Ursa Major, The Great Bear

URSA MAJOR

THE GREAT BEAR

Written in the Stars, Book 1

Published by Legion Printing and Publishing, Publishing via Smashwords

PHIL GEUSZ

First Printing 2016

Published by Legion Printing, Birmingham, AL

Copyright Phil Geusz, 2014

Cover art copyright Legion Printing and Publishing, Inc

ISBN: 9781370192991

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without explicit permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

1

Johnstown Station wasn’t anything special, I decided as the train slowly ground to halt before the brand-new building’s platform. Nor had I really expected it to be, despite all the fanfare over the recent flood. There might still be plenty of debris lying about the countryside. But predictably enough everything had been cleaned up here, where travelers like me might actually get to see something interesting for once. Though, I had to admit, the Rocky Mountains had been pretty nifty. And so had the big terminal in Chicago, in a different and somewhat scarier sort of way. Other than that the stations all looked alike, the cheap seats all rubbed me raw in the same places and the whole trip was mostly a blur, all the weary way back to Seattle.

This is your stop, son, the elderly conductor reminded me with a smile, and I returned the expression dutifully as the engine whistled its greetings to Johnstown. Everyone seemed terribly worried because I was traveling alone while still so young, but that was mostly because they didn’t know me very well. Sister Magdalene hadn’t been concerned at all; she’d simply handed me two dollars and fifty cents for food and other expenses—heaven only knew where she’d found it!—and two slices of my favorite blueberry pie wrapped up in paper.

You’ll be fine, she reassured me, patting my head and making me blush like she usually did. I was sort of her favorite, and we both knew it. Just send me a postcard when you arrive—I’m sure the Sorcerer’s Guild can spare you one—and let me know that you’re safe. Then she cupped my face into her hands and raised it up so that I had to look into her eyes. All right?

All right, I agreed. The truth was, I’d never left the City of Seattle before in my entire life. The very idea of such a long journey was enough to give me nightmares. But I’d never let Sister Magdalene know it. And sure enough, as always she’d been proven right. Here I was safe and sound at my last stop, all the way across the country in Pennsylvania. All I had to do was find the other kids scheduled for Familiar testing and sit quietly with them until the coach arrived from Devard Castle to take us up into the hills. This was something a resourceful boy of fourteen ought to be able to handle, I reassured myself as I picked up my father’s old Gladstone bag and carried it briskly inside the station house. Once an urgent personal need was taken care of, that was…

You’re a big damn pussy! a boy’s voice cried out from around the corner where I expected to find the lavatory.

A pussy! another younger voice repeated, laughing so hard that I thought he might actually strangle himself.

I’m not going to fight you, an equally young voice replied in dead-calm tones. It wouldn’t prove anything.

Leave him alone! a female added. He hasn’t done anything to you!

Meow! the first boy taunted. Meow, meow, meow!

I told you… the calm voice replied.

And that was quite enough. Something always happens deep inside of me when one kid taunts another. Sister Magdalene says it’s wrong, and that I should pray for control and forgiveness. But, somehow, I couldn't ever make the effort sound sincere. Probably because it wasn’t. Who’s a pussy? I demanded, rounding the corner suitcase in hand…

…and then my jaw dropped. For standing in front me was a kid my own age, wearing a black bodysuit, cat-ears, and even a tail, for heaven’s sake! I couldn’t help but stare a moment.

See? the laughing hyena asked. Ain’t he just the cutest thing you ever laid your peepers on?

My jaw worked, then I turned to the younger child. Beat it, I ordered.

Whose going to make him? the other boy demanded.

Me, I replied evenly, putting down my Gladstone and carefully removing the tattered, many-times-mended jacket which was the finest garment I owned.

Right! the bigger kid answered, grinning at his accomplice. He was maybe a head taller than me, and almost as burly as I was. This is going to be—

But he never finished the sentence. Where he expected fisticuffs I hit him low with my shoulder, a deep snarl in my throat. The impact drove him backwards so hard that when he finally hit the railing, he tumbled over the top and fell to the ground perhaps six feet below. Fortunately there were rose bushes planted there, to break his fall. Ow! he cried out. No fair!

I looked down and shrugged. Sorry about that. I suppose I got carried away. It happens sometimes. I tilted my head to one side. Care to climb back up and try again?

I think you broke my damn arm!

I shrugged. Maybe when you’re all healed up, in that case. Then I turned to the smaller boy, who didn’t think the situation was nearly so funny anymore. All I had to do was cock an eyebrow, and he was off like the wind.

Wow! the cat-boy observed, his eyes wide. Then he applauded, silently because of his black skin-tight gloves. That was great!

Crude, the girl agreed. But effective. Her eyebrows rose. You aren’t perhaps waiting for a coach, are you? To Devard Castle?

I might be, I allowed.

Good, she replied, as if the matter were settled. You can sit with us, then. Obviously, there’s a severe shortage of gentlemen hereabouts.

2

…Mom’s been dressing me like this since before I can remember, Midnight explained eagerly. He talked fast and freely, Midnight did, once you got him going. Though he was unusually quiet and shy until then. I reckoned that this was probably because the other kids where he grew up probably wouldn’t have much to do with him. I’m obviously cat-Marked, he explained. So I’ve always known I’ll end up becoming a Familiar.

I nodded slowly, not wanting to stop chewing and swallowing long enough to speak. Cynthia had bought me a nice hot bowl of stew, once she figured out that I hadn’t eaten in a couple days. I never did work out how it was that she could tell. Sister Magdalene apparently hadn’t taken a trip by rail in a very long time; my two dollars and fifty cents had run out in Chicago.

Midnight—it was his real, honest-to-goodness legal name, apparently—smiled. I might as well dress like this, as thoroughly Marked as I am. It helps me get used to the idea, like. And other folks don’t think it’s so strange, once they see the alternative.

Show him! Cynthia urged. Then she looked at me. You won’t believe it!

Midnight frowned, then nodded and lowered his hood. For just a second his ash-blonde hair blew freely in the wind…

…and then transformed itself into short black fur, topped with a pair of vague black ears that hurt a little to look at.

Wow! I declared, so surprised that for a few seconds I forgot I was hungry. That’s…

Disturbing, apparently, Midnight finished for me, looking a bit glum. So long as I wear some kind of ear-hat, they meld in so you can’t see them. He reached down and fingered his long, black tail. This works the same way. Except I can actually feel it.

I shook my head; maybe the getup actually made sense after all. Being Changed might almost be a relief, for you.

He nodded eagerly. "I can’t wait! I’m so tired of being stared at when I play with my yarn-ball! Mom’s all excited, too. She says that when I come back home to visit, I’ll have the best pet bed in the world waiting for me! Right out of the Monkey-Ward catalog."

I nodded again, trying not to let my face show how I really felt. My own Mark hadn’t shown up until a few months before, and it was a pale, pathetic thing compared to Midnight’s. Father Branson spent hour after hour saying Hail Mary’s with me to make it go away. But as Sister Magdalene predicted, nothing worked. She was going to get into a lot of trouble, I knew, if Father Branson ever found out she’d helped me accept the Guild’s invitation for a tryout.

I’m going to be a snake, I think, Cynthia declared, showing me her palms. That was where most Marks manifested themselves. Sure enough, you could see where the lines formed a girl’s head sort of blurrily mounted atop a long neck that was bent too sharply and in too many places to be human. She shook her head. "I don’t like snakes. But if I am one, I hope I’m venomous. Because if so, there won’t be anything to decide. The Guild