grinned as he slid her a glance, before looking back out of the windshield again. “How long were the faculty running around like headless chickens before they realized that there were only four sheep to round up?”

  Elizabeth grinned, sly but playing at innocent. “They didn’t ever realize it on their own. They had to call in the culprit, and he had to explain it to them, so they would chill out.” She was quiet for a beat. “He got suspended for the last few days of class, so he couldn’t even attend graduation. He said it was totally worth it, though.”

  Ambrose looked thoughtful for a moment before he began to speak. “We had, ah…we’ll call it Drive Your Tractor to School Day. People got more and more creative with it as time passed.”

  “Oh god,” Elizabeth groaned.

  “One year, a girl decided to show up in a hot air balloon. Her parents owned a company, I think.” Ambrose shrugged one shoulder.

  “A hot air balloon—”

  Ambrose carried on as if she hadn’t interrupted. “I think she was aiming for the soccer field next to the school, but she missed and landed on the school roof. She broke her wrist, and it took a lot of people to clear up the mess. I’m pretty sure she had detention until the end of the school year, but the pictures in the yearbook that year were pretty spectacular.”

  Elizabeth shook her head slightly in good natured disbelief. “You’re fucking with me,” she decided, tone light. “Your school was completely boring, full of preppy rich kids or something.”

  “It was only about fifty percent preppy rich kids,” he protested primly. “And it was still rural as all hell. There are still rich people in the boonies.”

  Elizabeth held her hands up in surrender. “My apologies for offending your delicate, rich guy sensibilities,” she assured him, mustering up as much of an earnest tone as she could manage. Ambrose snorted out a laugh.

  It was actually pretty comforting, at a time when everything else seemed to be going wrong at every turn. Elizabeth appreciated it more than she would have expected to.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “So, what does one even do to get rich?” Elizabeth wondered, stirring her dinner in circles on her plate as she waited for it to cool down enough to actually eat any of it. She had been at Ambrose’s house for two days, and she hadn’t actually seen him go to work. He didn’t even seem particularly inconvenienced about needing to shuttle her to work and back.

  “You can just ask what I do,” he pointed out wryly. “That is a thing that you’re allowed to ask.”

  “Do you do anything?” she asked. “Or are you part of the indolent wealthy?”

  “Only slightly indolent,” he replied, leaning his chin in one hand. “My family’s always been pretty well off; I just took it to a new level. I work in telecommunications, sort of.”

  “‘Sort of,’” Elizabeth parroted back at him.

  “Well, it’s not the most interesting job in the world. It’s my business, and I still get the final say so on bigger issues, and I’m the most prominent shareholder. But most of the day-to-day work is handled by various other very capable people.”

  “And you just, what?” Elizabeth asked, eyebrows rising. “Lounge around the house all day long?”

  Ambrose cleared his throat. “I have a bit of a side business, helping others like me who have been discovered by non-shifters and need help finding anonymity again.”

  Elizabeth finally began shoveling food into her mouth as he spoke, and she cocked her head to one side as he finished. “So, should…” she paused to swallow. “So, should I not know about you, then?”

  “You’re fine,” he assured her. “But some people can get a bit…uppity upon discovering that the next-door neighbor is actually a well-dressed coyote or something, and they become a hassle.” He shrugged loosely, as if it was just something that couldn’t be helped, and for a moment, Elizabeth felt strangely offended on his behalf if that was the attitude he had been forced to adopt. “I help people get away from non-shifters who have become a dangerous hassle.”

  Elizabeth hummed in acknowledgement, and for a moment, she focused on her food. Eventually, she wondered, “Does it get hard?”

  “Occasionally,” he replied, though he sounded very casual about it. Evidently, he had simply accepted the hassles of the job he had chosen. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t worth doing, though. And if I have the means to, then I figure it would be irresponsible if I don’t.”

  It was a refreshing take to hear, especially since Elizabeth was accustomed to people being out for themselves, first and foremost.

  *

  As it turned out, Elizabeth would have heard something about Ambrose’s secondary job even if she had never asked. It was halfway through the day when she heard what sounded like an animal pawing at the door, in much the same way as a dog might when it wanted to come in. Ambrose was upstairs, and she was fairly sure he couldn’t hear the scratching, so Elizabeth got to her feet and cautiously peered out the window, craning her neck awkwardly to get a look at the outside of the door.

  There was a cat standing there, before he turned in a circle and lifted a paw to bat at the door again in a manner that seemed almost impatient. The cat, while shaped like a house cat, also happened to be about the size of a greyhound, with a bobbed tail and short fur that was mostly white but with a patchwork of black splotches and a long, narrow face.

  Once more it pawed at the door before butting the top of its head against it.

  Well, if it was scratching at the door, clearly it was familiar with the house. Elizabeth took the last few steps to the door and opened it. The cat cocked its head to one side in confusion, blinking green eyes up at her before carefully stepping past her. It walked in a circle around her as the door fell closed with a bang, sniffing curiously as the tip of its tail twitched back and forth.

  It paused for a moment once it was standing in front of her again, before it abruptly turned and bounded deeper into the house. Elizabeth blinked after it, and a moment later, she heard the unmistakable sound of something four-legged bounding up the stairs. She stood there in the middle of the living room, staring in the direction in which the cat had disappeared.

  A few minutes later, she heard four feet coming back down the stairs, but it was unmistakably the sound of two sets of two, accompanied by two voices. One was Ambrose’s. One was a voice that Elizabeth didn’t recognize, and given the oddities, she supposed it should have occurred to her immediately that the cat was not a regular cat. No regular cat was that large or quite that expressive.

  When Ambrose entered the room, he was being trailed by an Asian man around Elizabeth’s height but with shoulders that she would kill for. He had bright green eyes and black hair swept back so the en
ds were just past his ears, and while it wasn’t a word that typically occurred to Elizabeth to apply to men, the only word she could think of to describe him was ‘pretty.’ He was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans which were pretty clearly Ambrose’s, still tucking the shirt in and fastening the belt as he came into the room.

  “I wasn’t expecting her,” he remarked pleasantly, looking at Elizabeth as he said it.

  “My yard’s being landscaped by a pack of wolves and a lot of bears,” she returned, smiling slightly when he barked out a laugh. “I’m Elizabeth.”

  “Yusuke,” he offered cheerfully.

  They lapsed into silence for a moment, until Elizabeth asked slowly, “So, were you just going to stay cat-shaped for the rest of the day if I didn’t know about everything?”

  Yusuke cleared his throat behind one fist, expression turning faintly sheepish. “That or make something up about how I climbed in the upstairs window and somehow you didn’t notice or hear me.”

  Elizabeth grinned. “You know, I almost wish that was what happened. I love improv.”