Black Bear Fall: A BWWM Paranormal Romance (Black Bear Saga Book 2) (15 page)

“It has to be stitched onto something inside to keep the tube connected for bile production. You are going to have to rip the thing out of me in one smooth movement. The sooner it’s out, the sooner I can start healing myself,” Anne said licking her lips with a dry and raspy tongue.

Grace touched the part of Annes flesh where the tube entered through the cut in the pallid skin. Anne winced at the pressure and looked away clenching her jaw tight. The skin around the wound was a sickly white and it looked as if the puckered flesh was made out of a soft wax,

Grace unbuckled her belt and pulled it free and then folded it in half. “Bite down on this,” she said passing it to Anne.

Anne took it and looked at Grace with wide and clear eyes and said, “You do this in one motion. Get a sure grip on that tube and pull that thing out of me. You can do it Grace.”

Grace nodded and the room around her felt like it was see sawing from side to side. Pull it together she told herself, one quick yank and it will all be over. Anne took the folded belt and put it between her teeth and bit down hard. She locked eyes with Grace and nodded. The cords on her neck stuck out as she readied herself. Grace wiped her hands on her trousers and held them up. They were both shaking. She balled them into fists and squeezed and the shaking eased. Anne sat sideways in the bed and Grace got up and rubbed her hands on her legs again.

“Three,” she said as she grasped the catheter and tube in her hand.

“Two,” she said as she braced her foot against the bed frame for leverage.

“One.” Grace yanked the surgical tubing and she fell backwards onto the floor as it came free with a ripping sound and a liquid squelch. She looked at the piece of plastic tubing streaked with blood dangling from her fist and then threw it across the room in disgust. Anne let out a long low rumble of a groan as her skin seemed to lose all colour. A ragged hole like a gaping toothless smile oozed blood from her side. Grace could see white spots dancing in her vision and she felt the whole room tilt and swerve.

“Bandage me back up,” Anne said sounding as if she was whispering from the the end of a long hallway.

Grace dug her nails into her palm and slowly got up from the floor. A trail of blood droplets lead across the floor to Anne. Grace tried to not look at it or focus on the thick red stream of blood running down Annes side. She took the bandages and reapplied the sodden gauze and then began to wind them around Annes body.

“Tighter,” Anne said through lips the colour of parchment.

Graces hands shook as she continued to wrap the bandages around Anne. Her fingers where slick and sticky with blood as she reapplied the clasp. She is going to die Grace thought as she finished fixing the bandages.

“Attach the catheter so no one can tell,” Anne said her voice a thin whistle.

Grace picked up the medical tubing and picked off some strands of straw. Her stomach churned when her fingers brushed against a chunk of soft flesh stuck to the end. Beads of cold sweat ran down the back of her neck as she tucked one end of the tube under part of the bandage and then secured the rest of it to Annes side. Grace leaned back and looked at her handy work, everything looked nearly the same as before. A bright circle of blood was spreading and soaking the bandages and Annes head began to swing backwards her eyes turned upwards until the whites where visible.

“I need to heal,” Anne said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Grace helped her to lie down and covered her with the rough spun blanket on the bed. She dabbed at Annes clammy forehead with the corner of her shirt, moping up the slick of sweat she was covered in. Graces hands shook as she wiped gently at Annes temples and a wave of exhaustion came crashing down on her. Annes eyes darted from side to side behind her closed eyelids and her lips moved as she mouthed silent words. I can be strong for both of us Grace thought as she bent and kissed her friends forehead. Annes skin felt like it burnt with a fever and she let out a whimper at the kiss.

On wobbly legs Grace crossed the room and collapsed into the bed across from her friend. She curled into a ball holding her legs in a tight grip as she watched her friend. If Anne doesn’t pull through I will never get to see Tom again she thought as tears began to flow. As Grace lay there holding herself and crying she felt nothing like a person of legend whose strength would bring unity to all shifters, in that moment Grace felt small, alone and broken.

T
he mongrels had set
up camp close to a stream and an easy escape root from the thin valley they had been calling home for the last few weeks. Camouflage tarps were set up at intervals under the canopy of the trees and the non stop rain of the last few weeks didn’t seem to bother anyone. If it did, nobody complained about it. They were a hardened group, used to eking out a living in the backwoods. Moving camp when they felt it had been compromised and suffering through any kind of weather that was thrown at them.

To an outsider the twisted flesh, hunched backs, limbs trapped between human and bear transformation and the myriad of other manifestations of the mongrels curse might of made it seem like these creatures were weak, prone to illness and disease. The opposite was true of this strain of shifter. Disease was unknown in the group and no one ever suffered any kind of illness. Some of the more extreme physical manifestations could cause some mongrels difficulty in getting around. Twisted spines, or legs that seemed to bend in an unnatural way slowed the mongrel, but that was the only ailment they had. A trait they all shared was grit and determination. Every member of this group had a story to tell filled with heartbreak and loss. Through their shared pain they had forged a bond stronger than any family and closer than any shifter in either of the clans. Every member of the mongrel tribe would lay down his life to save another and would do anything to maintain the cohesiveness of the group. They were one seething mass of mutilated and broken creatures who came together under the leadership and guidance of Nasak. He was the mongrel they all believed would take them back home and allow them one more chance to see the ones who had cast them out. Then the mongrel tribe would tear it all down and start a new era in the history of this cast out and forgotten group.

The tribe was abuzz with chatter that morning as news spread of Nasak's return from his first meeting with Tulimak. This meeting was a historic moment for the tribe, the first time in over a hundred years that a mongrel spoke directly to a shifter on close to equal standing.

A ripple of cheers passed through the camp as the first of the mongrels in Nasak's group arrived and then the great leader came through the camp with his closest advisor Clarence. Nasak strode to the tree stump in the middle of the camp and stood and watched his people. They gathered around him in a tight circle waiting for him to speak.

“They are everything we expected my brothers and sisters. I saw the very people that turned their backs on us. They are not gods to be worshipped. They are flawed creatures already beginning to spiral towards their own demise. I could smell it on them, the decay of a society that is stuck in its ways and not allowed to grow with the changing times. I stared into the black eyed monstrosity they call Tulimak, we were as close as I am to you. Do you know what I saw when the clan leader held court with me,” he said waiting for the crowd to respond.

“No,” shouted mongrels of every shape and broken form from the crowd.

“I saw a shifter who has lived in the shadows too long and now that his time has come to step out into the light he has already started to falter. I could practically smell the fear off him. It was soaked into his expensive suit, his lacquered hair and his tanned skin. We represent the future and the white bears are the past,” Nasak said pumping his fist in the air and turning the side of his face caught in a perpetual snarl to the crowd.

They erupted into shouts and cheers and the roars seemed magnified in the narrow valley they had set up camp in. Cheers mixed with the strained half animal and half human of some of the most mutilated mongrels. Nasak stood surveying his family allowing the roars to swell to a crescendo. He raised his hand and the crowd begin to quieten.

“The white bear clan kicked us out because we sullied their image of themselves as proud and powerful animals. We represented rot and decay to them. I’m here to tell you that the true rot has already taken hold in the clan. They are a decadent and soft clan of shifters. Where once there was a powerful group of warriors now we have a bunch of cruel sadists experimenting on humans and shifters,” Nasak said holding for a second to let the weight of his statement sink in.

The mongrels in the crowd looked to each other. The idea of hurting one of their own was an alien concept to them. All mongrels were part of a family and this bond was unbreakable.

“They are no better than animals,” Henry shouted. He was a be-speckled man in his late fifties who from the waist up looked completely normal. The bottom half of his body was gnarled and broken with shards of bone sticking out from the twisted mass of his legs. Tufts of course fur grew in patches over his legs and his feet where curled and shrunken caught in mid transformation. He had to walk with a stout cane and sometimes he had to be carried when the terrain was particularly rough.

Nasak looked down at Henry and said, “Brother Henry is correct. The white bear clan has fallen from the path and are now a society in decline. Their time is coming to an end they just don’t know it yet.”

The whole crowd erupted into cheers and loud claps and Nasak stood with his head bowed as he let the energy of the crowd grow to a frenzy. He slowly raised his head and every member of the mongrel tribe would swear that he looked at each of them individually, that Nasak spoke to each of their hearts. This was his power as a leader.

Now is the time to reveal all, Nasak thought as the clapping and cheering reached a peak.

“I know I have been secretive to you my family,” Nasak said sweeping his arms across the crowd. “This ends now as we reach the final stages of our journey. We are returning to the homeland, we are going to walk right into the clans enclave with our heads held high. No door will stop us as we have the key.”

Nasak gave the signal to his men and they went to the large tent at the back of the camp. The four mongrels carried out the wooden crate and placed it before Nasak. The crowd gasped at its arrival as expectations grew about who or what was its contents. Rumour about its contents had spread through the group when it was first brought in under the cover of night a few weeks ago. Nasak removed a key from around his neck and unlocked the brass padlock at the corner of the box. His men slipped the lid off and placed it beside the box.

The crowd pushed forward eager to see what was inside, no one dared to get too close. A noise came from inside the box and the mongrels at the front moved back, something had moved inside the crate.

Nasak gestured to two of his guards and they reached into the box and lifted out an old man. He was stripped of all clothing except for a piece of cloth tied around his waist. The two mongrel guards held the old man between them. Extending his arms for all to see. Along the length of each leg, up the centre of his stomach and then branching out along each arm was a sequence of round black discs embedded in his skin. The old man raised his head and looked at the crowd as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Between his teeth was a rod of the same black material as the discs. The rod was secured in place with leather strips tied on the back of his head. The mans arms and legs were withered and thin ropes of muscle where visible under his pale skin. His eyes were sunken and ringed by dark shadows and his grey hair hung in greasy strands over his face.

A murmur rippled through the crowd as they all stared at the weak looking old man before them.

Nasak took a step towards the old man who raised his head up with difficulty and looked at Nasak.

“Behold, our key to the white bear enclave,” Nasak said.

“Who is this?” a voice said in a loud bark from the back of the camp.

“This is the shifter that banished many of you from your families. The man who ripped you from your community and chose to cast you out like fetid waste. This is the once mighty Tannis, leader of the white bear clan,” Nasak said holding Tannis by the chin and raising his head up for all to see.

The crowd erupted into a roar louder than any that had come before. Mongrels stamped their feet on the ground while others clapped and shouted. For the first time in a long time some of them began to hope, to allow an idea that always seemed like a dream to now take up place as a possible reality. The mongrel tribe started to think about going home.

Nasak waited for the noise level to start to wane and raised his hand for silence. Every tribe member was watching his every move and he could feel the trust they had for him emanate from the crowd like the heat from a furnace.

“This pathetic shifter before you is the one who decided that all of you are filth that should be forgotten about. He is the root cause of all our strife and now he is our prisoner. Look how weak and insignificant he looks. Do you think someone like him could survive without the help of the clan. Do you think he could make it through the fires of hell that every one of us here has walked through?”

Nasak stepped forward into the crowd so that he could be closer to his people. Some of them reached up and touched the corner of his shirt and then kissed their finger or mutated claw to their lips. Nasak laid his hand on the shoulder of every tribe member that was close to him. A low murmur of whispers rose up from the crowd as he walked into the middle of them.

“We captured Tannis six months ago and have been holding him at a remote location ever since. I am sorry I have had to keep this secret from my family for so long. We have not hurt or tortured him and have treated him better than his type would ever offer a mongrel. He has been fed everyday and had access to water to bathe every few days. He is our prisoner, but remember we are not the twisted animals that the clan would try to paint us as. He has been treated as well as can be in this situation,” Nasak said.

“Why does he look so weak,” the same barking gravelly voice asked from the back of the camp.

Nasak peered over the front of the crowd to the mongrels at the back and said, “You can all see the markings on his body. These are discs of obsidian embedded in his flesh,” Nasak said holding his hand up before any one asked a question. “They do not hurt the shifter at all. The obsidian only stops him from transforming, the old stories about its properties are true. It has no effect on us so no one need worry about getting close to it. The obsidian stops him from shifting and seems to keep him in a placid state. He was already weakened and frail when we found him. We think he had been hibernating for a long time.”

“This is a dangerous path we are going down,” the mongrel with the gravelly voice said from the back.

“Step forward brother, air your grievances you know that is our way. Every one here has a voice,” Nasak said.

The crowd moved apart to let the mongrel through. A man with short cropped hair and a round fleshy face walked forward. Outwardly he looked perfectly normal and it was only his deep raspy voice that would of raised suspicion among humans. His voice seemed to explode out of his throat in a roar as he talked and words sometimes came out between gritted teeth as he tried to control his mangled vocal cords. Nasak knew the man well as he did all of his tribe. His name was Frank and he mostly stayed on the edges of the tribe, never wanting to be the centre of attention. Like all tribe members his story was one full of pain and no one in the tribe ever pressured him to get more involved. Everyone was allowed to live how they pleased amongst the group.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard Frank talk out loud in front of a group, Nasak thought as he watched him approach. Frank was one of the few tribe members who could spend some time around humans as most of his afflictions were easy to hide. Nasak had seen the row of bear teeth embedded in Franks side and caught in a vicious snarl as if frozen in time. His mutation added no bulk to his body and so he could wear regular clothes and blend in with people. It was only if he had to say more than a few words that people started to wonder about him. The animal grunts and growls that escaped his lips between words brought most people to the conclusion that he was insane and so would avoid them. Like all of the mongrels of the tribe they each had a heartbreaking story and Nasak knew for someone like Frank he had suffered greatly at the hands of humans as he had lived among them for so long.

When Frank pushed to the front of the group Nasak placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and said, “Tell me your grievances brother.”

Franks face contorted as he tried to control his breathing and a couple of animalistic yelps and growls escaped his lips. “What have we become if we are now kidnapping shifters. Are we no better than those who cast us out?”

Nasak looked around at the tribe before him, each and every one of them was hanging on every word he said. Everyone hopeful for a better future, a future where they were no longer seen as abominations. “We have tried for a long time to play within the rules set down by the shifters. We stayed away so we wouldn’t remind them of creatures like us. We were broken and ashamed of ourselves and when they told us to go and never to come back, what did we do? We obeyed them and became shadows and hid in the woods scavenging and trying to build some sort of life. They made us feel less than worthy than a shifter, not a real member of the clan. They were wrong,” Nasak said stamping his foot on the ground.

A murmur of approval went through the crowd.

“We are part of the great white bear clan. They crossed the line when we first tried to make contact with them fifty years ago. Some of you were not with the tribe then,” Nasak said looking at Frank. “The ones who were with us then know exactly what happened when we sent five of our best back to the homeland to make contact. Tannis,” Nasak said swinging around and pointing at the old man, “killed each and every one of them. A group of Mongrels on a peaceful mission and this animal decided to have them ripped to shreds and their bodies left for the crows to eat. That is how they treat a returning mongrel. We intend to bring an end to it,” he said raising his fist into the air.

The crowd clapped in unison and each and every one of them chanted Nasak's name.