LION,
TIGER, OR BEAR?
Something is
prowling the moonlit streets of Chicago's Hyde Park neighborhood.
Lynda Malone has seen its eyes blazing from behind bushes near school, but
no
one believes her. No one but her new lab partner, Greg Ursek.
Lynda is warmed
by Greg's faith in her and is drawn to his
old-fashioned manners and transforming smile. But as their friendship
deepens, she stumbles across a deadly secret:
He's not entirely
human.
REVIEWS
****4
STAR Review from ROMANTIC TIMES MAGAZINE
"Carrie Masek
has written a classic tale of first love. She's also written
a story so vivid that the reader is drawn into the world she has created.
Her imagery is imaginative and superbly written. Never is the reader lead to
a conclusion. Masek draws her story and simply allows the reader to feel
that wonderful sense of adventure that comes with reading a book of this
caliber. In short, Carrie Masek has written one of finest young adult novels
it has been my pleasure to read. I give it my highest recommendation. It is
rare to find a young adult novel that is this beautifully crafted. In a
world of formulated series books, this book stands out as something that
will become a cherished treasure. Carrie Masek is brilliant!" Reviewer's Pick! ~
Lover's Knot, May 1999
"My first reaction
when I started reading UNDER A BEAR MOON was: Oh,
another horror book full of blood, gore, and teen angst. I was
absolutely
wrong and glad of it. I enjoyed the book, Ms. Masek, and I thought
the
ending was a delight." Highly Recommended! ~ Under the Covers Book
Reviews
"A YA paranormal romance, UNDER A BEAR MOON is a an intriguing and
totally different view of a teen-age werebear, a shapeshifter, who goes to
an ordinary high school and falls in love (at first sniff, as it were) with
a mortal girl." Highly Recommended! ~ Millennium SF and Fantasy
.jpg)
Nominated
for 1999 PEARL
EXCERPT
He
had to find her.
Stepping out of the alley, he lifted his head and sniffed the breeze. Her
fragrance stroked the back of his mind, sweet and elusive, the scent he'd waited
a lifetime for. It beckoned from the other side of the University of Chicago's
Midway Plaisance, from near his new home.
His heart started to pound. The breeze could shift. She could disappear
into a house or car. He could lose her among the million aromas filling the night.
He leapt across the moonlit street and past the oaks lining the boulevard's
parkway. She was close; he could feel it. He could taste her scent on his tongue
now, almost hear her voice, almost picture her in his mind.
Galloping across the broad lawn that had once been a waterway, he ran down
its moon-streaked slope and across the flat, grassy bottom. Up the other side,
toward the second line of trees. The stone towers of the University of Chicago
rose above the leafy branches, and their chimes drifted over the campus, ringing
the half hour.
A quarter mile, no more, separated them.
The chimes faded. The buildings vanished. There was only her scent, the
ground beneath his feet, and the shrinking distance between them. He raced beneath
the trees, blind and deaf to his surroundings, until a blow knocked him to the
ground.
Pain ripped his shoulder. A dog. He felt his lips draw back from his teeth,
felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He rolled over, trying to free himself.
The dog growled and bit deeper. Reaching around to tear the creature away, he
felt its teeth scrape bone, its jaws lock. The corner of his mind that could
still think realized the dog must be a pit bull. Nothing else clung so stubbornly.
Rolling to his feet, he threw himself against a tree, hoping to crush the
dog between his back and the rough bark. Agony blazed through him; the grip on
his shoulder loosened. He slammed into the trunk again and again until his attacker
dropped, broken, to the ground.
Ignoring his throbbing shoulder, he rolled the dog to the curb. Let cars
be blamed for its injuries.
The scent! He raised his head and desperately searched the night air. She
was gone. He chased the breeze that had carried her fragrance, but he couldn't
find her.
Disconsolate, he headed home. Grief filled his throat and weighted his steps.
In less than an hour, he'd found the love of his life. And lost her.
Chapter
One
"You!"
Startled, Lynda Malone missed a simple rebound. Panting in the late August
heat, she scooped up the basketball before it rolled into the nearby playground
and looked up to see a tall young man trotting down Kenwood Avenue toward her.
He wore a tan polo shirt, faded cutoffs, and enormous high-topped sneakers.
Bowed legs made him look like he was shuffling, but the clumsy gait ate up the
yards. Before Lynda had a chance to wonder if he'd been calling to her or to
one of the elementary school kids, he ran onto the basketball court.
She quickly changed her mind about his size. This guy wasn't just tall,
he was huge. At nearly six feet tall, Lynda was used to looking boys straight
in the face, but she realized she'd have to crane her neck to meet this one's
gaze. She tucked a damp lock behind her ear and studied him warily. He had a
broad, suntanned face, thin nose, and thick, wire-rimmed glasses. Behind the
lenses, blue eyes glowed with obvious recognition. He skidded to a stop in front
of her.
The hair on the back of Lynda's neck quivered at the waves of animal energy
that lapped around him. He'd stopped so close she could smell the afternoon sun
in his hair and the sharp scent of deodorant soap. She stepped back without thinking. "Do
I know you?"
A shy smile tipped the corners of his mouth. "No, I'm new here. My
name's Greg Ursek." His voice was soft and deep, like a tiger's purr.
Lynda felt herself relax. He might be big, but he was just another kid,
probably starting school tomorrow, like her. Greg seemed a little old to be in
high school, though. A junior at sixteen, Lynda guessed he was a couple of years
older than she was.
Maybe he was a college student who'd seen her practicing and wanted to join
in. She held out the basketball. "I'm Lynda Malone. Want to shoot?"
The smile exploded across his face. He had a gorgeous smile. It lit his
face and made his eyes blaze like gas flames.
She was so engrossed by the transformation, she almost didn't hear his response. "Lynda," he
whispered, as if tasting her name. He dropped his gaze to the ball in her hands. "No
thanks. I'm not much for sports."
"Too bad," Lynda said, noting the way his shirt strained across
his chest. She bounced the ball once against the newly resurfaced court, "What's
up?"
"I'm looking for the admissions office for the University of Chicago
Laboratory High School-- I'm supposed to pick up my schedule today. On the map,
the school looks like it's on Kenwood Avenue between 58th and 59th Streets. I
thought that was here, but--" He shrugged and pointed at the little kids
running around the playground. "--I don't think I'd fit in their desks."
Lynda giggled. "You've got the right place. The high school entrance
is around on 59th Street." She studied his eyes while she gave directions
to the office. The smile had warmed them, but something--loneliness? longing?--floated
like an iceberg just below the surface. She wondered what it would take to melt
it.
When she finished giving directions, he smiled again. "Thanks."
Lynda just stared--he really did have a remarkable smile. Greg stared back.
They stood that way, not moving, not speaking, until the chimes from Rockefeller
Chapel rang the quarter hour. Lynda blinked and took a step back. "You should
probably hurry," she said, strangely breathless. "The office closes
at 3:30."
"Hey, Lynda!"
Lynda whirled at the sound of her name. Her best friend, Ellen, stood near
the corner of the ivy-clad building. Looking cool as always, she wore white shorts
and a yellow midriff top that echoed the color of her hair. Sticking a manila
envelope under one arm, she trotted toward them.
Lynda watched her approach with affectionate envy. Although agile enough
on the basketball court, Lynda always felt clumsy around her friend. Maybe it
was the difference in their heights; the top of Ellen's head barely reached Lynda's
shoulder. Or maybe it was her grace. Ellen was the star ballerina in Ms. Cavelini's
dance class and her dancer's training showed with every step she took.
Lynda blotted her forehead with one of her terry wristbands. "Waited
until the last minute to pick up your schedule again, didn't you?"
Ellen patted the envelope under her arm and grinned. Then she looked past
Lynda and her grin turned into a full-fledged leer. "Hello," she said,
stretching out the word.
The boy with the smile blinked and glanced over his shoulder as if looking
for the person she was talking to.
Mark down another conquest for Ellen. Lynda sometimes felt like the invisible
girl next to her best friend. She thought about the faded T-shirt and baggy gym
shorts she wore and sighed. With her dark, stringy hair and complete lack of
fashion sense, she knew she couldn't compete with Ellen. Good thing she didn't
want to. Just thinking about the time Ellen wasted on boys made Lynda glad she
didn't have to mess with them.
He turned back, said, "Hi," to the top of Ellen's head and went
back to staring at Lynda.
What was going on here? Lynda wondered. Ellen usually commanded a boy's
full attention.
Maybe he liked baggy gym shorts. The idea made a tingle deep in her stomach
that spread into a grin.
Ellen slapped Lynda's arm with her class schedule. "Come on, already,
introduce us."
Lynda stepped from between them. "Ellen, I'd like you to meet, Greg
Ursek."
He didn't even glance at Ellen.
The hot, sticky air caught in her throat, and Lynda had to swallow before
she said, "Greg, this is my best friend, Ellen Lukowski."
Ellen glided past Lynda, into the line of his gaze, and Lynda caught a whiff
of her perfume, vanilla and rose. Ellen even smelled cool. "I haven't seen
you around here before. Where you from?"
Greg looked over her head and addressed his answer to Lynda. "California.
My dad's here on a year's sabbatical."
A trickle of sweat caught in Lynda's bra, and she wished he'd look away
for a second so she could loosen her sticky T-shirt. Ellen stepped closer to
him and craned her neck as if she was trying to catch his gaze. "I've always
wanted to go to California."
Lynda wondered if Ellen batted her eyes at him. She had large, solemn eyes,
the kind poster children are famous for. Gray and expressive, they were much
more affecting than Lynda's plain blue ones.
Greg shrugged. When he didn't say anything else, Ellen sighed and turned
to Lynda. "Are you the one who called the Animal Protection Society about
that dog?"
For the first time since she glided up, Ellen had Greg's attention. "Dog?
What dog?"
Lynda would have wondered at the tremor in his voice if she hadn't been
so eager to hear the answer, and if the mention of her favorite obsession hadn't
already driven every other thought from her mind. "Yeah, what dog?"
Ellen pushed her hair off her face and preened a bit, like she always did
when she was the center of attention. "I saw it on the Midway. Mom dropped
me off here on the way to work and didn't have time to stop, but I saw the APS
van loading a dog into the back while we drove past. I thought you might have
called them--the dog looked pretty banged up."
A surge of anger and pity swept over Lynda. Many of her fellow volunteers
worked at the Animal Protection Society's shelter because it would look good
on their application for veterinary school. Lynda wanted to be a vet, too, but
she'd started helping out at the shelter when she was too young to think about
vet school, too young do much more than play with the abandoned puppies. She
thought about the injured animals she'd seen in the clinic and felt her hands
close into fists. She'd never understand how people could be so careless with
another creature's life. Taking a deep breath, she forced her hands open. "I
didn't walk by the Midway today, but I think I'll head over to the shelter and
see what happened. Want to come?"
"No, thanks," Ellen said. "I've got to get ready for school
tomorrow."
Lynda turned to Greg. The warmth had fled his eyes, and his expression seemed
wooden, shuttered. He swallowed and shook his head. "I better pick up my
schedule. See you around." Before Lynda could say good-bye, he ran past
the two girls and disappeared around the corner of the school building.
The Chicago Animal Protection Society chose the corner of 50th Street and
Ellis for its south-side facility over twenty years ago because buildings were
cheap and the neighborhood improving. After decades of urban renewal, the buildings
around the large, modern facility were still cheap, but the neighborhood had
a long way to go.
Uncomfortable with the idea of Lynda walking alone in that part of town,
her parents had asked her to drive whenever possible. After saying good-bye to
Ellen, Lynda ran home, showered and changed. Her mother's Audi was in the garage,
so Lynda borrowed the keys and drove it to the animal shelter.
It was nearly 5:30 P.M. by the time she parked in the adjoining lot. She
strode through the automated double doors into a wall of over-chilled air and
the thick odor of cat urine, dogs, and antiseptic. Lynda smiled. Most of the
volunteers complained about the smell, but she kind of liked it.
Turning right, away from the public area, she pushed through a door labeled, "Staff
Only," and followed the linoleum hallway to the veterinarians' offices.
She knocked at the first door, then opened it and peeked in.
"Dr. Lopez?"
Carlotta Lopez routinely arrived at the shelter early and left late. Lynda
often caught her napping at her desk. Today, however, the room was empty.
Lynda closed the door and continued down the hall to the laboratory. She
found Dr. Lopez perched on a stool, eye pressed against a microscope.
The veterinarian looked up, and traces of her native Spanish softened her
words. "Lynda, I wasn't expecting you until Friday."
"I hadn't planned to come in, but I heard about the dog they found
on the Midway."
"And you wanted to know what happened. Look." She pushed the stool
back and motioned Lynda toward the microscope.
Lynda bent down and peered through the eye piece. At first, her eyes refused
to make sense of the dark swirl. She touched the adjusting knob, and the picture
jumped into focus. Lynda saw what looked like a bramble bush, thick, brown cords
tangled in a mass.
She heard Dr. Lopez's voice beside her. "I took that hair from the
dog. From its mouth. I was going to do a standard autopsy. You know, check for
rabies infection to keep the County happy. Then I noticed hair caught between
the dog's teeth. I pulled it out and made a slide before continuing with the
autopsy."
A hesitation in her voice made Lynda look up from the slide. "What
did you find?"
A frown darkened the doctor's face. "I don't think the dog was killed
by a car. The spinal fractures are in the wrong places."
"You sure?"
The vet nodded. "And I've never seen a car leave claw marks."
"Claw marks?"
"On the dog's back. It looks as if something mauled the dog, broke
its back, then threw it into the street." Dr. Lopez pointed to the microscope. "I'm
mailing the slide to a friend of mine at the Lincoln Park zoo, to see if he can
tell what animal the hair came from. From the size of the injuries, we're talking
about a big one. And from what happened to the dog, a dangerous one."
The playground was less than a block from the Midway. Lynda licked her suddenly
dry lips. "How dangerous?"
The doctor shrugged elegantly and her face smoothed into an unreadable mask. "Who
knows? Next time, it may find a child, instead of a dog."
Lynda's alarm must have shown, because Dr. Lopez smiled and patted her on
the shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll find him before that happens."
The vet slid off her stool, and a groan escaped her lips. She put her hand
on the small of her back and stretched. "Lynda, would you mind getting me
a box to mail the slide in?"
"No problem."
Lynda ran out of the laboratory and down the hall to the stairs. The building's
janitor stacked boxes in the boiler room until he had a chance to flatten and
throw them away. The Animal Protection Society received a shipment of rabies
vaccine every week, and Lynda figured one of individual unit dose boxes would
be about the right size.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Lynda pushed the door open and walked
into the basement. She'd expected to find the room empty, but found a thin, stooped
man rummaging through the boxes. He turned. A large box dangled from one hand,
and a smile creased his leathery face. "Lynda. Didn't expect to run into
you down here."
She'd recognized him even before he turned. Mr. Van Tichelt lived a few
blocks from her house and worked as the janitor for many of the University's
apartment buildings. Lynda couldn't remember a time when she hadn't known him.
She returned his smile. "Hi, Van. I'm getting a box for Dr. Lopez.
When did you start working here?"
Van's face collapsed into a web of lines. "I didn't. I came to get
Rex."
Lynda knew Rex, a big, white stray Van had found half-frozen outside his
basement apartment nearly eight years ago. Van had fed the dog and licensed him,
but had never managed to keep him inside. Rex was notorious for rummaging through
trash cans and attacking other dogs. "He didn't get in another fight, did
he?" she asked.
"No." The old man sighed. "Some idiot ran him over."
She felt like someone had kicked her in the stomach. Gulping back a sob,
she reached out to hug her friend. "Van, I'm so sorry."
He patted her back clumsily, then stepped away. "Was only a matter
of time. Traffic's gotten bad around near the University."
Near the University. A chill only half caused by the damp basement sent
shivers across Lynda's shoulders. "There, now," Van said, apparently
noticing. "You've stood down here long enough. Get that box and we'll walk
upstairs together."
Lynda bent down to pick up an empty vaccine box. She stood and swallowed
the tightness in her throat. "Van? Where did they find Rex?"
"Near your school, there. On the Midway."
Van never drove. As far as Lynda knew, he'd never learned how. When he told
her he planned to carry Rex home in the box, she offered him a ride. The thought
of the old man walking halfway across Hyde Park carrying his dead dog was more
than she could bear.
They walked up the stairs together. Once in the hall, he pointed toward
the canine holding area and sighed. "They've got some forms for me to fill
out in the lobby. Might as well take the shortcut."
Lynda watched him push through the door, then darted into the laboratory.
The veterinarian sat on her stool, addressing a mailing label. "Dr. Lopez,
was the dog you're working on a white bull terrier?"
The veterinarian swiveled around. "Yes."
"Its owner's here to pick up the body."
Dr. Lopez glanced up at the ceiling. She never swore, but Lynda got the
impression she wanted to. "I told him not to bother."
"Well, he's in the waiting room with a box to carry the body home in."
Sighing, Dr. Lopez pushed herself off the stool. After setting the box beside
the microscope, Lynda turned and followed the veterinarian out of the lab and
down the hallway to the lobby.
"Mr. Van Tichelt," Dr. Lopez began even before the door swung
shut behind her. "I'm sorry you came all this way, but I have to keep your
dog here."
Van stood at the counter, puzzling over a yellow form. He looked up. "Why?"
"Because I'm not sure what killed him."
Van's gaze never wavered. "But Rex had his shots--he couldn't have
had rabies."
Dr. Lopez leaned back against the counter. "I think your dog was killed
by another animal. His body can help us determine what kind of creature it is,
and to verify if it kills again. I'm sorry I didn't explain that over the phone,
but I didn't realize you'd come all this way. Most owners prefer to let us dispose
of the body."
"I thought Rex was hit by a car." Van sounded so lost, Lynda wanted
to hug him again. She stepped up and put her hand on his shoulder.
The doctor sighed. "So did I, at first. If you want, I'll call you
when we're done with him."
Van's shoulders slumped beneath Lynda's grasp. "I took care of Rex
for eight years, I'm not about to let him go out with the trash."
Dr. Lopez nodded. "I'll call as soon as I can."
Lynda squeezed Van's shoulder. "Still want that ride?"
A smile flitted across his face. "Thanks. I'm feeling my age this evening."
The sun hovered on the horizon by the time Lynda parked near Van's building,
a limestone six flat. He thanked her again before opening the door and heading
for his apartment. She waved and was about to drive away when she spotted Greg
Ursek jogging up 57th Street.
Dying to tell someone about what she'd learned at the animal shelter, Lynda
honked her horn. She climbed out of the car and ran to the corner. "Hey,
Greg," she called.
"Remember
me? Lynda Malone from the Lab school?"
Greg stopped while a truck pulled in front of him, then trotted across the
street toward her. A smile broke across his face. "Hey."
"I found out about that dog Ellen saw on the Midway."
Greg's smile collapsed. He glanced over his shoulder toward the setting
sun and started walking faster. "Can't talk now. I'm late."
Lynda fell in beside Greg, and walked with him up the steps to Van's building. "You
know Van, the janitor who lives here? It was his dog, Rex. You must have seen
him around, a big, white bull terrier with a torn ear?" Greg's hand froze
halfway to the door knob. Encouraged by his reaction, Lynda went on, "At
first, the vet at the animal shelter thought a car had hit him, but she changed
her mind. Rex was mauled."
Greg spun around, nearly knocking Lynda off the stairs. "What?"
The animal energy she'd sensed earlier seemed to shimmer around him. She
licked her lips before answering. "The vet at the shelter found claw marks
on him. And his back was broken in the wrong places for him to have been hit
by a car."
Lynda's jaw firmed with resolve. "I'm going to help Dr. Lopez--that's
the vet I know--find the creature that killed him."
Greg turned and pushed open the exterior door. "Stupid waste of time," he
mumbled.
She followed him into the entryway and paused between the brass mailboxes
while he fumbled with his keys. "Why? We might be able to catch the animal
before it kills another dog. I think saving a dog's life is worth a little time,
don't you?"
"No." Greg sounded grim, angry. He jammed a key into the lock
hard enough to make the door shudder. "If people can't keep their animals
off the street, they deserve whatever happens to them."
Shoving open the door, he hesitated and looked back at her. The scowl on
his face eased. "Lynda, I--"
"Gregory!" Someone roared from inside the building.
Greg threw himself through the door. "See you tomorrow," he called
and disappeared up the stairs.
Lynda stared after him. Would she see him tomorrow? After the heartless
things he'd just said, she certainly hoped not.
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