Without warning, Húnn reaches up and pulls me onto his lap. On his naked lap. Any other time I’d welcome that, but right now, I can’t enjoy it.
I wait until they’ve all sat down around me, then ask the big question.
“Have you ever killed? Not prey. People.”
As soon as I’ve said that, I could slap myself. Of course Ràn and Húnn have. Their father. Do the other two know?
“People you don’t know,” I add quickly to make it easier for them.
Torben growls. “Are the Fates accusing us of killing humans?”
“No…” I cringe. “But they want us to do it.”
“What?!” Finn jumps to his feet, outraged.
“Not humans. Shifters. The bear shifters that have gone rogue. If they are all gone, the Fates can allow cubs to be born again.”
“That’s idiotic,” Finn fumes, “if they want to kill people, they can get themselves assassins. Not us.”
“Yes, why us?” Torben asks. His frown is deeper than I’ve ever seen it – and believe me, Torben frowns a lot.
“Because we can give them a choice. Those shifters have an option: they can either choose one shape, human or bear, and stay in that forever, or they get killed.”
“How can they expect anyone to make such a decision?” Húnn asks in confusion. “If I chose to stay human, I’d condemn Pelja to a life of being trapped inside of me, never running free again. I could never do that to him.”
I’m beginning to wish one of the Fates was here to do the explaining. It’s as if I have to play devil’s advocate.
“They’re not like you, not like us,” I explain. “They don’t have their own bears. They’re both at the same time, which is why most of them are feral and crazy. But the Fates think that a few of them may be lucid enough to make a choice. So they want us to go there and find those shifters. They don’t want to kill them all if there’s a chance for a few of them to be saved. And if they take away their ability to shift, there will be no more babies.”
“Babies?” Ràn asks in confusion and I quickly tell them what the Fates told me about Van Deen.
There’s only silence after that. They’re all equally as speechless and just as horrified as I was when I heard the story about an hour ago.
“Van Deen is still alive as well,” I continue. “The Fates can’t reach him because he no longer has a thread. So that’s our task. But we can’t just kill him. That would kill Alis’s son, Arcas. We have to convince him to set Arcas free.”
Torben laughs mirthlessly. “Convince a lunatic to give up the source of his power? I think the Fates overestimate our abilities.”
I grimace. “They think that if he suddenly stands alone, without his shifter army, that he’ll give up.”
“Unlikely,” Torben grumbles and I agree. Van Deen doesn’t sound like someone who would simply capitulate.
“I guess the alternative is to capture him and hold him somewhere safe,” I think aloud. “Abandon him on an island, perhaps? But we’d have to make sure he survives. Alis would go mad if her son died, now that she knows he’s still alive.”
Alis? Did you hear that?
Still no reply.
“Alis hasn’t been speaking to me since we went through the Portal,” I tell the guys and they look at me with worry.
“Has that happened before?” Húnn asks.
“She generally leaves me alone when I’m… ehm… with one of you, or if she’s annoyed. But never when it’s important.”
“Think the Fates have something to do with that?”
I sigh. “I thought so at first, but now it’s clear that they need our help, why would they do that?”
Húnn puts his hands on my shoulders and starts to knead them. I sigh again, this time in contentment. If I’d known he could give massages like that, he’d be on shoulder duty every evening. Well, that’s what’s going to happen from now on. He just doesn’t know it yet. I’ve always wanted to have a personal masseur.
“I’m sure there’s a good explanation,” he says while working on a particularly tense spot on my neck. “Is it safe to ask them or will they see it as a weakness?”
“They can read our minds, I’m sure they know exactly what I’ve been thinking about. They probably know what we’re talking about just now, too.”
“Back to the killing thing,” Ràn says slowly. “I don’t think I could do it. Not unless you or one of us were threatened. That’s not what we do. These people... shifters... whatever, they didn’t choose to be like this. If they’ve done bad things, sure, they need to be brought to justice, but us going there and killing them randomly... no. No way.”
I nod. That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking. If the Fates know us so well, why would they suggest such a thing to us? They should know that we’re never going to do that.
“I agree,” Torben says in his deep voice. “I’m happy to go there and find that Van Deen guy, but I’m not going to kill any shifters. There’s too few of us already. Even if some of them are feral, there seem to be others who might be like us.”
“I’ve killed before,” Húnn half-whispers, before raising his voice. “But that was in defence of my brother. I’m not a brute. Those women might think that just because we’re shifters, we’re like animals. But we’re not. We have ethics, we have laws. In the shifter community, if someone breaks the law, they don’t get killed. They get a trial, they may go to prison or pay a fine, but we don’t have a death sentence. So why would we suddenly go against all our principles?”
“Seems like we’re all in agreement.” I’m relieved that they’re all saying what I’ve been thinking all along.
“But what do we do now?” Finn asks. “I’m sure the Fates would have come up with something else if there was another option?”
“Let’s ask them.”
I climb out of Húnn’s lap, but before I can reach the door, it opens and the three Fates enter. Of course they were listening in, what did I expect.
“Well, well, well,” Atropos smirks, “Beauty and the beasts have found each other again.”
Torben looks like he’s close to saying something, but he manages to stay quiet. But the struggle is real. How dare she call my men beasts!
“We’re not going to kill,” I say through clenched teeth. “You’ll need to find someone else for that. Or even better, do it yourself. I think you could do with some real-world experience.”
“Don’t you think that if we could leave this place, we’d have already done something?” Atropos asks furiously. “We’re trapped here and all we can do is watch.”
Oh. That explains a lot. Like why they sent Airlea rather than getting us themselves. Why they need a Portal on Inchbrach. One mystery less, so many more to go.
I can’t resist asking though, “How long have you been trapped in this house?”
Clotho shrugs, but I can’t help getting some sad vibes from her.
“Ever since our father cursed us to be the Fates.” She looks at her sisters questioningly. “Two millennia, maybe? It’s hard to keep track of time.”
Wow.
“Who looked after the threads before you?” I ask, unable to hide my curiosity. Let’s hope curiosity doesn’t kill the bear.
“The old Fates, of course,” Atropos says dismissively. “It’s a job description, not a name.”
So many questions... Who was their father? Why did he curse them? Who were those other Fates? If only we’d met them in different circumstances. I’m sure I could persuade them to tell me their story. If they’ve been unable to leave this house for two thousand years, they must be incredibly bored. It’s a miracle they’ve not gone crazy. Oh. Make that crazier.
“We won’t kill anyone in your name,” Torben announces, repeating what I already said. “We can try and capture Van Deen, but there will be no killing.”
Lachesis suddenly claps her hands, as if she’s applauding him.
“Well done. Seems you’re not beasts after all,” she laughs brightly,
showing her sparkling white teeth.
I glare at them when I realise what this means. “This was just a test? You never meant us to kill them?”
“We may be the Fates, but we’re not completely heartless,” Clotho says disapprovingly.
“You could have fooled me,” I mutter under my breath, gaining another stare from her.
Atropos steps forward and somehow, I know it’s not going to be good news, despite the fact that we won’t have to kill all those shifters.
“The ferals all have the same origin: Van Deen and Arcas,” she explains. “While his thread is no longer part of the fabric of the world, he still has one, and it’s wrapped around his children. Cut the thread and they’ll lose their ability to shift. They won’t be able to breed and we’ll be able to lift the ban preventing all shifters from reproducing.”
She pauses and I’m waiting for the bad bit. I’m pretty sure I can guess where this is going.
“There is only one way to do that. Kill Van Deen. Kill Arcas.”
Noooooooooooooooooooooo, Alis wails in my head and I instinctively put my hands over my ears. Not that it helps tune out my bear friend’s anguish.
Before I can do anything else, I feel my body shift and am pushed away into darkness.
Ten
Alis
They want to kill my son. My Arcas.
They’re going to die.
I will protect him with my life. I thought he was dead; I’m not going to lose him again.
I stand up, towering above them all. I’m stronger than them all, they stand no chance.
Arcas.
I remember him as a little baby, so delicate, so small.
Bear cubs are born blind and helpless; something I didn’t know before I had Arcas. How could I have, I was never in contact with bears until I was turned into one. He was so cute, so dependant on me. He had no teeth; a fact I was very grateful for when he suckled on my teats. All he did after he was born was yelp for attention and then suckle.
His voice was high pitched and immediately made me drop whatever I was doing. I learned how to pick him up with my teeth and carry him on my back when I was searching for food. I didn’t need much for myself, but I was worried my milk would run dry if I didn’t eat enough.
It took several months for him to become more active. His eyes opened and he began to move around, exploring the world. He was a very curious little cub and constantly got in trouble. Every day was a new adventure for him - and for me, trying to keep him safe.
We had three years together as mother bear and cub... then he shifted into a human child for the first time.
“Alis, calm down!” Torben shouts and I look down at him. He’s not shifted and neither have the others. Silly humans. I can squash them in a heartbeat. They’re threatening my son.
Wait, not them.
The Fates.
I turn to the three women in their lofty white robes and let out a bellowing roar. They don’t even flinch, which makes me even angrier.
I let myself drop to all fours, shaking the entire house.
Arcas is my son! I roar, sending the message mentally at the same time so they all understand me. You will not touch him!
I’m breathing hard and it takes all my willpower not to trash the place. Or the people.
They are threatening Arcas. They want to kill him.
Over my dead body.
I swipe my paw over the floor, leaving deep claw marks in the white wooden panels.
Promise me you won’t do it!
“It’s your son or the end of all bear shifters,” the black-haired bitch says coolly. “Would you take that upon yourself? That you caused their extinction?”
Yes! He’s my son! Kill me if you want, but not my son!
I want the shifters to keep existing. I want them to get babies again. I’d go through hell, torture, whatever to help them. But not my son. Everything but that.
He was the first shifter. They all owe him their lives.
“Is there no other way?” Torben asks the Fates, looking just as helpless as I feel. Yes, I’m angry, raging, but beneath all of that is helplessness and despair.
Can I really condemn them all to be the last of their kind? These men in front of me will never have children. Isla will never have a child, now that she’s one of them.
Isla.
I open my barriers a little, letting her in.
Are you okay? she asks, her mental voice wavering.
She’s so concerned. I’ve told her many times that she’s too compassionate, too weak, but right now, I’m almost grateful for her sympathy. She’s seen Arcas in my memories, she knows him at least a little. She will understand more than the others.
What would you do? I ask her, but I think I know the answer already. She doesn’t have any children yet, but she’s a women. It’s in her blood.
I’d let them die, she whispers. I’d never let my son be killed if I could help it. I’d die for him. And I’ll be with you, no matter what you decide to do.
Even if that means you’ll never have children of your own?
She chuckles sadly. You think I’d sacrifice Arcas for hypothetical children I might never have?
No, I’d never think that, and she knows it. I’m just trying to show that she’s one of them, that I can hate her, hate them all, blame them all, kill them all.
My feral side is bubbling to the surface and I’m having a hard time reigning it in. Just because I’m a bear doesn’t mean I need to behave like a beast. It was Arcas, actually, who helped me with that. After I’d been turned and adjusted to having four paws instead of hands, I went on a bit of a wild rampage. I enjoyed the freedom I suddenly had. I wasn’t a nice person... bear. I let myself go. Until I gave birth to Arcas and suddenly had someone to care for. He showed me that bears aren’t violent and angry. They can be mothers, gentle and protective. Holding him in my arms was the best thing I ever did.
Then he died and I thought I never would. But maybe there’s still hope. I might yet get to see him again. Smell his scent. Lick his fur.
I claw the floor in frustration. The Fates are watching me, almost as if they’re bored. The four men seem more concerned, but they’re staying back, knowing that I’m unpredictable in my rage.
“You could try and persuade Van Deen to willingly separate himself from the bear,” Lachesis answers Torben’s question, which I had almost forgotten about. “But that’s very unlikely. He’s one of the most selfish and power-hungry men I’ve ever seen.”
I roar in anger. That man is going to die. Slowly. I imagine carving up his body until his entrails fall out onto the ground. Then ripping out his throat, watching as he drowns in his own blood.
He has done so much harm. To my son, to all those women he raped, to the people he brainwashed, to his own children. I can’t believe I didn’t know about it. Before I merged with Isla, I watched the bear shifters, but I never imagined to look for one who was a human originally. If I ever saw one of his shifter children, I may have just assumed it was one of the original shifter families who’d moved away.
But what now?
I growl. It helps with venting my frustration, but nothing more. Standing here, clawing the floor, won’t do any good.
Lachesis said we could try and persuade him. Maybe we can trick him somehow. Bribe him. Threaten him.
But I know the chances of succeeding are miniscule. We’d need an extraordinary amount of luck.
Alis, can we shift back? Isla asks hesitantly. I’d like to talk to the guys.
I shake my fur, relishing in the movement. I like being a bear. It’s freeing, despite my size. But Isla has a point, she won’t be able to talk while we’re shifted, and she seems to be better at doing the whole diplomacy thing. Maybe the Fates will be more likely to help her than they would me.
I’m not sure I still have a thread they can manipulate. Maybe that’s why they don’t seem to like me much. The way Atropos is looking at me... but then, she was just as impolite to Isla, an
d my girl is one of the nicest humans I know. No-longer-humans, I mean.
With a sigh, I let go of my bear form and let Isla take over. She does it with practice and elegance and even manages to look confident when she notices that the robe she was wearing is now lying in pieces on the floor.
Sorry, I mutter, and she gives me a mental smile in return.
“Arcas is not going to die,” she tells the Fates and her men, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Good girl.
“But I imagine he may choose to do so, if he learns what his death could do.”
No! What are you doing, Isla? I shout at her.
“I’m wanting to give him a choice,” she says aloud. “If it was me, I’d gladly die to save the bear shifters. I’m one of you now and I care about you. I don’t want bear shifters to stop existing... it would be a very sad world without them.”
I wonder what Arcas would decide. I’ve not seen him in so long... the young man I knew would sacrifice himself without a second’s thought. He was so selfless... Isla reminds me of him. But maybe he’s changed. He’s been a prisoner of Van Deen for over a hundred years now. That must have had some sort of effect on him. Maybe he’s become like his abuser? Stockholm effect? Or maybe he’s filled with hate for all bear shifters, unable to distinguish between the good and the bad?
Oh my Arcas. I wish I could have protected you. I wish I’d known that you weren’t dead. I’d turn heaven and Earth just to get you back. I would have gone to Zeus, to other Gods, begged them to give you back to me.
But now it’s too late and I’m terribly afraid for you. For me. For all of us.
Eleven
Clotho helpfully hands me a new robe – don’t ask me where she suddenly got it from – and I wrap myself in the soft fabric, glad I’m no longer standing here naked. In the one or two werewolf books I read, they never had to deal with that problem. If only the bear shifter magic had thought of shifting clothes along with the bodies.
“What happens if Arcas decides he wants to live?” Lachesis asks and I’m tempted to throw something at her. Alis is still raging and I’m worried she’ll shift us again if she becomes too angry. Even though shifting doesn’t hurt, it gets exhausting if done too many times in one day.
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