Bear In The Rough: Book 1: Treasure Hunt (BBW Bear Shifter Romance) (21 page)

WEREWOLF HERO

 My name is Daniel Alton. I know, that's not much of a name, not one for a heroic person really I guess. I guess even so by definition I'm not a heroic person at all either. In fact, I'm probably the last person anyone would expect to be a heroic person. To be honest, I never expected to do anything heroic in my life, not anything on this caliber anyways. I'm a typical American boy, all things considered. I'm 19 years old,  and I'm a little on the average side, standing at around 5 foot, 10 inches tall, but a bit on the skinny side. Not "extremely fit" skinny either. Just a skinny guy, who's never gained any weight, who's tried in high school cause he wanted to play sports, but never could no matter what I did. A little bit different from my best friend at the time, Devon who was fat and couldn't lose weight. I got about medium length brown hair that I like to keep combed back, and thick rimmed glasses, partly due to some sight problems that I have. All in all, I'd have to say I'm average in every way. Who knew though, that after tragedy in my life that things would change so much, and change my perception of the world all around me. Dealing with supernatural elements, such as ghosts, vampires, and of course werewolves. I mean, why not werewolves right?

 I'm getting a little bit ahead of myself I think, so I'll start at the beginning of my story so that way those of you reading this can follow along with whats going on. Don't want to lose you after all.

 It all started several months ago when I first came to Harborbooth, in upper Maine. When I first rode into town, the weather was really dark, and also really gloomy. A sort of reflection on me at the time, as well as my Dad, Timothy Alton. We rode in on a moving truck, my Uncle Richard having driven ahead of us at the time with my Dads car, and for the last, thousand or so miles we really hadn't spoken a word to each other. Don't get me wrong, I love my Dad, that's the reason at 19 years old I decided to come live with him, because he needed me, but it was on the occasion why we didn't speak. None of us just felt we really could say anything to one another. That was alright, with the silence between us, it allowed me to focus on the pattering of the rain on the windshield as I just sort of sat there, thinking about what it was that changed. You see, my Mother several months before was murdered, in cold blood. Her murderer hadn't known her, but we lived in a part of a neighborhood that was less than influential. It wasn't a ghetto, but it wasn't a suburb either. It was just rows and rows of homes on the Northern side, and it was still away from where a majority of the gang violence was located. We thought we were safe, being just an average white family, in an average neighborhood with other average people of all races and denominations. We weren't a tight knit community, but we knew each other and we made the best we could with our lives looking out for everyone, even if sometimes people got to be a little busy body. All in all, average, in every way.

 What changed though was my Mother worked as a hair dresser, and a lot of times she worked as a freelancer hairdresser, taking on clients in her free time to bring in some extra income just so we could all eat well sometimes, more than just typical "burgers and hamburger helper.". Sometimes we'd get steak, sometimes really good ice cream, just that sort of stuff. Well, she found herself working on a woman somewhere on the North West side of town, a little ways out of Chicago proper, but still close enough to be in Chicago, and found herself in a trailer park like place. A little lower scale, but a client was a client, and she wanted to look nice for a job interview she was having. She paid my mother good money, and on her way out, some neighbors of the lady were having an argument. Well, three drunk people ended up having a fist fight, and were biker like people from some local motorcycle gang, I really can't tell you which one. Words were shared, guns were pulled, and those three being drunk they shot wildly at anyone who was in the area who could report the fight to the police, or even sneak up n them in an ambush. It just so happened my Mother got caught in the cross fire, and was struck. She died, on the way to the hospital I was told. The gang members that were part of the Biker gang pleaded no contest after being arrested, and I guess are currently sitting in jail for life. I don't really keep up with it, I let my Dad focus on that.

 Needless to say, life just sort of fell into an upheaval after that. We were a happy family before that. Not rich, but Dad worked a lot of freelance work between writing, IT, painting, yard work, bar tending, cooking, etc and brought in some pretty good money surprisingly while Mom brought in some good money dressing hair, and I was working part time at a Gas station, saving up for college to do something professional, still undecided. Now it's just me, and Dad, and I suspect him of being depressed. Often having found him crying sometimes at night when he thinks I'm asleep though I never say anything to him about it. After the funeral though, on a whim Dad decided we should just pack up and move to Maine, near where his Grandparents use to live and where he'd visit when he was a kid during the summers. He said we "needed to get out of the city. Somewhere far away from the violence, where it's just quiet, and we can be happy again.". So, looking on the internet he found a small cottage on the outskirts of Harborbooth for practically a steal. He said the landlord just mostly asked for us to pay utilities, and keep the place clean and to keep up with it's upkeep, which I think we can accomplish.

 Riding into Harborbooth though though wasn't so bad. Mostly making small talk, and avoiding talking to one another for the most was starting to take it's toll on us both, and there's only so much music you can listen to while being lost in your own thoughts that you can stand. We sort of coasted in on top of a hill, overlooking the entire Bay, and the entire town was kind of nice, in a quaint little way. I guess it just looked like a lot of towns you'd expect from the New England area. Old, possibly conservative, sits on the ocean nestled up against the hills, with a bay, a pier, and everything. Main source of income is probably fishing. You can see all the historical buildings interspersed with the new buildings, and you can see the class distinctions in the area on who's possibly rich, and who's possibly not. Plus, a lot of forests as well that are still up, despite being in a developed area for nearly 300 years.

 That's not to say the town is bad of course. I guess I'm just a little on the cynical side. It did look like a lovely town. To describe it, I guess I can say it looks "round", meaning that it hugs close to the bay, which is almost perfectly spherical in a way. The buildings close to the waterfront are mostly brick and mortar, and wood, with the piers reaching out into the water like long fingers and lined to the brim with boats. Some of them looking more like rich yachts, and a lot of them looking more like fishing boats for working class fishermen. Moving up from there, the road and the main street sort of move out in a "T" fashion, with the majority of the traffic seemingly coming from out of town, possibly just passing through the town, or what I'd imagine a lot of people derisively call "tourists" that come and look at the old town that just happens to be old. The town also seems to be sort of built up in blocks that are of varying different levels on the hills, mostly seperated by streets and guard rails, while it looks like most of the business's that exist in the town are on the main street leading down to the waters edge, since that's where most of the traffic seems to converge with roadways leading back to various different residential area's, or gas stations interspersed here and there.

 Luckily, we weren't heading directly into town itself, but took a turn leading away, towards the hilly, forested area that surrounded the town instead. Surprisingly, a lot of the tree's seem older, and a little bit more... grand I'd say in a way. Taking a sharp turn, we headed down what seemed to be an older road, heading upwards towards the top of a small hill that overlooked a majority of the town below, going down a dirt path that I assumed was the drive way. My suspicion being correct when we came upon the cottage that was now me and Dads new home.

 It was a little underwhelming to say the least. It needed a new coat of fresh paint to it, at the least. The windows seemed to be intact, and the doors were all working, but it seemed so run down. Like no one had lived in it for years. So we walked up towards the front door, to check it out. Indeed, it needed a lot of work. Luckily, the electricity worked, and it was partially furnished, even if it was just a table with no chairs, an old couch in the living room, and an old black and white television that only worked sporadically. Appliance wise, there was just an old stove in the kitchen that only partially worked, and looked like it was bought in the 50's and left there. With a healthy layer of dust over everything, I guess it was to be home sweet home.

 Needless to say, I wasn't all that enthusiastic about the situation. I just wanted my old life back. I wanted my Mother, I wanted to be planning on college. I wanted my Dad to be happy, and I wanted this nightmare to end. I guess I wanted a lot of things, and as childish as it sounded, I guess I just wanted to kick and scream until I got my way. Reality was much different though, and I knew it. Perhaps if it was to be my new life, I needed to focus instead on my Dad. He was the only person I had left in my life at that point, and I wanted to make sure he was alright.

 Plus, at the time I figured maybe things weren't so bad. Things could still be good if we only worked at it.

A month had gone by when it was mostly me and Dad working on the cottage. I admit, at first I didn't like it all that much, but we ended up making it work. We cleared all the dust, and swept out all of the debris from inside the room and everything, and we ended up mostly just kind of keeping it nice and clear of all debris while we brought in our own furniture from the moving van. We moved the old couch that was inside and brought it outside to dust off and be our porch couch for a while. I don't think it was a good idea, personally on Dads side, but he insisted it would be alright. I'm mostly worried about rain and stuff getting to it and making it soggy, and nasty. But, he insisted, so we bought it out. After some light dusting, and fumigating and everything, it turned out to not be bad, if a little garish in design.

 After that, we just needed appliances, which we went into town to get, and ended up getting them on credit. Lucky us that they accepted credit at one of the local stores, as we needed at least a fridgerator and a microwave if we were going to cook. In truth, I don't even think the stove worked, and neither did Dad, so we didn't even bother testing it out, but moving it out towards the shed. Maybe clean it and sell it as an antique in the future or something. All in all, it took almost a month, but the place almost seems like home again. The house just needs a ncie, new fresh coat of paint, which we'll probably do in the fall months when the weather takes a nice turn for the cooler, and then maybe work on the drive way a little bit.

 All of this of course costing money, which luckily both me and Dad managed to find jobs. Dad, using his skills as a freelance everything basically just got a job with an auto dealership in town and started working with them, getting to know many of the towns people and who to watch out for, and everything. Since moving here, he's been doing a lot Better I admit. He's been a bit happier, even if at night he tends to just sit in front of the new television and sit there after a few beers and fall asleep in the chair. But, at least he's talking with people so I don't worry too much about him.

 As for me, well I managed to get a job too. Nice little coffee shop on the corner of the main street overlooking the wharf where most of the clientele are either fishermen getting a quick cup before heading out for the evening to work, or tourists wanting something fancy and quaint. For the most part, it's not a whole in the wall, thankfully, but it's not exactly ritzy and upscale. The owner of it is this an older Greek gentleman named "Mr. Bartholomew", which is strange as his last name wasn't Greek at all. Plus, no one really knew much of his first name, and he was a bit of a hard person to get along with sometimes, but he was both tough and fair. So it wasn't all that bad. Plus the job wasn't all that hard for the most part. Mostly just brew the coffee, serve it black to the fishermen when they came in to get their cups, letting them fill their thermos and all, and for the customers finding out what creamer they like in theirs and whether or not they'd like a sandwich or a doughnut to take with them. Literally, we made sandwiches for lunch, baked doughnuts in the back that were glazed, sold newspapers, and had wifi for people to come in, read news, or check on their internet. Was nice, and quiet, and a lot opportunity to just sit around and read books.

 Everything was set to just make things a little more perfect. That was, until everything changed when she came in. When I first met Anastania Willow.

 She came in, looking roughly the same age as me. To be honest, the month and a half I had lived in Harborbooth, I hadn't really met anyone in the area that was close to my age, so I had always assumed that the town was full of either older fishermen who didn't really live in the town proper, or retiree's, or just older people looking to be no where near the bigger cities West and South of where we were. But she came in, so pretty, and in a lot of ways, vulnerable as well, looking roughly how I kind of felt deep down. She wasn't an assuming person, but there was this sort of ethereal beauty that she had that made me want to get to know her more. She wasn't overly tall, possibly just about average height, with deep piercing blue eyes, and shoulder length black hair. Pale skinned, which was odd given how much sun we tend to get here despite it being Maine, but she looked to perhaps being a little shy herself as she came up towards the counter.

"I'd like a coffee please." She said, not making eye contact with me at the time, fortunately as I was too mesmerized by her at the time before I suddenly rubber banded back into reality, shaking my head and offering my cashiering smiling that I put on for customers as I spoke. "Oh of course Miss. Of course. Would you like some cream in that to add some sweetness to it? And what flavor. We have a light roast, and a dark roast."

"No, just black please." She replied, waving her hand. Sensing an opportunity to perhaps make some conversation with her I continued on.

"Black huh? I wouldn't take you for a fisherman." I said in an almost teasing tone as I turned towards the paper cups to just pour her a straight dark roast. I must have said something right, as she smiled, and shook her head at my words before replying. "No, no. I just need a little bit of bitterness in my life. You must be new. I've never seen you in Harborbooth before."

"Guilty as charged." I said as I slowly filled her cup up, careful not to splash me with any of the hot liquid. "Me and my Dad moved in several months ago almost. Just kind of getting settled in. Names Daniel. You?" I asked looking towards her.

 It was then that she looked straight at me for the first time since she had entered into the building and smiled back at me as she reached out with a handful of change, already prepared to pay. "Anastania." was all she said.

"Anastania..." I said in an almost whisper before placing the cup gently upon the register counter while I took the change she had in hand. "That's a pretty name. I never heard of it before."

"Russian. My Grandmothers name I believe. My last name is Willow, so I guess it kind of just rolls together in a little ways." She said with a simple smile as she reached for the Coffee, turning to leave with her purchase as she spoke to me. "Hope to see you around Daniel. We don't really get a whole lot of people our ages here in Harborbooth." and with that, she left out the door. The last sight of the first time I saw her left, with the bell that was at the door ringing.

 Feeling pretty good about myself, I couldn't help but smile at the exchange that had gone on. For the first time in a long while since Mom's passing, I felt like things were looking up, and that I had made a friend, not sensing behind me a lumbering figure before it was too late, almost running into Mr. Bartholomew's wide, pudgy body before being startled that he had snuck up on me like that.

"That girl. What was name Danny?" he asked me, his accent and broken English thicker than usual as he looked down at me with a large, bushy brow raised. Confused, I responded to him, letting him know that her name was Anastania, my confusion only mounting even more at the sudden interrogation of a customer as he reached up with a large meaty hand, stroking at his dark mustache as he looked to me once more and replied, telling me of his issues that he clearly had with my new found friend.

"That girl. No good Danny. No good." He said, shaking his head.

"But.. Why? She didn't seem so bad. She had exact change and everything Mr. Bartholomew." I said, trying to reason with him.

"She run with bad crowd. Very bad. Do not want trouble." He replied, shaking his head as he raised a hand to indicate that the argument was over, though I continued on despite my better judgement. "I don't know. She seemed pretty nice. And it's not like we have people lined up outside sir."

 Mr. Bartholomew tilted his head, almost as if considering what I had to say before sighing and turning back towards me to continue on as he spoke. "Fine. Only her. No one else Danny. No one else. She come with other. No enter. Just her." and with that, he left back to his office, no doubt to continue on with the paperwork that he had to do.

 So a small victory I had that evening. Secure now that I at least allowed her in. Though I ended up wondering how someone like her could even end up running with a bad crowd of people. Plus, did Harborbooth have a dangerous element to it? I didn't want to fall into the trap of conformity though, and not take into consideration that even here there are gang violence. After all, it was that way of thinking that led to my Mothers death when we didn't consider criminal activity in our neighborhood, but she didn't seem the sort to belong to that world. She was nice, if a little shy.

 Luckily I had more opportunity to meet with her though, other than just that one time. She started coming around more often, even becoming a regular to the Coffee shop in the earlier evenings to order the usual. Black, strong, nothing else. I always wondered why at those times she always chose to go with the bitterest roast that we offered, but I never questioned it outwardly to her, afraid of the answer, or of offending her. After all, my Dad told me different strokes, different folks, and I lived by that. Still, we ended up becoming closer to one another in those times, though we never really had started to truly hang out at the time.

"So tell me Anastania. What are you doing later?" I had asked her before the troubles began. Sweeping along the floor while she sat a booth close to the window overlooking the wharf.

"Nothing of real interest Daniel. I guess just.. going through the woods with some friends." She said as she took a long slow sip of her coffee. I knew thanks to Mr. Bartholomew that she did have other friends, and that those were the trouble making kind, but I never questioned it outright to her. In truth, I never really saw them, but I have heard hearsay that they stalked the woods like some sort of gang, and terrorized hunters, campers, and everything. People have gone missing over the years, but no one's linked them together, and they only ever come into town to terrorize tourists. In truth, I found it hard to imagine she could ever be a part of some group, so I continued to not believe her as I simply offered her a smile and continued on. "The woods huh? You sure? You can come to my place and relax. Have a movie going on. American Werewolf in London. Should be an interesting night."

"I don't think that'll be possible Daniel. I'm sorry." She continued to say, shaking her head somewhat. "I have a boyfriend. I've told you before. He doesn't like it when I make friends. It's bad enough he lets me come to get coffee sometimes, but I think he'd really not like it if I was seen with a friend."

"You don't have to deal with that Anastania. We don't even have to go to my home. We can just stay here in town. See what's playing at the theater." I offered still, wanting to get out with her at least, partly because of the growing affections I felt for her, but also partly because I started to feel sorry for the life she was leading under her boyfriends thumb.

 She opened her mouth to say something else, before a low, grumbled voice echoed behind me towards the door. "I don't think that's a good idea. Isn't that right Anny baby.", causing Anastania's complexion to grow pale, and more silent as she looked down. I turned around where I stood, broom in hand to look upon who had voice the words and beheld who I figured almost instantly to be the boyfriend that Anastania had mentioned before. Darrel Watson. Standing there, broad chested, with a strong jawline, stubbled chin, and in a dark shirt with a denim vest, and jeans. He looked the part of someone I knew I would not like at all as he filed into the Coffee shop with roughly 4 other people I assumed were his goons. They all filed in slowly into the room properly. Their chuckles sounding almost hyena like as they filled the front of the doorway, blocking any customers from entering, and anyone from leaving.

"Darrel.. Please. No. Not now alright?" Anastania had said as several of Darrels men slowly walked around, grabbing doughnuts, muffins, and even sandwiches and helping themselves to whatever they had in need of. One of which walked towards one of the older patrons of the store to take his coffee from him as he drank it while Darrel walked slowly, almost in a stalking motion towards Anastania and I, in a stalking, threatening manner. "Anny, baby, why not now huh? You know we have things to do later. Don't think you can just forget huh?"

 I went to say something to the man, moving between Darrel and Anastania, despite being taller, and stronger looking than me, before I heard the sound of Mr. Bartholomew in the background calling out. "No! No! Go! You go! No business for you!" He called, running out towards the counter and pointing towards Darrel and the others as he continued to yell. "Out. Out now or I call police! Out!"

 Darrel of course wasn't phased as he simply smirked and looked to the Greek man, turning as he walked over towards him slowly. His arms reaching out to the side of him in a challenging manner, his boots stepping upon the tiled floor as he replied. "Or what old man? What do you think you're going to do?"