The Soul of a Bear Page 2

  My numbness, at the state of my apartment, died with that notion and I stomped over to Tommy and unceremoniously shoved my foot into his gut. He was so high he only expelled the slightest of grunts, and his reaction only fueled my anger. My shallow, heaving breaths, which were filled with the smell of what I now knew to be meth flew from my nostrils, and my blood roared in my ears to the beat of my furious heart. I reached down and grabbed my brother by the biceps, dragging him off the mattress and across the sharp, studded floor before he managed to gain some awareness.

  Tommy struggled weakly, probably not even realizing who I was, and I was just fine with that. When I dropped him, he fell to the floor, too weak to even push himself onto his hands and knees and I straddled him to send my fist into his face. Everything happened so fast; one moment I was rearing back my arm and next, the sound of his nose breaking was crackling through the air.

  That was when my brother really came to. His glazed eyes cleared, widening from a mix of pain and shock. I watched, speechless, as he slowly comprehended what was happening.

  “Y- you…” Small and scared, Tommy’s slurred declaration sent me into a further fury and I punched his face again with all of my strength. His scream echoed around the living room, and his struggling started in earnest.

  But, I wasn’t high as a kite, emaciated or tired - I was filled with rage.

  I tightened my thighs around Tommy’s torso, as he tried to wriggle away and I sent punch after punch into his face until he realized he should probably try to protect himself. When I grabbed his arms, my hands could wrap all around his forearms with a little extra finger length to spare, and I tucked his wrists under my knees. Every move I made was methodical, as if I beat people for a living and knew just where to hurt them the most.

  I didn’t, of course, but the stony silence that filled the space between my brain and skull allowed me enough thought to think that.

  Another shriek assaulted my ear drums, as the pressure of my body snapped my brother’s frail wrists, and I sent my fist at his mouth to shut him up. I sneered down at him and my expression reflected the angry thoughts swirling around in the red mist that blanketed my mind.

  My knuckles stung when I pulled back and I shook my hand vigorously, before Tommy choked on his own teeth. Heavy footsteps reverberated up my legs, and the sound of shouting breached the wall of what I could comprehend. I somehow managed to push myself to my feet. Fury caused every part of me to shake, trembling with the need for retribution, but the soft click of a gun being cocked caused the maelstrom in me to freeze. Ice spread out from my heart, engulfing everything from where, hair follicles should be, down to my toenails.

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, before turning to the pair of police officers that stood, shocked, in the doorway to the living room. Taking their hesitation as a moment to gather myself, I jerked my shoulders and flexed my fingers, rolling my wrists in preparation for the cuffs I would be wearing in just a few short minutes.

  Chapter Three: Paul

  “You called 9-1-1 on yourself for beating the crap out of your brother, who’s a drug addict, for gutting your apartment while you were on vacation … and you don’t want to press charges?” Taylor’s frown was big and bad, betraying the rest of her small, heart-shaped face, and I nodded firmly from behind the bars that separated us. Her displeasure was clear, but she worked for me, and we’d known each other long enough for her to realize that changing my mind wasn’t possible. “… Well, I guess it’s not too bad. You didn’t resist arrest, and this is your first offense… I’m sure that you’ll just get a slap on the wrist, Pauly.”

  “I need you to go start on some restraining order papers, against Tommy and the girlfriend, for Mom and me. I don’t care if the state goes after them; I just want them gone from my life.” Weariness laced my voice, and I leaned on the bars to duck my head. I started at my hands, frowning at the blood that still tainted my knuckles, where Tommy’s teeth had broken the skin. The episode felt surreal, but the cage around me proved I hadn’t been dreaming at the time.

  “I’m going to post bail as soon as you see the judge tomorrow, okay? Depending on who you get, you might even just be let go, given the circumstances.” I should’ve felt relieved, but there was nothing but exhaustion building up against my ribs. I didn’t try to keep the conversation going, just nodded wearily. There was nothing more to say, and after a few seconds, Taylor just wandered off. I watched her go, from under furrowed brows, and I couldn’t help but crack a hollow smile. She’d always been awkward, even in third grade when we’d first met.

  “That’s a wild story, man.” I twisted towards the husky, feminine voice, frowning deeply before catching sight of its owner. The woman, leaning on the bars with her arms hanging over the horizontal slate, grinned with a bright twinkle in her baby-blue eyes. “I still can’t get over the fact that you called the cops on yourself…”

  Musing, almost to herself, the woman sighed heavily, her smile fading the longer I kept quiet, wondering where this conversation could possibly go. Her slender, lithe body shuffled under black, comfortable-looking party clothes; leather pants and a crop top which gave me a good idea of why she was in the holding cell next to mine. I let the silence stretch, cocking my head slightly as I trained my gaze on her face, once again.

  “You seem awfully relaxed for someone who was arrested for getting into a bar fight.” Curiosity laced my voice, and I arched a brow when the woman flushed pale-pink. My suspicions were confirmed instantly, but she only flipped her long, board-straight, dirty blonde hair over her shoulder, to shrug carelessly. The action gave me the impression that she was trying not to show just how worried she really was, and my frown thinned out.

  “He touched my butt, after I told him not to. There was already an off-duty cop at the bar, so…” She let the explanation hang and rocked back on her sneakered heels to grip the bar with both hands. “Anyway, I’m McKayla - C.K. for short. I’m curious - why did you let your brother stay in your apartment, in the first place, if you don’t trust him?”

  “I guess … I just needed a reason to get him out of my life for good.” I stiffened, blinking slowly, as my own words echoed in my head; blurting out that particular explanation to a stranger - what the Hell was I thinking? But, it’s not a lie… I tore my eyes off McKayla and stared at the concrete floor, pursing my lips into a thin line.

  Maybe seeing my apartment like that, at the hands of my little brother, had finally stripped away whatever excuses I’d told myself before, to make things seem less bad than they were.

  “That’s not a bad thing, Paul. If he’s toxic, he shouldn’t be in your life - brother or not.” McKayla’s use of my name brought me out of my inner reflection and I glanced over at her, to find her shaking her head. “Take it from someone who knows how good it feels to separate from that, even though you’ll feel guilty at first.”

  “I don’t feel guilty.” I answered; heaving a sigh of my own and reached to scratch my five-o’clock shadow absently. My mind worked, trying to figure out why I was telling these things to her, but like so many other wonders, I didn’t have an answer. “I feel bad for my mom … she still thinks Tommy can pull through. I haven’t told her about this yet, though. I don’t know how she’ll take it.”

  “Paul -” McKayla’s call was firm and determined, and it drew my gaze once again. Her expression pulled and twisted with a wisdom that battled a sympathy I didn’t particularly want. “Believe it or not, there was a time when your mom lived without you and your brother.”

  McKayla didn’t seem to be able to finish anything she said, and she just closed her mouth and let me fill in the gaps she left behind. Frustration built in my chest and I snorted roughly, before pushing myself off the cell bars. I trudged to a bench where I dropped down heavily, leaning back against the cinder block wall that lined the opposite side. Her gaze followed ne intently, bordering on a glare, and she was frowning again when I glanced at her.

  “Is there a particular
reason you want to keep this going …?” I posed my question blandly, arching a brow, while McKayla’s expression scrunched and her eyes filled with confusion and annoyance.

  “You’re a bit of an asshole. I like that.” I rolled my eyes at that and didn’t bother to answer, McKayla shuffled loudly away from the bars, to the bench on the other side of her cell. Turning my gaze back to the floor, I clenched and flexed my fists absently as I finally tried to process what had happened today.

  Jon was going to lecture the shit out of me when he heard about all of this; I’d left his home only to get arrested, not an hour later.

  Not to mention what happened to my own apartment. My earlier declaration about moving out was biting me in the ass now. Not only would I have to pay my landlord for the damages but I’d also have to find a new place to stay until a damn biohazard team could come and clean up what my brother had left behind.

  White knuckle tension tightened my fists, and I blew out a hot breath at the thought of Tommy. I shook my head wildly and ground my teeth, forcing my mind to anything else.

  At least, now I can remodel. Mine was a sad resignation; I loved how my apartment had turned out. My landlord was so impressed that any work she needed done; she always came to me first. That led to a bunch of other residential connections and my business had nearly doubled, in the past two years, just because of where I’d decided to live.

  I had no doubt that the sweet, middle-aged lady would let me stay in the building after everything. Even the whole situation with the meth wasn’t a big problem for me and the units around me, if I got it all cleaned up properly.

  But months and months of work lay ahead, and even the simple fact that I could bill myself, and make a profit, wasn’t enough to ease the knots in my chest.

  “-Eah … it’s no big deal. I understand the situation completely, Taylor.” I frowned deeply under furrowed brows, lifting my head at the sound of the voices that came from around the corner. Taylor came skipping into view; all smiles, with the precinct chief behind her and I pushed myself to my feet with a grunt.

  “The lieutenant here was nice enough to release you, Paul.” Relief warred with surprise against my ribs, and I strode up to the door as keys jingled and rattled shrilly. The officer kept a straight face when he nodded at me, looking like he had much better things to do than keep me locked up.

  This part of the city wasn’t too bad on crime, but I’d bet money the man didn’t see any point in doing paperwork concerning my situation.

  “What happened to arraignment or whatever?” I wasn’t an idiot, but I knew very little about the court system, and Taylor snorted a laugh at my question. The cell door swung open, and I stepped out into lighter air that was easier to inhale. I watched Taylor cross her arms over her non-existent bust, as I raked my palms over my head, before stretching my arms high.

  “All you have to do is testify against Tommy about your apartment. You’re free; he goes to jail for drugs, grand theft, solicitation of stolen goods - yada yada - and you don’t have to worry about him for the next twelve-twenty years.” I froze at that and let out a rough groan, before sliding my hands down my face. This was exactly what I wanted to avoid, and Taylor knew it, if the way she sucked her teeth indignantly was any indication. “Don’t be like that, Paul. Tommy needs to get set straight, and jail is the only place he can go, where you won’t have to worry about him.”

  “You … have a point, I guess. What about the woman?” Honestly, I couldn’t have cared less, but everyone wanted to sweep this under the rug. I was plenty okay with going back to business as usual, and I rolled my shoulders before I felt an intent gaze boring into my back. When I blinked, McKayla’s sharp, blue eyes flashed against my lids, but I only shook my head hard before following the policeman out of the holding area.

  “Oh, she’s dead.” We’d rounded the corner; away from McKayla’s probing stare, before Taylor spoke up. For a moment, my brain couldn’t process my lawyer’s nonchalant statement, and I ducked my head in a nod.

  But, then, it hit me and I jerked slightly, and my gaze flew to Taylor. She only shrugged, her pristine, baby-blue blouse ruffling lightly and displacing the fact that we were talking about a dead girl.

  “Yeah- she’d overdosed before you got there. She was probably dead when you walked in the door. I would say ‘I’m sorry’, but… you know… Anyway, I’ve already requested DNA tests from the coroner to see if Tommy’s the baby’s father. It’ll take a while, but at least it’ll be a definitive answer.” Taylor might’ve been awkward when it came to casual conversation, but her lawyer-mode was akin to a night and day difference. I trained my gaze before me, pursing my lips tightly, as I contemplated what this could mean.

  I didn’t particularly care that the girl was dead; I didn’t even know her name, and I certainly didn’t like her when she was alive.

  But my mom wouldn’t take this well at all.

  Chapter Four: McKayla

  Ignoring the hot glare on my back, I strutted out of the courthouse with heavy steps to take the stairs to the sidewalk in twos. My mom’s anger reached out for me, from behind, like inky, black tentacles, suckering to my skin and making goose bumps wash my arms and my thighs underneath my pants. The past twenty-four hours in a jail cell, even a holding cell, wasn’t something I wanted to do again.

  Both my mother and I knew I’d gotten lucky, because that judge didn’t have a problem with my breaking my fist over someone’s face for making unwanted advances. Well, as long as I didn’t make it a habit of it. Which I won’t.

  “C.K., I hope you realize that this is a lesson - you need to stop this dangerous behavior before you end up pissing off the wrong person.” I twisted to wait for my mother as she called out to me, leaning back on my heels and sighing heavily. The warm sun of early twilight bounced off her straight, golden hair, shimmering to highlight the strands as they curled into a tight bun against the nape of her neck.

  She was really a beautiful woman, my mother. Tall and shapely, with muscle; there was no doubt she could’ve been an angel in a past life. If I believed in that nonsense.

  Anger played on my mother’s features in a way that only made her more stunning and I rubbed my cheeks, roughly, with my palms before opening my mouth.

  “Mom, just relax, okay? You don’t need to highlight how crappy sitting in that holding cell was. I get it. I learned my lesson.” My mom came up next to and hooked her arm around mine with a firm nod, as if she’d personally taught me that lesson. I smirked slightly as we made our way down the sidewalk and towards the center of town. I relished the slight breeze and the bustling of people just getting off work.

  This was my favorite time of the day, after all. This was the time when people were tired from work, but excited enough about being off to summon the energy to do things. They went shopping, grabbed dinner, or went out with co-workers to celebrate being released from voluntary servitude.

  After spending all night in a quiet holding cell, surrounded by assholes and idiots alike, I couldn’t put into words how happy I was to be engulfed in activity.

  “Did you get him good, at least?” I turned my gaze to my mom and arched a brow as she stared at me innocently for a long moment, before laughing. I bopped my head in a nod, giggling at her, as we took a corner leisurely, and it wasn’t long before she calmed herself enough to speak. “I bet your dad would enjoy that story. You should call him when we get home.”

  “I might. I haven’t called him in a while.” Thinking of my father dulled my smile, and my lips thinned out as my mother and I lapsed into silence. I hadn’t actually seen my dad since my birthday, but we had something of a good relationship.

  Considering he left my mom for his mate when I was five …

  That thought drew my mind to Paul, and my heart squeezed lightly in its cage. Through my pubescent years, I grew up listening to stories from my father and step-mom and from my friends’ parents, about meeting my mate. Like every other female, I had fantasies about that fateful da
y when I would find my other half.

  Being a shifter came with expectations, and mine had been dashed violently when I realized Paul didn’t recognize me. After hours and hours of overnight thinking, wracking my brain for an answer, I came up with two.

  Either Paul wasn’t connected to his beast, for some reason, or he wasn’t a shifter. Both of those situations suck.

  “What are you thinking about so hard, McKayla? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you make that face.” I jerked back to the moment and my head ached lightly from the force. I paused my walking to rub my eyes with my fists. Colors popped in the darkness behind my lids, and when I peeked beyond my knuckles, I found my mother frowning at me. “If this is about your father, I -“

  “No- no… it’s not…” I quickly diverted what I knew would be the ‘I don’t hate him’ speech, and crossed my arms under my breasts to blow out a breath into the warm, late summer air. “I just… I met my mate - he was in the cell next to me … it’s a wild, crazy story, but the point is… I’m pretty sure, he’s human.”

  “You’re ‘pretty sure’ he’s human?” Just as I’d always suspected, my mom didn’t as much as twitch, at the fact that something so profound had happened to me. She didn’t have the best luck with men and it was hard for her to be happy for me. Despite completely understanding this, I couldn’t help but frown at her bland question, and I nodded firmly.

  “Yeah, pretty sure. Let’s go find a place to eat and I’ll tell you all about it, okay?” Starting up again, I walked with my mom towards a little Thai place we liked to go to, but my thoughts moved much faster than I did. Shifters, like my mom and me, weren’t guaranteed a single mate; instead, the universe played tricks on us in the form of potential mates. Sometimes they were human, sometimes not, but levels of compatibility varied drastically.

  That was why my mom wasn’t with my dad. Hers was a common enough occurrence, but the entire set of circumstances was still frustrating. After a slew of failed relationships and weak bonds, my mom had just decided that enough was enough.