Briar on Bruins' Peak (Bruins' Peak Bears Book 7) Page 15

  She giggled at how weird her father’s face looked so close to hers; his eyes looked more like one giant eye, and his face seemed to spread out into the car. His moustache tickled her, and she snuggled into the corner of the seat. “Stop! Daddy, your moustache.”

  “Oh, are you ticklish?” He reached out and tickled the sides of her ribs until she giggled even more. Harper closed her eyes and felt the car careening around the corner and her nerves jump around under her skin. She smelled her father’s cologne and listened to him laugh with her. She was deliriously happy; she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been sad.

  The next few weeks were normal ones for Harper. She attended her classes in her small schoolroom with her private tutor and learned how to subtract from numbers as big as thirty or forty, read about sleeping princesses who were woken by a handsome hero, and painted pictures of suns and mountains to carry across the palace to her father’s offices. On her own side, she minded her manners and went to bed without complaint. She saw her father every evening and every morning, made sure to listen to everything he said, and kept a big smile on her face. She didn’t want to give anyone any cause to cancel her Big Day.

  The Big Day was a day that Harper had come to love. It was a day when everyone who worked for her father was invited to bring their children to the presidential palace and work on their training. Harper lived for the Big Day, it was the only time that she was surrounded by other young girls and boys and was allowed to speak with anyone she wished. For Harper, it was heaven on earth.

  The night before, she laid out a pretty blue dress with the help of her nanny who insisted she would need white tights and a white headband to go with it. Harper clapped her hands at the sight of her clothes all arranged on her big, soft chair.

  “It will look so nice! Thank you, Carol Anne.”

  “You’re so welcome, my sweetheart.” Carol Anne quickly shifted into a cat and jumped onto Harper’s lap. Harper picked up a brush and stroked Carol Anne’s back. She loved to brush her nanny.

  “Carol Anne,” she said, wagging her finger and talking as if she were the adult in the room, “your hair is just an absolute mess. I need to get you all pretty.” She focused on Carol Anne’s ears and then her whiskers, finally touching up the tip of the cat’s long, waving tail. “There. Now you look presentable.”

  Harper’s wristband let out a small beep to let her know it was eight o’clock, and Carol Anne quickly jumped down and shifted back into human form.

  “Oh, my goodness! The time went so quickly. Come on, let’s go see your father.”

  Harper jumped down from the bed with a squeal. “Daddy! Daddy’s home!” She ran through the spacious hall to her father’s rooms, and the security guards quickly opened them up for her. She ran in and saw President Bachmann already kneeling down with open arms. She picked up speed and jumped right into his embrace.

  “I missed you, Daddy!”

  “I missed you, my perfect little pumpkin. What did you do today?”

  Harper quickly recounted her day as she was lifted up and out of the room in her father’s arms. Together, they moved into the dining room and took their seats on either side of the table’s corner. A huge meal was laid out for them with three servants waiting on them.

  “Oh my goodness. You had quite a day!”

  “I really did. Did you have fun today, Daddy?”

  “Well,” the president considered the question as he put his napkin on his lap, “actually, I had kind of a sad day. You see, darling, some bad people are telling lies about your father and just won’t stop. I don’t know what to do.”

  “You should tell the truth,” Harper offered, shoving a big bite of chicken into her mouth. “The truth is always best.”

  Her father tickled her under the chin and laughed a little. “You are going to make one fine president once you’re grown up.”

  “But I don’t want to be president. I told you.” She speared a roasted potato, splitting it down the middle.

  “I know you did,” her father said, stopping her hand before she could put another enormous bite in her mouth. “Goodness, you must be growing even bigger. Your appetite is mind-blowing.” He gestured to a waiter who helped Harper cut her food into manageable bites.

  “Thank you, Niles,” she said politely, before going back to devouring her delicious meal. Her father watched her a moment and then gave her a big, warm smile.

  “I hope you change your mind about running this country, my darling. You know, I got this job from my father who was made president by my grandmother, the founder of our state. You come from a long line of leaders and thinkers. I would be so proud to see you behind my desk.”

  “You will, Daddy. I’m coming to work with you tomorrow.”

  Everyone in the room laughed a little and the president moved in for a hug with his daughter. “Silly me. I almost forgot about the Big Day. Are you excited?”

  She nodded and wiped her milk moustache away with dainty touches of a napkin to her face. “I already laid out a dress and everything.”

  “Oh, perfect. I cannot wait to have you walk into Headquarters with me. Everyone just loves to see you.”

  Harper crossed her eyes and slumped forward. “Do they like to see me like this?”

  Her father stroked his chin and nodded slowly. “You know, I think this could be your new look.” The two of them burst out laughing and went on eating and talking as the staff stood and watched the president and his only living relative put away enough food for a whole family.

  The next morning, Harper pulled up to Headquarters with her father in the big, silver car he always rode in. As they stepped out, Harper was thrilled to see that each security guard had a younger, smaller version of themselves holding their hands or standing by with their earpieces in. The doorman was there with his daughter in a matching red coat with gold trim, and the receptionist had her son right next to her, stapling papers and answering the phone. Harper wanted to meet all of them, but there were just too many. She waved and smiled, and they all waved back.

  Her heart fluttered in her chest at the sight of them all around her. Other kids! Kids who got to go to a real school and ride on busses and go to the public park. She could hardly believe they were real.

  She and her father went with his staff and their children to the big couches in his office for the morning coffee. There, everyone complimented him on all the decisions he had made the day before, laughed at his jokes, and put a stack of papers in front of him. Harper listened to everything they had to say as she sipped her chocolate milk and looked around the room.

  In one corner was a boy whose hair was very carefully combed down on top of his head, and dressed in a white shirt and tan pants that looked odd in a way that Harper couldn’t quite figure out. She looked to her father to ask him, but he was busy laughing with all of his office people, so she put down her milk and slid off the couch to talk to him.

  “Hi.”

  The little boy’s eyes went wide and he was sweating. He nodded and then stammered out. “H-hi. Hi. You’re the president’s daughter. Hi.”

  “Yeah, I am. Who are you?”

  “I’m Grey. That’s my dad.” He pointed to the man standing nice and tall in the corner. Harper knew that the man had an important job, but she had never seen him do it. The man didn’t smile or wave when Harper waved at him. Rather, he kept his eyes on the president and his meeting as if he were a little bit nervous. The girl shrugged and went back to her new friend.

  “What job are you learning today?”

  Grey puffed out his skinny chest and grinned. “I’m learning how to be a messenger like my dad. He already let me take one message all by myself.”

  “A messenger?”

  “Yeah. I can fly in my eagle form. It helps a lot of people. I fly really fast.” Grey spread his arms out and ran around in a little circle and Harper quickly jumped in and ran around with him. She heard her father say her name, but she didn’t stop. She was dizzy with the cent
rifugal force and the glee of the moment and wanted the moment to last. Her father said her name a couple more times, each time getting a little louder. Before she knew he was standing over her, he lifted her into the air and scared her silent.

  “Harper Bachmann,” he said, holding her right at his eye line, “this is not how we behave at Headquarters. Apologize to my staff for your behavior right now.”

  Tears welled in Harper’s eyes. She loved playing, but it always seemed to get her in trouble. She took in a big, shuddery breath, and then said, “Sorry, everybody.”

  Everyone gave her a sympathetic face and mumbled their forgiveness, assuring her it was fine, but all of that somehow made the moment worse. Her father pulled her in for a hug and addressed the room.

  “Excuse us, everyone. I think all of this was a bit more than young Harper was ready for. Excuse me, Floyd?”

  The tall man in the corner came to life just as Harper turned her teary face towards him. He gave her a warm smile and walked over. “Yes, Mr. President?”

  “I know you’re very busy, but seeing as we have two little ones who really should get to know one another, I’m curious if perhaps I could persuade you to take them out into the garden so that they could get some of this energy out? Who knows,” he added, giving the room a wink, “maybe they’ll be best friends.”

  Another big laugh followed Grey and Harper out of the room as Floyd escorted them out the back, and the adults all congratulated the president on another joke well-told. Harper glanced back at her laughing father as the door closed, then shrugged and ran to lead the way out to the garden, daring Grey to try and run as fast as her to the other side of the garden.

  Chapter 4

  Catastrophe

  That first play date between Harper and Grey became the first of many. Floyd was invited to bring in his son about once a week, and Grey was then driven off to a private park where Harper would be waiting with her band of security guards. Together they would play one of several games: President and Messenger, War, or Funeral.

  Harper loved to see Grey shift and carry her messages off to different security guards. They would read her notes with serious faces and then compose a response and give it to him to fly back to her. Even though she was only a few feet away, she still laughed and clapped any time she got a note. Grey was always breathing heavily after a few minutes of President and Messenger. That would be when he would suggest they play Funeral.

  Funeral was Grey’s chance to lay down and close his eyes. Harper liked to stand over him and say lovely things about how brave he had been, how nice he was, and how his favorite kind of sandwich was bologna. He always had to fight hard not to smile when they had one of these play sessions. It was always fun to hear a president’s daughter say nice things about you.

  The two of them only played War on odd days. Grey was always taken by surprise when Harper wanted to play it; she was normally very happy and sweet, but every once in a while, she would narrow her eyes and say, “Let’s have a war.”

  That was Grey’s cue to run as she chased him around the park with a stick or a handful of rocks, yelling, “You dirty shifter! Stay away from us! Get back to your Hills!”

  Grey had to act extra scared and surrender as quickly as possible, swearing that the humans could have whatever they wanted. She would laugh triumphantly up to the sky and put one little, black shoe on his back as he kneeled on the ground.

  “Humans win again!” Her declaration would echo around the empty park, and Grey would secretly roll his eyes. He knew the real story of the war, and he knew it hadn’t gone that way. His parents had been very clear with him – never correct Harper even when she’s wrong.

  One day, after a round of War and Messenger, the two of them settled into a game of Funeral. Grey lay down on the cool grass and closed his eyes as Harper cleared her throat and pretended to cry.

  “Dear friends,” she began, “today we are sad. Very, very sad. Today, Grey is dead.”

  Grey nestled into the grass and relished the moment. He waited, eyes still closed, for her to continue, but all he heard was movement. After some quick footsteps, the park went quiet. Was this some new surprise from the security guards? He waited for a long moment, keeping his eyes closed so the game could continue, but the grass got too cold. He listened hard to try and determine what was happening, but again, nothing happened.

  He couldn’t take it anymore and opened his eyes. “Hey, what’s…” he sat straight up. All around him were trees and blades of dead grass, but no people. Everyone was gone.

  Grey’s breath came fast and hard; his heart beat far too fast. He kept trying to make sense of what had happened – he had been left in the park, while Harper had been whisked away. Not a single adult was there. He didn’t even know how far away his home was.

  As a shifter, Grey could have changed form and gone off to The Hills, but as a person he knew something was very wrong and that the wrong move could make it worse. He jumped up and ran to the edge of the park to see if any adults were nearby, but the only people he saw seemed to be running away from him. One man jogged by with a shocked, pale face and flashed by Grey.

  “Hi. Sir, please…” but he was gone. Grey looked around, but no one else was nearby. He swallowed hard and started running in the same direction he had seen the last adult go and followed the road to see where it led.

  The park was just down the road from a row of stores and a big community screen. Grey saw a group of people standing around the towering structure with moving pictures. He listened to the booming voices coming from the speakers and veered towards them. As soon as he reached the spot, he was surrounded by others who were also running and trying to find help and found himself pinned in by his arms and legs. He tried to wiggle out of the tiny space, but he couldn’t move.

  Above his head, mouths were gasping and jaws were dropping. Around him, hands were reaching for one another and squeezing so hard that their knuckles turned bright white. The bodies around him crushed in even closer until he was finding it hard to breathe. He moved back little by little until he was just one step away from the back of the crowd. He ducked down and out and gasped for breath as even more people ran to join the others.

  Grey looked around and saw a nearby abandoned building with a high tower of crumbling rooms. He ran over to it and hid in a corner, shifting to his bird form. As an animal, Grey was an American kestrel, a small breed of eagle with soft grey wings and a white crest on his head with black flecks all over his body. He could fly around without attracting much attention as his size was very modest; every time he’d played President and Messenger with Harper she’d been able to hold him against her chest as she read her notes. He hopped out to the edge of the building and then took flight.

  As a bird, Grey was able to flit around the crowd and take in the scene in its entirety. He flew in a circular motion, passing in front of the screen in five-second intervals. As he did, he saw videos of people covered in bloody marks, buildings on fire, and babies crying. A voice boomed from the speakers and reached him each time he passed the screen.

  “This horrible attack…victims are claiming that shifters are to blame…fire, blood, and tears….” Grey was so shocked by the claim that any shifter could do such a thing that he flew too low and smacked into a man’s ear. The force made him dizzy, and his wings flapped at an angle, making it easy for a nearby hand to grab and hold him.

  “What is this?” The voice belonged to a large pair of angry eyes glaring right at him with fire deep inside the black pupils. “I think this bird is a shifter.”

  Grey quickly let out a series of little bird peeps just as his parents had taught him to do anytime he was caught in animal form, but the squeaky sounds coming out of him just made everyone lean in closer and screw up their eyes even more as the hand holding him squeezed a little tighter.

  “Kill it,” one voice said. “No reason to risk it. None of us will say anything.” Mumbles of approval went around the crowd as Grey’s tiny heartbeat
doubled in speed. The hand began to crush in on him and it got harder to breathe.

  “I’m dying,” Grey thought. “Today is the day I die.” He shook in the man’s hand and turned his head from side to side, peeping as quickly and as pathetically as he could. The crowd gathered in a bit tighter, anxious to watch the little bird be crushed to death.

  “Please!” The cry came from him against his will. “I’m Harper’s friend!”

  The sound of a human voice coming from a bird shocked the man holding him so much that the big, strong hand released him with a loud “Oh!” Wasting no time, Grey quickly flapped in the air and slipped through the hands reaching for him in the air. He sped away, flapping his wings hard and breathing fast. He had to get home.

  As a bird, Grey’s honing skills came to the fore and he could navigate through the crumbling buildings, over the square and rectangle roofs, and out to The Hills. Even from a distance, he could see the mob making its way to the settlement.

  From his point of view, the crowd looked like a long, stretched out caterpillar in blue jeans and dark jackets crawling out onto the dirt. Grey extended his wings and tilted to the side, swooping down and out to get a closer look.

  Through his sharp, eagle eyes he could see angry, clenched faces focused on the space in front of them. Each pair of hands seemed to hold a long, heavy object slamming into rough, mean hands. Grey went up again and aimed toward his house, desperate to find his parents, but saw right away that someone else had beaten him to it.

  A small crowd stood outside the door of his family’s shack and seemed to be observing. He perched on the roof of the house across from theirs and hopped side to side in a panic. The men at the door were big; they wore welder uniforms and each had a long, hooked piece of metal in his hands. Grey had always liked the welders. They had cool masks and made the sparks fly with their special tools, but that wasn’t their plan today. They wanted to tear everything apart and leave it all in pieces.