“Would she do something like this?”
I had to laugh. “Evangeline can be a bitch, but she’s a cunning bitch,” I told him honestly. “If she were going to try and get back at me for something, she’d be a lot more subtle than setting my barn on fire. Trust me, Lieutenant, you’re barking up the wrong tree on that one.”
After a moment of silence, Parks looked at me and asked, “Do you have insurance, Ms. Caldwell?”
I knew that, logically, it was a legitimate question—probably even standard procedure. But for goodness’ sake, surely they didn’t think I’d hired someone to burn my barn down for a paltry insurance payment? If I were going to do that, I’d have at least spared the animals, none of whom would have deserved to die for my greed, and I said as much to the arson investigator sitting across from me.
Parks considered that for a moment, then after scribbling yet another series of notes into his notebook he flipped it closed and stood. He slipped the notebook and pen into a pocket with one hand and fetched his wallet with the other, from which he produced a business card.
“Please do not hesitate to call me if you think of anything that might be helpful,” he said, laying the card on the table. “I am sorry for your loss.”
I nodded silently, and Juliette walked with him to the back door. As soon as she had closed it behind him, I stood with the dogs in my arms, saying, “I’m going to bed. Jules, there’s a guest room upstairs you’re welcome to sleep in.”
The younger woman nodded, her expression sad. First her brother and then she followed me through the house, the two of them making sure the doors were locked and the lights were off.
I gestured toward the other bedroom where Juliette could sleep and then entered mine. I gently put Moe and Cissy down on their bed, kneeling and petting them and speaking to them in a soft voice to reassure the Chihuahuas that everything was okay. After several minutes they settled down, and I numbly rose and walked over to the dresser for a nightgown.
I did not think I would have been in the mood for physical intimacy—I was truly devastated by the loss of twenty-eight animals that were precious to me, that had nourished my body and my bank account for several years. Sex was the farthest thing from my mind right then, but the moment Mark came up behind me and put his arms around me, I could think of nothing else but the need to feel him—on me, touching me, inside me. I spun in his arms, dropping the nightgown I had chosen to grab his head in my hands, bringing his mouth to mine. I needed to feel him, to join with him, to find some affirmation that there was still life in the midst of my pain.
Back to Top
Thirteen
Mark hesitated for only a second before tightening his grip on me and opening his mouth to allow my advancing tongue entrance. I reveled in the taste of him as I had every other time we’d kissed passionately, but I wanted more.
I pushed him toward the bed and reached to yank off my socks and shoes. Mark did the same, and we divested ourselves of the rest of our clothing in quick succession. Coming together again, our mouths and hands explored one another, but I was still feeling needy and eager, so I pushed him again. He fell back against the bed and reached for me even as I straddled him, placing my knees on either side of his hips and guiding his mouth to my breast even as I lowered myself onto the already hardened length of him. He held onto me and rocked his hips in perfect rhythm with mine, his hands holding my derriere as his lips traveled between my mouth and each of my tingling nipples.
I moaned my pleasure and my breathing came in shallow gasps as I ground my pelvis against his, the friction teasing the sensitive nub below my pubic bone and sending delightful tremors through me. My arms wrapped around his neck and my hands fisted in his hair as I rode, holding him tightly to me. He suddenly turned and rolled us so that he was on top, and he began thrusting with fervor as I wrapped my legs around him, bringing him deeper into me. As I felt the first waves of my climax begin to roll through my body, I jerked his head to the side and dropped my fangs, biting down hard where his neck met his shoulder; every nerve ending in my body responded with an intensity I could not measure as I began to swallow his blood.
Mark buried his face in the mattress and groaned loudly as he came, thrusting hard and fast until he was spent. When his body stopped moving I stopped drinking, and he held me as I began to cry once more. It was a long time before I fell quiet.
*****
If I slept at all it was only intermittent naps, and we were up at seven when the alarm went off as usual. Before we did anything else, I made Mark drive me down the road to the Mitchell farm so that I could see the horses. Though I did not cry I could still feel tears behind my eyes as I hugged each of their necks and spoke soothingly to them. I was happy to see them, but could not help being reminded that their fellow barn mates had not survived.
“You know they can stay as long as you need them to,” Harry told me quietly.
I leaned into Hadhafang’s neck as I stroked her nose. “I’ll make sure you are duly compensated, Harry.”
He waved off my words. “Don’t worry about it.”
I looked pointedly at him. “Harry, I insist. You can’t afford to feed four more animals on your own. It’s only right I should pay you to keep them until I get a new barn built.”
My breath hitched on the last words, but I held the tears in check. I was not going to cry anymore, I told myself sternly. The time for tears had come and gone—now it was time for mad.
Harry shook his head. “If you insist on paying for the feed yourself that’s up to you, but the board is free. It’s only neighborly, since you lost so much.”
Tommy, Harry’s eldest boy, came into the barn then with a basket full of eggs. “I’m s’posed to give these to ya, since your chickens didn’t make it,” the 16-year-old said. “Real sorry ‘bout the barn and your animals, Ms. Caldwell.”
I stepped away from the aging mare and out of the stall they had put her in. After closing the gate I gave the teenager a hug, and then gave one to his father before I accepted the gift.
“You Mitchell men are too kind to me,” I said sincerely.
Tommy blushed and mumbled a thank you before turning and jogging back into the house. Harry gave me a long, assessing look. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked.
I shrugged dismissively. “About as well as can be expected, I suppose,” I replied. “I mean, I cried, and cried, and cried some more. Don’t think I have any tears left, which is fine by me ‘cause now I just want to be pissed.”
“And rightly so,” Mark put in.
Harry glanced at him and nodded. “Indeed,” he echoed. “You got insurance to cover the damages, I assume?”
I laughed mirthlessly. “Yes, I have insurance. The arson investigator even asked me that this morning, although for a different reason, of course.”
My neighbor snorted. “They’d be idiots to look at you for this. You loved those animals like they were your own kin.”
Because his words hit so close to home, I gave Harry a smile. Maybe it was a farmer thing, who knew? But he was right—all my animals had been like family, especially given that it had been just me and them for years. Even a crop farmer like him understood that.
Harry adjusted the baseball cap he wore. “Probably stupid of me to ask, but you got any idea who woulda done this?”
I shrugged and heaved a sigh, and Mark put his arm around my shoulders as I said, “I haven’t got a clue, Harry. Not who, not why—and that’s what gets me, you know? Why would anybody have torched my barn? Why would they have set the horses free but not the rest of the animals? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“It’s possible the horses freed themselves,” he mused. “You don’t lock the barn, and they’re strong enough to kick the gates open.”
“Those yearlings couldn’t have,” Mark offered, shaking his head. “Whoever started that fire let the horses out and left the others behind to die. At least that’s the way it looks to me. I’m sure the investigation will te
ll us for sure.”
“To be honest with you, I don’t see how. I saw what happened—all the wood’s burnt to cinders and the metal clasps will have melted down,” said Harry.
I turned and walked back over to my horses, patting each one of them on the neck again and kissing the soft, peach-fuzzy end of their noses. “Goodbye, loves,” I told them. “If Harry doesn’t mind, I’ll come by and see you again later.”
“Now, sweetheart, you know darn well I won’t mind,” said Harry behind me.
I turned back with a weak smile of thanks. I then gave Harry another hug with my free arm and whispered “Thank you” in his ear.
He held me for a moment and said, “You’re more than welcome, Saphrona.”
When Mark and I were back in the truck and headed back toward home, he glanced over and asked me, “Whatever happened to his boys’ mother?”
I turned to look at him. “They’re divorced—happened about a year before I came back to the farm. Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “Because I think Harry has feelings for you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re just friends.”
Mark shook his head. “Maybe on your end, Saphrona, but I saw how he looked at you, the expression on his face when he held you. He kept calling you ‘sweetheart.’ I’m telling you that he’s got some strong feelings for you.”
He turned up into the driveway then. “You don’t think he’s jealous enough to set my barn on fire and kill my animals, do you?” I asked, my tone disbelieving.
Setting the parking brake and turning off the engine, Mark turned to me. “No, honey, that’s not what I’m saying. From what little I’ve observed of the man, he cares about you too much to hurt you like that. It’s just that I noticed he cares. Probably wishes he was the one comforting you instead of me, so while he may be envious, he’s not so blindly jealous that he would have done this.”
I studied him for a moment, partly to keep from having to look at the ruined barn. I knew the arson investigator would be back today with a team of people to go through the wreckage and try to gather what evidence they could. I hoped they cleared the scene soon so that I could begin to have the place cleaned up, because it hurt too damn much to look at it.
“Maybe you’re right. But I never noticed. I’ve just thought of him as a friendly neighbor,” I said, then reached for the door handle.
“And I’m sure that while he may have hoped for more one day, Harry’s fine with that as long as you are happy,” Mark said as we were climbing out of the truck. “I’m sorry if my bringing it up bothers you; I was just curious, because his feelings would explain why he’s so willing to help you out. Even friendly neighbors sometimes want to be compensated for their trouble, and he wasn’t even asking for money to feed the horses, let alone take care of them.”
“’Sometimes’ being the operative word there, Mark,” I pointed out. “Since I don’t age, obviously I’ve had to move around some over the years. I actually hadn’t been to this property in about fifteen years when I moved back five years ago. And you know what? Before I’d even emptied the moving truck, Harry was the first person to visit, the first who offered to help me out if I ever needed it, and that was before he even knew anything about me. So even if he is motivated by romantic feelings, I believe that first and foremost he’s a good man who’s willing to help his neighbor through a hard time.”
He reached for me and gave me a light hug. “I’m sure you’re right, Saphrona. I believe Harry is a good man, too.”
Juliette appeared on the back stoop then. “Saphrona, you’ve had some phone calls while you were gone,” she said. “Lt. Parks said he and his team will be here at nine to comb through the rubble for any usable evidence, though he wishes to remind you that the combination of water and fire may have destroyed any the arsonist left behind. Lochlan and Diarmid have also called. Both of them wanted to know how you were doing, and Loch said he’ll be coming out to see you after he finishes his own…breakfast. Your father said he would be stopping by after nightfall.”
Though I was hardly in any state of mind to have to deal with my father, the only thing that came to mind when I processed Juliette’s message was, “I didn’t realize Diarmid watched the news.”
Shaking my head, I climbed up the steps, and once inside, I set the basket of eggs Harry and the boys had given me on the counter, and reached for a frying pan. Mark stilled my hand, saying, “What are you doing?”
I frowned. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m making breakfast,” I replied.
“Babe, let me and Juliette do that for you.”
With a sigh, I shook my head. “Mark, I’ve got no farm work to do today. No animals to tend to, no stalls to clean. I’ve got nowhere to put my hay when I go to harvest it next week. I have to make breakfast because I’ve got nothing else to do, because somebody thought it would be a brilliant fucking idea to torch my barn and kill all but four of my animals!”
With each word I spoke, my anger seeped out of that place inside me where I’d carefully held it in check, and my voice rose in pitch. I emphasized each syllable by gesticulating with my hands, waving them around in front of me. This actually drove Mark and Juliette back, until the end of my speech when they were forced to duck as I threw the cast-iron skillet I always cooked eggs in. It missed Mark’s head by inches and crashed through the window by the door.
I screamed again in frustration and anger, realizing I’d just added another headache to the top of the heap.
Mark held his hands out as if in surrender, saying, “Saphrona, I’m sorry. I know it ain’t easy, but try to calm down, okay?”
As he spoke, Lochlan stepped through the back door. Sidling around Juliette, he wordlessly took me by the arm and began to lead me through the house.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded, trying vainly to break his grip.
Loch opened the front door and pulled me across the porch, then shoved me down the steps. I stumbled and fell to the ground, rising quickly and baring my fangs with an angry hiss.
Mark shoved Lochlan’s shoulder as he emerged on the porch behind us. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, man?”
My brother ignored him. He shrugged out of the suit jacket he was wearing and laid it over the porch railing. “My sister needs to vent some of her anger,” he said as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves and rolled them up. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top collar button as he came down the steps toward me. “If a fight is what she wants, a fight is what she’ll get.”
“I wasn’t aware your doctorate had changed from an M.D. to a Ph.D., Loch Ness,” I spat, annoyed by his arrogance.
Mark jumped down the porch steps to try and block him. “I’m not going to let you hurt her,” he told him forcefully.
Loch rewarded him with an “Oh, please” expression. “Better I fight her than you, because she could and most likely would do something to you she will later regret. Better I than your charming sister, who could in turn unintentionally hurt Saphrona were she to fight her in her animal form. And I’ve no intention of hurting her, brother. Just helping her let off some steam.”
“Oh really?” I challenged. “You think I can’t hurt you? Is that why you want to fight me? Because I’d hurt them and not you? I might be half human Lochlan Mackenna, but I can still kick your ass.”
“We’ll just see about that,” Lochlan replied with a smile, sparing Mark just one more glance before stepping around him and coming toward me.
“Aren’t you worried about ruining that expensive suit of yours, brother dear?” I taunted as we circled each other.
He shook his head. “They’re only clothes, dear sister. They can easily be replaced,” he fired back. “Only thing I have to worry about is getting tired.”
“Don’t think I’ll stop just because you pass out.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Lochlan replied, and then he rushed me.
We slammed into each other like two linebackers on a football fi
eld. I dug my heels into the ground and shifted my weight from one foot to the other, slipping under his arms and jamming my elbow hard into his ribcage. Loch grunted but didn’t stagger or fall; he pivoted away from me and then swept my legs out from under me.
I rolled as I fell, coming up on my feet with a snarl. I charged toward my brother, screaming like a banshee as I swung first my left fist, then my right, neither of which Lochlan bothered to block. I started to think that he wasn’t even really trying, he was just teasing me, and that only served to enrage me further. I started putting all the power I had into my punches, catching him in the face, chest, and shoulders.
“You wanted to fight me, so fight me, you asshole!” I hollered, still whaling. “Fight back!”
After a few more hits he did start trying to block me, but I was undeterred. I just kept swinging, not even directing my strikes. I aimed wildly, madly, landing a blow wherever I could. My vision had gone red with a rage so blinding I didn’t even know what I was mad about anymore.
I just wanted someone to pay.
“Saphrona!”
I don’t know how much time had passed before Mark’s voice, desperately calling my name, found its way through to me. The moment my brain finally recognized it though, the moment I discerned fear and panic in his tone, I froze instantly, afraid that I was somehow hurting him.
When my vision cleared, I realized that I did not have my teeth in Mark’s skin, draining his life away, as I had feared. I saw that I was in my front yard, my chest heaving with exertion, and that my brother’s beaten and bruised body had just dropped to the ground at my feet. I raised my hands up to examine the knuckles, which were scraped raw and covered with thick, viscous blood…
…Lochlan’s blood.
With a strangled cry of a different kind, I fell to my knees beside him and carefully lifted his head into my lap. “Oh my God, Lochlan!” I cried, stunned beyond belief at the severity of the beating he had endured, obviously at my hands. “Why didn’t you stop me? Why didn’t you fight back?”
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