Karina Ramos

The White Bear

Prologue

The door to Derek Kole’s office was pushed open slowly a few more inches, just enough for a pair of weary brown eyes to sweep the dark interior. Only after making sure that no one occupied any of the couches or chairs did Emlan enter the room. He quietly closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

For a moment, he stood there listening to see if anyone had heard him. When no one came to investigate, he let go of the breath he held and allowed himself to relax. Finally he was alone.

He walked to one of the couches his father had used whenever he would meet with business guests at home, and let himself fall upon it with a grateful sigh. He lay there and watched the light cast orange shapes on the walls and ceiling through the windows. He wondered if he should maybe get up and close the curtains, but decided that it would be too much trouble. Instead, he satisfied himself with just throwing his arm over his eyes to block it out.

He lay there, eyes closed, enjoying the silence. It was something he hadn’t heard for days and he was sure that after today, peace and quiet would be hard to come by. The very idea made him groan. Then he yelped at the sudden weight on his stomach.

Emlan’s eyes snapped open as he bolted into an upright position. Looking to his lap, he met a pair of reproachful blue eyes.

“Damn, Daiyu! You scared the crap out of me,” he complained, then started to scratch the Siamese behind the ears in apology. “Where’d you come from anyways?” He looked up to make sure the door was still closed. It was.

He slid back down onto the couch and allowed the cat to settle on his stomach again. Emlan closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of fur between his fingers. “It’s been a hell of a week, Dai,” he murmured. “You’re lucky you’re a cat, you know.”

The week’s events started to trickle their way into his thoughts, much to his annoyance.

His father, Derek Kole, was the reason his life had become complicated much sooner than he’d expected. Not that he blamed him for it. Emlan was sure his father could have found a much more appealing way for him to take over the company other than dying.

In truth, his father’s death hadn’t been all that shocking. The man had been sick for months with a chronic condition that had steadily gotten worse within the past few days. The doctors had been unable to figure out what was wrong, and then finally he’d slipped into a coma and, within twenty-four hours, was dead.

It hurt; even though he wasn’t exactly close to the old man he’d still loved him. But the one who it had really hurt had been his stepmother.

Deborah had been the one to stay with his father through the whole illness. She’d sat talking to him quietly even though it was unclear whether he heard a word. She finally left Derek Kole’s side when he’d been placed in the ground. “In sickness and in health, ‘till death do us part.” She’d taken the words to heart and had followed them to the letter.

Emlan’s stepsister, Helena had also been affected. She had become so quiet lately – something that Emlan would have never believed posible if he hadn’t witnessed it himself. At times she wasn’t even able to look at him in the eye anymore. Having been through it before, Emlan thought she understood his need of just wanting to be left alone.

But the media hadn’t cared for any of their feelings. They were just interested in interviewing the widow and children of the prominent CEO, wanting to know what was to happen to the company. A spokesman had finally interfered and told them that clients should not worry and that the company would continue to operate as normal.

They’d backed off after that. Somewhat.

The reading of the will had occurred, and Emlan had found himself the sole inheritor of the company. At nineteen, he had become the CEO of a prominent business, something he had been trained for all of his life, but not something he’d expected to be for at least twenty or so more years. He’d been surrounded by reporters again, and this time it had been his turn to assure everyone that the company would still run as normal, and because of his young age, he would be depending on well-qualified advisors until he finished his formal education.

He didn’t know at what point his memories had become dreams but the next thing he knew he’d opened his eyes to gray light coming in through the windows. Someone was calling his name loudly. He cursed and sat up slowly. It was too early for people to be yelling.

Sitting atop the coffee table, Daiyu looked at him unimpressed with his language. The cat stretched and laid back down, ignoring the yelling in the hall. “Yeah, rub it in,” Emlan growled. “She’s not your stepmother so you can afford to ignore her.”

After hearing his name again, he finally got up and yelled. “I’m in here. Geez, give me a minute to wake up at least!” Before he reached the door, it burst open and his stepmother strode in, already fully dressed for the day.

“Oh, you’re here,” she said and then caught sight of Daiyu. “And so’s that animal I see,” she sneered. Daiyu hissed at the woman and jumped off the table, and settled himself under the couch.

Emlan ignored the exchange. Neither of them had ever liked the other and it had become second nature to ignore the cat fight.

Deborah turned back to her stepson. “What are you doing in here?”

He shrugged, “Nothing. Why? What’s so urgent that you had to wake me at –” he glanced at the ornamental clock on his father’s desk, “five forty-five?” he almost groaned. ‘It better be important,’ he thought.

“We need to talk before the media starts swarming you again. You know they will.”

“What about,” he asked. He knew she was right about the media, but did they really have to talk before six? That was just inhumane.

“You should think of your future now that you are in charge of your father’s assets. With your father gone, it is my responsibility to ensure that you make the best decisions for your future.”

“I can’t deal with the future now. I’m just managing to deal with the present,” he argued.

“That is not the way you should be thinking,” she admonished. “Imagine if your father had thought like that. If he hadn’t thought of the future of his company, where would it be now?”

He sighed. Having known the woman for three years had thought him what fights were worth picking. If he didn’t let her have her say now, she wouldn’t leave him alone until she did. “Okay, what do you have in mind,” he asked leaning against Daiyu’s couch.

Deborah smiled and for some reason it made Emlan uncomfortable. “Like I was saying, you must think of your father’s company. Its future depends on you and if you plan on keeping it away from the hands of people who will wish to buy you out in the future, you must have an heir.”

“An heir?” he blinked sure he had misheard.

“Yes, this company has been passed down for father to son since its founding.”

“Which was done by my grandfather,” Emlan said.

She ignored him. “And if you wish to follow that tradition you must have an heir.”

“Deborah, in case you’ve forgotten, I’m nineteen!”

“Nineteen with the responsibility of a much older man.”

“I’m too young to have children! And who would I have them with? You don’t expect me to just grab some girl off the street and make her my wife!” For a moment he was sure she would say yes. She looked that intense.

“Of course not,” she waved a hand dismissing his outburst. “That wouldn’t do. You should marry within your own class.”

“And I suppose you already have someone in mind,” he asked suspiciously. The names of girls he knew Deborah liked ran through his head. Some of them weren’t that bad. He might even consider dating them. But marrying them? He couldn’t even imagine it.

“Of course, you are to marry Helena.”

Emlan’s eyes grew big. Out of all the girls she could have picked, that one hadn’t even crossed his mind. “You can’t be serious. She’s my sister!”

“Stepsister,” she corrected.

“Whatever!” Then he spotted the girl for the first time, lingering in the hall. She looked like she’d just woken up. Her star patterned blue pajamas were wrinkled and her dark curly hair fell messily down her back. Even without the makeup and the accessories she usually wore she was still pretty.

“Helena, you can’t seriously agree with all this,” he demanded of her.

She shrugged, “We’re not related. Not really, so there’s no problem,” she said before attempting to finger-comb her hair into order.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” he yelled. “Me marry Helena?”

“You could do worse,” Deborah told him.

“Gee, thanks,” Helena muttered. No one heard.

“You could marry a plain Jane. Think about it, Emlan. This way the company truly remains within the family.”

“In some weirdo way,” he said. “Forget that she’d my sister, she’s sixteen!”

“She’s old enough for marriage with parental consent – which I give. And at sixteen her body is at little risk to carry a child.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this!” He turned to Helena, “And I can’t believe you’re just going along with it.”

Helena shrugged again, “You’re rich so I’ll be rich too. And you’re not bad looking. What else matters?”

“Emlan –”

He stopped Deborah before she could say anything else. “No way, I’m not interested,” he said pushing himself away from the couch.

“I advice that you think about it,” she warned, her voice slightly menacing.

“There’s nothing to think about. I’m not marrying my sister, step or otherwise.”

Deborah sighed dramatically. “I really hoped you’d see things my way. I didn’t want to force you to do it.”

“How can you force me into marriage,” he asked incredulous. “I think the media would notice a shotgun behind me. Or did you forget that they’d also be there?”

She shook her head, “This is a family affair. No one else need know about it.” Then she began to speak again and this time Emlan couldn’t understand the soft, rhythmic words.

He blinked confused. His body tensed as if it knew, even if Emlan didn’t, what was about to come. The wave of ice fire rushed through his body, making his eyes grow wide. “Stop it!” The order came out as a gasp. His abdomen convulsed and his back arched. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back the scream. He heard the crack of his bones loud in his ears. Pinpricks of fire spread through his body.

She was trying to kill him! Somehow she was killing him without even laying a hand on him!

The pain doubled, ripping through him. His muscles felt like they were on fire. His bones no longer fit inside his skin. The air was becoming unbearably hot.

He gasped trying to draw in some coolness. Instead Emlan tasted bile in the back of his throat He locked his jaw and swallowed refusing it to come up. The acid burnt his throat but he managed to return what was left of his dinner to its rightful place.

He fell to his knees unable to take it any longer. His body felt like it weighed a ton. His breathing became quick and ragged. His head was being ripped apart. Cradling it he realized that it didn’t feel right. He caught a flash of white when he moved his hand. “What are you doing to me?” he gasped seeing that his arm no longer looked like his arm. It had become large, misshapen and covered with white hair.

“If you refuse to be sensible than you leave me no other choice but to force you to see things my way,” she told him.

"Helena!” he turned to the girl who was standing motionless behind her mother. His vision began to swim and darken as he tried to keep the girl in focus. “Help me!" he cried. Emlan didn’t recognize the gruff voice that came from him. Falling to the floor he knocked against the couch. Far away he heard Daiyu yawl in surprise. Through his hazy vision Emlan saw Helena hesitate. “Please!” he half choked half roared. She turned away.

“You brought this on yourself, my boy,” he just managed to hear his stepmother through the roaring in his ears. “Take my daughter as your wife and I will make the pain go away,” she said calmly.

Emlan knew that he should accept. Every logical part within himself told him to accept. To make the torture stop. To go back to normal. Yet a small part of him refused to say the words. “Go to hell,” he managed to growl instead.

“Very well, have it your way.” And the pain once more increased. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a chain decorated with a pendant. She stepped forward, ready to place it around the young man’s neck. A hiss came a second before a surge of pain shot through her arm. With a scream of rage, she hurled the creature that had attached itself to her arm across the room.

Daiyu landed hard against the floor, blood evident in his muzzle and paws.

“Accursed cat,” she growled, sparing a glance to make sure that the animal was now immobile before placing the chain around her stepson’s neck.

Suddenly the pain wasn’t the only thing that contributed to the torture. Something heavy was choking him. With a panicked yell he clawed at the chain. His fingers were unable to make contact. Instead he felt extremely long nails rake through long hair.

“You might as well give up, boy. I am the only one who will be able to remove that.”

Soon his yell became something more akin to a roar. And then it was over. Exhausted and in pain he stopped moving. Where Emlan had just been now lay a panting white bear.

“You turned him into a polar bear,” Helena said incredulously and entered the room fully.

“I was expecting him to become something powerful. That is why I chose to use the pendant. It will keep him in line,” Deborah said holding her bleeding arm and looking down at her barely conscious stepson. “But, I must admit, his shape was unexpected.”

 “Eh, Mom, why is there a naked guy laying in the corner?”

Deborah followed her daughter’s gaze and saw the dark haired young man. His fingertips and mouth were red. She cursed and went over to him. She didn’t have to check for a pulse to know that he was alive. His being there told her as much. That knowledge infuriated her and she lashed out with a hard kick to the ribs.

“Who is he,” Helena asked her mother.

As a response Deborah snatched up a collar caller, which lay under the man’s bruised neck. Her hands trembled with anger as she thrust it into her daughter hands.

Helena took the caller. Recognizing it she gasped. “That’s Emlan’s cat?”

“I was sure I killed him. But now that animal’s been bound to the spell. I don’t know how it’ll affect it.”

Helena fidgeted with the collar making the tags jingle. “Can’t you just – you know – kill him now? He’s still just a cat. Right?”

“If I could I would have done it already,” she raged. “The the spell has probably bound them together. They’re fates are chaired now. Call the servants. Tell them not to come to work today. We must deal with this.”