The Misfit and the Bear Page 2

  Oskar suddenly wanted to be alone. Usually, he loved the rowdy atmosphere inside Bear Hollow Brews, but tonight he just wanted to close his eyes and have some peace and quiet. Maybe he’d go to bed early and put this day out of its misery. Tomorrow would be better. At least, that’s what he had to tell himself to keep his sanity.

  Oskar downed the rest of his beer quickly and fought through the crowd to where Whisper stood behind the bar, passing out mugs of cold beer.

  “I’m heading home, Whis,” he called out. “Gonna try to hit the sack early so I can get up before dawn tomorrow. Maybe I’ll have better luck hunting, then.”

  She nodded at him. “There’s leftover potato casserole in the fridge, if you’re hungry. Have a good night.”

  She gave him a small wave and then went back to serving the crowd of shifters that surrounded her. Oskar’s mouth twisted up into a small smile. He might be the most eligible bachelor in town, but his sister was the most eligible bachelorette. Sometimes Oskar thought Axel had given her a job purely because having a girl as beautiful as Whisper behind the bar practically paid for itself. Scores of single shifter men came to the bar and stayed late, drinking beer after beer just for an excuse to talk to Whisper.

  But Whisper wasn’t interested. She treated all the men kindly, but she’d only ever had eyes for Axel. And Axel, who usually had a good eye for when a woman liked him, seemed somehow clueless about the fact that his cute little bartender frequently batted her eyelashes at him. Oskar chuckled under his breath as he turned to go. One of these days the two of them would figure it out.

  But the smile on Oskar’s face froze as he turned. The exit door stood wide open, and a group of Gilt Hollow guards had just walked in, followed by none other than Loki Severson. Loki was one of the better known Gilt Hollow citizens. The son of a prominent Gilt Hollow nobleman, Loki spent much of his time terrorizing the shifters for no other reason than he could. Loki’s showing up at Bear Hollow Brews couldn’t possibly mean anything good. Oskar unconsciously clenched his fist as the room slowly fell silent. Could this day get any worse?

  The guards shooed the crowds aside to make way for Loki to enter. The man was handsome, but rather on the short side, and years of eating as much rich food as he wanted, whenever he wanted, had left him with a bit of a belly. Everyone in the bar stared at him, holding their breath and praying that they wouldn’t be the one chosen as the subject of Loki’s ridicule today.

  Loki looked around, his dark eyes taking in every face in the room. The golden threads on his deep purple uniform glistened even in the dim light of the bar. A sword was sheathed across his hip, and both the handle and sheath were made of gold and covered with an array of colorful jewels. On his other hip, a pistol was holstered. From the looks of it, the pistol was also overlaid with gold.

  “Greetings, friends,” Loki said, his voice booming across the room. The hair on the back of Oskar’s neck bristled. Where did this guy come off, calling the shifters his friends? How insulting.

  But Loki, like all Gilt Hollow citizens, couldn’t have cared less about whether he was insulting the shifters. He swaggered into the room, a stupid grin plastered across his face. “I have some exciting news,” he said, pausing a moment for dramatic effect. He picked a roasted beet off the plate of one of the shifters and popped it into his mouth like it was candy, then made a face. “Peasant food,” he muttered.

  Oskar felt rage stirring deep within him once again. That beet was precious to the shifter who had ordered it from the bar’s simple kitchen. All food was precious here. Not only had Loki stolen it, but he hadn’t even appreciated it for the good nourishment it was. Oskar eyed Loki’s plump stomach. That fool could probably make it through the entire winter just living off the stores in his own belly.

  “Anyway,” Loki said, wiping his mouth as though wiping away the taste of the offending beet. “I’m here because I’ve finally decided to join in on the Games.”

  A low murmur went through the crowd, and Oskar’s rage mixed with relief. Loki had only come in search of a volunteer to fight on his behalf in the Games. Some foolish sellout would volunteer, eager to make money and escape the long winter ahead. Loki would congratulate the sellout on a wise decision, then leave in a cloud of arrogance and perfumed air.

  “As many of you know,” Loki continued, his gold metal necklaces clinking noisily as he took a few steps forward, “My father, the great Nobleman Severson, has been champion in the Arena for the past five years.”

  Oskar didn’t know, and didn’t care. Why would any of them care which nobleman won the stupid Games? All the Shifter Games were was a chance for the Gilt Hollow citizens to dehumanize the shifters. The Noblemen, the richest of the rich among the Gilt Hollow citizens, searched for volunteer shifters to fight in the Arena on their behalf. Oskar knew gambling was involved, although he wasn’t clear on the details of that. All he knew was that the shifters were placed in the rings with real, full animals, and fought those animals purely for the entertainment of the Gilt Hollow citizens. Somehow, these tournaments were scored and winners were chosen. The nobleman whose shifter won was hailed as a sports hero. The whole thing was like some kind of sick gladiator circus.

  “I want to continue in my father’s footsteps,” Loki was saying. “My old man and I have always had a bit of a friendly competition between each other, so I need to find a shifter champion to represent me in the Games who is strong enough to outfight my father’s champions.”

  Oskar resisted the urge to roll his eyes. No one here cared about Loki’s competition with his dad. The shifters were too busy surviving to pay attention to the little spats or “friendly competitions” of the Gilt Hollow citizens. But Loki kept right on talking as though what he had to say was of great interest to all the shifters gathered inside Bear Hollow Brews.

  “I’ve set my mind on taking home the best of the best to train. And I’ve spent my time researching what makes a good fighter in the Arena. Nerves of steel, muscles of iron, and the brain of a genius.”

  Oskar did roll his eyes then. Here it came. The long, stupid pitch about what an honor it was to volunteer for the Games. Oskar had heard it a half dozen times before, from a half dozen different Gilt Hollow citizens. Loki would talk about what an honor it was to volunteer, and about how fighting in the Games would bring glory to a shifter’s entire family, proving that the shifter had what it took to fight with the best. Not only that, but a shifter fighting in the Games was assured of a warm place to sleep and plenty of good food in the city. That shifter’s family would receive financial support from Loki that would allow it to buy food and clothes that most shifters only dreamed of. In short, volunteer for the Games, and you might as well have won the lottery. Your family was set for life.

  Except you’re a sellout, Oskar thought, fuming. He wondered if it was possible for smoke to actually come out of his ears, because he felt like his head was on fire right about now.

  But to Oskar’s surprise, Loki didn’t launch off into the standard speech. Instead, Loki looked around the room again, his sharp eyes peering at every face. When he spoke again, his words left Oskar’s insides reeling.

  “I’m looking for Oskar Warden. I was told I could find him here.”

  Chapter Three

  Oskar’s mouth dropped open as a low murmur went up from the crowd. How did Loki know his name? And why the hell would a fat nobleman’s son be looking for him specifically? Oskar didn’t have much time to think about it. Loki’s eyes were on him, little black beads that seemed to see right through his skin. Oskar shivered.

  “Everyone’s looking at you,” Loki said, pointing in Oskar’s direction. “I’m assuming that means you’re Oskar.”

  “I am,” Oskar said in a guarded tone. There was no use trying to deny it.

  Loki smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. The fakeness of it made Oskar’s skin crawl. “Ah, Oskar. You and I are going to make a fabulous team.”

  Oskar frowned, a sense of dread slowly creeping thr
ough his veins. He had the odd sensation that his blood was turning into molasses. “What are you talking about?”

  “Why, the Games, of course. I want you to be my champion. I’ve been watching, researching, and asking quite a few questions. And everyone says that you, Oskar Warden, are the strongest, best shifter in Bear Hollow. I need you on my side.”

  Oskar’s eyes widened, and he almost laughed out loud. “Well, sir, I’m quite honored that you think so highly of me. But unfortunately I’m not interested in volunteering for the Games. My life is here.”

  Another low murmur went through the crowd, and several shifters shook their heads, looking at Loki with something almost like pity. Everyone in Bear Hollow knew that Oskar would rather die than volunteer for the Games. Loki hadn’t done his research fully if he thought Oskar was his best option.

  But Loki looked completely undisturbed. The smile never left his face as he sauntered forward a few steps and tried to get right in Oskar’s face. Oskar was a good head and shoulders taller than him, and looked down at Loki’s smirking face with barely veiled hatred. A bright red piece of beet was sticking out of one of Loki’s front teeth, and Oskar briefly considered pointing it out to him, just to embarrass him. Gilt Hollow citizens obsessed over their appearances, and Oskar felt certain that having something stuck in your teeth while trying to look tough would be quite disconcerting for Loki. But Oskar held his tongue. He could tell Loki wasn’t happy with his refusal to volunteer for the Games, and Oskar would be wise not to antagonize Loki further. Angering the Gilt Hollow citizens never went over well.

  “I don’t think you understand, Oskar Warden,” Loki said, narrowing his beady black eyes. “I’m not asking you to fight for me. I’m telling you that you will.”

  Another murmur went through the crowd, this one louder and longer than before. The Games, while awful, had always been voluntary. The Gilt Hollow citizens liked to proclaim that the shifters in the Arena all wanted to be there, which somehow gave legitimacy to the Games in their minds. And it was true that there had never been a shortage of volunteers. Shifters on the brink of starvation would do desperate things, like selling out to the Gilt Hollow citizens.

  Oskar felt his heart beating faster in his chest. He had to be careful what he said. He had to refuse Loki firmly but politely. Embarrassing the man in front of the whole bar would only bring the wrath of the whole Severson family down on Oskar’s head. And the Seversons were known for being particularly brutal to any shifters who crossed them.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Oskar said with as much respect in his tone as he could muster up. “I know it’s a great honor to be personally asked to fight on behalf of a Severson noble. But my life is here. I have too many responsibilities in Bear Hollow to leave and fight in the Arena, as exciting as I’m sure that life must be.”

  “And I’m sorry, sir,” Loki said in a mocking tone, “But I’m not giving you a choice. You will come with me and fight in the Games. And you will win for me. I’m sure the rest of your shifter friends can pick up the slack for whatever measly responsibilities you have here. What could you possibly need to do that’s so important? Harvest the turnips?”

  A few of the guards snickered, but otherwise the room had fallen so silent that Oskar could hear the sound of his own breathing loud and clear. Oskar knew that the next words out of his mouth were going to get him in a heap of trouble, but he had no choice. He would die before he would go fight in the Games. Loki had picked the wrong man.

  “I’m not going. If you try to force me, I’ll fight you to the death. I mean you no disrespect, but I draw the line at this. The Games have always been voluntary, and I refuse to volunteer. It’s my one right as a Shifter.”

  Loki threw back his head and laughed. “No, Oskar, it’s not. You have no rights as a shifter. When are you fools going to learn that? Either you come with me now, peaceably, or you’re going to pay dearly for your obstinacy.”

  Oskar stood tall, and crossed his arms. Perhaps Loki thought Oskar was bluffing when he said he’d die before going to the Games. But Oskar Warden didn’t bluff. He said what he meant and he meant what he said. “I’m not going.”

  Loki sighed. “Fine. We can do things the difficult way.” He turned toward his guards, and Oskar tensed as he waited for Loki to give his guards the order to seize him.

  So this is how it ends? Fighting to the death for my own honor here in the middle of Axel’s bar? With my own sister witnessing my demise?

  But when Loki spoke, it wasn’t Oskar he pointed to. “Take Whisper,” he said.

  For half a heartbeat, Oskar didn’t understand what Loki was doing. Then, the horrible pieces fell into place. The guards moved across the room, holding pistols out in front of them to warn off any shifters who might try to get in their way. They headed straight to the bar where Whisper stood, and with rough, jerking movements, they dragged her over the counter by her arms.

  “Let of me!” Whisper screamed.

  “Let go of her!” Oskar yelled. But the deep dark dread that had been filling him slowly now overtook him in waves. Loki had done his homework. Yes, Oskar would gladly give up his own life in the name of honor. But giving up his sister’s life was another story altogether. Loki had found the one person Oskar cared about more than anyone in the world, and was now using that person as blackmail.

  The crowd in the bar had started to roar. Everyone loved Whisper, and their anger at the guards’ rough handling of her overwhelmed even their fear of the guards’ swords and pistols. Axel’s face had gone pale, probably mirroring the color of Oskar’s own face.

  “Quiet!” Loki yelled. “Quiet, or I’ll order the guards to kill you all!”

  He would, too. No one in Gilt Hollow would care if a bar full of shifters was shot to death by a bunch of guards. The murmuring in the crowd settled down, but the eyes of every shifter in the room still held an agitated look.

  “Listen to me, Oskar,” Loki said, drawing his sword and walking across the room to put the point of it directly against Whisper’s neck. He pricked just enough so that a small trickle of blood appeared, oozing down her neck toward her crisp white work shirt. “You have two choices here. Come with me and fight for me in the Games. You’ll get glory, and more money than you know what to do with. Whisper here will have all she could possibly want to eat, even in the midst of the leanest winter in decades.”

  “Don’t listen to him!” Whisper yelped out. “Oskar, don’t do it. Don’t let him scare you into submission! I don’t care if I die.”

  “Quiet, bitch!” Loki yelled, sliding his sword sideways so an angry red line now appeared on Whisper’s neck. Oskar felt helpless as he watched the tears fill Whisper’s eyes. His rage against Gilt Hollow had never burned so brightly. All his life, he’d done his best to stay out of the humans’ way. He’d paid his taxes and laid low, thinking he was biding his time until some day some big revolution would be organized and he’d help set the shifters free from the tyranny of Gilt Hollow. But none of his careful quietness mattered now. Loki had Whisper, and Oskar had no choice but to go with Loki. Oskar would sacrifice his own life in a heartbeat, but not Whisper’s. He’d spent every day of his life protecting her and sacrificing for her, and he would not stop now. As much as it tore his heart apart, he knew he would go with Loki before Loki had even finished his “offer” to Oskar.

  “Your other choice,” Loki said with a sneer. “Is to refuse my generous proposal. In that case, I’ll have no choice but to slit Whisper’s throat right in front of your eyes. But don’t worry, I won’t kill you. Oh, no. I’ll let you live, so you can spend the rest of your days thinking about how you could have saved your sister but didn’t.”

  More murmuring went up from the crowd. Oskar looked over at Axel, whose face was as white as a corpse.

  “Go,” Axel mouthed. “Just go.”

  Oskar looked at Whisper, who had tears and blood running all the way down to her shirt. She was shaking her head no at him. She didn’t want him to sell his soul. But
Oskar would pay any price for his sister’s life, even his own soul.

  “I love you,” he mouthed to her. And then, he turned toward the door, walking out with two of Loki’s guards without another word. The last noise he heard from the bar that night was the heartrending sound of his sister’s scream. Then the bar door shut behind him, and all he could hear was Loki’s triumphant laughter as that Gilt Hollow scum motioned his guards toward the river.

  Oskar looked around, taking one last look at Bear Hollow, the only home he had ever known, and the home he must now leave forever.

  Loki hadn’t killed Oskar, but he might as well have. For Oskar, life ended the moment he walked away from Bear Hollow.

  Or so he thought. Despite everything he’d been through, he hadn’t yet learned that life’s greatest trials sometimes pave the way for life’s biggest triumphs.

  Chapter Four

  Oskar had only made the journey to Gilt Hollow once before. He’d been a boy of ten, and had gone with his father to buy bread and cheese from the only street market in Gilt Hollow where shifters were allowed. It had been a good year, and Oskar’s father had managed to store away a small amount of extra money. Oskar’s mother had tried cheese once before in her life, and had dreamed about it ever since, so Oskar’s father had splurged on a hunk of cheese instead of saving the money for the lean times that always seemed to be just around the corner for those who lived in Bear Hollow.

  Oskar remembered looking around in awe at the big city, unable to comprehend how rich everyone looked. The Gilt Hollow citizens all wore clothes of the finest silks, or of cashmere, or even denim that was interwoven with golden threads. Jewelry of pure gold, dripping with precious stones, hung from every neck, ear, and wrist. But the most impressive thing to Oskar had been the food. So much of it, everywhere. Street carts filled with the most colorful fruits and vegetables he’d ever seen. Meat, juicy and red, hanging up in tantalizing displays, just waiting to be bought and gobbled down, if only you had enough coin to do so. And the breads! Sweet breads and savory breads of every flavor imaginable. And whole carts full of butters, jams, and cheeses to spread on those breads. Oskar hadn’t been able to believe that the Gilt Hollow citizens ate food like this every day.