Read Wren and the Werebear for Free Online

to remember. "Handsome fella. Strong. Common sense. I always thought you two might end up together."
    "He's dead," Wren said abruptly.
    Her dad's eyes flew open, searching hers. He put his hand on top of hers at the side of the hospital bed. His hand felt thin and papery, but Wren could still make out the hot pulse of his heartbeat under the skin. Ever since the conversation with Marty over the phone, Wren had been keeping her emotions in check. Now, though, they threatened to burst through.
    "Baby, I'm sorry," he said. She felt her face grow hot, and she looked down at their hands. She couldn't feel his touch anymore; everything was numb. "Was it a shifter?"
    "Yeah." The word came out almost silent.
    "You're gonna miss him."
    It was the kindness in her dad's voice that did it, the soft certainty of the words. A painful sorrow broke through her body, replacing numbness with hurt. Tears ran down her cheeks and she began to sob.
    Her dad pulled her close, and she rested her head sideways on his chest.
    "Let it out, baby," he murmured. "It's okay. Let it out."
    She sat there crying for a minute or more, his hand stroking her hair. It was like she was a little girl again and had scraped her knee, or broken up with a boyfriend. Her body felt hollow and empty from all the sadness. All of the tension from the past week rushed out in her sobs. The tears ran until there were no more tears left.
    Then and only then did she sit up, wiping her eyes with both hands. Her dad plucked a tissue from the nightstand and handed it to her. She blotted her eyes and saw the dark smudges of her mascara on the tissue.
    "That's why they have me back in," she said. She blew her nose. "It's in California."
    "Don't tell your mom," her dad said. His eyes were sympathetic. "You know how crazy she gets about that kind of thing."
    "She hates shifters."
    "I know, baby."
    "So who else does she think is going to get rid of them all?" Wren wiped angrily at her eyes to get the remaining tears.
    "Baby, Wren, I know." Her dad patted her hand. "But look what they did to me. She doesn't want that to happen to you."
    "Do you think we'll get them all?" Wren asked. She looked out the hospital window. It was nighttime, and it had begun to snow, light drifts of it running up against the windowpane.
    "All the shifters?"
    "Yeah." She turned her gaze back to her dad. His hair looked like it was covered in snow, that's how white it was.
    "I think we'll get them all."
    "What if they have kids?"
    "They can't hide forever from the world, Wren," her dad said. He reached out and chucked her under the chin. "And especially not from you."
    "What if they can? What if they stay hidden away so we think they're all gone?" Wren had never thought about the possibility that there wouldn't be any more shifters left in the country, or the world. Would the CSE still exist? Marty had told her last time that they were laying off part of the office staff where he worked. Could they be closing down? Or starting to close down?
    "If they hide for good, what does it matter?" Her dad shrugged. "If they don't hurt anyone, if they stay away, just kill deer for food—"
    "It still matters," Wren said, frowning. "They'll still exist."
    "I'm sure there are some who will always exist," her dad said. He sounded tired. "That's alright by me."
    "How can you say that?" Wren's voice rose higher. "They were the ones who did this to you! That wolf crushed your spine. He could have killed you!"
    A nurse poked her head into the room.
    "I'm going to need you to keep it down," she said. "Visiting hours are over, you know."
    "I'm sorry," Wren said. She waited until the nurse's footsteps had vanished down the hall before speaking again. "They're all just rabid wild animals. They need to be put down. All of them."
    "I don't think they're as wild as you think they are," her dad said. "I'm not saying that they're not dangerous. A lot of them are. But...god, I don't know. Sometimes it's hard for me to think about."
    "They