by Ava Frost
Determined she headed outside to find this so called shower, which wasn’t hard to spot. It looked like one of those military showers they erect in the desert for soldiers. Maybe if she followed the water pipes she could find out how to warm the water and at least be a little bit independent. She placed her clothes and toiletries on top of her towel on a steel drum that stood next to the shower and walked along the side of the cabin following the pipes that led away from the shower.
“The water is ready,” Oron spoke behind her suddenly, causing her to jump.
“Oh my god, do you always sneak up on people?” she muttered.
“I wasn’t sneaking up, I went for a run and thought I’d save you the trouble of trying to figure out how the shower works,” he said with a smirk.
Alison realized that she was overly zealous and rude, considering she slept with him the night before, and she forced herself to calm down.
“Thank you,” she smiled.
This was far more awkward than she had anticipated. They looked like two Albatrosses doing a mating dance, neither one knowing how to handle the other. It was Oron who finally stepped in and bent down to kiss her. As unexpected as it was, and as much as she didn’t want to get involved, her body told a different story. She half leaned in and lost herself in that single peck, but before she allowed it to go any further, she pulled away and blushed.
“I think I need a cold shower,” she laughed embarrassingly and Oron chuckled.
“I’ll leave you to it. I’ll make you some breakfast, and then I need to head to town.”
She was curious to know what he was going to do in town, she was even more interested in what he did for a living, and why he was so comfortable walking around naked. But instead of asking him, she smiled and turned to enter the shower as he went inside.
The water wasn’t hot, but it was pleasant enough and for a while she simply stood under the spray, trying to clear her mind.
*******
Oron thought it best to give Alison some privacy, she looked a bit out of sorts when she came outside, but he didn’t quite expect her to meet him with open arms. It was just as awkward for him to know that he had technically been stalking her for the past year, and now she so willingly gave herself to him. But he was wise enough to know that it was a thing of the moment. Naturally he wouldn’t mind a repeat of the previous night, but he wasn’t going to push his luck.
He was halfway to town when Maurice contacted him telepathically. He was just like him, a werebear, which was just about the only thing they had in common. Where he was more of a recluse who avoided confrontations with humans as much as he could, Maurice embraced his human side; but it hadn’t always been that way. Maurice used to be a Ronul, a chosen warrior assigned to hunting shapeshifters. There had been no other Ronul as dedicated as Maurice. That was until he met Elvira, who happened to be a shapeshifter. It had been an instant match and he was smitten with her from the moment he saw her. But fate was not on his side. Elvira got caught in the crossfire and was fatally wounded by one of the other Ronul hunters. That was what finally broke him, he was devastated and angry, he wanted revenge, but the only way he would ever be able to execute his vengeance was to become what the Ronul’s hated most. By his actions he declared war. As Elvira lay in a pool of her own blood, gasping for her last breath of air, Maurice begged her to change him and with her last breath, she bit into his arm, and infected him and he became one of the most feared shifters in history. But as time passed, and the line between reality and myth became blurred. The Ronul’s disappeared, giving up the fight to rid the earth of the mongrels of the world. Slowly shapeshifters started to blend into society, and soon enough the fear of the unknown creatures that lurked in the dark was replaced by a fear for high-carb foods and high priced cell phone bills. In order to keep hidden, shapeshifters no longer moved in packs. On the odd occasion where there were more than five shapeshifters in town, things quickly got out of hand. At least it was only the two of them here in Big Bear.
Oron entered the diner and headed to the door that led into the back-office. Maurice didn’t call him often, but when he did, he meant business.
“We have a problem,” Maurice muttered under his breath and locked the door.
“What is it?” Oron asked, following Maurice’s every move. He was agitated and Oron had the feeling that things were about to get very ugly, very fast.
“It’s Alison…”
Oron’s insides twisted into a tight knot, “What about her?”
“Well, actually it’s her ex. He has the Ronul crest tattooed on the inside of his wrist.”
That made Oron snap to attention, “Are you sure?”
“Goddammit man, I’m not blind, I know what I saw.”
It was impossible, the Ronul’s had been gone for over eighty years, almost a century, and there was no way that Alison’s ex would be part of such a secret organization.
“You sure it’s not just a normal tattoo that looks like it?”
Maurice growled a low but audible growl and bore forward, “I would recognize that crest anywhere.”
This was all too much of a coincidence, he thought as he dragged his hand through his hair. With Alison arriving in Big Bear, her ex who may very well be a Ronul arriving a year later and his own obsession with the woman, who, right this minute, was probably ransacking his house for food or evidence to prove what he was…
His beast ground his thoughts to a halt–‘she is ours’–it claimed almost immediately, defending her honor, but Oron knew that his bear was thinking with its hormones right now. If by any chance, Alison was in cahoots with her ex in trying to expose his true identity, there would be hell to pay.
“Just calm down for a second, we don’t even know if he’s here to seek us out, or if he’s just here by chance,” Oron said, his brows drawn together.
“Well fuck, I don’t know. All I know is that I saw what I saw, and whatever his purpose is, it can change at any moment if he finds out about us.”
With one hand on his hip, the other over his mouth, he paced up and down, trying to put one and one together. It made no sense, if he was a true Ronul, he would not have exposed his identity, unless he wasn’t aware of them. Or, he did it deliberately to draw them out. The thought of Alison being the bait to lure them into his trap, also didn’t fit. She was genuinely scared of him, and the fact that she had gone to such extremes to escape him, could only mean that she had no part in this. He was also a hundred percent sure that she had no tattoos on her body.
“Let’s take a moment. I really don’t think he’s here for us, it’s mere chance that he ended up here. Even Alison was shocked to see him, so if we play it safe, he will be out of our hair in no time.”
“I hope so, for his sake and everyone else here in Big Bear,” Maurice said as he slumped down in his chair behind the rickety desk.
Chapter 8
Oron had the feeling that Gareth wasn’t in town for the purpose Maurice suspected, he was there for Alison, maybe not initially, but now that he knew where she was, it wasn’t likely that he would just walk away. The thought alone made him raging mad, but for the sake of secrecy he couldn’t react on his baser instincts. He spent most of the morning at the diner, like every other day when Alison was there, but this time it was to keep tabs on the tourists that filtered into Big Bear. As soon as he had his first cup of coffee, the door to the diner swung open with a loud crash, and an intoxicated Gareth stumbled into the establishment, causing everyone to stop what they were doing. Patrons paused with food halfway to their mouths while others put down their cutlery and readied themselves just in case shit really hit the fan.
Oron looked over to where Maurice stood, drying a tumbler and then turned his attention on Gareth.
“Where’s the waitress?!” he slurred.
Not a single soul answered him and his agitation escalated, “Where the fuck is Marjorie?!” He demanded again, this time shoving one of the chairs out of the way as he stumbled towards the
counter.
Maurice was the epitome of calm as he placed the tumbler on the shelf and flung the towel over his shoulder.
“It’s her week off,” he said blankly.
“Bullshit! I know you’re hiding her!” Gareth ground out right in Maurice’s face.
“Look fella,” Maurice said calmly, “You’re doing no one any favors, Al - Marjorie,” he corrected himself, “… is not here today, and she will not be here tomorrow.”
Gareth swung around on his heels, barely keeping his balance and waved his hand haphazardly through the air, “I know what’s going on here! You dickheads can’t tell me a thing! That bitch is mine, and I’m here to take her home.”
Oron fought to contain himself, but that last statement had his beast up in arms. He slowly rose from the chair, deliberately scraping it across the floor. Standing up, he was much taller than Gareth, and Gareth’s lank pop star build would be a pushover for Oron. When Maurice stepped forward, he gave him one look and the older man stepped back. Gareth was still swinging around and insulting customers when Oron walked up to him. He looked him dead in the eye as he shifted past him, chest to chest.
They glared at each other, neither one saying a word, but Oron could smell the fear in his opposition. He looked down at the man and then remarked, “Nice tattoo.”
Those two words had clearly surprised Gareth as he stumbled back, “What tattoo?”
Oron tilted his head to the side and pointed, “That one, on the inside of your wrist.”
Gareth looked down at this wrist and then looked up and then down again as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
“What the fuck?” he exclaimed, “Who the fuck did this!”
His so called girlfriend backed away from him and her eyes darted around rather frantically as if she was looking for the quickest escape route. His reaction to the tattoo confirmed Oron’s suspicion about the fact that his visit here had not been intentional, and more so, Gareth had no knowledge of shifters. Oron smirked and shook his head before nodding at Maurice and exiting the restaurant. Just as he went to cross the road to his truck, Gareth came stumbling out of the restaurant, practically dragging the girl with him. Naturally he wanted to be the knight in shining armor, to save the damsel in distress, but his gut told him not to get involved. Following short on their heels was a guy Oron hadn’t noticed before, and this one made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The man didn’t bother to look at him, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was a Ronul, everything about him radiated animosity and hatred, and chance were that Gareth would soon find out how the tattoo appeared on his wrist.
As he got to his truck, and turned around, Maurice was standing in the entrance of the restaurant, and Oron nodded, he knew what he had to do.
The time had come, once again, for them to run or hide. Neither option seemed desirable at this point, but hiding, was right now, the most plausible choice. At least he would be hiding with Alison, instead of running without her.
*******
Somewhere in a motel room…
“What the fuck do you mean; it’s just how it is?”
“The tattoo only appears in the presence of shifters.”
“Stop talking in riddles, what shifters, what does it actually fucking mean?”
Gareth gripped the back of the girl’s head and pushed it down into his lap again, groaning as she took his cock in her mouth.
“Werewolves, werebears, you name it. They are all very much real and the fact that the tattoo appeared on both our wrists can only mean one thing.”
Gareth’s cock grew limp, and he booted the girl away, ordering her to get dressed and get out. None of this made any sense. Shifters or shape shifters and vampires are some old wives tales. He zipped up his jeans and dragged his hands through his hair, waiting for the girl to exit the motel room.
“Okay so let me get this straight, we are what exactly?”
Dax was an older, seemingly, much wiser man, with gray hair and bushy brows that made him look like Santa Clause… with a drug addiction, but if anyone knew what all of this meant, it was him. It wasn’t just pure chance that brought him out to Big Bear Lake, it was his instincts. A few months prior, he travelled through this region on his motorbike along with his crew, when he noticed the same tattoo on his wrist. He had known exactly what it represented since his father had been a Ronul as had his father before him and his father before. In Dax’s case the Ronul curse had been passed on from generation to generation and each Ronul leader ultimately recruited his own hunters as and how he deemed necessary. In Gareth’s case, it was simple, and he had his slutty wench to thank for that. She too was a Ronul, but women hardly ever fought against the shape shifters. They were mere concubines to keep the Ronul warriors happy, but since the curse ran in her blood too, all she had to do was make sure he fucked her, and that was that.
“We’re Ronul warriors, shape shifter hunters, and our purpose is to cleanse the earth of those beings that do not belong here. Gareth dug in his shirt pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes, lighting one up and pulling the smoke deep into his lungs before exhaling.
“This is a load of crock,” he muttered and Dax balled his fists.
“Tell that to the werewolves or werebears that live here in Big Bear,” Dax said blankly and walked over to the window. “The challenge is to figure out where or who they are. Over the years they have managed to blend in with the humans, finding them is near impossible.”
Dax explained the Ronul curse to Gareth in detail and what was expected from him. He had to forget the fact that his ex was in town, and focus on the bigger problem, finding the shifters. But Gareth wasn’t going to give up that easily. He was determined to find Marjorie and show her exactly what he is capable of.
Chapter 9
Alison had spent all day at the cabin, with nothing but books to keep her occupied. She attempted to read the old book again, but gave up since the English dialect made no sense to her. Here and there she could make out a word or two, but it was like a German trying to understand Dutch. By midday there was still no sign of Oron, she was both relieved and irritated. Relieved because there was no temptation, and irritated because she wanted the temptation. It was as confusing as hell. After digging around, looking at everything she could get her hands on, more out or boredom than curiosity, she ventured outside and walked around to the back of the cabin. She had seen a hatch out back that seems to lead down to a basement, but to her disappointment it was locked. She worried her lip, contemplating what to do, she could go and find a key, or she could leave it locked up, as it was clearly intended to remain. She had no right to dig around in Oron’s stuff, after all, he had opened his home to her, and now she was turning into a real snoop; trying to find something that would make her hate him enough to forget him.
“Yeah… no,” she mumbled to herself and headed back inside. Her curiosity was like a demon, tempting her to break the rules. Something that securely locked up must hold many secrets. She rummaged through the drawers in the kitchen and searched in every nook and cranny for the key to the basement, but she couldn’t find anything. The only other possibility as that Oron had the keys on him. There was one last place she hadn’t checked, under the mattress. Half expectant, she lifted the mattress and held her breath, but disappointment washed over her. No key.
A noise behind her alerted her, and she dropped the mattress and spun around.
“The basement is off limits,” was all Oron had to say.
Confused, by the fact that he knew what she was looking for she frowned, “How did you know I was lo….”
“I saw you outside,” he mumbled.
Okay well that made sense, but surely she would have heard the truck, she thought, but she had other things on her mind. An off limits basement is like telling a child not to open the cookie jar… now she was even more curious.
“Why is it off limits?” she asked outright.
“Because it is,” he said flatly and dr
opped two paper bags on the counter top, “I brought some supplies; we might have to lay low for a while longer.”
She was all for laying low, but what she didn’t understand was why Oron referred to them both having to hide. Unless he had a run in with Gareth, there was no reason for him to share in her miserable life. Not that she minded his company.
“Did you see him?” she asked as she dug in the bags.
Oron nodded, but didn’t say a word.
“Well, what was he like?”
“Look Alison, I want to tell you what’s going on, but it’s a bit over the top and you won’t understand. Gareth is…” he paused and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’ll show you the basement.”
Surprised she followed him out to the locked basement doors, but instead of curiosity she suddenly felt very nervous. The thought of him turning out to be Hannibal Lecter wasn’t too far from her mind. He unlocked the doors, opened one side only, and entered. Waiting a few steps down before turning back to her.
“You want to see this or not?”
She blinked and mentally shook her head, then followed him. She half expected whips and chains, but instead, the walls were lined with shelves, and fine articulately designed model boats and ships made of wood. Scaled replicas of the real thing stood impressively all over and then she started to laugh.
“This is your big secret?”
Oron cleared his throat, “This is all there is, so no, no whips and chains.”