Legends of Havenwood Falls 2

by Belinda Boring

  Wetting my lips, I answered. “I can respect that, Roman Bishop. I feel the same about my own kin; in fact, that’s what’s brought us here. My wife was kidnapped over a year ago, and our search has led us here, to your town.”

  I watched him as I spoke, trying to gauge his response. I caught the flicker of anger at the mention of Catriona being kidnapped and the furrowing of his brow. It gave me hope.

  Knox chose to speak up next. “We’re not here to cause any trouble. We’ve experienced enough during our travels. All we want is to find her so we can return home to England.” The earnestness in his tone was convincing.

  Roman Bishop looked back and forth between us. “There are rules you will need to follow should you be allowed to enter my town. Do you agree to abide by the law?”

  We both nodded. I knew I wasn’t the only one curious about the town now. “You have my word as a gentleman.”

  I extended my hand in agreement and with only a slight hesitation, Roman shook it. His handshake was strong and firm.

  “Then welcome to Havenwood Falls, gentlemen. May you find the answers you seek.”

  Marcus St. James’ story continues in Wrath and Retribution, coming Spring 2019.

  About the Author

  International and #1 Multi-Genre Bestselling Author Belinda Boring is known to many readers as the Queen of Swoon and also the Queen of Cliffhangers. Her Mystic Wolves series has topped many charts, along with receiving several awards and nominations such as Paranormal Book of the Year, Best Debut Book, as well as being in the Top 3 Best Rated on Amazon. With additional titles like Wanderlust, Enchanted Hearts, Loving Liberty and Broken Promises, it’s easy to see why readers are captivated by this swoon-worthy author!

  A homesick Aussie living amongst the cactus and mountains of Arizona, Belinda Boring is a self-proclaimed addict of romance and all things swoon-worthy. It wasn’t long before she began writing, pouring her imagination and creativity into the stories she dreams. Whether urban fantasy, paranormal romance or romance in general, Belinda strives to share great plots with heart and characters that you can’t help but connect with. Of course, she wouldn’t be Belinda without adding heroes she hopes will curl your toes. Surrounded by a supportive cast of family, friends, and the man she gives her heart and soul to, Belinda is living the good life.

  Acknowledgments

  I fell in love with Marcus St. James immediately. From the moment he stepped forward in my mind, I knew he had a story that would reach in and claim my heart. He’s not the typical hero. He’s a jerk, and there were times were I had to pause, cock my own eyebrow, and say, “Really? You’re going to be THAT kind of guy?” But what can I say? I love the broken hero, the reluctant hero, the hero who thinks he has it all figured out, only to realize he is CLUELESS. I hope you fall for him like I did. I hope that you can see his heart . . . it’s there, I promise. I like to believe that the harder someone falls, the greater their redemption is. He’s worth it—they all are!

  I wanted to thank everyone behind the scenes who helped bring this story to fruition:

  My husband and family, who are always so supportive and patient while I’m writing. I sometimes wish that brainstorming came with a frequent driving card or something because Mark and I totally racked up the miles driving about our small town. #LostWithoutYou

  My beta readers who faithfully read each chapter and gave amazing feedback. You guys are invaluable to me so *lick* you’re mine FOREVER! Thank you for always being there and begging for more. Your comments made me chuckle! #StuckWithMe

  My author coach, Jessica Gibson, who cracks that whip of hers with expertise! Thank you for keeping me focused and motivated, especially when I have a tendency to squirrel over a bazillion things OTHER than what I’m meant to be writing. Thanks for always being in my corner. #BabeBossForever

  Lastly, I wanted to thank Kristie Cook and all my fellow Havenwood Falls authors, for being part of my journey. I LOVE Havenwood Falls. I LOVE the stories that have been shared and what each of you bring to this incredible world. Thank you for welcoming me with open arms and being part of my book world family. I’m proud to stand amongst you and call you all friends! #SappyBels

  For those who love author insights, I wrote this entire story to one song: It’s Quiet Uptown by Lin-Manuel Miranda. I’m obsessed with all things Hamilton and when it came time to build this story’s playlist, this was the ONLY song I could write to. It sets the tone beautifully so, please, if you’re curious, have a listen to the music and see if it helps capture your heart.

  Happy reading, everyone! Thanks for visiting Havenwood Falls with me. ❤

  Belinda

  xoxo

  Fated Beginnings

  E.J. Fechenda

  Also by E.J. Fechenda

  The New Mafia Trilogy

  The Beautiful People

  Clean Slate

  Endings & Beginnings

  Enforcer (a prequel novella)

  The Ghost Stories Trilogy

  End of the Road

  Havoc

  The Triangle (Fall 2018)

  Havenwood Falls

  Fate, Love & Loyalty

  Havenwood Falls High

  Fata Morgana

  Mom and Dad, thank you for everything. I love you.

  Chapter 1

  Sunset Creek, Colorado August 1947

  Dust billowed out behind the truck, and the dirt road had grown increasingly bumpier and narrower the higher Daniel McCabe’s dad drove up the mountain. The truck bounced over ruts and rocks, causing Daniel to bounce in his seat. The last sign of civilization he recalled seeing was a homestead with two sickly looking horses in the corral, emaciated to the point he could count the ribs. He had wanted to stop and give them his apple that was packed with his lunch, but his dad refused. He said there wasn’t time to dillydally. He wanted to get to their destination before noon.

  Judging by the sun high overhead, that time quickly approached. They passed a sign for Prospector Gulch, and Daniel noticed his dad’s grip on the steering wheel tighten, as did the set of his jaw. Sheer determination pushed him forward on this task. When his dad asked him if he wanted to visit Sunset Creek, Daniel didn’t hesitate to say yes. Sunset Creek had only been spoken about in whispers, accompanied by expressions of sadness. Daniel knew something bad had happened that had resulted in his grandfather dying, but he didn’t know what. Now that they were approaching the old mining town, the place of his father’s birth and his grandfather’s death, hopefully he’d learn the whole story.

  They rounded a bend in the road, and his dad slammed on the brakes, sliding to a stop on the dirt. An aspen tree lay on its side, blocking the way.

  “Well,” his dad said with a sigh, “looks like we’re walking the rest of the way.” He grabbed the satchel that contained their lunches and canteens of water before opening the door. Daniel scrambled out after him, eager to stretch his legs. They had been driving all morning. Sunset Creek was located in the mountains in Gunnison National Forest, about two hours west of where they lived in Colorado Springs. Daniel’s dad was quiet as they marched along the narrow road so choked with overgrowth, it was hard to believe it was a road at all.

  “Dad, how can anyone live out here?”

  “Nobody does . . . anymore.”

  “Why?”

  His dad paused and fished out a canteen from the bag. He screwed off the top, took a few deep gulps, and handed it over to Daniel. That’s when he noticed his dad’s hand was shaking. His dad didn’t respond, just turned around and kept walking. Daniel easily kept up. Since he had turned fifteen three months ago, he had gone through a growth spurt. Now his long strides matched his dad’s. The forest grew thicker around them, and it was so much quieter out here than in the city. Daniel itched to roam through the woods and smell everything. He was getting better at controlling his shift, and out here, where they hadn’t seen any humans and he didn’t detect any with his enhanced senses, the urge to be one with nature became increasingly difficult to
contain.

  As if sensing this, his dad grabbed his wrist. “Not yet,” he said. “There will be time later.”

  Daniel let out a small growl, but nodded in understanding.

  “I used to know these woods—they were like my second home once. Before . . .” His dad trailed off, staring off into the distance, but Daniel could tell he was lost in his thoughts. His forehead crinkled before he shook out of his trance and started moving again.

  They walked side by side in silence until they reached an old wooden post. On the ground in front of it was a sign. The wood was half rotted, and the white paint faded to the point where some of the letters were gone, but he could still make out the words: Sunset Creek est. 1867. That was eighty years ago, he thought to himself as he took in what was left of the town laid out before him. There were structures left—a few homes and stores—but no sign of life. He could see where the mines had been carved out of the hillside above the town. Rusty machinery dotted the stripped earth. As they walked down the main street through the center of town, Daniel shivered as if ghosts followed them. Looking over at his dad, he could tell he was haunted by memories. Shells of buildings remained. Some of them were half burnt and leaning at a dangerous angle.

  “Dad?” His voice shook with fear. “What happened here?”

  “Humans. Humans happened.” His dad’s shoulders slumped as if exhausted, and he focused his blue eyes just past Daniel’s shoulders. “Come, it’s time you know. You’re old enough.”

  He led them to the front steps of what was once the general store. The windows were busted out, glass littered the front porch, and the wooden door swung in the gentle breeze, rusty hinges letting out an occasional squeak. Once they were settled on the steps with sandwiches that his mom made in their hands, his dad started talking.

  “Sunset Creek was a booming mining town in its heyday. The vein of gold they discovered made a lot of men rich. My father—your grandfather, Ian McCabe—arrived here from Ireland in 1875 with his oldest brother, Robert. Robert was seventeen at the time, and my father only thirteen. Even though it was a few years after the vein was first discovered, there was still plenty gold left for him to acquire some wealth.

  “In 1878, Sunset Creek was still thriving. Even though the gold vein had been depleted, one of the largest silver veins had been discovered, attracting prospectors like bees to honey.

  “As Sunset Creek grew, the boundaries encroached upon unclaimed land where wildlife was plentiful. Hunting and fishing provided a much-needed food source. According to what my father told me, in 1878, William Jenkins, a Sunset Creek resident, had gone out hunting with his twelve-year-old son, Johnny. He returned on the second day without any fresh kills. Instead, the bloody body he carried in his arms was his son. Johnny had been mauled by a mountain lion. William had shot the beast before it could snap his son’s neck. A priest was brought in, and last rites were read at Johnny’s bedside as he fought for his life. William and Judith Jenkins kept a vigil through the night. Fortunately, he survived, but there were more attacks by mountain lions. Your grandfather was one of the victims.”

  “What?”

  “That’s how he became a shifter. He was bitten. Imagine the shock and surprise when he first shifted.”

  “Holy Toledo!” Daniel sat back in awe. He’d always assumed his grandda was born a shifter like everyone else in his immediate family.

  “The mountain lion attacks continued for several years, and multiple residents were bitten. Only after Johnny Jenkins shifted in public during an argument with his father, in front of the assayer’s office, did your grandda figure out there were more mountain lion shifters like him. The reaction to Johnny’s public change also made him realize he needed to be very careful about who knew his true nature.”

  “Why?” Daniel asked, leaning forward with his arms propped on top of his knees.

  His dad sighed and ran a hand over his beard, which was a deep reddish brown that had only recently become threaded with some white hairs.

  “Humans are easily afraid and easily suspicious of anyone they consider different. I mean, you’ve seen the reservations and the internment camps.”

  Daniel understood what he was saying. Even though the Second World War had ended two years earlier, pictures of Holocaust survivors that ran in newspapers were burned into his memory. Here in Colorado, the Japanese Internment camps, which the governor fought against, still existed. They were empty, the prisoners released to go back to their lives, but the structures remained as a reminder of how quickly people could turn against a whole group considered different or a threat.

  “According to your grandda, it was late one night when a group of men who worked at the mines formed a mob. They had been drinking at the saloon and got riled up. Somebody mentioned Johnny Jenkins, and it escalated from there. They left the bar and marched down Main Street to the Jenkins house.”

  Daniel’s dad paused and stared off across the street at the shell of what used to be the bar. A faded sign that read Silver Spur Saloon had come loose on one end and hung at an angle, partially blocking the doorless entrance. He swallowed once before continuing. “They burnt the fucking house down. Johnny and his family barely escaped.”

  Daniel’s eyes widened, and his mouth hung open in shock, partly because of how horrible the story was, and also because his dad swore. He rarely said cuss words in front of him.

  “Apparently, Johnny and his family left that night, and were never seen or heard from again, but things were different after that. Anyone who had been associated with them were cast under suspicion as well. My father kept hoping that things would settle down, but seeing a person transform into a wild animal is something people don’t easily forget.”

  “But he stayed. I mean, you were born here. Why didn’t he leave?”

  He snorted, and his mouth twisted up in a smile. “Us McCabes are a stubborn lot,” he said and winked at Daniel, who returned his grin. “He and his brother had settled in Sunset Creek and that’s all they knew. They refused to leave. Also, I think love had something to do with it.”

  “Oh,” Daniel responded with a knowing tone. “Gran.”

  “Yup. He met my mother, and she didn’t have any desire to leave either.”

  Daniel scratched his head and swatted at a fly buzzing around his ear. The sun had shifted, and he was baking in its full afternoon heat. “Was Gran already a shifter when they met?”

  “Yes. She had been bitten, too. As you are learning, we have enhanced senses, so it’s easier to pick out nonhumans in a crowd. Soon the mountain lion shifters of Sunset Creek were holding their own gatherings in secret. These gatherings were the only way of exploring the animal side; they were a safe place.”

  Once again, his dad grew quiet and stared off into the distance. Daniel noticed his eyes shone with tears that never spilled. His dad cleared his throat and stood up. He paced in front of the steps where Daniel sat.

  “When I was ten years old, I was with your grandda and gran and my sister at one of these gatherings. Now, mind you, the mines were almost depleted by this time and the population was growing smaller each month as people had to find work elsewhere. This also meant there were a lot of desperate people around. Desperate and angry people are like powder kegs waiting to go off. We thought our gatherings had gone unnoticed, but in a small town, it’s hard to keep secrets. Unfortunately, someone noticed, and that was enough to light the fuse.”

  “What happened?” Daniel was leaning forward by now, completely engrossed in the story. He was finally going to learn what his dad and gran kept secret.

  “They came for us. Tried to slaughter us all and came really close to succeeding.” His dad’s voice was rough with emotion, and he stopped pacing. With a sigh, he sunk down on the steps next to him. His shoulders were hunched over like he was physically burdened by the memory. “Homes were torched, friends were shot in the street . . . it was swift and brutal. I don’t know how many survived. We scattered. My dad managed to get us to safety,
urged us to head for the nearest town, and said that he’d catch up to us. He went back to fight, and we never saw him again.”

  Daniel shuddered as he absorbed the information. He had no idea his family history would be so dark. “Did you try to find him?” he asked.

  “I wanted to go back and look for him, but your gran insisted we stay far away. She scoured newspapers for any coverage of the violence, but nothing was ever published. She thinks the government covered it up. It’s possible. Just look at what’s happening in New Mexico. That fellow found a spaceship on his farm, and now the news is saying it’s a weather balloon. They probably are testing on aliens right now in some underground bunker. Hell, they probably captured a shifter or two and are testing them, too. All I know is Sunset Creek has been wiped from the map and was left to sink back into the earth. Humans can’t be trusted, Daniel. Remember that. They can’t handle anything out of the ordinary.”

  His dad’s warnings were nothing new. Daniel had been hearing them his whole life, even more since his first shift, which took place three months ago, not too long after he turned fifteen. Now, knowing the history, he understood why.

  He took his dad’s warning to heart that day, adapting it as a rule that would follow him into adulthood: be careful who you trust, especially humans.

  “I needed to tell you the history, Daniel. It’s why we move so much. We can’t afford to get too comfortable in one place. Your mother and I know it’s been difficult, especially with you getting older.”

  The images Daniel’s imagination conjured up flashed vividly through his mind, the carnage worse than any war movie playing at the local cinema. He pictured streets running red with blood and the empty street before him a scene of total chaos as shifters were slaughtered. His dad was right—he hated moving all the time. Just when he started to settle in and make friends, his family would pick up and move on. It had gotten to the point where he didn’t bother making friends.