Bear the Burn(39)

“I’ve talked to Diem on the phone a couple of times,” Rory said, turning to another picture of Bruiser, this one of him on his first day of eighth grade, holding up his year sign in front of the cabin they used to live in. “She sounds really nice. And she seems to really love Bruiser. I’m excited about them visiting when everything settles down.”

Gage turned on the television in the living room, probably to catch the evening news.

Quinn grinned and said “awww” at a picture in Dade’s book of him in a pair of tighty whiteys and Dad’s oversize work boots. He was probably five there.

“Oh, geez,” he muttered.

“Hey, guys?” Gage said softly. “Come in here. You’ve got to see this.”

Dade took Quinn’s hand and helped her out of the chair, then led her into the living room. He pulled her onto his lap on the couch beside his oldest brother and rested his hands across the scars on her thighs.

No one said a word as the story panned to protestors holding signs that declared the government needed to regulate shifter lives, or imprison them, or separate them from the human population. It made him ill to see the signs with Xs over pictures of bears. One sign read Hunting Season Has Begun, and Dade held Quinn a little closer. He’d die before he let anyone hurt her, or any of the rest of his family.

The local news reporter stood in front of the crowd, talking about how long the protests had gone on, but she looked uncomfortable with the story and fumbled the words. “Just a few short days ago, the world was rocked with the emergence of a strain of supernatural creatures. Bear shifters are real, the proof in the transformation of this woman on camera, as well as the family of shifters who turned her.”

Quinn’s name and picture flashed across the screen. Even in this shot, she looked uncomfortable in front of the camera, as if she had shied away from whomever had taken the picture.

Sitting up straight and rigid in his lap, Quinn went pale and her gray eyes round as she whispered, “That’s my driver’s license picture. On television.” Some people might enjoy their fifteen seconds of fame, but his mate was not one of them. She looked like she wanted to bolt and hide.

He rubbed her back until her picture disappeared from the screen.

“I know her,” Boone said, gesturing to the reporter who was describing Quinn’s Change by the burning vet clinic. “She was there when you Turned Quinn. She was the one who told us to stop answering questions.”

“That’s Cora Wright,” Leah said. “She does the local news around here. Her covering this story would get her national attention, though.”

Clutching her microphone until her knuckles went white, Cora said, “We’ve seen how emotional it is up here in Colorado where residents are scared of the unknown. The fact is, there is just so little knowledge on these people that no one can determine if they are a threat or if they are as harmless as any other neighbor.” Cora covered an ear piece on one side and frowned, as if she heard something she didn’t agree with. A frustrated huff left her lips as she pulled the piece from her ear and tossed it to her camera man. “I don’t know much about them, but I was there when they came out of hiding. When they Changed for the world to see, and I can tell you my own personal perception of what happened. If you turn down the volume on the screaming and terror on those videos, you’d see a close-knit family group who saved a woman’s life. Who didn’t charge or hurt anyone, even though one of their own was shot by some trigger-happy idiot with a gun. By my count, they hurt exactly zero people that day, but managed to save a woman’s life. And the shifter who had been shot went beyond the call of his honorable job and stood over her body as if he was protecting her at the risk to his own life. These are men who have served our country—don’t you turn that camera off, Carl—ignore them. These are men who have served our country and our communities. In Breckenridge and the surrounding area, they have helped put out house fires, forest fires, they’ve gone in when buildings were collapsing to save people who were trapped. That doesn’t sound like a dangerous wild animal to me. How many of you could say you’d do that? Put your life on the line every day for people who treat you like this.” She swung her arm back toward the protesters who were chanting, “Cage them all!”

“You there!” she called, crooking her finger. “Would you like to tell me why you are supportive of the bears?”

Four little old ladies with blue hair bustled in front of the camera.

“That’s Aunt Leona,” Rory said on a shocked breath.