Born to Be Badger (Honey Badger Chronicles #5)(9)

Pete didn’t understand. Who were these women? And where had they come from? His uncles and cousins had searched the place before lying in wait for the first woman to show up. They hadn’t seen anyone in the store. Hadn’t smelled anyone. And yet here they all were. All staring down his aunt.

He knew all the women were supposed to be honey badgers but the only thing he and his uncles and cousins had been told was to make sure they didn’t get their claws on a gun or knife because badgers didn’t fight fair. Due to their small size, they felt it was their right to even the odds when going up against bigger predators. Meaning his Aunt Freja felt justified using a weapon on this lone badger. Fuck shifter honor, apparently. Pete was sure Aunt Freja never expected backup for the honey badger female or for these additional badgers to be so damn mean and handy with one simple baseball bat.

It was easy for these women, too. This was not a battle to end all battles between honey badger and hyena. This was a near-decimation that took less than two minutes and had left his aunt completely alone. No backup. No protection. His uncles simply too damaged to move. His aunt might count him on her side, but Pete didn’t want her to count him. He couldn’t get his feet to move. Not even to run away. All he could do was gawk and tremble. Not a pretty sight when one was considered an apex predator.

Focused on his aunt, the first woman said, “If you think you’re fast enough, you can take the sho—”

His aunt took the shot. It should have blown the woman’s head off. It didn’t. Because she moved. So fast, Pete barely saw her move. One second, she was standing in front of his aunt, about five or six feet away with her friends beside her. The next, her friends had scattered and the woman had spun around, facing the same direction as Freja, and with both palms on the hand holding the gun.

Without releasing Freja’s hand, the woman somehow managed to take the gun apart. She didn’t break the weapon into pieces the way a grizzly would. Or break Aunt Freja’s hand the way a grizzly definitely would. But somehow, she took the gun apart; pieces of it dropped to the ground at their feet until his aunt held nothing but the ammo-less frame.

With no useful weapon, Freja used her free hand to grab the back of the woman’s head. The woman lifted her arm, bent it, and brought it back, burying the elbow in the middle of Aunt Freja’s face. She did it so hard that his aunt’s nose wasn’t simply broken; half of it was buried deep into her skull. He wasn’t sure she could breathe out of it anymore.

As the woman stepped away, his aunt slid to the floor, both hands over her face. When the woman reached her friends, the four of them pulled out their own guns and aimed them at Freja. Pete was going to cry out, hoping to stop them, but the woman said something first.

“What the hell are you guys doing?”

The blonde glanced between Freja and the woman. “We kill her now. Yes?” She had a heavy Eastern European accent and was pretty, now that he could see her clearly.

“No. We’re not killing her.”

“We’re not?” the brown-skinned Latina asked. “Why?”

“I promised Mads I wouldn’t kill her mother.”

“You mean when she was ten?”

“Yes! I made a promise.”

“You promised me her soul,” the blonde growled.

“Oh, my God.” The woman faced the blonde. “Is this about your ancestors again?”

“The year was eight-fifty-six—

“Seriously?”

“—and life in Rus was hard, but not for honey badger. But then the Galendotters raided my people’s village. Nearly wiped all of my ancestors out. But we survived and vowed revenge. And honey badgers . . . we never forget. We never forgive.”

“I’m not letting you kill her because of a more than thousand-year-old grudge.”

“What kind of badger are you?”

“One that keeps promises to her sweet and sensitive niece.”

The woman dug her phone out of her black jeans with one hand and motioned to Pete with the other.

“Come here, sweetie,” she said kindly and, with no other options, he finally managed to move. Toward her. He couldn’t believe she’d even noticed him. He wasn’t crazy about the idea of standing next to her, but she didn’t hurt him or even threaten him. Simply put her arm around his shoulder and walked him to the door.

“I’m going to give you a number to call,” she told him, real kindness in her voice. “The man who answers helps orphan shifters. He’ll get you a place to stay and some food and figure out what you want to do next so you don’t have to go back to any of Freja’s foolishness if you don’t want to. Okay?”

He nodded, not sure what else to do.

“You have a phone, right?” she asked when they were outside; a black SUV idled on the street right in front of the empty store. He sensed it was there for her and her friends.

Pete pulled his phone out and in seconds she’d sent him the number where he could find help. He prayed she wasn’t lying, but he had no other option but to trust her.

“Now if you don’t want to go back in there . . . and I wouldn’t if I were you”—she turned him away from all her blood-splattered friends—“you should just walk down the street and make the call. Okay? My friend will send someone really nice to pick you up if he can’t. Okay?”