Black Bear Rising: A BWWM Paranormal Romance (Black Bear Saga Book 1) (7 page)

Tulimak drew his blade and took a step forward.

Tannis’s shoulders twitched and he sniffed the air. He turned to Tulimak and said, “Son there is no need for that. I want you to join me,” and he charged at the boy.

Tulimak sat behind the imposing oak desk with his feet up on it. If his father had of still been around he would never have allowed his son to do that. Tulimak didn't care what his father would say, he hadn't seen him in six months since he seemed to blink out of existence and disappear. My father is a coward Tulimak thought, he has no stomach for the coming war and like any true coward slunk off to wait the conflict out. The relationship between both of them had been strained for over a hundred years now and Tulimak was glad he was gone, leaving him in charge of the family business.

The office that Tulimak sat in was backed by a ceiling to floor glass window and Tulimak looked out at the view across the city. His family owned the streets below. Nothing happened without his family getting a cut or a taste of the action. Drugs, girls, blackmail, and murder all flowed through his families network with the proceeds going in one direction. His inner circle was protected by multiple layers of a protective buffer and no criminal in the food chain ever knew who they really worked for. Security through obfuscation was how they operated. Tulimak and his clan had no goal to be as well known or mythologised as the mafia. His people needed to operate in the shadows, never drawing attention to themselves. Some knew them as nothing more than slum lords and his father had always been happy to be tarred with that brush. It makes the family seem petty and small time he had told his son many times, we stay as an unknown quantity and no one can ever come after us. Tulimak no longer wanted to hide in the shadows. The way his father had set things up was that any crimes that were committed on their behalf could never be traced back to the clan. The drug baron who controlled huge stretches of the West coast meth trade believed he was working for the columbians, he was never aware that it was Tannis’s clan who pulled the strings. They were the silent cabal that never stepped out from the shadows. A group so secretive that no police department or FBI agent had ever uncovered any links to them. Some thugs loved others to know the story and myth behind their rise to power, seeing it as some sort of street cred to boost image and make them into some sort of mythic character. Nobody in Tannis’s clan wanted to be the next Al Capone. Utter anonymity and secrecy was how they accrued their power and it was how they kept it. Tulimak wanted to change all that, he hungered for power and recognition.

“Come in,” Tulimak bellowed to the person knocking on his office door.

A man walked in and closed the door behind him. He was short and powerfully built with a shiny bald head, red rimmed eyes and dressed in a dark suit. He had been his fathers right hand man, but since he had gone missing the task now fell to him to assist Tulimak. His name was Flint Mela and he was one of the very few people who was not a clan member and yet was trusted.

“Did you catch them?” Tulimak asked.

Flint shook his head. “We have a group of men closing in on them now. He should be ours before the day is out.”

“And the girl?” Tulimak said not hiding his anger.

“She is with him. It looks like she is the one that the prophesy foretold,” Flint said.

“Do you believe this prophesy bullshit?” Tulimak asked.

Flint looked out the window as he choose his words wisely. “Your father believed it.”

“Fuck him. He lost any say in this endeavour when he choose to slink off back to the woods. If he truly thought this woman was going to bring peace to the two clans do you think he would have ran away like that. I’ve been saying it for years. This woman’s appearance isn't the beginning of good times with both clans getting together and sitting around holding hands. She is the beginning of the end. Her appearance means nothing more than the starting bell for the final war between the bears. My father knew this, thats why he ran like a coward. He never had the constitution for this kind of thing. You didn't answer me. Do you hold the same beliefs as my father?”, Tulimak asked.

Flint looked Tulimak in the eye, an unwavering granite rock in the middle of crashing waves and said, “It’s not my place to expound on the truth of the prophesy. I am here to carry out your orders and nothing more.”

Tulimak laughed a hoarse scratchy bark. “Thats why the clan finds you indispensable Flint. You don't stick your neck out and choose sides. You just do what needs to be done.” He stood up and slammed his hands on the desk, “Now go and get me that fucking girl. No screw ups this time,” he shouted.

Flint bowed his bald marble of a head, turned on his heels and left the office. Tulimak paced back and forth in front of the window. His skin burned beneath his shirt. His whole body itched and every movement felt like he was rubbing sandpaper across his skin. He wiggled his jaw from side to side. Everything felt too tight on him, it felt like his skin could rip and tear at any moment. He hit a button on the phone on his desk and said, “Prepare the pit. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”

The helicopter pilot nodded to Tulimak as he got in and buckled himself in. “Sir we shall be at the ranch in approximately thirty-five minutes,” the pilot said and turned back to the console. The blades began to turn over head and Tulimak looked out across the blocks of slum apartments, chop shops and sweat shop factories all concentrated in the blocks around his building. I own these people he thought to himself as the helicopter took off. Top to bottom I control every facet of their grubby little lives, they want some money to start a business it comes through me, no bank would ever touch the hard luck cases who live in my tenements. They want entertainment they turn to me, drugs, booze, and girls, I can provide them all. They want a job, I'm their man I always have position in my sweatshops churning out copies of the next hot new handbag. I offer the complete package. From birth to the grave I have my hands in their pockets every step of the way, Tulimak thought as he looked down at the derelict buildings he owned.

The helicopter banked across the red brick tenements kicking up dust and debris as it skimmed across the rooftops. Tulimak liked his pilot to fly low across the buildings, let the low life's see what money and power can bring you and the poor deluded fools will think that maybe someday if they work hard enough they could pull themselves out of the mud. Tulimak knew there was no chance of that, the deck was stacked for people like them, a boot on the back of their necks from the moment they were born. If only they knew it was a clawed paw holding them down Tulimak thought to himself and smiled.

The city zoomed past them below, the arteries of the great beating smoke stained heart clogged with cars inching there way towards destinations unknown. If only the poor rubes in the metal cages knew that a predator faster, stronger and smarter than they could ever hope to be was flying above them and watching. Our day will come Tulimak thought, there will be no more hiding in the shadows and living off the crumbs that fell from the greasy underbelly of humanity. The bears would rise and take their rightful place at the head of the table, humans had their chance at running things, it’s our time now Tulimak thought to himself. Humanity as we know it, will be a footnote in our history books. The great bear clan will rise he thought to himself, once our peace loving, weaker relations are destroyed the pieces will be in place for the start of a new world order and the beginning of the white bears dynasty.

“Son it is time,” said Pamiuq Tresode. He stood with his arms folded across his chest and looked down at his son, if he was afraid for what was ahead for his boy he didn't show it. Pamiuq had gone through the same ritual when he was his sons age and after the hardship had risen through the ranks of the great white bear clan. Pamiuq Tresode now stood at the right hand as a trusted general to Tannis, the great leader and originator of the gift of bearhood.

Nasak Tresode sat on a wooden bench across from his father and he tried to block out the noise of the chanting crowds outside. His hands shook and he pressed them into his lap so that his father would not see his fear. At sixteen Nasak was small for his size, his arms and legs were thin and he had been bullied about his skinniness from a young age. When your father is the right hand man of the clan leader and built like a solid wall of muscle kids could be cruel to Nasak as he was a less than exemplary specimen of manhood. Much to his fathers dismay Nasak had been more interested in books, puzzles and word games from a very young age.

One of Nasaks very first memories was him sitting on his ass as blood ran down a cut on his lip. His father had dragged him outside and away from his pile of books and started to teach him how to fight. Nasak had weakly tried to protect his face with his hands when his father slapped him open handed with a loud meaty thwack. Nasaks eyes began to sting and when he tasted the metallic twang of blood on his lip, his legs had lost all power in them and he had sat down hard on his ass. He sat there in the dirt pale as a ghost as his father paced back and forth in front of him. Nasak always remembered the look on his fathers face. It wasn’t concern for the boys injury it was a look of utter disgust at his weakness. That had been the end of the sparring session and his father had never invited him to partake again.

As the years rolled on and Nasak grew ever closer to turning sixteen his Father tried to prepare him for the fast approaching ritual. He introduced Nasak to other young men of the fighting class and tried to foster an appreciation of the outdoors, hunting, fieldcraft and tactics. Nasak showed no interest in any of this and always felt the most comfortable and happy when he was indoors in his bedroom with the shades down, the door closed and a good book in his hand.

As Nasak sat in the hut and the chants of the crowds grew louder and louder he now wished he had of listened to some of his fathers advice. Now that the ritual was about to begin he felt sick to his stomach. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply to try and quench the rising flames of panic.

His father reached over and put his hand on Nasak shoulder, a rare moment of intimacy between father and son. “Look at me son,” he said. Nasak raised his head and was surprised to see that his fathers eyes looked close to tears. “Our family has served the clan leader for generations. My father and his father before him and all the way to the beginning of the great clan have served as the general and trusted advisor. When I pass on, the same honour will befall you. Do not fear the ritual, it forges great men from the weaker flesh we were born into. It has been your destiny from the day you were born.” His father took his hand off his shoulder and turned his head and coughed twice into his closed fist. He turned back to his son, his jaw clenched and a distant look in his eyes and said, “You could never disappoint me son.” He got up and left the small hut without looking back.

The crowd roared even louder as Nasaks father left the hut. They know what is about to begin he thought to himself. Thoughts of running away from what he must face filled Nasaks mind. He imagined a life free of the structure and set rules of the clan. He wanted to live in a place were he could study and read and while away the days filling his mind with as much knowledge as possible. The idea of being a great general and part of a lineage that linked back to the very beginning of the clan did not interest him. All Nasak wanted to do was return to his books and lose himself in the towering and never ending world of knowledge.

The door of the hut opened and bright sun light streamed in and Nasak squinted out. Ahead of the hut lay a metal walkway that lead down to the circular ritual pit. A hundred or so people ringed the pit and they all shouted in unison as soon as Nasak stepped onto the walkway. The idea of vaulting over the walkways railings, dropping the ten foot drop and then trying to push through the crowds to escape momentarily entered his mind. You wouldn’t make it more than thirty seconds before you would be grabbed and then dragged into the fighting pit. As strong as his urge was to run Nasak couldn’t face the humiliation that he would bring to his father if he tried to run like a coward.

He stepped forward and the guard shut the door to the hut. Nasak walked to the end of the walkway and looked down at the circular pit below him. The ground was covered in sand and it had been raked and smoothed that morning. At the other side of the pit was a steel door painted blood red. His hands shook as he walked the flight of steps down into the pit. Nasak jumped and spun around when they noise of the metal step being withdrawn startled him. The walls of the pit were a dull grey concrete and too high to be climbed over.

Nasak spun around looking up at the faces in the crowd. Everything was a blur and he couldn’t seem to focus on any one face. The noise of the crowd seemed to rise and fall like waves on a beach in his ears. He couldn’t make out what they were saying just a noisy wailing static of a hundred voices cheering. His mouth was as dry as the sand on the pits floor and he continued to spin around until he found his father in the crowd. He focused on him and his father nodded at him. He believes in me Nasak thought, maybe he is right about me after all he thought grasping wildly at the idea.

The noise of metal scrapping filled the air and a cold sweat sprung up all over his body. His loose fitting clothes stuck to his body as he turned to the metal doors. The bolt was being pulled back on the other side. Nasak stood with his back against the wall and he balled his small bony fists. The blood red door slid into a recess in the wall. The crowd fell silent. The corridor behind the doorway was as dark as a sharks eye. Nasak held his breath. The soft pat pat pat of movement came from the darkness until the large bear emerged from the gloom.
 

The crowd erupted into applause as the bear walked into view on all fours and then reared up on its hind legs. The bears fur was a snowy white with patches of golden blonde around its paws, haunches and the top of its head. The bear opened its maw and roared to the sky. Nasak could not take his eyes off the huge paddle like front paws of the bear which ended in curling claws which could disembowel a seal in seconds. The words of his trainer for the ritual rang around his head, “You must fight the bear, no matter how desperate the situation looks. If you do not fight then you will never walk out of the pit again.”