Bearly Hanging On (The Jamesburg Shifters #6)(67)

“No, no, no... no... no... no,” Branson’s words sounded very much like a stuttering record player. He looked strangely at peace though, especially with the sparkling silver eyes and the hair swept backward out of his face. “No, no, no, no, no, blood? Blood. Fluids. Blood-fluids.”

“Uh, Ryan?” Jamie asked, grabbing her bear by the arm. “Do you think maybe we should take him somewhere before he, er, short circuits?”

The two of them stared, watching helplessly as Branson began jittering around. His hands were almost vibrating, they moved so quickly. “He’s either a robot or a hummingbird,” Ryan offered. “And judging from the eyes, and the lack of a beak, I’m leaning away from hummingbird.”

“Robot?” Branson asked. “No, no, no, no, no. Fluids, blood?”

“I hope I didn’t make him blow a fuse.”

He coughed, had one last, long full-body shiver, and then immediately came to his senses again. “Why do you keep asking if I’m a robot?”

“Well then what are you?” Jamie asked.

Without any warning, the suited man – or whatever he was – stood up on his tiptoes, and fell face first into the dirt.





-19-


“Here we are. And you know what? I don’t want to be anywhere else.”


-Jamie


“What can I do for you two crazy kids? Marital therapy? Already? I didn’t know you were married. I usually keep on top of things, you know. Oh, my,” Jenga let his mouth fall open and then narrowed his eyes at the limp body of Agent Branson.

“He’s breathing,” Ryan said.

“But it’s weird,” Jamie finished for him. “Real weird.”

“Oh, hum, well here.” Jenga clapped twice, and Atlas emerged from the back of the building-slash-lab in a pair of old, torn sweatpants, and a shirt that revealed his midriff. “Atlas, carry him to the back. I’ll need to root around in there.”

The phrase ‘root around’ got Ryan and Jamie to exchange a glance. The enormous, stitched up bear merely gave a nod, grunted slightly, and did as he was asked.

“Is he okay?” Jamie asked as soon as Atlas was through the door. “He seems, I dunno, down?”

“He had to come home early today from work. He wouldn’t keep his clothes on, and kept waving himself all about. Some sort of town ordinance against that sort of behavior. Now, before I get any further with all this, did either of you have anything to do with his fluids?”

“Ugh, God!” Jamie threw her hands in the air, exasperated. “What is it with the fluid thing? Yes, Ryan and I were in the cave, he was coming at us, and I jumped on him. I meant to drain him just enough so we could get away, but something... I dunno, flared up, and I flew off him. And now I can see in the dark.”

Jenga lifted an eyebrow and fished a small light out of the breast pocket of his sagging ’57 Chevy-covered shirt. “Interesting,” he said, his voice trailing off as he pushed Jamie into a seat and stared into her pupils. “Does this hurt?”

He blew straight into her open eyeball, making her recoil and blink. “Hurt, no, but that’s pretty irritating.”

“This?” He flashed the light straight into her pupil again, flickering it around in a circle.

She shook her head. “Sensitive, maybe. If I stared at it for long, I’d probably get a headache. But nothing out of the ordinary.”

“How long has it been?”

She shrugged and looked in Ryan’s direction. “Hour or so? Maybe a little longer?”

Atlas emerged from the back, and as soon as he noticed Jamie, his sullen look became a wide, excited, beaming smile. “JA...MIE!” he howled, and snatched her up in a hug that left her feet dangling off the ground, kicking a little, like a tall man picking up a toddler.

“Hi Atlas,” she said, giving him a little peck on the cheek as he set her back to earth. “Doing okay?”

“O... okay now,” he said. “I love you, Jamie.”

“Aww,” she cooed. “I love you, too. Thanks for taking that guy back there.”

From the back room, the sound of Agent Branson’s voice came in confused and slightly angry bursts. “I tied... tied down alien. Made him... made mad.”

“Alien is such a rude word,” Jenga said with a smile that was not only far too casual for what had just been said, was also rather like he already knew. “Agent Branson isn’t really an alien. Not in the flying saucer sorta way.”

“Uh... right,” Ryan said. “So what in the world did Jamie just bite, and what has been chasing me for the past decade?”

“Yeah, and why did he keep saying fluid instead of blood?”

Instead of answering, Jenga just beckoned them to the back of the larger-than-it-looks office building. “Better to see than to explain,” he said. “Won’t make any sense unless you do.”

The screeching complaints grew louder and louder as they made their way to the back, but when Atlas pulled the curtain back, Agent Branson was fully intact except that his hair was in a pile beside him.

“His face is gone,” Jamie said flatly. “At this point I’ll believe anything.”

“It isn’t his face,” Jenga said helpfully as Atlas mopped a suspicious looking stain. “He wears it to make people more comfortable. This may be the only time you ever see him like this. Apparently, you having fed on him short circuited his brain and—”