The Truth About Kadenburg

by T. E. Ridener

  Lorcan pulled away, keeping his arms firmly around her as he stared down into her eyes. “We do what our ancestors did before us,” his eyes darkened slightly as he smiled. “We fight.”

  Eighteen

  He waited until Presley’s breathing became deep and steady before he even attempted to untangle himself from her arms. He’d held her until she’d fallen asleep, and as reluctant as he was to be away from her, he knew what he had to do.

  As he trudged down the hallway as carefully as possible, he couldn’t hold back the smile that wanted to take over. This was progress, wasn’t it? Presley had let him get close to her, and he couldn’t have asked for more.

  He understood her fear and confusion, and he wanted nothing more than to help her to see things more clearly. He wanted to help her embrace her heritage and grow into the amazing ursithrope he just knew she was meant to be.

  And breeding has nothing to do with this? His bear questioned curiously as Lorcan carried the warm container of ice cream back into the kitchen. We crave her.

  Obviously we crave her, Lorcan rolled his eyes as he opened the freezer door to put the ice cream back inside. He very, very gently placed the spoon into the sink before gazing out the window to see the first hints of morning. But I am not doing this because of my desire to make her ours, I’m doing it because she is my friend and she needs me.

  He listened as the bear let out a roar of laughter and it irked him. Just what in the hell did his bear counterpart find to be so funny about that statement?

  Of course she needs us. We are hers. We have always been hers, and she is ours. Take her.

  Lorcan scowled as he opened the backdoor and stepped out onto the deck. The chilly morning air greeted him as he inhaled deeply. The stench of the wolves had decreased, which meant they were further away now. But for how long, exactly? They would return.

  I am not taking her. If and when she gives herself to me is entirely up to her. You know we cannot force that.

  I grow tired of waiting. She is ours! New cubs must come to be. How much longer?

  As long as it takes, Lorcan nodded. I will wait forever for her if I have to.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Lorcan turned his head to see his father sitting just below the deck, kicked back in a lawn chair as he gripped his trusty Remington.

  “Why do you have a gun?” Lorcan asked with a lifted brow.

  “I’m gonna shoot one of them in the ass if I see it,” his father replied without meeting his eyes. “I know it won’t kill the damn thing, but at least it’ll know what a pain in the ass I can be.”

  Lorcan rolled his eyes, making his way down the steps as he approached his father. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at him. “Seriously?”

  “You’re damn right I’m serious,” his father replied as he finally glanced up at him. “What are you doing up anyway? You should be resting. You’re going to need your strength.”

  “I’m fine,” Lorcan insisted as he eased down onto the wet grass, sitting Indian style as he glanced at the woods. He was always mesmerized with the magical aspect of foggy mornings, but he knew danger lurked behind the thick cloud of water droplets.

  “Uh huh,” Mr. Bamey muttered as he stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s sleeping.”

  “I know someone else who should be sleeping.”

  Lorcan rolled his eyes. “I am fine,” he repeated as he ran his fingers through his hair, exhaling silently. “But I want to talk to you about something.”

  “I’m listenin’,” his dad grunted.

  “I think we should call them back.”

  Mr. Bamey leaned forward in his chair, turning his head to stare at his son as if he’d slapped him. “Boy, you must have a screw loose in that head of yours. There’s no way I’m calling them back here. This is our mess now and we’ll clean it up. We don’t need anybody’s help.”

  Lorcan scoffed, returning his father’s gaze as he rested his elbows against his knees. “Are you serious right now? We don’t need help? Dad, have you taken into consideration just how many heartbeats you can hear out there when they’re close?”

  Mr. Bamey wrinkled his nose, flexing his jawline as he frowned. “We can take them.”

  “The hell we can,” Lorcan argued. “Even Dimitri has his doubts. I can see it on his face. We’re screwed if we don’t call them back. We’re going to be outnumbered.”

  “Oh hell,” his father groaned as he stood from the chair and gazed around. “We’re bigger. Just bite into a few throats and problem solved. I don’t know why you’re worrying so much about it.”

  “You don’t know why I’m worrying so much about it?” Lorcan echoed as he stared at his father in disbelief. “Have you forgotten about what happened back then? Do you need a reminder?”

  Lorcan was only two when the werewolves visited Kadenburg the first time. He was far too young to understand what was happening, and he definitely didn’t comprehend the extent of the damage caused by their natural enemies’ actions. All Lorcan knew back then was that people were sad and their tiny community grew smaller.

  With only five ursithropes remaining in Kadenburg, and even with Dimitri’s help, he knew deep down that they were no match for Breslin’s pack. They needed help.

  “Dad,” Lorcan repeated with a firmer tone. “Just listen to me on this. We need to call them back.”

  Mr. Bamey’s jawline relaxed slightly as he lowered his gun and sighed. “I suppose you’re right,” he finally said after a moment. “But I ain’t going to be held responsible for one of those other little fur balls coming back here and sweeping that girl off her feet, you got me?”

  Lorcan fought the urge to roll his eyes again as he stared at the aged version of himself. “I really don’t think that’s going to be an issue.

  It wasn’t going to be an issue, was it?

  –––––––

  The scent of bubbling gravy and crispy bacon made Dimitri’s mouth water. He was still stationed at his post in the front yard, given to him by none other than Mr. Bamey himself. He still wasn’t sure why he was holding a firearm, but the idea of shooting a gun was definitely tempting.

  Especially if it’s Breslin, he smirked. No, getting a bullet to the head would be too kind for Breslin. He deserved to have his throat clawed open and his heart torn out by the sheer force of Dimitri’s blunt teeth. Breslin deserved to suffer for what happened to Liam.

  Icy shards of hate ran through his heated veins as he gripped the barrel of his gun a little more tightly and he lifted his eyes to watch the sun peek over the treetops. It was really strange how he didn’t feel the least bit tired.

  “You want some breakfast?”

  Dimitri turned around to see Mrs. Bamey standing in the doorway, drying her hands on a dishtowel as she offered a small smile. “We’ve got enough to feed any army.”

  “You’re going to need an army,” Dimitri remarked as he made his way up the steps and gazed at her through the thin screen door. “I would love some breakfast, Ma’am. Thank you.”

  “Oh, nonsense,” Mrs. Bamey rolled her eyes as she pushed the door open for him to come inside. “Call me Charlotte, Dear. I insist.”

  Dimitri felt a smile tugging at his lips as he stepped inside. “Thank you, Charlotte,” he corrected as he carefully placed the gun down near the door. Maybe he would get to use it at a later time.

  “You’re welcome, Sweetie. Now come in here and have a seat. I’ll have breakfast done in a minute. I’m just waiting for the biscuits to finish.”

  Dimitri eased down into one of the six chairs stationed around the table. It groaned and creaked beneath his weight, but it was sturdy. He scooted forward a bit, glancing at the various dishes waiting to be devoured. Homemade gravy, fried apples, sausage, scrambled eggs, and a heap of bacon tempted him as he licked his lips. He’d never seen such a feast in his entire life.

  The backdoor opened and
Mr. Bamey soon appeared, setting his gun aside as he wiped his hands off on his trousers. “Smells good,” he commented. His eyes lingered on Dimitri for a moment before he eased into his reserved seat at the head of the table. He cracked his neck, his thick eyebrows lowering upon his forehead as he frowned. “Where’s the apple butter?”

  “In the fridge,” Mrs. Bamey responded as she opened the oven door and carefully pulled out the tray of biscuits. “I’ll get it in a minute.”

  Dimitri was to his feet in an instant. “I’ll get it,” he offered, making his way to the fridge.

  He could feel two sets of eyes on him as he pulled the cool jar from the first shelf, turning slowly to see that the older ursithropes were staring at him. He blinked. “What?”

  “You are just the sweetest,” Mrs. Bamey gushed as she reached out a mitted hand and patted his cheek. He could feel the warmth against the material as he smiled somewhat shyly. “Isn’t he the sweetest, Richard?”

  Mr. Bamey tilted his head to the side. It seemed like he was sizing Dimitri up as he gave a lazy roll of his shoulders. “I suppose he’s okay…for a wolf.”

  Dimitri couldn’t help the grin that slid over his lips as he made his way back to his seat. “Well, thanks,” he nodded. “I don’t think you’re so bad either.”

  There was still that small twinge of pain in his chest when he thought about how this was originally supposed to play out. Liam should’ve been at his side, holding his hand. This should’ve been a happy occasion.

  But it’s not, he reminded himself. Liam is gone.

  The screen door whined again as Lorcan entered the kitchen, raking his fingers through his tousled locks as he gazed around. “Is the food done yet? I’m starving,” he muttered. He plopped down in a chair across from Dimitri as his eyes scanned over the food. “Jesus, Mom. How many people were you aiming to feed this morning?”

  Mrs. Bamey was quiet as she finished stacking the biscuits on a plate.

  “More than we’ve got here already,” Mr. Bamey finally said as he scratched the scruff adorning his jawline. “You know your mama likes to cook, Lorcan.”

  Dimitri couldn’t help but to feel completely content as he set there, watching the interaction between father and son as the moments passed by. Sometimes he wondered if his upbringing would’ve been similar to this, if his parents were still alive. In that moment, he was incredibly envious of the male ursithrope sitting across from him. Lorcan had no idea how lucky he was to have his parents; to have a family. Even Presley, the female who was probably still sleeping in the bedroom, was lucky to have an uncle who loved her so much.

  Dimitri would never have the chance to experience a love like that. Liam was the closest thing to a family he’d ever had, and he’d been torn away.

  “Aren’t you going to eat, Dimitri?”

  Mrs. Bamey’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Dimitri blinked before meeting her gaze. “What? Oh, yeah. I’m definitely going to eat, Mrs. Bame-I mean, Charlotte. This looks great. Thank you.”

  “So polite,” Mrs. Bamey smiled. “Lorcan, you could learn a thing or two from him about manners.”

  Dimitri’s gaze wandered to Lorcan then, noting the glare in his eyes as the ursithrope attempted to swallow down the mouthful of food he was currently chewing. Dimitri most certainly wasn’t trying to step on any toes.

  “Do I smell food?” Arnold Goult asked as he entered the kitchen. He groaned, popping his back as his arms lifted over his head. He released a long yawn and sighed, moving to sit down beside of Lorcan as he inspected the various plates. “Sometimes I really regret not marrying a mama bear,” he grinned. “This looks great, Charlotte.”

  “Oh, stop it,” Mrs. Bamey laughed. “You know you’re welcome to join us anytime you want, Arnie.”

  As forks scraped against plates and the occasional hum of pure satisfaction lifted into the air, Dimitri decided that he did indeed like these people. He would fight for them and with them.

  It’s what Liam would want, he thought as he lifted a glass of orange juice to his lips. He took a generous drink before smiling, at no one in particular. For the first time since Liam’s death, he felt happy; he felt like he belonged. He would do whatever he could to protect the people Liam loved so much.

  The sound of a car horn sounding outside disrupted his thoughts, and Dimitri noticed that everyone seemed just as surprised by the noise as he was.

  Mrs. Bamey let out a small yelp as she stood from the table. “Oh! They’re here,” she said excitedly as she smiled.

  “Who’s here?” Mr. Bamey frowned.

  “Just wait and see,” Mrs. Bamey laughed as she hurried towards the front door.

  “What did you do, Charlotte?” Mr. Bamey asked as he pushed himself away from the table, abandoning his half-eaten food to follow after his wife.

  Mrs. Bamey didn’t have to answer that question. Multiple scents hit Dimitri’s nostrils, clouding the smell of food as he quirked a brow.

  “More ursithropes?” He questioned, looking back and forth between Arnold and Lorcan.

  Lorcan seemed to be relieved as he grinned. “I’ll be damned,” he stated thoughtfully. “She called them back.”

  Dimitri watched as the two males got up from the table, leaving him alone with all the glorious food as various voices could be heard through the open door.

  He wasn’t sure what Lorcan meant by ‘she called them back’, but he had to wonder why they’d left in the first place.

  Nineteen

  She awoke to what sounded like a party in full swing. The shouts of laughter and excited chatter stirred her from a somewhat peaceful slumber, and Presley wasn’t certain what was going on. All she knew in the moment was that it was loud, and she secretly hated whoever had such a big mouth.

  Sitting up in bed, she groaned. What time was it? How long had she been out? What in the hell was so funny?

  A knock sounded on the door and she jumped. She watched as it inched open and Mrs. Bamey’s head popped into view. “Good morning,” she whispered with a smile. “Did we wake you?”

  “Um, no,” Presley lied. “I was already awake.”

  “Oh, well good!” Mrs. Bamey slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. “I washed the clothes you left behind,” she said as she placed a stack of folded clothing at the foot of the bed. “I thought you might like these a little better than my old night gown.”

  Presley frowned, glancing down to see that she was indeed wearing a nightgown. It was a soft white color with faded blue flowers-definitely not her style. Oh, right. Now she remembered. It was the only thing Mrs. Bamey had to offer when Presley arrived the night before, covered in mud.

  “Thank you,” Presley nodded. “Thank you for washing my clothes.”

  “It’s no problem, dear,” Mrs. Bamey eased down onto the bed beside her, reaching out to pat Presley’s knee gently. “I’m just glad you and that hard headed uncle of yours are all right. Can I get you anything else?”

  “I don’t think so,” Presley replied as she lifted her eyes to meet Mrs. Bamey’s motherly gaze. Sometimes she missed not having a mom. Mrs. Bamey was honestly the closest thing she’d ever had. “What’s going on out there?”

  “Oh!” Mrs. Bamey’s smile grew brighter as her eyes sparkled. “I called in some recruits to help with the, uh, little problem we’ve got.”

  Little problem? Presley blinked. She’s calling a pack of wolves trying to kill us a ‘little problem’?

  She fought the urge to roll her eyes as she nodded again. “Oh, well…that’s a good thing, right?” Hell, she didn’t know what she was talking about. All of this was still way out in left field for her; but strength in numbers was a better strategy than just waiting to be killed, wasn’t it?

  “I’m hoping it is,” Mrs. Bamey replied honestly. “A part of me wishes they’d tuck their tails and run, but I know that it won’t be a permanent solution either way. They’ll only come back. I don’t think we’re going to have any other choice, Presley. We have t
o fight.”

  Presley could feel the nervous knots tightening in her stomach as she hugged her hoodie against her chest. She wasn’t sure that she liked the idea of her uncle facing off with the werewolves. Come to think of it, she wasn’t fond of Lorcan being involved, either. She didn’t want anyone to be in danger’s way, but what choice did they have? The werewolves had a history of wreaking havoc in Kadenburg, and they would continue to do so if somebody didn’t stop them.

  Can we stop them? Presley wondered as she chewed her lower lip.

  We? The bear asked. Since when did this become a ‘we’ thing? I thought you hated us.

  I don’t hate you, Presley frowned. It’s just a lot to take in, okay?

  I have been silent for most of your life because it is what your uncle wanted, but I will not be quiet a day more. We do need to help. Lorcan needs us. Your family needs you; I need you.

  “Presley?”

  The conversation she was having with her inner-bear was interrupted by Mrs. Bamey’s soft voice, and Presley lifted her head to gaze at the woman. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Mrs. Bamey shrugged. “My bear likes to talk often as well. I know it’s weird and it seems a little crazy, but I promise she knows things you do not yet understand. I don’t know what I’d do without mine sometimes.”

  That is so weird…Presley thought as she stood from the bed and scratched her arm nervously. She knew that Mrs. Bamey was trying to ease her into whatever sort of lifestyle this was, but Presley still needed more time. It was happening too fast.

  We don’t have that luxury, her bear stated sadly. Time is not on our side, Presley.

  Great, she sighed.

  “Why don’t you come have some breakfast after you’re dressed?” Mrs. Bamey asked as she opened the bedroom door. “But hurry, the boys tend to eat a lot.”

  Once she was alone, Presley quickly got dressed. There was a certain feeling of anxiousness teetering within, and she knew it was because of the newcomers. They were back for a good reason, but Presley wasn’t sure she wanted to meet more ‘ursithropes’ at the moment.