Coveted by the Bear

  Angus shoved me forward, and I hesitated just a second to determine if he was going to shoot me in the back. It wasn’t his style. Too fast. Too painless. I ran straight for the north side of Caleb’s property. I ran for my haunted woods.

  One mile, give or take. That was the distance between where my feet beat furiously at the ground and my house, full of all my favorite weapons. I was no match for the dog, true. But these were my woods. I knew them like the back of my hand, and using them was my best shot at getting help for Caleb.

  I ran for my life. Low-lying limbs struck my face and arms, stinging my skin. They only made me run faster. I lost track of time, but Brutus would be coming for me soon. My knees buckled as I skidded to a stop. A quick glance around and I circled the area in panic. For lack of anything else, I wrenched a handful of my hair out and threw it across a bush before I grabbed a tree branch and swung myself over a pile of brambles. No sooner did my feet hit the ground then I was sprinting again. It wouldn’t slow Brutus down for long, but even seconds could make a difference.

  I viciously ripped a small branch off a tree and kept running. Stabbing it into the palm of my hand, I clenched my teeth against the pain, then smeared the trickling blood onto trees and brush farther off my trail. I tossed the bloodied branch in the opposite direction just as the demon dog bayed. He’d caught my scent somewhere down the hill.

  A gasp escaped my lips as I ruthlessly shoved dirt into the wound to stop the bleeding. He was coming, and when I glanced behind me, I could see his dark body moving with violent intent toward me. Just when I thought he would catch me, a flurry of movement burst from the thicket. I watched the snarling ball of gnashing teeth for a moment before I realized what was happening. Brady, my loyal, mangy mutt was risking his life to give me time. I grabbed a stick to help him but a shot fired and ricocheted off a rock beside me. Angus was too close, and I hadn’t a chance at pulling the dogs apart. I wouldn’t waste the time Brady was trying to give me.

  I ran.

  I bolted for the old tool shed. From the sounds of Brutus’s howls, the house was too far away to make it before he was on me. I flung the storage door open and squinted through the dusty dark. My hands searched frantically and fell onto the cold metal of the weapon that would have to do.

  Brutus was so close. Angus’s taunts reached out for me like black, snaking tendrils.

  There was a short wooden fence that backed to the shed and an old overturned wagon on the other side, which effectively created a bottleneck. I would be trapped, and if my plan didn’t work, I’d die and so would Caleb. Couldn’t think like that right now, though. It just had to work.

  Prying the ancient metal trap open wasn’t easy. My hands were sweating and bloody, and I had to use my foot as leverage to keep it open while I put the pin in. A vision of it clamping down on me was my only company. I kicked dry leaves over the trap and reopened my hand with a loose nail that jutted out from the fence. A long line of red dripped over the trap as long as I dared before I cowered as far against the fence as I could, clutching my throbbing hand to my chest.

  Brutus’s eyes shined eerily, and he growled, deep in his throat. The game had come to an end. He would get his reward, and he slowed like he was savoring his victory. Stepping into the entrance of my trap, he stopped, perhaps sensing the danger. He paced and sniffed the ground suspiciously. A wave of panic overcame me that my plan would fail, and I looked frantically for a way to escape my self-made prison. Brutus sniffed the air, likely encouraged with the scent of my fear, and stepped forward, nose down. I jumped as the trap closed loudly around the dog’s legs. He bayed a yelp that echoed through my woods.

  I covered my mouth with my hand and allowed a sob as I edged around the snarling, snapping animal, still intent on my demise over the pain it was in. The house was in sight, and my screaming muscles protested moving again. My body shook from shock. My feet were bloody and swollen but Angus was so close, I could hear him.

  “I didn’t get a chance to see the necklace I made for you all healed up,” he said, emerging from a thicket. “I bet it looks nice on you, Mira.”

  I wanted to wretch at such a soulless compliment. Caleb was running out of time and adrenaline was still feeding my blood with desperation to save him, so I bolted for the barn. The house was too far but the barn was a maybe. I flung myself over the fence and limped to the shelter. The horses ran, white shades in the dark, and I whimpered with the realization that I was backed into the corner of the barn and out of weapons. I turned in a desperate circle, searching for anything I could use against him.

  “Hoo, hoo,” Angus sang softly as he leaned his rifle against the barn. “What a pretty little barn owl I’ve found. You killed my dog, you naughty little owl.”

  “You killed my dog, too,” I shot back.

  Angus paused and then chuckled. “Still crazy then, Mira? I never saw no dog. I was shooting at you. Missed on purpose, though. It’s more fun this way.”

  I reared back to hit him, but he grabbed my fist with an iron grip. My bones felt as if they were ground to dust, and I screamed at the blistering pain. Tears ran down the sides of my face as I clutched my ruined hand against my stomach.

  Angus wrapped slow hands around my throat and pressed me against the barn wall. “Your mother was a disappointment. Shooting her? I should have planned it differently. There is something…” Angus looked up at the sky, as if searching for the right word. “Sweeter, when you feel the life drain out of someone. A bullet robbed me of that high. I won’t be disappointed with you, though.” He leaned close to my ear and whispered, “You’ve done so well.”

  My legs flailed as he tightened his grip and lifted me off my feet. The wall behind me splintered but held. His bottomless, black eyes sparked with excitement when I kicked my feet. I made small croaking sounds as the corners of my vision blurred, and just as I thought it would be easier to give up, a figure lumbered toward us in the moonlight.

  Uncle Brady, back from the dead, stumbled slowly toward Angus’s back. He was a blood-covered zombie, and I tried desperately to hold on to consciousness. Not Uncle Brady, I realized as the figure drew closer. Caleb.

  He threw his head back, and an enormous grizzly bear exploded from him. I fought desperately to stay conscious. The bear padded closer, bigger than I thought possible. His muscles flexed and twitched with every graceful step, and though he walked with a deep limp, it didn’t seem to hinder him. His lips pulled back from impossibly long, sharp teeth as his muscles gathered under him.

  He was too late.

  I was slipping away and couldn’t hold on any longer. Angus frowned at my attention and looked behind him, just in time to see the twelve foot grizzly charge. We both fell hard. I crawled on my hands and knees, gasping for my life as a flurry of violent motion took up most of the space in the barn. Caleb sank his teeth into Angus’s throat and held on through my stepfather’s struggles. And eventually, Angus didn’t move anymore. Caleb had made sure he wouldn’t be turned and gifted with the power of an animal. He made sure he was dead—that he would never hurt me again.

  My throat felt swollen shut, and I couldn’t drag enough air into my lungs to give relief.

  I was panicking, scratching at my neck when Caleb changed back to his human form with a series of pops and a grunt of pain.

  “How?” I croaked out as he reached me.

  “I drove your truck over here. Breathe, Mira. Shh. Just relax and breathe. It’s all over. I called the police from down the road. They’ll be here any minute.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Mira

  Caleb passed out before help arrived. He looked pale, and his flesh was cold to the touch. I watched the precarious rise and fall of his chest like it was my salvation as I put all my weight onto the seeping wound on his leg with the cleanest saddle blanket I had found. The only things keeping him alive now were his bear and me.

  When they loaded him into the ambulance, Sheriff Clancy tried to strong-arm me out of the way.

/>   “No!” I screamed, sobs wracking my body. “I’m going with him.” I let my anguish show as I pleaded with the paramedics. “Please. He’s mine.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” a stout lady who worked furiously over Caleb’s body said. “She needs to go to the clinic, anyway. Let her in.”

  I hopped up behind the paramedics and gave Sheriff Clancy the finger. It hurt like hell on injured hands but the scowl on his face made it worth it.

  “I’m coming by for your official statement tonight, Fletcher. No leaving town,” he yelled as we sped away.

  A second ambulance passed us on the way out, probably to pick up Angus. They didn’t have a shot in hell at saving him. I’d seen what Caleb’s bear had done to his throat.

  A helicopter landed in a vacant lot behind the clinic, and Caleb was care lifted to a big hospital in the city. The nurse said the clinic wasn’t equipped for that kind of head trauma. I, however, was a perfect candidate for clinic medicine. Ruined hands and feet, twisted ankles, and lacerations over my face and arms. A swollen and bruised neck where perfect fingerprints could be seen. The deputy, Young, took pictures of my injuries before they cleaned me up. His brown eyes were sad and sympathetic, and he told me the pictures would help to build a case against the monster who did this to me.

  Numbness fell over me like a blanket. Without Caleb here to save, my reserves were spent. I didn’t talk, but my silence wasn’t the confused or traumatized kind like the first time when Angus had killed my mother. I was simply too tired to make conversation. The nurses tossed around worried glances and talked quietly outside the door before administering a sedative to help me sleep.

  Sadey showed up early the next morning just before the clinic discharged me. She somberly held out a bag of clothes and helped me dress.

  I was afraid of the answer so I stalled and pulled my hair back before I asked, “Is he okay?”

  Sadey shrugged and leaned against the thin clinic mattress, misery written over every tired feature. “He hasn’t woken up yet. They don’t know if he will. Said it’s just a waiting game now.”

  Bending, she slid flip-flops over my bandaged feet and pushed my wheelchair out to her waiting car. After I was tucked in and had waved the nurse away, Sadey sat in the driver’s seat, then grimly gripped the steering wheel. “Angus French is dead.” Sadey tilted her head and waited for a reaction from me that wouldn’t come.

  I didn’t know how to feel. Sorrow at the deepest betrayal from someone who was supposed to protect me? Anger with him, with the system that released him, with my fate? Relief over the death of someone I knew but hated?

  I stared blankly ahead and watched a mother tote two small children into the clinic. “Thanks for telling me.”

  “Mira? Are you okay?” Sadey’s eyelashes were wet with unshed tears.

  I tried to smile reassuringly but was pretty sure I failed. “If Caleb is okay, then I will be, too.” It was the best I could offer her.

  Sadey wiped her eyes with her fingertips and pulled out of the parking lot. “I talked to Opal this morning. She’s coming to visit you today at the big hospital while we wait for Caleb to wake up. Said she’s bringing you a slice of devil’s food cake in honor of your stepdaddy.”

  I snorted and covered my mouth with my gauzed hand. I wanted to laugh and cry and scream all at once.

  The waiting room of the hospital was filled with a thick, quiet somberness. Some people I recognized. Caleb’s family, one of the men who worked on the rig with him, Becca. The others I didn’t know. The man I cared for was beloved by a town that respected his family. A momentary panic hit me when I entered the room and all of those eyes slid to me. Did they blame me for their fallen hero? What did they think as I stood in front of them, bandaged and bruised, unable to hold any of their gazes?

  “Over here,” Caleb’s father said, waving his hand slightly to be seen over another row of seats.

  I smiled at Sadey. “It’s okay. You go sit with your family. I’ll go to the cafeteria or something.”

  Sadey’s eyebrows, just a shade darker than her blond hair, drew down. “He’s talking to you.”

  I glanced at Mr. McCreedy in question, and he gestured again. Sadey and I picked our way around people sitting on the floor, and he offered me his seat.

  “It’s all right. I’ll just sit on the floor if that’s okay.” I gestured with my bandaged hand to the comfortable expanse of purple and yellow printed carpet.

  Evan pulled his head out of his hands. “Mira, you look like shit. Sit down before you make everyone in here uncomfortable.” He stood and pressed my shoulder until I sat in his chair, then he took a seat on the carpet near me.

  The chairs were wide enough for two slim girls to fit in. “Sit by me?” I asked Sadey.

  When we were settled, Mr. McCreedy cleared his throat quietly. “I was mistaken about how much you meant to my son, Mira. He brought you to me for my approval, and I kept it from him. From you.”

  I stopped him, unable to stomach more. “Sir, you don’t have to apologize to me. You were trying to protect him in your own way. You’re a good father.”

  Mr. McCreedy’s breath hitched, and he rubbed a shaking hand through his graying hair. Sadey rushed to him and sat in his lap. “He’ll be okay, Dad. He’s tough.”

  In a move that shocked me into momentary stillness, Mr. McCreedy wrapped Sadey and me into a hug.

  I fluttered my hand lightly onto his back and searched for something to ease his worry. “You raised a strong boy, Mr. McCreedy. Caleb is very brave. He went through hell to save me. He’ll come back to us.” I hoped with an overwhelming desperation that the last part was true.

  Mr. McCreedy released us, then rubbed his hand over the stubble on his face and sniffed. “You guys hungry?”

  Sadey and I shook our heads, though by all rights, I should’ve been. I hadn’t eaten since the spaghetti dinner at Caleb’s house last night.

  “I’m starved,” Evan volunteered.

  “Brian? Emily?” Mr. McCreedy asked. “Let’s go to the cafeteria and grab some lunch. I need a breather.”

  A dark-headed woman, Emily, Caleb’s other sister, waved to me and introduced herself on the way out. She didn’t even treat me like a leper. Mr. McCreedy gave Joseph Reyes strict instructions to come find us the millisecond a doctor came with news. Outside of the waiting room, I inhaled deeply. It was much easier to breathe without half the town’s watchful eyes on me.

  A half a chicken sandwich, a cup of green Jell-O cubes, and a handful of pain pills later, and I felt much better physically. That could have been partly due to the pain meds. The next time I decided to go gallivanting through a mile of rough woods in the dead of night, I’d have to remind myself that normal people wore shoes.

  As we sat in the booth, full of hospital food and all exhausted from a long night, I took in the soft murmur of the McCreedy family. It was comfortable to be among them when Evan’s insults weren’t directed at me. Sadey braided my tangled hair and chimed in on the conversation about how they’d have to take shifts at the hospital when Evan and Mr. McCreedy would have to go back to work tomorrow. Was this what it was like to be part of a family? This feeling of belonging?

  My head snapped up when Joseph Reyes came jogging through the cafeteria, scanning the tables. “Joseph,” I hailed him.

  “He’s awake,” he said excitedly before he even reached us. “They’re allowing family only, but he asked for Mira to come in there, too.”

  “Oh, my God,” I murmured as the tears I’d been holding back spilled down my cheeks. He was alive, and now awake, and it dawned on me that we’d survived together. Overwhelmed, I squeezed back when Sadey grabbed my hand. A sob wrenched from me as the metal of my chair screeched against the tile floor. I followed Mr. McCreedy at a run down the hallway and up a flight of stairs. The others trailed just behind us.

  “You go on,” Caleb’s dad offered when we reached the door. “He wants to see you first. We’ll talk to his doctor and be in there
in a few minutes.”

  “Okay,” I whispered through trembling lips. Hurriedly, I wicked the moisture from my cheeks and took a long, steadying breath, then pushed open the door.

  Monitors beeped, and the room was cold and generic, drowning in clean white. Caleb lay on the bed, quiet and still as death. The small bandage on his head didn’t seem to do his injury justice, and the thin sheets lumped over his misshapen leg. He must have a cast. His closed eyes threatened to buckle my knees. I hadn’t realized how badly I wanted to see the vivid blue in his eyes until right now. I had to focus on the positives. The color in his cheeks was back, and he was cleaned up. His leg seemed to rest comfortably enough under the sheets, and his face was relaxed, as if he didn’t feel any pain.

  And he was alive.

  It could’ve been so much worse. I reached for his hand and smiled at the familiarity of his warm palm against mine.

  “Hey,” Caleb said in a hoarse whisper. “Come here.”

  I swallowed hard, fighting back tears of relief at the crooked smile I so loved on him. “Will I hurt you?”

  “Nah. I don’t think I’d feel anything right now,” he said with a chuckle.

  The bed creaked under my added weight, and he reached up to touch the side of my face. “Remember that time you saved me from Eli?”

  I nodded, unable to speak through the thick emotion that churned ceaselessly inside me.

  “Now I saved you back.”

  I huffed a laugh and wiped my eyes. I kissed his hand for a long time, trying to control my ragged emotions. He’d used these hands to bring me back to life. To fix my house and to hold me. To protect me. My vision blurred and warmth trickled down my cheeks as I dragged my gaze to his.