Lynda gripped the receiver until her fingers turned white. “Is Greg all right? I heard the most terrible things in the hospital about him. They said he was going to die. He's not dead, is he?”
Her heart boomed like a bass drum while she waited for an answer. Mrs. Ursek took a deep breath. “It's very complicated, dear, but Greg is alive and doing as well as can be expected.”
“When can I see him?”
Behind her, Ellen whispered, “Yes!”
“I'm not sure. Not for a while, at any rate. His condition is still very delicate.” She paused as if considering something. “If you're feeling up to it, stop by our apartment this afternoon. Bernard will be home after three. Perhaps between the two of us we can explain Greg's situation.”
“That would be great. I'll be there about three-thirty,” Lynda said. “Thank you, Mrs. Ursek. I've been so worried.”
“We'll expect you this afternoon. Until then, don't worry. Everything possible is being done.”
“If you see Greg, will you tell him I called?”
“Yes, of course. Take care, Lynda. We'll speak further this afternoon. Good-bye now.”
With a decisive click, the connection broke.
“Good-bye,” Lynda said into the dead phone.
“Is he okay?” Ellen asked after Lynda hung up the receiver.
“I think so. He's alive, at any rate.” Lynda looked at her friend, and over forty hours of despair evaporated. Her throat tightened; her eyes overflowed. Lynda smiled through the screen of tears. “Ellen, he's not dead! He's alive, and I'm going to see him if I have to camp out on his parents’ doorstep.”
“Good for you!” Ellen took Lynda's arm and led her toward the office. “For now, though, let's see if we can talk our way out of a detention.”
* * * *
LYNDA'S EUPHORIA seeped away as the day dragged on. Terrifying scenarios ran through her mind. Greg alive, but in a coma. Greg alive, but horribly crippled. Greg with brain damage. Most terrible of all, Greg dying alone in the hospital, while she begged his parents to let her see him. A cold weight had settled in her heart. It grew heavier with each step toward the Ursek's apartment.
Mrs. Ursek buzzed her in on the first ring. Lynda heard the apartment door open before she reached the top of the stairs.
“Come in, dear. Here, let me take that.” Greg's mother held out her hand, and Lynda handed over her striped wind-breaker. “Bernard is waiting in the dining room. Go on back. I'll join you after I hang this up.”
“Thank you,” Lynda said, but Mrs. Ursek had already left for the coat closet. Taking a deep breath, Lynda started down the long corridor.
“Hello, Lynda.”
Greg's father stood by the window. His clothes were rumpled, as if he'd slept in them. “My wife tells me you wish to visit Gregory in the hospital.”
Though spoken as a statement, Lynda felt it required an answer. “Yes, sir. He got hurt because of me. I want to make sure he's all right.”
Lynda heard Mrs. Ursek walk up behind her. “It wasn't your fault.”
Even before she turned, Lynda could feel the compassion in Mrs. Ursek's clear, blue eyes. Greg's mother didn't fit a fashion model's ideal of beauty, but Lynda found her soft warmth infinitely more appealing.
“If I could just see him—”
Greg's father cut her off. “That, I am afraid, is impossible.”
Lynda blinked back rebellious tears. “Why? He's going to be all right, isn't he?”
“We hope so, dear,” his mother said, putting her arm around Lynda. “But we don't know for sure. Here, sit down and Bernard will explain.” She pulled a chair out from the table.
He waited until Lynda perched on the edge of the chair. “When I received your call Saturday morning, I realized that my son was in great danger and that the source of much of that danger was you.”
“Me!”
“Certainly. In the course of your ordeal, you must have observed that Gregory is not an ordinary boy.”
“During part of it, he wasn't a boy at all!”
Mr. Ursek spoke slowly, as if weighing his words. “Exactly. It must have been most disconcerting. No one would have blamed you if you had felt the need to share this revelation with your parents, or perhaps the police.”
“But I didn't. I didn't tell anyone.”
He smiled for the first time since she'd entered the dining room. “I know. The story you told the police was ingenious. They shared parts of it with us when they came to see if Greg could be questioned. I do not know how much was truth, how much careful fabrication, but you did an excellent job of explaining all the curious details in unrevealing ways. Knowing my son, I suspect it was his teeth that inflicted the fatal injuries. I also suspect that his state of dress was a result of his transformation. You are not the sort of girl to invite a young man into her home and proceed to undress him.”
Lynda thought about Greg's naked body, and felt her cheeks heat. She shook her head, refusing to be distracted. “If you know I didn't tell anyone, why do you say I'm dangerous?”
“Because he cares for you too much. He takes foolish chances to be with you, in this case a nearly fatal one. Once he can travel, I am sending him home to Santa Cruz with his mother. He will object, of course, but in time I hope he will understand why it is better that he not see you again.”
“Well I don't understand! I know his secret and I don't care.” Lynda turned her eyes to Mrs. Ursek. “Why can't I visit him in the hospital? I promise not to upset him. I'll only stay a moment, but I have to see him. I don't even care what species he is, as long as I can make sure he's all right.”
Greg's mother lay a hand on Lynda's shoulder. “What harm could it do?”
“The boy's infatuation grows too deep, if we do not interfere now he may never recover.” Leaving the window, he approached Lynda. “My dear, please do not construe this as a criticism. You are an admirable young woman. Perhaps if you were older—”
Lynda flew out of the chair. “What does age have to do with it?” She planted her hands on her hips and glared. “I'm going to see Greg. If you won't tell me where he is, I'll call every hospital in Chicago until I find him.”
“I told you it wouldn't be easy,” Mrs. Ursek murmured.
Her husband sighed. “Perhaps further explanation is needed.” He sighed again. “Sit down, Lynda, and I will try to explain.”
Lynda glared at him, before dropping back into her chair.
Greg's father turned and started pacing the room in front of her. “I could invite you to call every hospital and clinic in Chicago. I guarantee you will never find Gregory that way. You could search every hospital room in the state and not find him. He is not in a hospital.”
Lynda felt as if he'd pulled the floor out from under her. “What?”
“You must understand, Gregory is not human. His body does not respond as yours would. Normally, any in-jury he received while in his bear form would heal over the course of an evening. I think it has something to do with the accelerated metabolism required to complete the metamorphosis. Surely you have heard the old legends of the werewolf, that he can only be killed by a silver bullet? These have their basis in the fact that shape shifters heal so quickly, it is very difficult to kill them.”
“Bernard,” his wife interrupted. “You're lecturing again.”
He continued as if he hadn't heard. “It is extremely unusual for an injury to carry through a transformation. A wound that has not healed is almost always fatal.”
“But not in this case.” Lynda said.
Her head was spinning with the implications of what Greg's father was saying. She clung to the one thing she understood. Greg was alive; his mother had said so. Mr. Ursek paused in front of her chair, and his dark eyes bored into her.
“Not in this case,” he agreed. “Somehow, he survived both the night and the transformation back to his human form. But his condition had deteriorated by the time he reached the hospital.”
“You see,” he a
dded, apparently noticing Lynda's con-fusion. “Once he was human, he lost the metabolic advantage he had enjoyed earlier. The doctors in your hospital were amazed he had survived the night. They felt that the only hope for his survival lay in massive blood transfusions and the amputation of his arm.”
Lynda felt the blood drain from her face.
“Luckily, I knew of another option. I called our personal physician, Dr. Lavar. He is more experienced in these matters and agreed to admit Gregory to his private facility.”
“Private facility?”
“For Lycanthropes. Do not look so surprised,” he said. “Surely you guessed that Gregory is not the only one.”
“But how many...”
“Few, and growing fewer every year. We live careful, secret lives.” Lynda blinked at the “We,” but managed not to interrupt. “Few of us meet someone we can share our secret with. A very lucky few.”
He smiled at his wife. “However, we are still numerous enough that in a community as large as Chicago there are services available to meet our special needs. Dr. Lavar's clinic is one of these.”
“So Greg is in this special facility for werebears? Since I'm already in on the secret, why can't I visit him there?”
Mr. Ursek sighed. “You are persistent. The problem, young lady, is that Gregory is falling in love with you. Do not smile so,” he barked. “This is very serious business. A normal boy might fall in love many times in his life before settling down. Werebears are not so fickle. Once Gregory commits his heart, it will stay committed. Like wolves or wild geese, werebears mate for life. Many of our kind live out their lives alone because they fell in love too early, or with the wrong person.”
Lynda bristled. “And I'm the wrong person?”
“Not necessarily. But you are too young. As is my son. If he will not protect himself, I must step in.”
Her biting response was cut off by the telephone ringing.
Mrs. Ursek spun around. “That must be the hospital.” She ran down the hallway, and Lynda heard her answer the phone.
“Yes? Oh, Dr. Lavar, we've been expecting your call. How is he?” There was a long pause. “Just a minute, I think my husband should hear this. Bernard!” she called.
“Coming!” he bellowed and hurried after his wife.
The dread she heard in their voices froze Lynda's anger. She stood and followed Mr. Ursek to the room where she'd seen Mrs. Ursek working.
Greg's mother stood beside a cluttered desk, the telephone receiver in her hand. Lynda hovered just inside the doorway and listened.
“I'm turning on the speaker phone.” Mrs. Ursek set the receiver on a brown box and pushed a button.
Lynda heard a burst of static and an unfamiliar voice. “Bernard, can you hear me?”
“Yes, yes. What is my son's condition?”
“About what I expected, with one serious complication.” The voice from the speaker box was deep and smooth with the clear vowels and pronounced ‘aboot’ of a native Canadian. “You remember I told you that the crisis could occur after the wound itself healed?”
Lynda felt a chill run up her back at the doctor's words. He spoke with the careful neutrality physicians adopt when imparting very bad news.
Mr. Ursek frowned down at the phone. “Yes.”
“Last night, your son tolerated the transformation to bear form well. We transferred him to the night room just before dawn, and as we expected, the shoulder finished mending this morning. We have been waiting for him to wake up ever since. In most cases, the injury-induced hibernation fades within the hour. It's been more than six hours, and your son is still unconscious. I want your per-mission to move him out of the night room and trigger the transformation from bear back to human form.”
Mrs. Ursek leaned toward the brown box. Her pale face was grim, with deep lines etched around the corners of her mouth. “But you said that should be avoided at all cost. You told us he wouldn't survive another change until he was fully recovered.”
“Physically he is recovered. Unfortunately, he is still locked in the recuperative coma. If he doesn't come out of it soon, he may never regain consciousness.”
“No!” gasped Lynda, forgetting she wasn't supposed to be listening.
Surprised, Greg's parents turned and looked at her.
The box crackled. “Who is that, eh?”
“One of Gregory's friends.” Mr. Ursek stepped back and took Lynda by the arm. “She is leaving now.”
“Wait,” the doctor said. “Are they good friends?”
Lynda pulled her arm away from Mr. Ursek's grasp and ran to the phone. “I'm his girlfriend.”
“Are you aware of Greg's peculiar situation?”
“I was with him Friday night when he was shot.”
“Good. Bernard, Sue, it is imperative that your son awaken soon. If the physical shock of the metamorphosis isn't enough to shake him from his sleep, then our best hope is to lure him back. I've seen patients awakened by their mother's voice, or by the smell of their favorite dish. One young patient of mine remained comatose for almost eight hours until we brought his cat into the clinic. Come as quickly as you can. Bring anything you can think of that might draw Greg out of his slumber. And ask the young lady to come with you—we may need her help.”
“We will be there as soon as we can,” Mr. Ursek said.
“I'll move him immediately. Have me paged when you arrive, and I'll fill you in on his condition. Good-bye.” The voice was replaced by a click and a static hum.
“Well, Lynda,” Mr. Ursek said, with a wry smile that almost masked his concern. “It seems you get your wish.”
Lynda knew she should feel worried, but the emotional roller coaster she'd been on all day had left her numb. Clinging to the fact that Greg was still alive, and that she would soon be seeing him, she said, “I need to call my parents.”
“Certainly,” he reached over and turned off the speaker box before handing her the telephone.
“I'll get your jacket. We'll be waiting out front,” Mrs. Ursek said, before hurrying out of the room.
Lynda left a brief message on the answering machine before joining her.
Interlude
HE WANDERED in the dark. Piney boughs raked his nose with their sharp, resinous scent. Unseen roots tripped his feet, and barriers sprang up to block his path. He had no idea where he was, had forgotten where he was going and why he wandered. But he knew he must keep walking.
Brilliance burst overhead from a clear, pearly sky. He found himself standing on a path surrounded by towering shrubs. A trail stretched before and after him. He followed it through twists and turns, branches and dead ends. Finally, the hedges fell away, revealing an ancient forest.
It looked familiar. He knew he'd seen it before, but the memory refused to come. Trees of many different and in-compatible species stood side by side, shading a park-like lawn. The scent of hazelnuts and honey hung in the air.
He knew with a sudden certainty that he was welcome, that he would be happy there. But he also knew that it was not the place he'd been seeking.
Drawn by the peace and beauty of the verdant woods, he leaned forward, tempted to enter. A soft, almost imperceptible fragrance stopped him. Flowing on its own, with no breeze to carry it, the scent reminded him of another place, a place with flowers, sunlight, and love.
He turned his head; the scent grew stronger. Following it, he re-entered the maze. With his nose to guide him, he traced the twists and turns back to the source of the sweet, elusive fragrance.
Chapter 18
LYNDA FOLLOWED Greg's parents down a sterile hall-way. It looked like any other hospital corridor, though the smell of disinfectant was missing. Nurses checked charts, orderlies wheeled trays, and worried looking individuals hovered outside closed doors. Lynda studied their faces as she passed and wondered how many of them changed into bears at night.
Greg's father stopped in front of a door labeled, “Day room,” took a deep breath, and opened it.
Bli
nding light poured through the doorway, and Lynda shut her eyes. When she could bear the brilliance seeping through her lids, she cautiously opened them and stepped inside. Sunshine flooded through an enormous skylight. It reflected off the walls, bounced off the polished floor, and filled every corner of the room. Directly under the skylight, stood a king-sized bed. It had none of the handles, dials, or moveable rails that had adorned Lynda's bed at Michael Reese. No I.V. stand, no blood pressure apparatus, not even a thermometer broke the brilliant simplicity of the room.
Covered only with a thin cotton sheet, Greg lay motionless, bathed in sunlight.
“He's a boy again.” Mrs. Ursek stepped up to the bed and ran her fingers through Greg's hair. “And his shoulder looks fine.”
Lynda had remained by the doorway, but she could see that his right arm lay unscathed on top of the sheet.
A robust man with grizzled black hair hurried past Lynda into the room. The plastic tag on his rumpled scrubs read, “J. Lavar, MD.” He shook Mr. Ursek's hand and looked down a Greg. “As you see, the transformation was successful, but your son has yet to regain consciousness.”
Mrs. Ursek turned to the doctor. “What do we do now?”
“Why don't you join me in my office? We can discuss our options there.”
Waving Lynda closer to the bed, he handed her a small black box. “You're Greg's friend, eh? I'd like you to stay here with him. Press the button and speak into this intercom if you notice any change in his condition. Understand?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Bernard, Sue?
Following the Urseks out of the room, he smiled reassuringly at Lynda before letting the door swing shut behind him.
Lynda felt awkward and shy standing alone next to Greg. She reached down and stroked his hair the way his mother had. “I don't suppose I need to keep quiet. After all, the idea is to wake you up.”
She studied Greg's face, noting the hollows in his cheeks, tracing the line of his collarbone with her gaze. It seemed to Lynda, she could see every bone in his arm and wrist.
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