The Truth About Kadenburg (15 page)

“Is that why he died?” She asked quietly. “Because of
what we are?”

“No,” he shook his head slowly, but then stopped. He
sighed. “No, Presley. Your father’s death was much more complicated than that.”

“Complicated? What happened to him, Uncle Arnold? Why
did my father die?” Her voice betrayed her, quivering with emotion as she
searched his face. She needed answers. She’d lived her entire life without
knowing the real truth, and it was time for that to change.

Arnold turned away from her again, moving towards his
beat up truck before he rested his palms against the hood. He shook his head
slowly as he sighed. “Your aunt Natalie would’ve given anything to be
something else,” he stated in a grave tone. “And she finally got her chance
when Breslin Connor came to town.”

“Breslin Connor?”

“He’s the alpha that Dimitri’s talking about. If we
were in high school, he’d be the ugly bully who takes our lunch money and claims
a specific cafeteria table as his own.”

“He sounds like a douche,” Presley commented, though
she hardly meant it to be humorous.

Uncle Arnold chuckled lightly as he turned his head to
glance at her again. “Well if that’s what you want to call him, we’ll go with
it. He’s not anybody I ever wanted to be friends with. I knew he was bad news
from the moment he set foot in this town.”

“So they’ve been here before,” Presley speculated. “Is
that what Mr. Bamey was talking about? What happened back then?”

“Stupidity happened back then,” Uncle Arnold responded
as he scratched furiously at the skin beneath his chin. He heaved a sigh
before he turned to rest his lanky form against the passenger door of his
long-time mode of transportation. He crossed his arms over his chest as his
eyes settled on Presley again. “The elders thought it would be a good idea to
try and reconcile with the werewolves, which obviously wasn’t such a smart move
on our behalf. I knew those hell hounds weren’t trustworthy, but no one
listened to me.”

Presley’s brows knitted together as she shifted, her
hands resting against her thighs as she leaned forward slightly. “The elders?
You mean like, old people who oversee the laws and stuff?”

Arnold laughed. “If you want to look at it that way, I
suppose. They were just the older ursithropes. My parents, your father’s
parents; just to name a few of the ‘old people’ you’re referring to.”

“Why did they want to reconcile with the werewolves if
we’re meant to be natural enemies?”

Uncle Arnold gave a roll of his shoulders as he lifted
his eyes towards the ceiling, focusing on the flickering light bulb hanging
overhead. “We only wanted to have peace with them. We are not violent
creatures, Presley. We strive to be harmonious with every other living thing
on this earth. We intended to have a truce with the lycanthropes.

“The elders were alarmed to discover the lycanthropes
were living only two towns away from us. My mother, along with the others, was
terrified of what they would do if they caught one of us out on our own. I
know that you never experienced it, Presley, but mother ursithropes are
extremely protective and they will do anything to ensure their cubs aren’t in
harm’s way. The female elders planted the seed of hope that we could prevent
any future disputes,” he sighed, shaking his head.

“It didn’t really work out that way, did it?” Presley
asked as she chewed her lower lip.

“No,” he shook his head. “Your mother was pregnant
with you when the lycanthropes made their first appearance here. Their alpha,
Breslin, gave off the impression that he was willing to comply with our laws.
He promised no harm would come to us or our children and they would keep their
distance. He said they only wanted the same thing we wanted; to live in
peace.”

As her uncle became silent, Presley frowned. “He lied,
didn’t he?”

Uncle Arnold let out a low breath as his brows furrowed
and a pained expression came over his face. He rubbed the back of his neck as
he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He seemed terribly
uncomfortable as he continued the conversation. “You need to understand that
what happened next is what molded us into what we are now, Pretz,” he said in a
quieter voice. “It’s the reason that there’s only us and the Bameys left in
this town.”

Presley’s brows shot up on her forehead as she tucked
some blond hair behind her ear. “You mean there were more of us back then?”

Arnold nodded. “Yes. There were ten families here
back then, and we were all happy to blend in with the humans. We had no qualms
and we were able to fit in. Our existence was peaceful until Breslin betrayed
us.”

“How did he betray you…I mean, us?”

“We were hospitable to the lycanthropes when they
visited. We allowed them to eat at our tables and we offered them shelter for
the night. I promise you it is not something they would do for us, but our
elders-my father especially-were convinced that showing kindness to the
lycanthropes would influence them to be better beings. They were gravely
mistaken.”

It was killing her how her uncle was dragging the story
out. She just needed to know what happened and why it was so bad. She gazed
at him intently as she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Did
she really want to know what had happened all those years ago? Did she really
want to know how her father died and what her seemingly treacherous aunt had
done to cause it?

“The night before the planned celebration of our truce
with the lycanthropes was meant to take place, I awoke to the most horrible
smell you can imagine,” his face skewed into agony from a memory that Presley
was certain had plagued him for too long. His eyes glistened from moisture as
he lifted his hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “I can’t forget that
smell.”

“What smell?” Presley asked, though after she asked,
she wasn’t so sure she wanted to know.

“Burning flesh,” Uncle Arnold replied as he gazed at
her sadly. “They tied him to a tree in the middle of the woods and dowsed him
in gasoline. By the time I got to him, it was too late.” He bowed his head,
ashamed.

Presley felt the icy grip of dread tightening around
her lungs as she licked her lips, forcing herself to ask the next question.

“Who, Uncle Arnold? Who was tied to the tree?”

He didn’t meet her gaze as he shook his head, a shaky
sigh leaving him.

“Your father.”

Fifteen

D
imitri watched Lorcan silently as he paced the
room. He seemed to be uncomfortable with the idea of leaving the premises;
leaving Presley alone. Dimitri could understand it; or at least he thought he
could. Right now wasn’t an ideal time for the remaining ursithropes of
Kadenburg to be separated. His pack was lingering nearby, waiting to attack,
and the girl’s uncle decided to send The Bameys back home. How did that make
sense? Did he really think he could handle Breslin on his own?

He could sense the panic surging through the younger
ursithrope’s body as Lorcan bounded towards the front door, only to be stopped
by his father as the older male grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“Now wait just a minute,” his father said sternly. “You
need to respect Arnold’s decision. He asked us to leave politely, and I reckon
we did.”

“I shouldn’t have left!” Lorcan replied angrily. “How
the hell is he going to fend off a pack of wolves on his own with an
inexperienced female as his only aid?”

“I’m fairly sure that Arnold can handle himself,” his
father reassured him as he ushered Lorcan back into the house.

Lorcan shot a glare in his father’s direction, his body
visibly tense and shaking as he muttered a few obscenities under his breath.

“Lorcan, Sweetie, please try to
calm down,” his mother urged as she stirred some honey into a steaming mug of
tea. “It’s been a terribly long day and all of us are tired. It is best to
rest now. Arnold can protect her.”

“And what if he can’t?” Lorcan argued as he glanced
towards Dimitri. “You think she’ll help him? She’s too new. She’ll get
hurt.”

I’m fairly sure she could handle herself,
was
what Dimitri wanted to say, but he knew that wasn’t entirely true. Liam had
been strong, and brave. That didn’t prevent Breslin from killing him.

His insides twisted in anguish and he felt nauseous
from the thought. Dimitri leaned against the counter as he turned his eyes to
Mrs. Bamey.

“Can I get a cup of that?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Bamey smiled as she returned to the
kitchen to prepare another cup of tea. “There’s no use in getting riled up
right now, boys. I don’t sense any immediate danger from that ridiculous alpha
of yours, Dimitri.”

“I doubt it’ll stay that way,” Dimitri responded as he lowered
his gaze to his fingers. His knuckles turned white from the grip he had on the
edge of the countertop. “Can I help you with anything, Mrs. B.?”

Hearing Lorcan scoff caused Dimitri to lift his head
again, just in time to watch the ursithrope disappear down the hallway. The
sound of a door slamming a few seconds later echoed in his mind. Did he say
something wrong?

“Oh no. No thank you,
Dimitri. I started brewing this pot as soon as we got home. I’m afraid these
situations can become quite stressful and the only way to calm anyone down is
through the soothing effects of honey. Do lycanthropes even like honey?”

“I like honey,” Dimitri shrugged. “I’m not very big on
eating fish, but I do like honey.”

“How does a person dislike fish?” Mrs. Bamey asked,
nearly horrified at the possibility. She poured another mug of steaming tea
and then spooned some honey into it; her eyes were still on the tall, auburn
haired man as she shook her head.

“Just the same as a person dislikes pepper,” Dimitri
offered with a grin.

The two ursithropes in the room immediately wrinkled
their noses in disgust at the thought of pepper. It was safe to assume no
descendent of a bear enjoyed the spice, but it was for a good reason; they were
extremely
allergic
to pepper and took every measure necessary to avoid
it.

“Oh, honey. We do not speak of pepper!” Mrs. Bamey
laughed, holding the cup out for Dimitri to take.

“Thanks,” he lifted the cup to his lips, sipping at it
lightly as Mr. Bamey entered the kitchen.

“How’s your face?” The older male asked, opening the
fridge to rummage for leftovers.

“Healing,” Dimitri nodded as he instinctively lifted a
hand to touch a fading bruise on his cheek. “Thanks for asking.”

Mr. Bamey grunted in response as he pulled a pack of
fish sticks from the freezer and then made his way to the microwave.

Dimitri supposed he should’ve been thankful that the
man even asked about his face. That was progress, wasn’t it? At least he
wasn’t trying to kill him anymore.

“You can’t even tell it happened,” Mrs. Bamey insisted
as she smiled at Dimitri. “Your face is just as handsome as I’m sure it always
has been.”

Dimitri couldn’t help but to smile. Mrs. Bamey was
actually a very nice lady. Who knew that ursithropes could be so kind?

It’s only because you were mated to her son,
Genius. It would be a different story if Liam hadn’t bit you.

Why was it that his voice of reason always had to sound
in and ruin things? Dimitri decided to ignore his mind as he took another
drink of his tea and gave Mrs. Bamey a boyish grin. He envied that Liam had
grown up with an actual family. All he’d ever known was a pack, and they
expected him to behave in a military fashion. There were never kisses or hugs,
or even an utterance of the word ‘love’. He’d been brought up as a soldier in
his alpha’s army and nothing more.

He always enjoyed when Liam spoke of his family, which
was often during their time together. Liam spoke so highly of them; and with
such love. Dimitri had been eager to meet them and he could tell Liam really
wanted that, too. The sadness tugged at his heart again as he gazed at the
floor. If only Liam could see this.

“I miss him, too,” Mrs. Bamey said as she nudged his
side gently.

“Hm?” Dimitri blinked, staring at her in temporary
confusion.

“Liam,” she responded with a tender smile. “I miss him
every day.”

Dimitri forced a small smile and a nod of
understanding. He’d never had the chance to talk about Liam so openly before.

“Don’t worry about Lorcan,” she added quickly. “He’s
just been dealing with a lot lately. He worries for Presley.”

Sipping at his cup of tea, Dimitri’s brows lifted high
on his forehead. “How come they aren’t together?”

Mr. Bamey turned his attention away from the microwave,
snickering a bit before he shrugged. “Our laws work a little differently from
yours.”

Dimitri was about to ask how so, but Mrs. Bamey was
already a step ahead of him. “The males do not approach the females about
mating,” she explained while she pulled a plate from the cupboard and gazed at
him. “It is up to the woman to express her interest in the man.”

Dimitri’s brows rose on his forehead once more, one
hovering slightly higher than the other. “A man cannot pursue a woman he is
passionate about?”

“They can be friends,” she shrugged, her eyes moving to
her husband. “But it is ultimately up to her to make the first move.”

Huh. Well, that sorta does make sense now,
Dimitri thought. Liam had been so passive in their flirtation and Dimitri
became increasingly frustrated when he didn’t kiss him first. Of course! Liam
was waiting for
him
to make the first move.

“Wait a minute,” Dimitri frowned. “Does that mean Liam
viewed me as the girl?”

Mrs. Bamey stifled a laugh as she gazed at him, giving
a soft shake of her head as she slid the plate across the counter to her
husband. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it in an offensive way,” she promised. “But
given that he is an ursithrope and he desired you as his mate, he waited
patiently for you to come to him.”

Dimitri fell silent then, his mind wandering back to
their first days of knowing one another. He could get lost in those memories
forever. At least there, Liam was alive and well, and they were together.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed by when the
front door suddenly burst open and Arnold Goult stood there, holding the limp
body of the female ursithrope in his arms.

––––––––––

“What the in the blue blazes happened?” Mr. Bamey
demanded as they swarmed around the unconscious girl on the couch. “Speak to
me, Arnold. What happened?”

Arnold Goult was as white as a ghost as he stared down
at Presley, shaking his head slowly. He was drenched from head to toe, water
dripping from the tip of his nose as he lifted a hand to wipe some blood from
the side of his face.

“Damn it, Arnie. Talk to me!” Mr. Bamey demanded as he
grabbed him by his shoulders, shaking him roughly.

“We were attacked,” Arnold said hoarsely. “It was only
a few minutes after you left and-”

“I knew that was a bad idea!” Mr. Bamey roared angrily
as he turned and walked away from his friend. “Damn it, I knew it was bad. We
never should’ve left. She was safer with all of us there. You were safe!” He
turned back to look at him. “Where did they get you?”

“Just my side,” Arnold shook his head. “I’m fine.
They were trying to take her from me, but I fought them off. Chased the damn
beasts across the river to get her back,” he frowned, blinking. “What do they
want with her?”

“Oh, good gracious,” Mrs. Bamey whispered as she placed
a damp washcloth against Presley’s forehead. “This poor girl has been through
the ringer for the past few days. You shouldn’t have sent us home, Arnie.
They could’ve killed her!”

“She needed time to process everything,” Arnold argued
as he leaned against the back of the couch, wincing. “Those bastards got me
good.”

“What an idiotic thing to do,” Mr. Bamey muttered as he
shook his head. “Damn it, Arnie. You knew they were out there, just waiting
for the opportunity to strike. Why’d you place her-and yourself, for that
matter-in harm’s way?”

“She’s been through too much lately,” Arnold replied
as he lifted his eyes to meet Richard’s. “There’s been more going on for that
girl than just learning about what we are. I didn’t want her to get
overwhelmed. I figured if I just gave her some time to think, she’d accept the
truth when she was ready.”

Mr. Bamey scowled, and without another word, he turned to
march out the front door. The screen slammed loudly behind him. Mrs. Bamey
gently pressed the wet cloth against Presley’s cheek as she frowned. “The poor
dear…”

“Is she okay?” Dimitri asked quietly as he kept his
distance from the couch. His muscular arms were crossed over his chest, his
gaze fixated on the girl.

“She will be,” Mrs. Bamey nodded. “I’m certain she’s
only fainted, probably because of stress.”

“I just wanted to give her some space…” Arnold repeated
as sorrow dripped in his voice.

“I know that,” Mrs. Bamey nodded. “But now you need to
understand, Arnold. We do not have the privilege of giving her space. Time is
of the essence; in fact, we have very little of it. I can smell many of them
out there, and they keep moving closer. They will look for another opportunity
like this again

“Remember what our parents said, Arnie. Remember what
our grandparents told us? We have a better chance at surviving if we stick
together.”

Arnold sighed, lowering his head as he blinked back
the moisture in his eyes. “I can’t lose her,” he whispered. “She’s so
vulnerable right now and I feel down right helpless to make it better.”

Mrs. Bamey stepped away from Presley, her hand falling
against Arnold’s shoulder as she squeezed it gently. “Arnold,” she said
softly. “You have been helping her this entire time. You let her come back
home. You love her. Even if she never accepts what we are,
you
are her
uncle. She will always remember that you did everything in your power to help
her.”

“I just want to make her hurt go away,” Arnold
struggled to say as his voice became thick with emotion.

Mrs. Bamey embraced the male gently, rubbing her hand
up and down his back. “I know you do. Trust me, I do know, more than you can imagine,
but right now, we need to focus on keeping her safe, and figuring out to how to
drive Breslin and his pack away from Kadenburg. We can’t fix anything for
Presley unless they’re gone. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Arnold managed to say as he blinked away the
moisture in his eyes. He winced.

“Arnold, you need to let me fix
you
,” Mrs. Bamey
frowned. She lifted his shirt up to examine the angry, deep gash on his side.
“Mercy, that looks awful.”

“Doesn’t exactly feel like a picnic,” Arnold replied as
his eyes rested on his niece’s face. “I’ll be fine. Just look after her.”

“Nonsense. She will come around soon enough. Come
into the bathroom and let me clean you up,” Mrs. Bamey insisted. “Come along
now,
no
arguing.”

Dimitri remained silent as he watched the hard-headed
woman push Presley’s uncle down the hallway. He was left alone with the girl,
and what was he supposed to do? There wasn’t anything he could do, really.
They could only wait; for Breslin to show up; for Presley to wake up; for all
of this to be over.