Page 2 of Grizzly Sleuth
The fist smacked Idris square in the snout, and the sharp pain of it made him blink. To his surprise, the throb in his nose went instantly away.
In even better news, Idris was no longer a bear and his restraints loosened as he resumed his normal—human—size. Apparently, the change was bad, since Davidson went on a rant.
“I can’t believe we’ve got another useless fucking failure.” Because a bear who turned into a man at even the slightest discomfort didn’t make a good therianthrope soldier.
In the days following Idris’ first transformation, he spent a lot of time in the labs. Could he handle a punch if it didn’t hurt? Yes, thank his hard noggin for that. Stinging paper cut? Nope. What about stomach cramps? Also nope, and he didn’t appreciate the fact that the laxative they gave had him shitting through the eye of a needle for hours while flipping back and forth from man to beast. A beast without cushiony soft toilet paper.
As time went on, and it became obvious Idris wasn’t what Davidson and Levy had hoped for, he spent more and more time in his cell. Doing pushups. Wondering what would happen tohim. Death, most likely, since he couldn’t see Davison agreeing to his release.
When Captain Barrett Wilson came to the rescue—almost earning himself a kiss of gratitude—Idris was more than happy to escape, even as he realized he’d never be truly free. Unlike his friends who’d undergone the same protocol, Idris had to be much more careful, lest people notice his difference. It proved almost impossible. He couldn’t prevent accidents like when he stubbed his toe in the grocery store. He instantly shredded his clothes and, to the screams of those shopping, ran out the door. Thankfully, no one caught his shift on video. Still, the incident led to him relocating from Thunder Bay to Toronto, where he managed to live for a while until an altercation on the subway—that he didn’t start!—had him bear-ing it all. Once more, he got lucky, with the only eyewitness being the drunk who’d accosted him. Still, it led Idris to the realization that he couldn’t live his life like this.
Surely there was a way to control or cure his condition. Google didn’t offer much help, and no matter what terms he used, his searches only provided links to legends featuring ursine shifters. Was there truth in those old fables? He decided to find out.
After acquiring a fake passport, Idris flew to Sweden to see if he could find out the truth behind the most promising lead, the mannbjørn, AKA the man-bear.
Sweden, while pretty, turned out to be a bust. As were the surrounding European countries. During his search for others like him, Idris sought to achieve a measure of control by repeatedly injuring himself in the hopes he’d stop reacting to even the slightest pain. It worked and didn’t. While he no longer shifted when he smacked his funny bone, it still didn’t take much.
Just look at what happened to him in Norway. Twisted his ankle on an uneven piece of sidewalk and bam: instant bear—who unfortunately got caught on camera.
Seeing himself go viral on social media—thankfully with his face not fully visible—made Idris realize he needed to live somewhere a bear wouldn’t seem out of place. Where he could become a recluse and not draw attention. A country that seemingly loved bears.
Now if only he spoke Russian.
Chapter One
Boris,the portly owner of a bar that provided entertainment on the weekends, came stomping into the backstage area with a glower—his usual expression. “What’s the holdup? Why aren’t you starting the show?”
The brusque tone brought a low growl from the bear sitting docilely by Svetlana’s side, causing Boris to recoil.
“Shouldn’t that thing be on a leash or in a cage?”
“Don’t worry. Yuri won’t eat you.” Svetlana’s lips twitched. “My big teddy bear prefers his meat less fatty.” A less-than-subtle insult that brought ruddy color to Boris’ cheeks.
“If your bear mauls me, you won’t get paid, just like you won’t receive a single ruble until you perform, which better be soon. The crowd is getting restless.”
“I’d think you’d appreciate the anticipation. Bored people tend to order more drinks.”
“Bored drunks tend to get rowdy and break things,” Boris grumbled.
“Wouldn’t want that to happen. Did you want to introduce us, or shall we just pop out and yell surprise?”
“And have them all piss themselves? Bad enough I gotta mop their bad aim in the bathroom. I’ll let them know the show isabout to start.” Boris slipped past the dusty dark curtain onto the stage, a grander title than it deserved, given it consisted of a two-by-four frame with plywood screwed on top, slathered in black paint scuffed from the acts that came before. Not exactly a high-end establishment, but, then again, her act tended to appeal more to the working class. Oddly enough, they also tended to be more generous than the rich elite when it came to being entertained.
As Boris went into a grand spiel about the special gig he’d personally engineered, Svetlana glanced at Yuri the bear. “Ready?”
The big furry head bobbed. They’d done this routine so many times they could have performed it in their sleep.
At the sudden clapping, she knew Boris had reached the end of his spiel. By the sounds of it, they’d drawn a decent crowd, mostly thanks to the flyers Svetlana had posted on poles and left at various establishments. Hopefully that resulted in a hefty number of cash tips, which, along with the five percent on drinks and food Boris had offered in lieu of a flat payment, should tide them over for a week or more. If the latter proved lucrative enough, Boris would most likely ask them to do more shows.
The crowd hooted, stomped, and whistled, her cue to step out onto the stage. Unlike some showmen—and women—she didn’t wear flashy clothing or revealing outfits. Black jeans, a T-shirt, and combat boots. She wore minimal makeup and had her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.
“Evening, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Svetlana,” she shouted, projecting her voice. Silence fell as the attention of those sitting fixed on her. “I hear you’ve come to meet the most amazing bear in the world.”
She waited for the cheering to die down before turning sideways and extending her hand in invitation. “Without furtherado, please say hello to Yuri, the most intelligent and cuddliest teddy bear in all of Russia.”
Out lumbered the star of the show, a Eurasian brown bear weighing in at just over three hundred and fifty pounds. The large predator sat down and stared at the people sitting at tables closest to the stage. A few recoiled in fear.
Svetlana clutched the microphone with two hands before saying, “Yuri, can you say hello to the nice people?”
