Force of the Falcon

by Rita Herron

  THE MINUTES DRAGGED by while Brack waited on the ambulance.

  He didn’t like the fact that the woman had drifted into unconsciousness. No telling how much blood she had lost. What if the attack had damaged internal organs?

  Twenty minutes passed. Still no ambulance.

  He had to check her wounds. He coaxed her to roll over to her side, and he carefully cut away the remainder of her flannel gown, leaving the blanket secure around her legs. Then he leaned close to study her wounds. Sharp claw marks remained where something had ripped away the flesh on her hands and back. Dirt, dead skin, leaves, and mangled tissue were matted together in an ugly maze. The wounds were deep, but not to the bone, so hopefully her internal organs weren’t injured. But she needed stitches, antibiotics and pain-killers. And the area had to be cleaned.

  He rushed to the bathroom, grabbed the first aid kit he kept on hand, then cleaned the worst of the dirt and debris from her back. She moaned and he winced, hating to hurt her but knowing it had to be done.

  In all the years he and his brothers had been rescuing birds of prey, he had seen vicious attacks by animals. But he’d never seen anything so awful as the tender skin on the beautiful woman—desecrated, clawed at as if her attacker wanted to literally taste her blood.

  If a bird had done this, it was supersized. Maybe injured. Or what if it was diseased? Was it possible that his beloved creatures had contracted some kind of strange illness that caused them to attack humans?

  Finally, a siren squealed outside, and the paramedics punched the gargoyle doorbell, causing a resounding lion’s roar to moan throughout the house. Katie jerked her head up, startled.

  He forced a small smile. “I’ve got a crazy doorbell, don’t I?”

  She nodded, a tiny smile lifting the corner of her mouth as if they shared a secret. Then she dropped her head back down against her mother’s.

  He hurried to let the rescue workers in and quickly explained what had happened. The woman’s name was Sonya Silverstein. Apparently she worked with them as a paramedic. She and Katie had just moved into the old farmhouse just a mile away from Falcon Ridge. He could see the rambling wooden structure from the top of the ridge.

  Katie climbed into his lap while the paramedics checked Sonya’s vitals and started an IV, placed a temporary dressing on her wounds, moved her to a gurney and transported her to the ambulance.

  “Check the little girl, too,” Brack said. Although she appeared to be okay, he didn’t know how long she’d been out in the snow or how weak her health was. “And Sonya said to call Miss Margaret.”

  A big barrel-chested guy who introduced himself as Van Richards nodded, then reached for Katie. “We’ll call her on the way. Come on, peewee, you can ride in the truck with your mama.”

  “But whats about Snowball?” Katie asked.

  “Snowball will be happier staying at my house where it’s warm tonight,” Brack said in a low voice. “We can take him back to your house in the morning.”

  She scrunched her mouth in thought, but seemed to accept his offer.

  Van nudged her arm. “We need to go, Katie.”

  Katie glanced up at Brack with those mesmerizing eyes, eyes full of terror. “Will you comes with us, Mister?”

  “Brack,” he said softly.

  Van shot him a skeptical look that bordered on distrust, as if he suspected that Brack might have attacked Sonya. “There’s not room.”

  Katie wrinkled up her nose. “I can squish over.”

  Brack silently cursed. All his life, he and his brothers had endured those condemning looks. They’d been dubbed murderer’s sons. And then there was their strange affinity for the wild.

  It was the very reason he hated this town. He still wasn’t sure he’d stay.

  To hell with these guys. He didn’t have to prove himself to them or anyone else in this godforsaken place. He’d done all he could tonight. He’d saved the woman and kid. Now he could walk away.

  Katie tugged at his hand, her chin quivering. “Pwease, Mr. Bwack,” Katie pleaded.

  Really, how could he refuse the poor little girl? He wanted to know more about the creature that had attacked the woman, anyway.

  The younger guy, Joey Bates, climbed in the driver’s seat while Van settled Katie into the back.

  “I’ll drive my SUV to the hospital and meet you there, sweetie, okay?”

  She nodded, then pasted on a brave smile and huddled into the blanket beside her mother. Sonya was breathing steadily, but anxiety still tugged at Brack. He waved to Katie as the door shut behind them, then crawled into his Land Rover and cranked the engine. The wind beat at the windows, fresh snow swirling in a fog. More questions hammered through his head as he maneuvered the vehicle down the mountain toward town.

  Didn’t Sonya have any family to call? Where was her husband?

  If he was alive, if they were divorced, did he ever see Katie?

  If so, why wouldn’t she have wanted him to call the man now? She’d need help with Katie while she healed.

  They’re not your problem, he silently reminded himself. Don’t get involved.

  But he had to find out exactly what had attacked Sonya. Was it one of his birds of prey or was it another kind of creature—a human one who not only killed animals but now had attacked an innocent woman?

  BRACK PACED the hospital waiting room, sipping the stale, cold coffee from the vending machine as he waited on the doctors to check Katie and Sonya. A half hour later, one of the nurses finally appeared; he almost accosted her with questions, but at the last moment held himself in check.

  “Sir, were you the man who found the Silverstein woman and child?”

  He glanced at her name tag. Amy. She was youngish, maybe early thirties, blond hair, a kind smile. “Yes. Brack Falcon. How are they?”

  “They’re both going to be fine. They treated Sonya’s injuries and have settled her into a room now. Her little girl is in there with her.” She paused, studying him, her eyes narrowed. “We’ve called the babysitter, Margaret Mallady,” she continued. “She said she’d be here as soon as possible to pick up Katie.”

  “Good.” He could breathe now. Go home.

  “Did you see the attack on Ms. Silverstein, Mr. Falcon?”

  He shook his head. “No, I heard her screaming and found her on the ground.”

  A frown creased her forehead. “What were they doing outside in the blizzard?”

  “The little girl snuck out looking for her kitten.”

  “That sounds like Katie.” The woman’s round cheeks ballooned out as she shook her head. “Poor Sonya. She’s had her hands full. She didn’t need this.”

  He frowned, wanting to ask what she meant but warning himself not to.

  Don’t get involved, and you won’t get hurt.

  He was a loner. A man who needed no one. A man who didn’t want anyone needing him.

  “Doctor Waverman called the sheriff,” Amy said. “To report the attacks.”

  Sheriff Cohen. Dammit. He was the last person in town Brack wanted to see. He hated the man for railroading his father into jail twenty years ago. And he’d tried to run Rex out of town when he’d first arrived, and he’d interfered with their investigation.

  “Oh, there he is now.” She rushed forward to greet the sheriff, then gestured toward Brack. Sheriff Cohen’s jowls shook as he gave Brack a once-over. His look said it all. Why had the Falcon boys returned to Falcon Ridge—to cause trouble?

  Cohen shifted, then jerked his pants up with his stubby thumbs and stalked toward Brack. “So, you’re the other Falcon?”

  Brack nodded. “Sheriff.”

  “You found the Silverstein woman?”

  “Yes.”

  His bushy eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Mind telling me what you were doing out in the woods?”

  “You know my family rescues injured birds. Lately there have been several attacks on the animals. I heard a loud screeching sound, and was out checking on them.”

  “You were
searching for wounded birds?” Suspicion laced the sheriff’s gruff voice.

  “Yes. Then I heard a scream and found the woman on the ground. She’d been attacked. But she told me to look for her little girl.” He forced a steely calm to his voice although the memory of having to leave the woman alone haunted him. “I found Katie hiding in a cave, then carried them both to my house and phoned the paramedics.” He finished matter-of-factly, glaring at the sheriff, willing him to defy his statement.

  “You know what attacked the woman?” Cohen asked.

  Brack shook his head. “I didn’t see the actual attack.”

  A doctor appeared through a set of double doors, then introduced himself to Brack and the sheriff. “Is Ms. Silverstein awake yet?” Sheriff Cohen asked. “I’d like to get her statement.”

  Dr. Waverman shook his head. “She’s pretty heavily sedated, but we can go in for just a moment. Her daughter is with her.”

  “Tell me about her injuries,” Sheriff Cohen ordered.

  Dr. Waverman winced, then described the claw marks on Sonya’s back and hands. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. The marks look like talons but some of them are so large…”

  “Damn birds,” Sheriff Cohen said. “This is you and your brothers’ fault,” he snapped. “We never had trouble with birds attacking people before, not till you moved back and started providing a refuge for them. Are you breeding some special kind that feeds on humans?”

  Brack’s blood ran cold at the man’s accusations. “That’s ridiculous. If the birds are attacking people, they must be sick.”

  “Then they need to be destroyed,” Sheriff Cohen said.

  Brack’s jaw tightened, his control teetering on the edge. What kind of ignorant moron was Cohen? “What they need is medical treatment.”

  “Gentlemen, why don’t we see what Sonya has to say before we do anything rash,” Dr. Waverman suggested.

  Brack and the sheriff exchanged silent, menacing looks, but followed quietly. The scent of antiseptic and medicines pervaded the halls; the beep of hospital machinery and rattling of medicine carts and gurneys added a layer of charged tension.

  Brack’s gut clenched when he stepped inside. Sonya lay against the stark white sheets, her dark curly hair spread across the pillow, her face pale in sleep. Long dark lashes curled against ivory skin dotted with the faintest row of freckles. Her lips were a natural ruby color, her chin slightly pointed, her face heart-shaped. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her before, but she was stunning, like a real-life Sleeping Beauty. The childish story taunted him—if he kissed her, would she wake up and be healed?

  Ridiculous.

  His gaze landed on her bandaged hands and anger churned through him. A primitive surge of protective instincts swelled in his chest, as well.

  The sheriff walked over and stared at Katie with a scowl. She looked impossibly small and fragile huddled in the chair beside her mother’s hospital bed. Someone, probably the nurse, had helped her into fresh dry pajamas and socks, and had thought to give her a pad of paper and some crayons. She was drawing intently, her pug nose scrunched in concentration.

  “Katie, did you see the animal that attacked your mother?” Sheriff Cohen asked.

  So much for tact.

  Katie slowly tipped her face upward, but she cowered into the chair away from the hulking sheriff.

  Brack strode forward and knelt beside her chair. She automatically reached for his hand, and he slid it around her trembling shoulder. “It’s all right, honey. We just need to know what happened to your mommy.”

  “It was one of those hawks, wasn’t it?” Cohen asked. “They’ve been attacking each other, and tonight they attacked your mother, isn’t that right?”

  Katie’s lower lip quivered. “I d-don’t k-know what it was.”

  “What do you mean, honey?” Brack asked softly.

  “It wooked wike a giant bird,” she whispered, “but it w-was a monster.”

  Brack gritted his teeth, then glanced at the picture she’d drawn. Although it was crude, a four-year-old’s handiwork, the definite shape of a winged creature filled the page. Maybe a large eagle or hawk. Black and brown, with long, sharp talons.

  Except this bird had the head of a human.

  HE LIFTED his talons in front of him, smiling at the torn flesh and blood lingering on the sharp edges. Tonight the animal inside him had emerged from the gray emptiness of the night, called to life by the scent of blood and fear.

  First the eagle that he had ripped apart with his talons. Then the little girl’s terrorized cry. The scent of her small body. Then the smell of a woman’s.

  Oh, but she had tasted sweet.

  Her blood had only whetted his appetite for the hungers of the flesh. For her body. Her heart. Her soul.

  She had been the first human.

  But not the last.

  The animals had served him well in the beginning. But as he fed the beast within him, the need for more sustenance grew.

  From now on, the birds would be his appetizer.

  Then he’d feast on a human’s blood and let the two mingle together.

  Chapter Four

  Brack stared at the drawing of the winged monster, and his gut clenched. Katie was only a child, was tiny herself, and she’d been terrified—had she imagined the half bird-half man? Or could it really exist? Some kind of mutant…

  No, it was impossible. He practically lived in those woods, knew the mountains. If such a creature existed, he would have seen it.

  There are places to hide, a voice whispered inside his head. The old mines and tunnels. The dark edges of the forest…

  The rumors about the epidemic of typhoid fever that had once destroyed half the town rose from the depths of his subconscious. The bodies had been burned, buried in a tunnel underground, the old mine blasted shut, hoping to contain the germs of the dead. He’d always wondered if somehow the ashes of those who’d died might filter into the land or water and rise to haunt them.

  “Katie—” Sheriff Cohen leaned over, beefy hands on his knees “—was that what you saw, or are you getting the birds mixed up with this man here?” He pointed to Brack. “Are you sure he didn’t attack your mother?”

  Katie’s eyes widened to saucer size, and Brack cursed silently. How dare Cohen suggest that he had attacked Sonya? The son of a…

  Cold rage poured through him, but he stood ramrod straight, his pulse pounding as he waited on Katie’s response. He didn’t know what he’d do if she decided she should fear him, but the thought disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.

  Sonya’s eyelashes fluttered, then she opened her eyes and stared at him. Her eyes were the most unusual green he’d ever seen, somewhere between the lush green of the Colorado mountainside in spring and the dark, rich color of emeralds. And they were as bewitching as an animal’s eyes in total darkness.

  Again, he felt a deep connection, although a wariness flickered in her pain-filled expression, and he realized she had heard Cohen’s accusations. Her skeptical gaze tore at him.

  Hell, he didn’t care. He was what he was, and he wouldn’t change for anybody.

  Katie clutched the sketchpad to her side with one hand and slid her other one around his own. “No, Mr. Bwack, he saves us. And the birds…they brings him to me.”

  Brack frowned. Did she have some kind of sixth sense when it came to animals as he did?

  Whatever the reason, her gesture of unquestioning trust tugged at emotions long buried in his chest.

  Emotions he didn’t want to feel for her or her mother.

  Emotions that whispered that maybe he didn’t really want to be alone. That as much as he’d hardened himself to thinking that he could live without a woman in his life, he was wrong.

  That Sonya Silverstein might fill some part of his soul that had been lost a long time ago.

  He immediately jerked his gaze from hers, his instincts warning him to walk away. He could not forget who he was. Could not get involved with Sonya and los
e himself in the process.

  He had to discover the truth about these bizarre attacks and take care of the birds. Nothing else mattered.

  He wouldn’t let it.

  EVERY BONE AND MUSCLE in Sonya’s body ached, but she dragged herself from the effects of the medication and pain, and opened her eyes. Her daughter was frightened and needed her.

  The scent of alcohol and hospital odors permeated the air. The rustle of the sheets as she twisted them in her fingers rattled over the blur of voices. Through the fog of drugs, Sheriff Cohen’s accusations registered. She noticed the angry glint in Brack Falcon’s powerful jaw as he’d clenched it. He could be formidable when crossed. Maybe even dangerous.

  But her frail little daughter slid her small hand into his large one in blind trust.

  The sight made her heart twist. Was Katie right to trust this stranger?

  He had been in the woods when she was attacked. She’d heard the rumors about the Falcon men. Had been forewarned by some of the older women in town to stay away from them.

  Could he have attacked her, then come back to rescue her to make himself look like a hero to the town?

  His dark eyes shifted over her, and unease clawed at her chest. He didn’t strike her as the type of man to want a hero’s welcome or attention. Yet what did she know about him?

  She’d certainly been wrong about her former husband.

  But something had definitely transpired between her and Brack Falcon back in the woods, some moment of intense fear that had connected them. That, and another emotion she couldn’t pinpoint at the moment.

  Old insecurities and distrust from her marriage taunted her.

  She couldn’t trust any man. Especially where her daughter was concerned.

  Yet Katie, in her innocence, seemed to like him.

  On the other hand, Katie exhibited a wariness toward the other man, who looked like the sheriff, as if she immediately saw him as an enemy. Or maybe she just didn’t like him belittling her new friend.

  Whatever the reason, it was her job to protect Katie, not Brack Falcon’s. She and Katie were a team and she couldn’t allow anyone into their lives. Couldn’t chance either of them growing too attached and getting hurt.