The Bears of Blackrock, Books 1 - 3: The Fenn Clan

by Michaela Wright

  “Calling 911,” the phone assured.

  “Momma, there’s a bear outside! Momma don’t go to sleep. Momma!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  The wagon was hissing and clinking away twenty feet down the seawall, its hood crumpled against one of the two massive trees that had stopped its tumbling down the rocky beach and into the water. Kirk stomped his paws into the snow, feeling the cold crunch under him. He moved slowly, fighting with his massive weight. He moved down the hillside, the trail of the car gauging a smooth line through soil and snow combined. He lost footing just a few yards uphill from the wreck, skidding a foot or two on his ass in the snow.

  “Momma, there’s a bear outside! Momma, don’t go to sleep! Momma!”

  Shit! He thought. He’d forgotten his state, climbing down the steep hill on all fours – he was still a bear. Kirk took a deep breath and pulled himself upright, feeling his insides shift and rise as the man emerged from within the beast. Kirk stood there naked in the snow, inspecting the car with clearer, human eyes.

  The front driver’s side door was imploded, pushed in by the trunk of the first tree. The driver would not be in good shape. The back door remained intact, fogged now by breathing from within. He took a step and slipped in the snow, his bare ass slamming into the ground. His skin scraped over rocks and twigs, but he was back on his bare feet and by the side of the car a moment later.

  There was a voice; he’d heard someone. He knew at least someone survived. He frowned. It sure as hell wasn’t the driver.

  Kirk could hear a calm voice repeating itself, followed by a higher pitched cadence. It sound like that of a child.

  Kirk lunged for the car and pulled the door handle. The back door of the car opened. He held it in front of him, shielding his naked, lower half from view. Seeing a naked man in the wilderness at night would be enough to give any kid nightmares.

  “Are you there, Rory?” The voice on the phone asked. The little girl in the back seat nodded, but did not speak, her wide eyes trained on the naked man standing outside her car. She moved away from him across the back seat. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen this kind of scene – a child helpless as their parent lays injured in the front seat. This wasn’t the first time he’d been called to such a scene, but this was different. He hadn’t been called to this scene, he’d caused this scene.

  “Rory? Are you there?”

  The little girl nodded again, but before she could answer, the woman in the driver’s seat inhaled, turning her eyes to Kirk.

  “Don’t let him have her,” she said. Then her eyes closed.

  Oh my god, she’s alive!

  Kirk turned his attention back to the little girl, no longer concerned with her seeing his naked state. “Sweetheart, tell the lady on the phone to tell dispatch you’re off Seaside Drive. Halfway down Lookout South.”

  The little girl frowned and her lip began to tremble as she moved further away from him, tears welling up at the corners of her eyes. “My Momma says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

  His chest tightened as the words came. “It sounds like your Momma loves you very much. I know I must look like a crazy person, but I promise I’m here to help. Can you tell the lady for me? Please?”

  Rory stared at him, the bloodstained phone shaking in her hand. Kirk leaned down, but made a point not to move closer. The little girl clutched the phone with desperation, the voice on the other end calling to her softly. “Rory, honey. Are you there? Who’s with you? Did your Momma wake up?”

  Kirk put his hand out to the little girl. “My name is Kirk Fenn. Has your Momma ever told you that when you’re in trouble you should find a policeman or a firefighter?”

  The dark haired little girl nodded her head. Kirk fought with everything he had to show patience, but he knew her mother needed care, and she needed it immediately. If he couldn’t get the phone by coercion, he’d have to take it by force. God damn it, why didn’t he bring his truck tonight?”

  “Well, I’m a firefighter, and my cousin is the man who drives the ambulance.”

  “Rory, who’s there with you honey.”

  “It’s Kirk, Paula!” He called, inspiring an audible flood of relief on the other end.

  “Oh, thank god. Deacon is on his way. We have the phone pinging down by the harbor.”

  Rory moved the phone toward him, holding it out in front of her. Kirk took it from her shaking hand, reaching up to the front seat to get the driver’s pulse. It was there, but barely.

  “Lookout South. Car’s halfway down Lookout South,” Kirk said, inspecting the imploded driver’s side door.

  “Oh Jesus. It didn’t go in the water?”

  “How far out is he, Paula?”

  There was a conference of radio on the other end of the line, his cousin, Deacon Fenn’s voice muttering through static in the distance. He couldn’t make out the words, but a moment later, he didn’t much need to know, as the engine gave a low popping sound – the sound of something hot bursting into flames.

  “Tell him to get here as fast as he can. I’m going to have to move the victim.”

  “Alright, I’m staying on the line,” Paula said, but Kirk was no longer paying attention as he ducked down into the door of the car to look at the little girl.

  “Honey, I need you to get out of the car, ok?”

  Rory shook her head, glancing toward her mother for reassurance.

  Kirk took hold of the driver’s side door handle, but the handle mechanism was shot. He gave it a tug nonetheless. The door was sealed shut, smashed into place and locked there as though soldered. Kirk growled as the smoke began billowing out from the hood and into the front seat, flames licking from beneath the hood and casting gold light on the ground beneath the car.

  “Rory. Get out of the car!” He said, causing a visible fright.

  The little girl began to cry, and Kirk lost all calm. His temper was flared, he was losing his ability to hide what he was – a bear. It didn’t matter right now. If he didn’t act, the woman was going to die in a burning car.

  Kirk took hold of the driver’s side door and with one brutal yank, ripped it off at the hinges. The little girl screamed in the backseat, openly wailing in terror as Kirk reached into the driver’s side, unlatched the seat beat, and slipped his arms under the little girl’s mother. He felt the warmth of fresh blood oozing from her side, fighting to move her as gently as he could. It was difficult to mind the spine of the victim when the threat of engine combustion was seconds away. Still, he moved her with care, scooping her up as though she were weightless in his arms.

  He leaned down to speak to the little girl. “Rory, honey. I know it’s cold, and I know you’re scared, but your Momma needs you to get out of the car now. Come on, sweetheart. Please, help me.”

  The little girl pursed her lips, glancing terrified toward the smoke now billowing into the front of the car through the dash. He knew if she didn’t move in two seconds, he’d have to set her broken mother in the snow and pull the girl out kicking and screaming, or rip the roof off the station wagon to get to her. Given his mood, he wouldn’t mind the outlet.

  Just then, red and blue lights began to dance over the hillside, glinting off the millions of snowflakes that whirled around them in the air. Rory took a sharp breath at the sight, and slid across the back seat, tumbling out into the snow to climb the hill at Kirk’s side.

  A brown haired head appeared on the hillside above, a massive orange backboard under his arm. Another figure appeared, a short woman with a black ponytail bouncing high behind her head. Kirk fought with his footing to get to them, setting the woman down in the snow at their feet to let them strap her to the backboard. Then Kirk turned back to Rory, and without a word of request, snatched her up in his arms and hauled her up the rest of the hill. They hadn’t reached level ground before the car gave another foreboding pop and whoosh sound – the sound of the fire engulfing the entire hood of the car. Kirk watched the fire move across the front half of the car, gro
wing dangerously close to the cab.

  Kirk watched down the hill as his cousin Deacon and Deacon’s partner Lara made quick work of settling the injured woman. Then Deacon made the way of the hill, using a long rope to pull the backboard up behind, bringing her to level ground without further damage done. The woman’s face was covered in blood as she came into view, inspiring Kirk to carry the little girl around the side of the ambulance and out of sight of her ailing mother. The young girl hadn’t made a sound since being scooped up, instead resting her arms around his neck, holding onto him as her tiny body shivered. He listened to the EMTs placing the mother into the ambulance, finally coming around to greet them as they were closing the back door.

  Deacon slammed his jacket into Kirk’s hand. “Jesus, man. Cover yourself, will ya?”

  Kirk felt his face grow hot, but didn’t speak.

  “Come on, sweetheart. We’re gonna take a ride to the hospital, alright?” Deacon said, opening his arms to the child.

  The little girl nodded, reaching for the younger man, and climbing into the back of the ambulance without another word.

  Deacon shut the doors, turning back to Kirk. “Fire’s on its way. Come down the hospital after, yeah? Your truck nearby?”

  Kirk nodded. It wasn’t exactly nearby, but a mile through woods wouldn’t take too long. He couldn’t help but wonder what the other firefighters would think when they arrived to find him bareassed naked, only half covered by an EMT jacket.

  “Good. Go get dressed and come down to the hospital - just in case,” Deacon said.

  “Don’t say that, man.”

  Deacon moved toward the front door of the ambulance. “Just come down, alright?”

  Kirk nodded as Deacon climbed into the driver’s seat of the ambulance and pulled away from the roadside toward civilization.

  Kirk wrapped the jacket around his waist and turned to watch the burning car, the smoke and flames rising up under the ancient trees. The smoke was traveling up the hill with the ocean breeze, blasting snowflakes and chemicals into his face. He rubbed his bare feet together, the cold of the snow beneath them beginning to bother him despite the elevated heat of his body. He covered his nose with the back of his hand to shield from the smoke and glanced up the hill as another set of familiar flashing lights appeared on the road above.

  “We haven’t been able to find any family members. We’ve searched every database we have for a Theresa Little, but there’s just nothing coming up.”

  Kirk stood with the nurse and the social worker in the quiet hospital entrance.

  “They’re airlifting her to Bangor. The little one can’t go with her, and with no family to call -” The social worker, Peter Vance, turned his balding head toward Kirk with a set brow that spoke louder than words. It said quite clearly, ‘I dare you to say no.’ Peter knew Kirk well. This moment had occurred more than once before.

  “The only other foster household just recently adopted their third child and they don’t currently have the room. There’s no telling how far from here we’ll have to send her to find a placement. We’re not exactly in the -”

  “Peter. I’ll take her. You already knew I’d take her.”

  The nurse’s eyes went wide, and she gave Kirk a once over. He wasn’t sure if this new nurse’s surprise was due to his burly exterior, all soot stained and massive, or if she knew he was a Fenn. Sadly, the Fenn family name didn’t come with a great deal of affection in Blackrock.

  Peter visibly relaxed, then nodded, glancing down at his paperwork.

  “Is she already on her way to Bangor?”

  The nurse startled at his question, stuttering a moment as she searched for words. “No. The helicopter is on its way now. They’re just trying to keep her stable now.”

  Kirk nodded. He thought about the bruised and bloodied face, the green eyes that bore into him when she fought to speak.

  Don’t let him have her.

  Kirk had known he’d be taking the little girl home before the firetruck even arrived. Even if the Coolidge Family had room, he’d have pressed to take her. It was the least he could do.

  That little girl’s mother was banging hard on death’s door – and it was his fault.

  “Alright, she’s currently sleeping in the break room, if you’d like to come meet her.”

  Kirk scoffed, following Peter without a word. Oh, he’d met her alright. He wondered how well this conversation would go over when little Rory Little informed the social worker that she’d seen Kirk Fenn naked.

  God damn it, Kirk. This would only happen to you, he thought.

  “Rory, honey? Time to wake up, sweetheart.”

  The little girl shifted on the small green couch, her dark red curls matted down against her sweaty cheek. Peter pulled a chair up for himself and for Kirk, coming to sit before her in his usual, gentle way.

  “This man is Mr. Fenn. He’s the man that saved you from the car -”

  Rory rubbed her palm against her eyes, green like her mother’s, and focused on Kirk’s face with an almost startling intensity. He felt like an ant under a magnifying glass, and rubbed his hand over his untrimmed beard, wishing he’d taken more care that day. It wasn’t as though he’d planned to encounter anyone when he set out into the woods to enjoy the fresh snowfall under his paws. He hadn’t planned to cause a near fatal accident either.

  “I know,” she said, giving Peter Vance a surprisingly calm once over. “He came from the bear.”

  Kirk’s mouth fell open, as he glanced toward Peter, terrified of what the little girl might say next. She’d seen him. Jesus Christ, this little girl had seen him shift; she knew what he was.

  Kirk held his breath, waiting for what was to come next.

  “What’s that? You saw a bear out there, did ya? Sounds like a lot of excitement for one night.”

  Rory just stared at Kirk, wordless.

  “Well, Mr. Fenn here is a firefighter with Blackrock’s volunteer department, and he’s offered to take you home with him while your mother is being taken care of.”

  Rory glanced toward the door. “Is she going to be ok?”

  Kirk heard Peter swallow and took up the helm of the conversation. “She’s fighting really hard, sweetheart. The doctors are going to take care of her the best they can.”

  “She might die?”

  It was Kirk’s turn to swallow.

  “Sweetheart, don’t talk like that,” Peter said.

  Rory frowned. “It’s ok to talk like that. Momma told me – bad things happen sometimes.”

  Kirk and Peter both stared at the little girl. Rory simply rubbed her eyes again, wiping away tears, but she was fixing her jaw, as though determined to show a brave face.

  “Do you have a bed at your house?” She asked finally, pushing her legs off the edge of the couch.

  “I do. I have bunk beds I built myself. With a slide to come down from the top if you want to.”

  Rory smiled for the first time since he’d met her, and though it wasn’t a smile of true joy, it was enough to hint at the beauty of the real deal. His heart ached.

  “Can we go, now?” She asked, standing up beside the couch and holding her hand out to him to take it. Kirk froze a moment. This little girl had seen him shift, seen what he became when he ventured into the woods at night, unleashing a creature that many great men feared. Yet this little girl stood before him, holding her hand out to him in wait, expectant of a warm bed.

  He met her gaze, letting her green eyes burn into his a moment. Then, Kirk stood from his chair, fighting a lump that was growing in his throat, and shaking Peter’s hand, led Rory Little down the hospital corridor.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Joe was enraged.

  Her body ached, immobile around her as she fought to pinpoint the source of the pain. It was somewhere, and it was everywhere. Her side hurt, her legs hurt, her collar hurt, and somewhere in the midst of all this hurt, there was an ache in her chest like nothing she’d ever experienced.

  Yet it wa
sn’t the pain that was summoning up Joe’s fury, it was the incessant blipping sound of some contraption nearby, pulling her from sleep. She tried to swallow, finding the action almost impossible, as though something blocked her muscles from doing their work. She tried again, still unable to swallow. She tried to cough, dislodge this strange thing that seemed to have taken up residence in her throat. Coughing was nearly excruciating.

  Joe opened her eyes to the dark room and forced her hand up to her face. There was a tube poking out of her nose. She tapped it with her clumsy hand and felt the thing move in her throat.

  Rage. She pulled at it, feeling the sting of tape tearing across her face, coupled by the sickening sensation of something moving in her throat, the way spaghetti does when you only swallow the end of it. She hacked, pulling faster. Jesus, how long was this fucking thing?

  “Theresa? Theresa, honey. Don’t do that. No, honey!”

  The tube was out, spraying spit and something else into her nose as it came free. Joe hacked and gasped, swatting the nurse’s touch away.

  “I need water. I need a drink of water.”

  The nurse pressed a hand on Joe’s shoulder as she tried to hoist herself up. She didn’t know where she was, didn’t know why her body ached and even screamed when she tried to shift toward the edge of the bed.

  “Don’t move, Theresa. I need you to stay still. Larry!”

  A figure appeared at Joe’s other arm, taking her by the shoulder and elbow and pushing her back into the bed. She fought to stay upright, but the muscles tensing in her abdomen sent searing pain across her side. She screamed, dropping into the bed to still the agony.

  “Honey, if you won’t lay still, I’m going to have to restrain you. Alright?”

  Joe turned to the nurse, glaring at her. “I can’t stay here! I need to go! Where’s Rory?”

  “She’s in protective custody. She’s completely safe. I’m sure she’ll be very excited to hear you’ve -”

  Protective custody. Rory wasn’t with her. Rory was with strangers. People who didn’t know what was out there, people who wouldn’t know to protect her. Joe’s face contorted in fury and grief. She had to get to her daughter. She had to keep her safe