Thistle and I instinctively shielded Clove with our bodies. The store shook with the power of the explosion, several items falling off shelves, but the roof held steady and the rumbling quickly ceased.
“What was that?” Clove lifted her head, her eyes wide. “Was that an earthquake? Oh, geez. What do you think Aunt Tillie did this time?”
My heart skipped a beat as Thistle jerked up her chin to meet my gaze.
“Aunt Tillie,” we said in unison, hopping to our feet and racing toward the door. It wasn’t that we thought she was responsible — for once, the odds seemed unlikely — but she’d been zipping around outside. She was in the open when whatever it was happened. We had to find her.
“Stay here!” I ordered Clove as I rushed through the door.
“Stay here?” Clove turned shrill. “What are you talking about?”
“Stay here,” Thistle echoed as she moved in behind me. “We don’t know what this is. You’re safer here.” She smacked into my back, but only because I’d pulled up short when I reached the sidewalk. “Oh, why don’t you stand in the middle of the sidewalk and do nothing or something, Bay?” she complained. “That will help.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My mind had gone temporarily blank.
“Why are you standing here?” Thistle gave me a vicious shove and I stumbled forward. It was her turn to be gobsmacked when she realized what had caught my attention. “Is that ... ?”
“That blacksmith shop,” I replied grimly, pushing against Thistle’s car to make sure I stayed on my feet. “I’m pretty sure it exploded.”
We exchanged a heavy look.
“We need to get down there,” she said. “We have to find Aunt Tillie.”
She wasn’t wrong. Our great-aunt might’ve been a royal pain in the keister — and that was putting it nicely — but she was still family. “Stay here, Clove,” I instructed again when she appeared in the open doorway. “If you see Aunt Tillie, grab her and make her stay inside.”
Clove shook her head. “I should go with you,” she countered. “I ... you shouldn’t go without me.”
“I don’t see that we have much choice in the matter. You can’t go with us. The smoke isn’t good for ... anyone.” I didn’t mention the baby. No one on the street was paying attention to us — there was a fire to watch, after all — but now wasn’t the time to be reckless. “We’ll be in touch when we know what’s going on. For now ... just stay here.”
Clove opened her mouth to argue again, but she was too late. Thistle and I were on the move, our attention trained on the inferno raging at the end of the street.
“How did this happen?” Thistle asked blankly.
“I don’t know. Maybe it was a gas leak or something.”
She slowed her pace. “If there’s a gas leak we shouldn’t leave Clove in the store. We should put her in a car and get her out of here.”
That was actually a good idea. “You do that. I’ll go down and see what I can find out.”
“No way.” Her hand snaked out and grabbed me by the wrist. “You need to come with me.”
“I can’t.” I felt helpless in the wake of her glare. “I need to know what that is ... and I have to find Aunt Tillie. Clove should be your responsibility. I’ll make Aunt Tillie mine.”
On a normal day Thistle would’ve jumped at the chance to foist Aunt Tillie off on somebody else. Actually, it wouldn’t even have to be a family member. Any random stranger would do. Today, though, she was clearly torn. She glanced back at the store and then at me. The serious set of her jaw told me she’d made up her mind.
“We’re going together.” She was firm.
This time when we started running, a sense of urgency had somehow kicked into gear in the back of my brain, forcing me to increase my pace until I was gasping for breath. When we arrived in front of the blacksmith shop, all hell was breaking loose ... and not in a fun way like we were used to in Hemlock Cove.
“Adam! Adam!”
A woman was wailing. It took me a moment to find her in the smoke, which was so black that I feared I wouldn’t be able to find my way back out if it should become necessary to escape. Lorna Harris, her ashy blond hair jutting haphazardly from what had once been a severe bun, stood in the middle of the road screaming as she stared at the building.
Well, what was left of the building really. The burning structure wasn’t original. When Hemlock Cove rebranded as a magical vacation destination years before, the town had to erect a few buildings. The blacksmith shop was one of them. There simply wasn’t a need for a fancy barn with outdated equipment before the town took the plunge into the kooky.
“Adam!” Lorna was seemingly blind to Mrs. Gunderson, who had managed to beat us to the fire. The bakery owner was trying to calm the hysterical woman ... and not having much luck.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I shielded my watering eyes from the smoke. “What happened?”
“The building blew up,” Mrs. Gunderson replied simply.
“We figured that out ourselves,” Thistle snapped. “How did it blow up?”
“I have no idea. I was in the front of the bakery when I heard it. I came right down because ... well ... just because.”
I understood “just because.” I had a reason for racing to the scene, but it was unlikely that I would’ve remained at the store even if not for Aunt Tillie. This was a big story, after all. I had to cover it for The Whistler.
“Adam!” Lorna screeched so loudly that I thought her vocal cords might snap. She continued to struggle against Mrs. Gunderson’s iron grip. The baker was stronger than she looked.
I swallowed hard as reality set in. “Was Mr. Harris in there when it exploded?”
“I don’t know.” Mrs. Gunderson looked as bewildered as I felt. “You know what I do.”
“Adam!”
I sucked in a breath, which was filled with smoke and made me cough. When I recovered, I strode in Lorna’s direction. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do until I was directly in front of her. “Is he in there?”
Lorna seemed surprised to be addressed so directly. She clamped her mouth shut and nodded, tears streaming down her soot-stained cheeks. “I was outside,” she hiccupped. “I was getting the mail from the box. I felt the ground shake and then ... it happened so fast. I just remember thinking, ‘The roof is gone.’ Then I realized Adam never came out.”
I turned my eyes to Thistle, wondering if she had the same thought. She was already shaking her head, so it seemed not.
“Don’t even think about it,” she hissed, moving closer to me. “We can’t go in there.” Even as she said it, her eyes traveled back toward the building. The flames stretched high into the sky, the roof completely obliterated. The first floor looked relatively unscathed, which seemed to be something of a minor miracle.
“We won’t go far,” I reassured her, my voice more solid than I expected given the fear coursing through me. “We’ll just look through the door.”
Mrs. Gunderson, perhaps reading our minds — or even lips – extended a warning finger in our direction. “You can’t go in there.”
“Adam!” Lorna was back to screaming. “Adam!” She would lose her voice soon, or maybe even pass out from the overwhelming smoke.
“We have to at least check,” I insisted. “We’ll be okay. We know what we’re doing.”
The look Thistle shot me was incredulous. “You get more and more like Aunt Tillie with each passing day. That’s something she would say.”
Well ... that was hurtful. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“And I stand by it.” Thistle refused to back down, her blue hair picking up flecks of gray from the small bits of ash and debris raining down on us. “You don’t run into a burning building. That was one of the first lessons that crazy old bat taught us when we were kids.”
“Since when do you listen to Aunt Tillie?”
“Since she occasionally makes sense. We’re not going in there.”
“Son of a witch!” Thistle screeched behind me. I heard her feet pounding on the gravel as she followed. “You’d better hope that fire kills you, because if it doesn’t I’m going to rip your hair out and choke you with it.”
As far as threats go, it wasn’t even close to her usual level of snarky sass. I couldn’t dwell on that, though. I had a mission, and I couldn’t turn away from it.
I pushed through the swinging doors. It was an enhancement added two years ago. It gave the building an “Old West” vibe that most tourists found charming. It was helpful now because there was no way we could get trapped without an exit.
“This had better be worth it,” Thistle griped from behind me. “I’m not kidding. If he’s already dead, you’re going to join him.”
It was an empty threat and we both knew it. Sometimes when fear overtakes a person it comes out as belligerence. That’s how Thistle always rolled, ever since we were kids. She couldn’t show the fear, so she had to control it. If that meant threats, so be it.
I paused for a moment to get my bearings. I’d visited the building a number of times for photographs and to collect ad information from Adam. I was familiar with the layout. The thick smoke momentarily threw me for a loop. Once I regained my senses, I pointed to the right.
“That’s the workshop,” I rasped. The smoke, in addition to causing my eyes to water, was overtaking my lungs. This would have to be a quick search. “If he’s anywhere, he’s there.”
“Then let’s go.” Thistle wrapped her hand around my wrist. At first I was taken aback because I thought she might be feeling vulnerable. Then I realized it was simply because she didn’t want to lose me should darkness overtake us. “Stop dilly-dallying. We have to find him and get out. This building won’t stay erect forever.”
She had a point.
I put one foot in front of the other as I cut through the building. It was hard to see because of the smoke, and the occasional sound of something falling from above was nerve-wracking. Thistle kept up a nonstop litany of curses and threats as she followed. Her fingernails dug into the soft flesh of my wrist and I tried to push the pain out of my mind. Now was not the time to complain.
There was a change in the amount of available light when we reached the workshop. Thanks to a window on the west side of the building, we could see at least part of the room. It was there, on the floor behind a bench, that a pair of legs were clearly visible.
“Is that ... ?” Thistle drew up beside me, releasing my wrist.
“Adam.” I dropped to my knees. He was covered in debris, but I didn’t have to clean him off to know that he was dead. His eyes were open, sightless, and his lungs had stopped drawing oxygen before we made the decision to enter the building.
“Oh, well, this is just great,” Thistle drawled, glaring at me. “He’s dead. We came in here for nothing.”
I shot her a dirty look. “Are you honestly telling me you would’ve been okay with not checking?”
“I would’ve been fine with it.”
I didn’t believe her, but it hardly mattered. “He’s gone. I’d suggest we drag him out, but I think it will take longer than we have.” The sound of something falling on the floor above us caused me to cringe. “We have to get out of here.”
“Oh, do you think?” Thistle’s eyes flashed as she stomped back in the direction from which we’d come. “I could’ve told you this was a bad idea. Does anyone listen to me, though? Of course not. I’m just the youngest cousin. Nobody listens to the youngest cousin.” She was silent for a beat. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Of course not. You’re the youngest cousin. Why would I listen to you?” The words were meant as a joke, but there was no mirth in my tone because at that moment Thistle moved to slide through the opening, and a cavalcade of whispers assailed my senses.
I reacted on impulse. I still don’t know why. It wasn’t as if I could make out a single voice in the din. That didn’t stop me from grabbing the back of Thistle’s shirt and pulling hard. Murder etched across her face as she swiveled, and I knew I was in trouble. Before she could say a word, the ceiling in the room we were about to enter gave way with enough force that we both fell backward, landing on Adam’s body.
“We can’t go out that way,” Thistle said dumbly, her face blank.
For some reason, her reaction struck me as funny and I laughed.
“It’s not funny,” she argued, adopting a dour expression. “Why are you laughing?”
“I don’t know.” That was the truth. I had no idea why I was laughing. “It just struck me as funny.”
“That’s because you’re a moron.” She flicked me between my eyebrows and glared. “How are we going to get out?”
I sobered. The lack of oxygen was causing us to act stupidly. It most certainly wasn’t a good thing. I didn’t want to suffocate. I didn’t want to burn. We had to get out. I thought it was a great idea to enter in the first place. It was on me to get us out.
“I think we should go through there.” I pointed to the window, which was now only offering the faintest bit of light.
“That’s great.” Thistle grunted as she stood. “How do you think we should do it?”
That was a ridiculous question. “We break the glass.”
“Great, Einstein. With what?”
“Well ... .” I was starting to feel fuzzy around the edges. What I really wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep, but I knew better than to give in to that urge. “Just a second.”
Aimlessly — because having direction was more difficult than it should’ve been — I wandered toward the work bench and picked up the first thing that I found. It happened to be a hammer, which was good because I was certain a hammer could break glass.
“I’ve got it.” I reared back with the tool and aimed at the window. I felt weak and struggled to stay upright. The voices in the back of my head were back ... and they were warning me.
“You can’t throw that without help now,” a woman whispered.
“You need help,” another voice added. This one sounded decidedly male.
“Let us help you,” the first voice persisted. “You’ll die here if you don’t.”
I was confused. I’d never heard voices before. Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. I talked to ghosts, ethereal beings others couldn’t see. But they were real. These voices sounded otherworldly, as if they were talking to me from a great distance.
“Did you hear that?” I asked.
Thistle shook her head. “Bay, we need to get out of here. I can’t last much longer.”
The somber admission was enough to jolt me out of the floating reverie. She was right. If we didn’t get out of this building now, we never would. Because it seemed like a good idea — I really did need help — I opened myself to the voices. They reacted in an instant, helping me lift the hammer. When I let it go, it soared faster and harder than it should’ve under only my power, and when it hit the window the glass exploded.
I was too slow to cover my face, and a few stray pieces landed on my cheeks. The rush of fresh oxygen was welcome. The second I inhaled, my brain started firing on all cylinders.
“We have to get out of here right now.” I hopped on the bench by the window and poked my head out, sucking in gaping mouthfuls of air. When I turned to make sure Thistle was with me, I almost fell out of the window because her face was so close to mine. “Make a noise next time,” I complained.
“Oh, I’m going to make a noise.” Thistle’s voice was low and full of warning. “I’m going to make so much noise you’ll hear me in your dreams the rest of your life.”
That was an ominous threat. “Hey ... we’re both alive. In fact, ... .” I yelped when I felt a set of hands on my h
ips. I was flying through the air before I could register what was happening. As I turned, I found Chief Terry Davenport’s eyes on me as he gripped me tightly against him.
“I’m going to lock you up for the rest of your life for stupidity!” he barked. “And then I’m going to tell your mother what you did and laugh when she withholds dessert from you.”
Ah, well, at least I was alive.
Three
Chief Terry didn’t stop until we were safely away from the building.
“Thistle?” I struggled against him, but he didn’t release me.
“She’s fine.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s fine!” He snapped out the words with enough force that I jolted. He must’ve immediately regretted being so harsh, because he held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I just ... are you stupid?”
That didn’t sound like a rhetorical question. “Not last time I checked,” I said dryly, rubbing at my irritated eyes. “Adam Harris is inside. He’s dead.”
Chief Terry’s eyebrows rose. “You saw him?”
“He’s in the workshop.”
“Do you know how he died?”
I shook my head. “He had debris on him and his eyes were open. Maybe something hit him in the head. I would think if he was overcome by smoke his eyes would’ve been closed, but what do I know?”
He held my gaze for an extended moment and then snapped his fingers to get a uniformed officer’s attention. “Tell the firefighters to try to protect the workshop area,” he ordered.
The officer didn’t offer up a word of argument, leaving Thistle with a paramedic as he disappeared toward the front of the building.
“She needs oxygen over here, too,” Chief Terry demanded of the first responder, a pretty blonde with big eyes.
“I’m okay,” I protested, taking a moment to catch Thistle’s gaze. She looked blissed out as she reclined on a gurney, an oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose. “Don’t worry about me.”
“What makes you think I’m worried?” There was a darkness to his voice that I’d heard only a time or two over the years I’d known him. I sensed trouble ... and it wasn’t the sort I wanted to grapple with right now.
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