Once Upon a Shifter (92 page)

A comforting warmth coursed through her veins as she saw that she had parked in front of the bakery. It was still light outside, though the sun had sunk lower towards the hills, so she must have been missing for a while. Aunt Cynthia must have been worried. Keyla looked in the rear view mirror and drew in a sharp breath. Her face was covered in dried frosting from Troy’s wedding cake and a few dark red drops of blood were splattered over her cheeks and neck. She frantically opened the glove compartment and started rummaging until her fingers landed on a pack of baby wipes. She couldn’t let Cynthia see her like that. She would probably ask a million questions and right now, Keyla wasn’t sure of the answers herself.

All that screaming, did it mean that the three bears had attacked the guests at the wedding? What about Troy? Was he hurt? Was Corin alright? Did the wedding even take place? There were too many things she couldn’t figure out and when the front door to the bakery opened and a flustered Aunt Cynthia rushed out, Keyla commanded herself to stop thinking and start rubbing harder at her face.

“Keyla,” Cynthia cried, “I was worried sick! You don’t pick up your phone, you don’t come back for hours! What happened? Are you okay?”

With a final swipe over her hairline, Keyla looked down at her clothes. The front of her frilly dress was torn to shreds and stained with blood and grass. She quickly pulled a long scarf from the back seat and wrapped herself in it, then swiftly pulled her hair into a tight ponytail and gave herself one last examining look in the mirror. She still looked pale and a bit disheveled, but it could pass Cynthia’s scrutiny if she kept a firm grip on that scarf. She plastered a carefree smile on her lips and wobbled out of the car.

Aunt Cynthia’s hand flew up to her mouth.

“Oh my God, child,” she whispered.

Alright, so there was no fooling her. Keyla soon realized she had no shoes and there were grass blades stuck between her dirty toes. Her calves were scratched and blood dripped down from her bruised knees. Cynthia grabbed her by the waist and only when she laid her weary head over her aunt’s shoulder, did Keyla recognize just how exhausted she was.

The brass bell at the top of the bakery’s front parlor chimed as Cynthia slammed the door shut behind them. She drew the curtains and though it was not yet time to close, she flipped the door sign and carried her niece off to the back kitchen. The smell of toasted marshmallows and toffee came like a jolt of a potent drug to Keyla’s tired senses and she let herself slump into a chair, while Cynthia put the kettle on the stove. Surprisingly, the torrent of questions from her aunt never came and when the old woman turned to fetch the pouch of calming chamomile tea, Keyla saw in the vague, flickering light of the fireplace that she was as pale as if she’d seen a ghost. Soon, a steaming cup of tea warmed Keyla’s trembling fingers and tickled her nose. Cynthia seemed to be fighting her urge to busy herself with small tasks around the kitchen, but after she put away the tea set and stoked the fire, she finally settled in the chair opposite Keyla’s and rested her chin over her folded hands.

“You saw a bear, didn’t you?” she asked with a heavy sigh and her voice came out hollow and distant.

“What? No, I…I,” Keyla stuttered, “I did. Aunt Cynthia, it was terrifying. The wedding… I don’t even know what happened. I came to in the car outside and I couldn’t remember how I got away. Those poor people…”

Cynthia reached out and took Keyla’s hand in hers, squeezing it tightly.

“Don’t worry about them. I’m sure nothing bad has happened to anyone. I’m just so… so glad you managed to escape—,” her voice broke and she burst into tears.

“Hey, please, it’s ok,” Keyla tried to appease her. “We should call someone, send people over there. Troy… And his brother…”

Now it was Keyla’s turn to cry. All the bottled emotions from her experience came flooding over her. When Cynthia spoke again, her voice was eerie and her gaze removed, as if she was telling a scary story around a campfire.

"I guess it's time I told you how you lost your parents and brother," she started and Keyla flinched at the sudden change of topic. "This isn't the first time that bears have invaded the mountain regions above Bear Cove. I suppose that's partially where the town's name comes from. Anyway, you've known your whole life that there was a terrible accident up in the lumber clearing, where a number of people met with their death and your family was among them. The truth is, the town was under surge at the time from a group of bears who were not only taking people's livestock, but soon residents of Bear Cove started to disappear mysteriously in the mountains. It was time we took action and so a group of volunteers went up there one night to try to put a stop to the tortures."

Cynthia stopped for a moment to look into the big round eyes of her niece, who seemed completely aghast at the revelation. Still, she kept quiet and her body was bent forward in expectation, which Cynthia took as a sign to continue.

"We, the people who stayed behind, never found out what actually happened up there. All we know is that no one ever came back from that mission and their bodies were never found. People started leaving Bear Cove. It was simply too much to bear. It held too many memories of their loved ones, but with an infant on my hands, I couldn't go anywhere. So, the two of us stayed here. After a while, the attacks stopped and the peace returned, but fear never left the town. Not for those old enough to remember."

Cynthia sipped from her own tea and fell silent. Keyla looked shaken, her lips trembling and her eyes pooling with new tears. It was all too much for her to comprehend at the moment, especially after being exposed to the horrors of the day.

"But, what about the carpenter people?" she finally asked after a long silence. "What about the wedding? And Troy? How do you know nothing has happened to them?"

"You must have noticed that these people are not like us,” Cynthia said cryptically. “They know how to take care of themselves. They are mountain people."

Keyla wasn't satisfied.

"Aunt Cynthia, I saw Troy's brother being ripped to pieces with my own eyes!"

"Oh, honey, you don't know what you saw. You were in shock. It's all my fault. I should have never let you go up there on your own. What was I thinking?"

In the next minutes no one said anything. As Keyla listened to the soothing crackling of the wood in the fireplace, the flames casting dancing shadows across the walls, she suddenly felt a strange warmth take hold of her. Her mind was becoming fuzzy and her limbs were getting heavy with slumber. The last thing she thought, before she laid her head on the table, was that Aunt Cynthia's herbs and potions were second to none and she was glad she was disappearing into a soft darkness, where what she had just heard wouldn't trouble her.

Chapter 8

Keyla

A faint rapping emerged through the convoluted sounds of Keyla's nervous dreams and she stood up with a start. She realized she was in her bed in her upstairs bedroom and it was some time in the middle of the night. It was dark in the room and a silvery ribbon of moonshine cut through the slightly parted solid curtains. Keyla reached for the nightlight on her bed stand and then she heard it again, clear and rhythmic. Someone was knocking on the front door of the bakery, which was right below her bedroom window. Who could it be at this hour?

She hurried out of the bed and felt the swish of a clean, silk nightgown. She lifted the hem and saw that the bruises and cuts on her legs had been carefully treated and dressed. Aunt Cynthia must have taken care of her once she was asleep and put her into a clean change of clothes. Her hair was also combed and flowed down soft and sleek over her shoulders. Keyla grabbed a shawl from the desk chair and scurried down the stairs, careful not to make a sound. Her aunt must be exhausted after the long, strange day they'd had.

A third round of knocks came from behind the front door's curtains and Keyla parted them just a notch to peek out at the nightly visitor. She gasped in surprise and immediately threw open the door.

It was Troy.

She rushed him in and as soon as he stepped into the warm pastel light of the front parlor, he fell to his knees. Keyla could barely contain her shock. His hair was matted with blood and stains of it had dried up over his forehead and cheeks. A deep scratch ran along his jawline and disappeared into the ripped collar of his wedding shirt, which was now soaked with blood and dirt. The rest of his clothes were ripped and dirty and his luminous light-blue eyes glowed with a feverish flame.

Without thinking and simply reacting to her first instinct, Keyla sunk down next to him and wrapped her hands around his neck, pressing her face against his chest and feeling his muscles contract with the pain of his wounds.

"Troy," she said, hardly catching her breath, "you are okay! You are alive!"

He only lifted his hand and patted down her soft hair. Then he gently pushed her away from him and closed the door behind his back.

"I needed to make sure you were alright," he said in a raspy, tired voice. "I needed to know you got home safe. Sorry for coming here like that."

"Stop it. You need to sit down," said Keyla and taking him by the hand, she ushered him into the kitchen where the fire had died down in the hearth. Keyla quickly busied herself with fixing him a tea. She tried to be as quiet as possible with the cups and the sugar bowl, since she didn't want to trouble Cynthia any more tonight. Plus, she was still dizzy at the surreal sensation of being alone with Troy in a room, despite his grave condition.

"So, are you okay?" he asked once he had crouched down next to the dead fire, filling it with fresh wood and lighting it up.

"Yeah, I'm fine. A bit confused. What happened out there? How is your brother?"

It was strange to talk to him as if they had only parted a few hours ago, instead of having been away from each other for weeks, yet it felt completely natural.

"My brother?" Troy seemed lost. "Oh, Matt. Sure. He managed to get away just fine. It's not the first time we get bear visitors in the camp," he said and when she turned to look at him, he was facing the fresh fire, his face hidden in the shadows.

Keyla brought out a woolen blanket from one of the kitchen cabinets and spread it in front of the fireplace, handing him a steaming cup and settling next to him. His skin and clothes had absorbed the warmth from the flames and she felt electric sparks fly when she brushed her arm against his. She sat down next to him on the blanket, cradling her own cup of fragrant coffee. She had rested enough and she could really use a cup right now. She knew that Troy was naturally reticent and she surely realized he was exhausted, but she pressed on. She just had to know.

"These wounds? Did the bears attack you?"

"I had to protect my family. I had no choice. But don't worry about me. I'll be fine soon."

She noticed he was basking in the warmth of the fire as if he was sunbathing on a beach and soon, under the effects of the hot tea, his face started to glow and the exhaustion in his eyes was suddenly fading.

"Do you want me to come up there with you and help?" Keyla asked. "I can bring some of my aunt's herbs and treat any wounded people. She's taught me how. Look!" With that she pulled up the hem of her nightgown to reveal her smooth legs up to the knees with the clean bandages covering the places she had been hurt. "They are almost healed now."

"No, no," Troy said and lifted a hand to indicate it was out of the question, "we can't go back there. The camp is deserted. Everyone's gone. That's why I came here. I couldn't just leave without seeing you first."

"What do you mean deserted? Where is everyone? What about Corin?"

Troy turned to face her with a puzzled look on his face. As his flashing blue eyes focused on hers, she felt her stomach flutter the same way it had on every single occasion she had been with him in the past. He took her hand into his and a tiny shiver jolted through her body, goosebumps prickling her bare arms underneath the shawl. In the silence of the night, with just the playful snapping of the burning wood and the distant sounds of the night birds, Keyla wondered if this wasn't after all a dream.

"Corin is gone, too," Troy said after a while, "maybe this was for the best, after all--" His voice trailed off and Keyla fought the urge to stand up and dance and scream. Then she returned to the reality of the situation and stifled her smile.

"So, you said you are leaving," she said finally and felt another pang at the thought of losing him so soon after he had finally come back to her, "Where are you going? Are you going to look for your family?"

"I need to, though I'm not sure where to even start," he said and handed her the empty cup, trying to stand up. He hesitated for a moment and crashed back down onto the blanket.

"You are not serious," said Keyla reproachfully, "I'm not letting you go anywhere like this. You can always leave tomorrow. Wait here and rest and I'll fetch Aunt Cynthia's bag. We'll have to take care of these or they might get infected."

She started to stand up but Troy eased her back next to him.

"Hey," he said into her ear and his warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of her neck, "stay with me. That's all I need. I have to leave in a couple of hours anyway. I'd rather spend them with you."

She couldn't resist his smile and his words, which immediately erased the misery of this entire past day.

"I'll be right back," she said, the words coming out with difficulty from her dry throat. She finally broke away from his gaze and, stroking his dimpled cheek with the back of her hand, she hurried to the cellar to get the emergency bag her aunt kept there, always stocked with fresh cures.

When Keyla returned, Troy had already dozed off in front of the fireplace, curled up on the blanket, his face aglow with the amber light. For a moment, she just stood there looking at his massive body, the muscles of his toned arms outlined under his ruined shirt, his chiseled face serene and his long eyelashes casting little shadows over his cheekbones. She barely resisted the overwhelming desire to kiss his smooth, perfect lips, but quickly remembered she had a more important task at hand.