Between a Bear and a Hard Place(40)

“They ain’t gonna come for you,” Jacques offered.

Claire stared at the dark fringe of the man’s hair that poked out from under the big headphones he wore. His voice resonated in her head, through her own headset. For a moment she let herself think about the incredible clarity of his voice, and wonder what sort of high-dollar earphones she must be wearing.

“That’s what they said,” she finally responded. “But... how? Someone died!”

Claire, still watching the pilot, caught a glimpse of him flicking his eyes up to Jill. “She a part of ‘dis now, Jilly.”

The two of them kept watching one another, the tension between them palpable and slightly uncomfortable. “What is it?” Claire asked, when she couldn’t take anymore staring and glancing and sidelong looks. “Is there some massive conspiracy? I read all that crap about GlasCorp and it’s so stupid. I never saw—”

“You were part of a three person escape from a pharmaceutical company that involved you and two...” Jill trailed off, obviously intending for Claire to finish. “Two...?”

Claire heaved a heavy sigh. Two astonishingly hot men that I can’t stop thinking about even though I’m apparently running for my life. And I wish this goddamn birthmark would stop twitching and tingling.

“You’re looking for me to say two shape-shifting bear men, right?”

Jacques chuckled. “’Dis one catch on fast.”

“I’m not going to say one way or another,” Jill said, carefully biding her words. “Because all I know is what I’ve seen. But I went into the woods six months ago to study some weird bears in the Appalachians. A week into my trip I had killed a werewolf and had a three-way with the two bears who saved your two.”

“Must be nice,” Claire said under her breath, looking down at her toes. “I can’t stop thinking about them in exactly that way. I can’t think about anything else it’s so ridiculous that with everything else going on, all I can think of is their beauty, their muscles, their...”

A buffet of wind struck the side of the chopper, sending it careening to the left, dangerously close to the treetops, just as Jill took hold of Claire’s shoulder, sensing that the woman needed steadiness and calm. The thumb on Jill’s left hand slipped just below the dirty, slightly stretched collar of Claire’s shirt, brushing along the top of the birthmark.

Electricity tickled the back of Claire’s throat, out of nowhere. She started, surprised at the sensation and then found herself clutching Jill’s hand. Jill’s normally hard, focused eyes softened slightly. Jacques had control of the chopper again, and the thumping of blades was once again the only sound in the world.

“Do you have a... a birthmark? Right there?” Jill’s voice was soft and coaxing. “One that kinda—”

“Tingles?” Claire pulled her shirt down, baring her shoulder. The faint light in the helicopter’s cabin illuminated a purple-blue mark. Jill ran her fingertip along the top of the mark. “I had no idea what was going on,” Claire breathed. “I’d always had this thing. All of a sudden, when I went to work one night, it started to kinda vibrate, or warm, or... I dunno, it’s hard to explain.”

“The closer you got?”

Claire cocked her head, a confused look on her lips.

“To them, I mean. To where they were being held?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess. I hadn’t really thought about it,” she lied for some reason. “It just seemed weird is all.”

Without another word, Jill pulled her striped tee low enough that Claire could see hers. “Does this help? Or... is it just weirder now? I’m guessing weirder.”

Claire’s mouth drooped, her jaw falling open just a little. “I,” she swallowed. “You know, if I hadn’t seen what I’d seen in the past few days, I would be a whole lot more amazed at meeting someone with the same weird birthmark I have.”

Jill snorted a laugh. “GlasCorp is capturing werebears from a particular clan. They’re experimenting on them and trying to figure out a way to use their strength, their essence, whatever you want to call it, to make an army.”

“Holy. Shit.”

“You’re part of this,” Jill’s voice was hard, but gentle enough to not frighten the newcomer. “Because you were chosen... by someone, something, whatever, to be part of it.”

Suddenly, another buffet of wind struck the chopper. Jacques let out another loud semi-curse that involved prairie dogs and stew. He grunted and slumped to the side. “Ain’t... ain’t wind,” he gasped. “Something hit...”