Tied With a Bow

brown bear, which includes the Kodiak bear. They get even bigger than grizzlies, topping out at over a thousand pounds. I don’t remember exactly how much over a thousand.” She sounded apologetic for this failing. “But coastal brown bears live along the Alaskan coast and on some of the islands up there. They don’t go walkabout and end up in Virginia.”
    “That’s one of the reasons I wanted Robin and Clay in on this,” Sheriff Porter said. “Maybe it’s a bear that got loose from a zoo. We’re checking on that, but so far no one says they’ve misplaced a grizzly. So maybe it’s not a normal bear. Or maybe it’s something else that shouldn’t be here.”
    “I can tell you if it’s a bear,” Benedict said. “Not sure I’ll know if it’s a grizzly. Never smelled one.” But he could talk to someone who had. “I need to contact a couple people.”
    “Who?” Porter gave him a sharp look as he slowed for a turn down a dirt lane. About a half mile ahead, Benedict saw headlights. Stationary, so maybe that was one of the deputies’ cars.
    “My men, first, to let them know.”
    “Put your phone up. I don’t want word getting out.”
    “Understood. They won’t be talking to anyone. I’m going to see if I can find someone who knows something about fighting grizzlies. I’ve never fought one.” He was hoping he wouldn’t fight one now, either—not up close and personal—but he wanted as much information as possible. He didn’t think any Nokolai had had that experience, but he knew who had. Etorri’s territory was in Canada. A few years ago, two Etorri had been badly mauled and a third one killed by a grizzly. Benedict didn’t know how to reach those men directly, but he knew who could put him in touch with them.
    “I told you to put the phone up.”
    “You’ve forgotten what I said about asking.” Benedict had already sent a text to his men. Thinking it might be more diplomatic, being less obvious, he texted his brother instead of calling: Call me. Urgent. Rule would talk to the Etorri Lu Nuncio or Rho, who would have one of the surviving Etorri call him.
    “It’s too damn late, isn’t it?”
    “Yeah. But they won’t be gossiping, so there isn’t a problem.” Benedict put his phone up. “Has this deputy of yours hunted grizzlies?”
    “No. His uncle has.”
    “I’ll want to talk to him.”
    “Mr. Turner.” Porter was angry. Benedict could hear the tension in his jaw when he spoke. “You seem to be under the impression you’re in charge here. You aren’t.”
    Turner was his father’s surname, not his, but Benedict let that pass. “I’m in charge of what I do. I’m not in charge of you or your men—or your deputy’s uncle, for that matter. I’m not challenging your authority,” he added, thinking he needed to put it bluntly. Humans had different rules. He wasn’t used to operating under those rules and might be sending signals he didn’t intend to.
    “But you don’t consider yourself under my authority.”
    “No.” How could he be? Two people had the right to give Benedict an order—his Rho and his Lu Nuncio. No one else. Though he would probably obey if his Rhej told him to do something, that was a matter of service, not authority.
    Arjenie spoke from the back seat. “Sheriff, when you say ‘authority,’ Benedict hears ‘submit.’ There’s a whole language of submission for lupi, so it gets complicated, but I don’t think he can submit to you. It might violate his duty to his Rho. He will, however, cooperate with you.”
    Well, he could accord the sheriff the leadership of the hunt . . . but he didn’t think a human would understand what that meant. Besides, he didn’t know if the man was good enough to take lead. “Allies,” Benedict said suddenly. “That term means the same to you it does to me.” At least he thought it did. “We’re allies in this matter, but I’m in your territory, so I’ll defer to your wishes as much as possible.”
    “Defer to my wishes.” Porter shook his head and slowed.
    They’d nearly reached those headlights, which did, as Benedict had suspected, belong to another sheriff’s department car. A deputy stood beside it holding a rifle pointed at the ground. Good choice of weapon. He was talking to a man in civilian clothes—fifty or so, stringy hair, dark beard, also holding a rifle. There was a second vehicle parked on the shoulder—an old truck. “Is that your hunter?” he asked. “The