Tor (Westerly Cove Book 1) Read online

  "Exactly like that. Anyway," Bernie said brightly. She tried to ignore the sound of growling coming from the bedroom and hoped Pennywise would at least wait until the real estate agent was gone to start destroying things.

  "That smell ..." Wyona said uncertainly. "I'm sorry, I had them check the septic system thoroughly—"

  "No, that smell is Pennywise," Bernie said. "I'd love to see the rest of the house, please?"

  "Yes, of course," Wyona said, recovering. "By the way, we had the plumbing fully inspected and the water tested. Everything in here works. The bedroom is—perhaps we'll look at the bedroom later," she amended, veering past the open door emitting its warbling, dangerous growl. "There's a small living room back here; I think it was used as a sewing room at one point. We've also left the original furniture intact."

  Bernie found herself touched once again, looking at the small, clean room with its tidy white-painted furniture, a rocking chair and a small table and a wicker divan with cushions. "I wasn't expecting you to do so much."

  "It was the least I could do." Wyona laughed her pleasant laugh again. "I told you, I was worried that you'd take one look and run. I want you to feel at home."

  "I do. I love it. What's this?" Bernie asked, opening the door on the far wall of the living room. It opened into a small lean-to, of sorts, with a door at the far side. Unlike the tidy rest of the house, it was cluttered with tools and other junk, although it was a very small space so there wasn't much room to begin with. At least half of it was taken up with an old chest freezer half buried in boxes.

  "That's a mudroom," Wyona said. "Do you have those out in Vancouver? It's just a place where you can knock the snow or mud off your boots and leave your outside gear before coming into the house. It's pretty cluttered, so I figured I'd bring you in through the kitchen instead."

  Bernie crossed to the door, unlocked and opened it, and looked out. It opened onto the yard. From here she had a better look at the outbuildings. "What's in the other buildings?"

  "Just storage space for the most part. Other than the lighthouse, which I don't think anyone has been inside in years, there's a garden shed and a generator in case of power outages. Oh, and an unfinished attic above us that could be converted into bedrooms if you want."

  Bernie refrained from mentioning that there was little need for extra bedrooms; it wasn't like she had any expectations of guests or company. "No, this is just right, and I love the light in here," she said, returning to the living room. "I'm an artist, you see."

  "Oh, how wonderful! Do you paint?"

  Bernie nodded. "Scenery, mostly. So you can see why I wanted to live somewhere scenic."

  "It's also isolated," Wyona warned her. "There's a small store in town, but if you want anything they don't sell—well, you saw what the drive is like. This kind of lifestyle isn't for everyone."

  "I think it's for me," Bernie said.

  "And we also ..." Wyona hesitated. "We're also very understanding in this town of, um ... special needs."

  Wyona said it with a strange emphasis, looking closely at Bernie, as if she expected Bernie to know exactly what she was talking about—or was sending feelers to find out.

  Bernie didn't have the foggiest clue.

  "I ... don't have any?" she said somewhat weakly. "Do you mean, like ... there's ramps as well as stairs?"

  It seemed to her that Wyona looked very slightly disappointed, but she smiled. "Oh, just letting you know that we're friendly to all different kinds of people with special abilities here."

  "Um, good?" said Bernie, who was now utterly lost.

  "Oh no, the time," Wyona said, checking her watch. "I'm sorry, I have to run, I have an appointment in town. Here are the keys to the house and the lighthouse; you'll have to look around in there on your own. And you have my number. If you have any questions or problems, feel free to call."

  She handed over the key ring. Its weight in Bernie's hand made the reality of it settle on her with an abrupt finality.

  "Thank you," she said, and shook Wyona's hand again.

  She was here. After the drive, after all of it, she finally had a place to call her own.

  A lonely, isolated place, but that was what she wanted now. Somewhere to shut out the world and heal her broken heart.

  Tor

  "Did you hear that someone's moved into the old lighthouse up on the point?"

  At the unexpected sound of his sister's voice, Tor's hand jerked on the boat motor he was repairing, skidded down, and gashed his thumb.

  "Ow! C'mon, Inga, don't sneak up on me."

  Standing on the deck of the Codfather, the family's fishing boat, Inga Nilsson crossed her arms and frowned at her brother. She was less buff than her older brothers, but nearly as tall, with the family's characteristic blond hair and generally stacked build. Her brothers looked like bodybuilders; Inga was an Amazon.

  It was the polar bear shifter in them. The Nilssons didn't come in size small.

  "Yeah, Juanita told me that she heard from her sister—you know, Wyona? The real estate agent? The new owner just took possession of—Torvald, are you even listening?"

  "I'm listening," Tor said. "Give me a hand here."

  Shifter strength made easy work of reassembling the motor, and Tor started it up to listen to the engine's steady, deep thumping before shutting it down again.

  "This boat is such a piece of junk," Inga sighed.

  "She's a solid old girl, though, isn't she?" Tor slapped the bulkhead. "It's just that Little Bro doesn't know how to take care of her. He almost ran her out of oil this time."

  "It's not Eren's fault," Inga said. "I've run this old bucket of bolts enough to know that it eats oil. He just needs more experience. You and Dad need to stop riding him so hard. If you don't like how he runs the boat, teach him."

  "The problem is that he never listens," Tor complained.

  They climbed out of the dark engine compartment into the bright sun, continuing the half-friendly, half-serious argument. The boat bobbed on its mooring lines, and around them, the bright waters of Westerly Cove glittered in the sun. The small, colorful houses of the fishing town climbed the hill surrounding the bay.

  "No, the problem is that you and Dad never listen to him," Inga said.

  Tor sighed. He loved his family, but there were times when he felt like the only responsible adult. "I'm just trying to keep things together. If I don't do maintenance on the boat, no one else does it."

  "So let them deal with the consequences," Inga suggested. "If Eren runs the boat out of oil far from land and has to take ten hours to limp back with the kicker motor, it'll teach him not to do it again."

  "You're right, but ..."

  "But what?" She nudged him. "I know you got used to being Big Brother Tor when we were kids, but we're all grownups now. You don't have to take care of us anymore."

  Tor didn't answer immediately as they walked up the dock toward the Nilsson house. Because when it came right down to it, who was he, if not Big Brother Tor? He had all but raised his siblings; they'd lost their mom at an early age, leaving them with a fisherman dad who, while loving, couldn't be in two places at once, or be two parents at once. With a smaller sister and brother to care for, Tor had focused his life around his responsibilities.

  "So what was that you were saying about the lighthouse?" he asked, wanting to direct the subject onto safer ground. Town gossip was always good for a distraction. "Who bought it? Is it that big company that was going to make it into a tourist attraction?"

  He found himself flinching away from the idea. For the shifters in town, a throng of tourists would have been the opposite of a good time.

  "No, it's a woman. She's going to live there."

  Tor found his bear taking interest abruptly.

  "Really? What's she like?"

  "I don't know, I haven't met her," Inga said. "She's pretty nice, from what Juanita says. And she almost caught Juanita as a seal up there. I don't know if she thinks that seals can climb cliffs or wh
at, but the new lady seemed to believe Wyona when she said it was just one of the local seals, so I guess Juanita and Wyona need to get out in the harbor and swim around so the lighthouse lady can get a look at them and confirm that we really do have seals here."

  "Lighthouse lady?" Once again his bear gave a stir of interest. "Is that what we're calling her? Doesn't she have a name?"

  "Uh, starts with a B? Bobbie? Becky? Sorry, I don't remember for sure." She opened the door and made an "after you" gesture to her brother.

  It was only a short walk from the boat to the house because the Nilsson house was built on the docks themselves, straddling two docks over the water. Below the house, waves lapped gently against the rocky shore in the house's shade. The water rose and fell as the tide went in and out, but Stieg Nilsson had built it well, and the water level never quite came high enough to lap against the floorboards.

  It was a perfect arrangement for an aquatic shifter. There was a large trap door in the living room, opening through the floor to the water below. They could shift and dive into the water, and swim peacefully under the docks. If anyone heard splashing, it was known around town that the Nilssons often skinny-dipped under their house. There had been occasional times when town kids who didn't know about shifters tried to peek under the docks to get a look at swimming Inga, but either her brothers ran them off, or they got a faceful of polar bear and thus another mysterious polar bear sighting was added to the town's store of local Canadian lore.

  Right now, there was a polar bear in the kitchen.

  Actually, two polar bears.

  The larger of the two, a massive bulk of yellowish-white fur, was entirely blocking the space in front of the counters and the refrigerator. He was sitting on his haunches and glaring at a slightly smaller but equally belligerent bear, who was growling at him over the kitchen island.

  "Dad!" Inga said, at the same time as Tor said, "Eren!"

  The bears ignored them. The growling escalated. The larger bear aimed a light cuff at the smaller one, who dodged it and snapped at the slow-moving, shaggy paw. Several items went flying off the kitchen island, including a set of measuring cups and a jar of spaghetti that shattered on the floor.

  Inga covered her face with her hands.

  "Dad, Eren, if you two fight in the kitchen, you're cleaning it up," Tor said loudly. "Remember the last time?"

  They were completely ignored. The larger bear started to rear up and banged his head into the pots hanging from the kitchen ceiling. There was a tremendous cacophony of clanging, like a whole pile of washtubs rolling down a hill. The bear dropped back to all fours, looking startled.

  Eren's jaws parted in an ursine grin. His father tried to swat him again, and knocked off everything on the counter, including several boxes of cereal and a cutting board.

  "This is ridiculous," Tor said. "You take Eren, I'll take Dad."

  With that, they got in the middle of the bear fight. Tor gathered a double fistful of shaggy yellowish-white fur and hauled on it. Meanwhile Inga wrapped both arms around Eren's middle and heaved.

  Neither of the bears went anywhere; they were both car-sized, and too heavy for even shifter strength to move. However, it got their attention. Eren tried to bite Inga.

  "If you bite me, you're sleeping on the boat for a week!" she yelled in his ear.

  Pushing, Tor found, worked better than pulling. He braced a foot against the counter and pushed his dad slowly, steadily, and very pointedly toward the trap door in the floor. "Get out of here—both of you—go soak your heads and cool off 'til you calm down—!"

  Suddenly the bear shifted, and Tor had both hands pressed against his dad's heavy thatch of curly gray chest hair. Stieg Nilsson was massively built, as burly in human form as he was in bear form, even bigger than Tor. He batted at Tor's hands, as if he hadn't quite grasped that his hands were hands again and not still paws.

  "Hands off, son!"

  "Aaaaaaaa!" Inga wailed, burying her face in Eren's fur. "My eyes! What did I do to deserve this!"

  "Well, don't fight in the house, then!" Tor grabbed an afghan off the back of the couch and shoved it into his dad's hands. "Either get dressed before the neighbors notice what's going on over here, or go for a swim, but either way, stop making messes for the rest of us to clean up!"

  "Somebody's gotta teach that boy a little respect," Stieg growled. Eren, who hadn't bothered shifting back, snapped at him, and narrowly missed biting Tor's arm.

  "Okay, this is the last straw." Tor marched over to the trap door and opened it. Below the house, the waves lapped on the rocky shore with their reassuring cadence. "Anyone for a swim? Anyone? Now?"

  Eren growled, and sullenly, with every part of his ursine body language giving off sulky, petulant vibes, skulked to the opening in the floor. He looked down, then abruptly, giving no warning, dived off.

  Tor tried to slam the door in time, but didn't make it. Water fountained up from below, soaking him and the rug.

  He sighed and shut the trap door properly, then turned to look at the rest of his family. Inga reached for a broom and started sweeping up the broken glass.

  "Dad, come on. You're supposed to be the family alpha. You're supposed to set an example!"

  "That's what I was doing," Stieg shot back. "Alpha-ing the shit out of things. Your brother needs some alpha dominance once in a while."

  "You were brawling. As bears. In the kitchen."

  "Pants, please, Dad," Inga said loudly.

  It finally seemed to sink in on Stieg that there was, in fact, a mess. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, then said in a meeker tone, "You kids need some help with that?"

  "No!" they chorused. "Pants!"

  Stieg went off in the direction of the bedrooms.

  Inga handed the broom to Tor and started matter-of-factly picking up the cereal boxes, as if this a perfectly normal day. Which, Tor thought gloomily, it more or less was.

  Except for the intriguing news about a new resident. Tor decided to think about that rather than the chaos of his household. From below the house, he could hear splashing as Eren, presumably, swam around working off his angst.

  Anything that got him out of the house right now sounded good.

  "Think the new lighthouse lady would like it if I headed up to drop off some groceries?" Tor asked, returning the broom to the closet. "She ought to feel welcome in her new home."

  Inga smiled at him over the kitchen island. "She'll probably be gone as soon as winter sets in. New people rarely stay once they get a taste of what actually living here is like. You have to love this place in order to stay."

  "I know."

  But he still wanted to meet her. His bear was particularly intrigued, in a way Tor hadn't felt before. There was just one problem.

  "What kind of groceries do you think she'd want?" he asked anxiously. "What if she's a vegetarian?"

  Inga sighed. She dusted off her hands and pushed him toward the door. "Come on, big brother. Let me help you with the shopping."

  "I know how to shop, I just don't know how to shop for someone else."

  But he was excited. Why, he couldn't say. All he knew was that he couldn't wait to meet the lighthouse lady.

  Bernie

  Bernie was dreaming of lawnmowers.

  Specifically, she was dreaming of a very large, very angry lawnmower chasing her around the courtyard of her old condo complex in Vancouver. The engine howled, rising and falling with a terrible ululating shriek. It was familiar, somehow. In fact, it sounded almost exactly like—

  "Pennywise," Bernie mumbled, still half asleep. "Shut up."

  The yowling paused and then started up again, Pennywise's yodeling shriek that was the sound he mainly used to communicate with the world. He did have a rare, vibrating purr, but otherwise, he screamed. Sometimes the scream meant that another cat, or a dog, or a person, had come into his field of view and Pennywise had been filled with his usual rage at the sight of another living creature sharing his world; Pennywise redef
ined the term "only cat." Sometimes it meant he was hungry, which was probably the case now. Sometimes ... well, sometimes she really had no idea.

  A moment later, a weight landed on the foot of the bed. The yodeling sounded again, much nearer, accompanied by that faint but unmistakable Pennywise smell that was vaguely reminiscent of an alley that drunks had been peeing in.

  Bernie cracked an eye open, and then hastily sat up, because Pennywise on the bed rarely meant anything good. On some infrequent occasions, he would snuggle with her at night. More often, it meant he was about to express displeasure (his main emotion) by destroying something.

  Pennywise shot off the bed and vanished underneath it. There was a warning-sounding yowl that lifted, at the end, on a hopeful note.

  "Yes, fine, breakfast it is," Bernie grumbled, rubbing her eyes. "I could eat, too."

  She was actually starving. As she dressed in the unfamiliar bedroom, she noticed the sun was high, gleaming through the windows. She must have slept for twelve hours, if not longer. Yesterday, she had lugged her stuff in from the car, inhaled the last two sandwiches from the cooler, and collapsed.

  And no wonder. She'd been going nonstop for the last couple of weeks. She had sold the condo, sold most of her stuff, and then had driven all the way across Canada, which was not a small country. The only time she'd had a chance to rest was on the ferry from the mainland to Newfoundland, and even then, she had been occupied with trying to keep Pennywise calm, or at least in a state of minimal destruction.

  She would much rather have flown, but the idea of getting on a plane with that cat didn't bear thinking about.

  In sock feet, she padded into the kitchen. Wyona's cleaning efforts were evident; the place didn't look like it had been abandoned for years. There were signs of fresh claw marks on some of the cabinet doors, which she chose to ignore. The kitchen floor and the counters were sparkling clean, the appliances all seemed to work, and the refrigerator was humming. When she opened it, she found that it was clean inside as well as outside.

  It was also completely empty.