Page 5 of Bad Blood Bear

Chapter 3

Lissa felt better as soon as she was inside her squat. It was nice and dim in there, the only light coming from the gaps where the boards didn’t quite cover the windows. Somehow lately, she liked the dimness. It was soothing and made her feel safe, like an animal in its burrow.

She made her way between the empty, littered shelves of what had once been a convenience store, back to the office where her main squat was. It felt even safer in there.

She sat on the worn old couch that served as her bed, kicking it first to scare away any mice that might be thinking about nesting in it.

It was harder this time, being out on the streets. She couldn’t stay put and she couldn’t work, and now the money she’d stolen was almost gone.

She’d gone soft, that’s what it was. She’d spent over two years with the People of Ursus, a backwoods cult in Arkansas. They lived in isolation, farming and baking artisan bread, selling their wares at local farmers’ markets and waiting for the return of the Bear God Incarnate.

They were nutcases, clearly, but harmless ones with plenty to eat and comfy beds in individual little cubicles, and there was no abuse or crazy sex stuff. They just baked and planted crops and had drum ceremonies where they walked on all fours and roared like bears, and prayed that one of them would be touched by the Bear God and gain the power to turn into a bear at will.

As if that would ever happen.

Still, as long as Lissa went to the rituals and played bear, nobody actually seemed to care if she believed any of it or not. She did her work and got food and shelter in return, and it was all awesome until Brother Damien showed up.

But she didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to think about the demon that was riding her ever since she’d left, or the aggression and the blackouts and the driving hunger.

The demon’s not real, she told herself. Traumatic delusion, remember? Or a brain tumor. Or a tapeworm, that would be good.

No, a tapeworm would be gross and disturbing, but it was better than a brain tumor. Or some kind of mental breakdown. Or becoming a vampire, or a flesh-eating zombie, or the Bear God Incarnate.

Okay, that was enough of that. She’d never believed in that woo-woo stuff, and she wasn’t going to start now.

She kept telling herself she should go into Nashville and find a free clinic. There must be one somewhere. Maybe they could tell her what was wrong with her.

But whenever she thought of doing that, she felt even sicker, like it would be wrong to let anyone know what was going on.

Yeah. The paranoid delusions all say that.

Out in the empty convenience store, she heard a faint noise, and she stiffened.

Someone was in her squat.

Lissa reached under the couch cushion for the hunting knife she always kept there. Slowly, she slid it from its sheath and tiptoed to the door, pressing herself against the wall and listening again.

There was a soft crinkling noise, like someone had stepped on one of the empty snack packages she left scattered over the floor. Between those and the empty soda cans, she had a top-notch early warning system.

The person was still out in the convenience store area—they hadn’t found the hallway to the office. Lissa glanced at the bookshelf that hid her emergency exit. Should she bolt? Or see who it was?

Her curiosity overcame her. And if it was another vagrant, looking for a place to stay, she wasn’t giving this place up without a fight.

Lissa stole down the hallway to the entrance to the convenience store, flattening herself against the wall.

She didn’t hear anything, but she could feel someone out there. A heavy, menacing presence that pressed down on her chest. And a faint scent, like a dark forest with something feral in it…

A huge figure loomed up out of the shadows, reaching for her. Instinctively she slashed at the figure, and felt the knife blade slide along the skin of their arm, drawing blood.

Tank ducked, but not fast enough. The knife sliced across his exposed forearm below his pushed-up sleeve, and blood ran down his arm.

Dammit, he should have been paying better attention.

He grabbed the woman’s wrist and twisted her around, pinning her against him with her knife hand held out to the side.

She stiffened. “You better not be here to rape me,” she said. “Because my vagina has teeth that will bite your dick right off. And also lately I go wacko and attack people, and it’s not pretty.”

Tank couldn’t help a huff of laughter. She really was crazy. He knew he should let go of her, but his bear kind of liked the feel of her rounded ass rubbing against his thighs. And she still had that knife.