Chapter 8
Most of the building’s inhabitants were asleep, but Mr. Baldner knew the one on patrol by name as well as a few who were lounging more than dozing.
“Ethan, this is Margaret. She’s my son’s girl.
He’s the one over there in the wheelchair.
He shifted for the first time last night, and I’m bringing them into the clan. ”
Margaret felt awkward greeting people in bear and human forms alike, but she had little choice in the matter as Mr. Baldner kept showing her off like a proud papa.
The humans were difficult because she wasn’t technically Gary’s girl and there was no way to politely argue as Mr. Baldner just bowled right over her.
With the bears…it was just weird. At least at first.
Mr. Baldner introduced her in exactly the same way as if she were talking to a human.
Every time, after he finished, the huge creature would sniff her like a dog—not exactly in her crotch, but close.
Then it would stretch up and lick her face.
The polite ones would just give her hand a quick swipe with their tongues; the playful ones would go for her face or her neck.
The first time startled her, but the rest of them had her giggling, her awkwardness fading.
These were, she told herself, just people in very realistic bear suits.
And they were hugely welcoming even though she wasn’t a shifter. Apparently anyone in on the secret was one of the family.
The meet-and-greet would have been fun if her asthma hadn’t kicked in: allergies, she realized, and she didn’t have her inhaler.
She’d managed to change clothes before they drove here but had accidently left her medication at home.
Still, it wasn’t a serious problem. She wasn’t wheezing yet—there was just a tiny tightening of her chest—and so she ignored it. She’d get her inhaler soon enough.
“You’re not as afraid now,” Mr. Baldner said.
“What?”
He tapped his nose. “Shifters can smell fear. You were frightened there for a bit, and I can tell it’s easing.” He paused. “We’re mostly good people, you know. And most of us haven’t lost control since we were teens. The water—”
“What?” She started, her head full of images of teenage grizzlies running wild at the mall or getting drunk in a backyard. Sure, the images were funny, but people could get hurt.
Mr. Baldner patted her hand. “It happens. All those hormones make us go crazy, especially those in the city. Young bears need a place to run. So, we try to catch shifters early, identify them if they don’t know who they are.
And our own kids spend lots of time at Gladwin State Park.
Got a bear clan there who trains our young and does a monthly run—more if you need it.
It’s good fun and burns off the pent up energy.
Others of us go to the UP, but it’s more dangerous there. ”
“In the UP?”
“Hunters,” Mr. Baldner explained. “We look the same as normal bears, and a bullet kills us just as dead.”
“Why didn’t you teach Gary?” It would have been so much easier on him if he’d known.
Mr. Baldner looked at the floor. “His mother made me promise not to. Said she’d take him away if I did. I gave plenty of hints, but I couldn’t show him until now.”
Margaret’s eyes found Gary. He was still talking on the phone, and she recognized that expression: his game face. His jaw was firm, his eyes bright, and he was flexing his fingers. He wanted to shift again, even at the risk of destroying his brain.
Mr. Baldner followed the direction of her gaze. “As soon as things get settled here, I’m going to take him to Gladwin. Big thing in a shifter’s life, that first run with your child. Been waiting for it since the day he was born.”
She saw the sheen of emotion in Gary’s father’s eyes and wondered what it would be like to never share your true self with your child. If it weren’t for the tainted water, Mr. Baldner never would have.
“You could come,” he suggested. “See us when we’re having fun. There’s lots of families, and only half of us actually shift. It’s a big picnic.”
“I’d like that,” Margaret said. Odd, how last night she’d been so frightened. Twelve hours later she was thinking about having a picnic with these people. “I’ll try not to make Yogi Bear jokes.”
“Go ahead, we’ve heard them all,” he laughed. Then Mr. Baldner jutted his chin toward Gary. “He’s off the phone.”
She saw he was right. Grabbing his arm, she brought him around to face her. “I know you want this for him, and so do I. We all want him to get his legs back. But safely.”
Mr. Baldner paused then shook his head. “There is no real safety in this world. It’s all risk, and my son has the right to choose which ones he takes.”
Philosophy? He was talking philosophy when his son’s brain was at stake? “Okay, fine, but there are stupid risks. He wants to shift again right away, but you know how tired he is.”
Mr. Baldner’s narrowed as he watched Gary. “Seems okay to me.”
“He’s yawned at least six times in the last ten minutes. And see how he’s squeezing the armrests of his chair? He does that to stay awake. You said it takes a lot of energy to shift.”
Mr. Baldner grunted. “Wipes a man out, usually for days. Especially the first shift.”
“And he just shifted last night!” Margaret gripped Mr. Baldner’s arm. “I know we can’t stop him from drinking more of that poison, but tell him to get some rest first. Tell him to wait.”
Mr. Baldner was silent a long time, so long that she thought he wasn’t going to answer. In the end, he gave another grunt. This one sounded more affirmative, but how the hell was she supposed to know?
“I’ll help,” he said. “But I’m not the one who will convince him.”
“Of course you are. You’re his father.”
He chuckled and patted her hand—a paternalistic gesture she liked that she’d never received from her own father. It gave her a warm feeling in her belly that helped soften the next words.
“Only one person can turn a man from a course he’s hell-bent on pursuing. The woman he loves.”
Margaret snorted, but inside those words hurt. Even if Gary did love her, she wasn’t the right woman for him. “I just want him to wait until he’s stronger. He’ll listen to you. He’s a man of logic who doesn’t decide anything on an emotional level.”
“Mmmhm.” Mr. Baldner’s tone was skeptical. “Gary’s mother always got what she wanted. She’s my mate, pure and simple. Only reason we divorced is because she asked. I would have kept trying until the end of time.”
Margaret sighed. She didn’t like where this conversation was going. She wasn’t wired to give Gary what he deserved, and she didn’t want other people to think she could. The fact that she loved him had nothing to do with anything. She couldn’t make him happy.
“Mr. Baldner, you know—”
“Let’s cut to the chase. I know my son loves you. It’s in his face every time he looks at you. The question is, do you love him back? I thought so, but…if you don’t, best cut ties here.”
She exhaled loudly, both angry and sad. “I thought guys were the ones who got asked about their intentions.”
Mr. Baldner gave a snort. “Guy, girl… I’m a parent, so I worry about my kid. Besides, shifters are remarkably egalitarian. Comes from the fact that females are just as deadly as males—deadlier if there’s young involved.”
Gary rolled up, cutting off the conversation. His greeting was warm, but his gaze kept straying to Vic, who was sitting on top of a desk, still talking into his phone.
“So,” Margaret said when he remained quiet.
His gaze jumped to her. “I’m doing it.”
No kidding.
“Dr. Sherilyn said what Dad did. When shifters come back to human form, they revert to a mental image of themselves. In my case, that might be from before my accident.” He shrugged and grimaced. “I still think of myself with working legs. In my dreams, at least.”
Margaret frowned. “You’ve already shifted once. Could she explain why you didn’t immediately walk? How you could feel things then couldn’t?”
He shook his head. “No. That’s the confusing part. It may take a couple shifts, or it may be that my mental picture is still in flux. Part of me thinks I’m able to walk, part of me doesn’t.”
She remembered how he’d looked last night after collapsing, the thick muscles in his legs and his tight bottom. He’d looked like an athlete. “You played basketball at the University of Michigan, didn’t you?”
“On the club team, yes. It was how I blew off steam. And I want to play again.” He stared at her.
“Dr. Sherilyn thinks the more I shift, the more I can reform those nerve endings. But I have to do it soon if it’s ever going to work.
This is a now-or-never thing. Something about nerves, energy, and the cumulative effect of magic.
” He stopped speaking as his gaze slid back to Vic, who held up a finger in a just-a-minute gesture.
Mr. Baldner spoke up. “It’s a risk, son, but I trust Dr. Sherilyn.”
Gary glanced at him. “She said you guys have some concentrated serum? She created it after the first wave of the Detroit Flu using notes from a cougar shifter. She sent it before the quarantine so that the Griz could compare it to what’s in the water.
” His knuckles were white on the arms of his wheelchair.
“She thinks I will shift again if I inject it straight into my blood.”
Margaret gasped. “You want to inject a concentrated poison?”
“It’s a serum, not poison,” Gary argued, though that made no sense to her. “And if it works…”
“What if it fries your brain?” She took a breath, feeling her asthma increase from the stress. “Did you also tell her how tired you are? Did you discuss how much of a strain shifting is on a body?”
He gave her an irritated look. “Yes. She said it’s a miracle I’m awake given that my first shift was last night and me to rest up before I did it again. And to make sure there’s people around to help if it goes bad. But that was obvious!”