Chasing Shadows(43)
“When you fed on Belinda the other day,” I said slowly, “I was sad to lose her. But this? This feels different. This doesn’t just make me sad, it makes me angry.”
Mark came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me as Lochlan said, “That is because your Belinda was a sacrifice. This was a crime.”
“It was a crime,” I agreed. “I mean, I feel violated and angry and afraid. Somebody came here and destroyed my property. They threatened my home and have all but destroyed my livelihood. Why did they have to do that? Why couldn’t they have released all the animals? Had they just burned down the barn, I’d be mad, sure, but I don’t think I’d be so filled with rage, with a desire to hunt the bastard down and kill him with my bare hands, or to sink my teeth into his neck and drain him dry. That I’ve been driven to such a mindset is frightening, and that is a violation, too. They’ve essentially destroyed who I am with the lighting of a single match.”
“Baby, don’t say that,” Mark said, kissing my temple. “They’ve only destroyed you if you let them.”
“Mark,” I said, turning around in his arms. “I could have killed that firefighter this morning—I wanted to. And had Lochlan not come in when he did, there is a very real chance I could have killed you and your sister, too. I haven’t felt a bloodlust this strong since I first learned how Diarmid had really felt about my mother.”
I stepped away from him, raking a hand through my hair before turning to face him again. “I have killed before. I may well kill again. As you clearly saw this morning, I am capable of unspeakable violence. The truth is, no matter how much I try to hide it or deny it, I am and will always be part vampire.”
“I’ve killed people, too,” Mark told me solemnly. “As a sniper I killed fifty-seven people in eleven years, including ten women and three children. That was by myself—I can’t even tell you how much blood is on my hands from the lives I took while out with my unit. I have been angry enough to want to cause physical harm to others, and have done so. I still have nightmares every once in a while about the violence I saw and the violence I took part in. So really, we’re not so different, you and I.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Both of us killers haunted by our past.”
*****
Parks and his team eventually finished up their search. They had bagged up several items of apparent interest and carried them to their SUV, and having noticed upon their arrival Lochlan’s vehicle in the driveway, the arson investigator came to the door and asked to speak to us. I introduced my brother as Dr. Lochlan Mackenna, another title which seemed to impress the human (I was a doctor as well, but apparently holding a D.V.M. wasn’t as impressive as an M.D.). He asked Lochlan a lot of the same questions he had asked Mark, Juliette, and I earlier that morning, and Loch confirmed our trip to Ireland to see our “ill family friend,” and the time we had arrived back in the States. He also, without blinking, confirmed that we’d sold him a pig on Friday, which he said he’d sent to a friend to have slaughtered for his winter stock of meat. Parks then asked about the broken window, and I admitted that I’d gotten upset and thrown a frying pan.
The lieutenant then told me he’d taken the liberty of calling a clean-up service for me. They would need two units, it seemed: one to take care of the animal remains, one to take care of the rest. I asked how soon they would arrive, because I didn’t want wild animals from the woods to come scavenging the carcasses, and he said that he’d arranged for someone to come in that afternoon. Despite the fact that I didn’t really care for the man, I was grateful that he’d taken care of it for me.
After Parks and his team left, Lochlan made his own departure, heading home most likely to sleep. When he was gone, Juliette came back downstairs.
“Thank goodness the leech is gone,” she muttered.
“Jules,” her brother admonished.
She looked at him. “What? He was freaking me out.”
“You know,” I said, not wanting to talk about Lochlan’s attraction to Juliette, “I’ve just realized that there’s actually quite a bit I have to do today. I need to call my insurance agent, I need to buy a new window, and I have to buy some horse feed to take over to Harry’s later.”
“And I need clothes,” Juliette added. “All my stuff got burned up in the fire.”
Mark looked over. “You can use my truck,” he said, handing her the keys.
“Juliette, make sure you save the receipts for anything you buy,” I told her. “My insurance can reimburse your purchases.”
She nodded. “I appreciate that,” she said, and after another trip upstairs to grab her purse, she soon left to go shopping for new clothes.
Mark asked me if I had a tape measure so we could measure the window. I pointed to the drawer against the wall where the window was, where I kept the most essential tools a person could have: a hammer, Philips and flathead screwdrivers, duct tape, a tape measure, a box of nails, and a box of push pins. While he went about measuring the window’s dimensions, I went to my office to call my insurance agent. After expressing the usual horrors and sorrows, he promised to do his best to get out to my place that afternoon so he could get pictures and talk to me about the equipment that was inside, so that he could figure out how much the company would pay out. He also asked for Lt. Parks’ number so he could request a copy of the fire department’s report on the blaze.
Mark and I spent the next couple of hours driving around to pick up the things we needed. At Lowe’s we got a window, plus a crowbar, longer nails, and the sealing caulk needed to properly remove the old window and install the new one. We then headed back over to Tractor Supply for more horse feed. Palmer was working again, and the sweet old man held me for a long moment after he heard the story about the barn.
After grabbing a bite to eat for lunch, we headed home again. I helped Mark install the new window, then told him I was going to take the feed down to Harry’s.
“You want me to come with?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, I think I’d like to talk to Harry alone if that’s alright. Not that it matters overmuch, I don’t think, but I want to see if I can pick up on what you saw.”
Mark looked at me for a moment and then nodded. He said he had a few phone calls he wanted to make anyway, so after a long, lingering kiss, I pushed him away with a smile and climbed into the driver’s seat of my truck.
Down the road at the Mitchell place, I encountered his youngest son, Billy, in the barn.
“Hey there, Billy,” I said, climbing out of the truck. “Where’s your dad?”
He finished filling a water trough for my two yearlings, saying, “Him and Tom went to fix some fence posts. They should be back soon.”
The 13-year-old turned to me then, and expressed the same sentiments his brother had that morning.
“Thanks, Billy,” I said with a weak smile. “I appreciate that. And hey, why don’t you run off and do your other chores? I’ll take care of the horses.”
He nodded. “Alright, Ms. Caldwell. Be seeing you.”
The boy then headed off into the house. I went to my truck and dropped the tailgate, then started hauling in the bags of feed and stacking them by the stall Brego occupied. I’d just dropped the last one down when Harry and Tommy came into the barn on their own horses.
“Hey, Ms. Caldwell,” Tommy greeted me.
I nodded. “Tommy. Hey, Harry.”
The two dismounted and walked their horses into their stalls. Harry directed his son to put the post-hole digger away and then go ahead into the house to help Billy with the household chores.
“I’ll take care of Cracker’s saddle for you. Need to have a talk with Saphrona here,” he added.
Tommy nodded, and after putting the post-hole digger with the other equipment, he too retreated into the house. I pointed down to the bags of feed I’d brought in.
“This should do them a week, at least. If you need more, let me know,” I said.
Harry grunted as he lifted his horse’s saddle off and set it on a railing. He came out of the horse’s stall and walked into Cracker’s. “I told you that wasn’t necessary. I’m glad to help you.”
I leaned against the gate as he undid the straps of Cracker’s gear. “You also said that if I wanted to pay for the feed myself, that was fine,” I reminded him. “Harry, if you’re not going to take my money for sheltering the horses, I should at least pay for their food myself.”
“As you wish,” Harry mused, lifting the saddle off and setting it aside. “Be a shame for that feed to go to waste, seeing as you’ve already bought it.”
He leaned on the other side of the gate and looked at me. “How are you doing, hon?” he asked, repeating his question from earlier that morning.
I shrugged. “Okay, I suppose. Arson investigators were at the house again. They took some stuff, but I don’t know what they hope to gain by it. Some special clean-up crew is coming out to take care of the animal remains, and there’s another crew that’s supposed to come clean up the rest of it eventually. I’ve already reported the fire to my insurance agent, who will also be out sometime today to take pictures and get a list of what was in the barn so he can calculate the pay out. That is, of course, after I’m cleared of having started the fire myself, which we both know I didn’t do.”