Midnight Sacrifice (11 page)

He lay awake for a long time. Even with background noise and flickering light, something still felt wrong.

Soft light glowed from the back windows of the contemporary house as Nathan crept soundlessly through the trees. To avoid announcing his presence, he’d left the ATV a mile down the trail. Though he preferred civilized life over the wilderness, his uncle had taught him well. Being in the woods felt like a return
to childhood. When they’d moved to Huntsville after the deaths of Nathan’s parents, the forest had healed them.

Smoke rose from the chimney. The woodstove was in use. Perhaps he wouldn’t need the gasoline he’d found in the shed on his earlier visit.

Nathan approached the rear of the house and listened. Blessed silence greeted his ears. Moving closer, he peered into the window, the same window he’d nailed shut earlier. Danny Sullivan was stretched out on the king-size bed. His body was still, his eyes closed. Nathan watched the young man sleep for a long time. Anger festered in his belly. There lay the reason Nathan was alone, the man who dared to stand between Nathan and his May Queen. That was reason enough to pay a penalty, but the thought of the younger man charming his way into Mandy’s good graces—and her bed—lit Nathan’s gut on fire.

There was no question. He had to get rid of Danny Sullivan.

Nathan stole along the foundation to the back door. He inserted the key into the lock and turned it. The deadbolt clicked open. He listened for the telltale chime of an alarm system. When nothing but quiet greeted him, he stepped inside. No one expected middle-of-the-night intruders this far out in the woods. At least not the kind on two feet.

He passed through a large, slate-floored kitchen into the living room. Embers glowed orange through the slits in the woodstove door.

Perfect. There was no better way to slow an arson investigation than to make the cause obvious. Accidents were bound to happen when city people tried to live in the country. Woodstoves and fireplaces caused fires all the time. Plus, Nathan had had good luck with fire in the past. Flames were cleansing in many, many ways. A few tweaks to a space heater had rid him of a pesky police chief. No one had been the wiser. He was sure many people
had figured out that Nathan was responsible, but at the critical time, the chief’s death had been attributed to accident.

The green light blinked from a smoke alarm on the ceiling. Nathan stopped to remove the nine-volt battery. He did the same in the kitchen. By the time smoke hit the master bedroom, the fire would be well advanced. He hoped.

He opened the woodstove door slowly to avoid the squeak of metal. Using the tongs from the nearby stand, he removed a few embers and set them on the closest area rug. The material caught. Smoke licked from the growing blaze. He leaned forward and put his hand into the flames. Fire wrapped around him, soothed him with blessed pain. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand free before the heat seared his skin.

There was no time for indulgence.

Nathan scattered a few more glowing coals on the hardwood. Then he backtracked through the kitchen and slipped outside.

The trees welcomed him. He took a deep breath. The scents of pine and loam, the sounds of bugs and bats, calmed him. In the forest, all his senses reminded him of his uncle, the true Druid. Nathan should have embraced his uncle’s ways sooner. To turn his back on his heritage was wrong. Maybe the gods were angry with him. Maybe that was the reason the family curse had been invoked.

Nonetheless, he was glad he was following his uncle’s path now. From behind a thick bush, he turned to watch the growing glow in the windows of the house. A flame licked into sight. Then another. The faint smell of smoke drifted toward him.

Satisfied, Nathan made his way to the game trail. His boots made no sound on the soft spring grass.

Tonight, Danny Sullivan would regret returning to Maine. If he survived, he’d learn a valuable lesson. Mandy belonged to Nathan. Anyone who came between them would suffer.

CHAPTER NINE

An alarm shrieked over Danny’s head. He leaped out of bed. The heavy comforter and sheets tangled around his feet. He flung his hands out to brace his fall. Pain shot through his left wrist and hand as his weight crashed to the hardwood. He righted himself and yanked his legs free of the twisted linens.

Smoke!

The alarm’s wail faded as the memories of screaming men took over. Instead of a smoke-filled hallway, Danny saw bodies and blood and fire. Heat seared his skin. The pungent odor of burning motor oil filled his nose. His heartbeat slammed through his chest. Lights danced across his vision like a swirling disco ball.

Stop!
He shook his head and blinked hard.
You are in Maine, not Iraq.
He wasted a few precious seconds sorting reality and flashback. If he didn’t get out of this house, it wasn’t going to matter much. Dead was dead, no matter where it happened.

He padded to the doorway barefoot and in his boxers. Down the hall, flames engulfed the living room. Smoke filled the top half of the space. He was not going out that way. Coughing, he stepped into his jeans and running shoes, then swiped his keys, cell phone, and wallet from the dresser. He threw everything into his still-f duffel bag on the floor. His shaving kit, neatly packed on the vanity by the sink, followed. Eight years in the military had made him neat and ready to bug out at any moment. Good thing.

He crossed the room in two long strides. Three wide windows banked one side of the bedroom. He unlocked the first and pulled up on the sash. Nothing moved. Danny pulled harder, but the window wouldn’t budge. Was the wood swollen from the harsh winter? He glanced over his shoulder. Smoke was pouring into the room, obscuring his view of the doorway. His eyes burned and watered, and his lungs protested with a wracking cough. The remaining two windows were also stuck.

He dropped the duffel and picked up a heavy bronze lamp from the nightstand. He swung it like a baseball bat at the center of the window. Glass shattered. He swung again and again, until the he’d knocked out the entire pane.

Danny tossed his duffel bag out onto the grass. He snagged the comforter from the bed and laid it across the bottom sash so any stray shards wouldn’t slice his body on the way out. He gripped the window frame and carefully eased out feetfirst. He dropped to the grass, fell to his knees, and rolled away from the house.

Danny gathered his stuff and jogged to the rear of the yard. At the edge of the trees, he stopped, rested his hands on his knees, and coughed until his lungs threatened to evict themselves from his chest. Gradually, the damp air soothed his throat, and his frantic heart calmed the hell down.

He lifted his cell phone and squinted. The display blurred, and his eyes burned. He blinked until they cleared. Damn. No bars. He glanced up. Flames were dancing in the living room windows. The smoke alarm screamed over crackling of burning wood. He wasn’t going back in the house to use the phone.

Simultaneously sweating and shivering, he ran around the house to the driveway. Tossing everything into his car, he backed away. Halfway down the drive, he stopped to fish a sweatshirt from his duffel bag.

How far was the nearest neighbor? A mile and a half down the road, Danny asked the elderly man to call the fire department.

Several hours later, Danny stood on Reed’s front lawn. The house still smoked. The smell of wet ash tainted the air, and the house was a soggy, burned mess. Unlike in the city, the mostly volunteer fire department wasn’t on the next block.

The fire chief approached. He raised the clear shield from his soot-streaked face. “Sorry, the house was too far gone to save much.”

Danny blinked. His eyes still stung from smoke. “Any idea how it started?”

“Can’t say for sure yet, but the origin appears to be the woodstove.”

“Shit.”

“Woodstoves start fires every year.” The chief coughed. “Creosote buildup in the chimney, or someone leaves the door open. Embers pop out onto a rug or curtain.”

He’d closed the door, hadn’t he? Danny scrubbed a hand down his face.

“You have a place to stay for the rest of the night?” the fireman asked.

The closest motel was out on the interstate, a thirty-minute drive away. Exhaustion weighted Danny’s body at the thought of driving that far. There was only one place to stay in town. Nothing would suit him more than being that close to Mandy. But she wasn’t going to be happy to see him. Would she let him stay?

Mandy jerked awake. The phone rang next to her ear. She glanced at the clock as she grabbed the receiver before it pealed again and
woke everyone. Calls at three in the morning meant accident, death, or other dire emergency. Instant apprehension jump-started her heart. “Hello?”

“It’s Danny. I’m on your front porch. Could you open the door, please?”

His voice gave her nerves another boost. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be right there.” Mandy tossed back the covers and swung her feet to the floor. She tugged her robe over her flannel pajamas and slipped the .38 into the deep pocket from habit.

The house was silent as she left the family apartment and walked into the foyer. She squinted through the peephole. Danny stood on the front porch. Sweat and soot were smeared across his face. His black hair was askew and his clothes were rumpled as if he’d jumped out of bed. Disheveled looked sexy on him, but then Danny would look hot no matter what. She opened the door and let him in. The faint smell of smoke followed him into the house.

“There was a fire.” He coughed.

“Let’s go in the kitchen.” She walked through the doorway, flipped the wall switch, and blinked at the bright overhead light. “You’re sure you’re all right?” She scanned him from blackened sneakers to bloodshot eyes.

Danny hacked again. “Fine.”

Mandy filled him a glass of water. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He downed half of the liquid. “Looks like I burned down Reed’s house with the woodstove, though I’m not sure how it happened. I need a place to stay.”

No.

She didn’t want him here. She wanted Danny to go home to Philadelphia so she could forget about Nathan and whoever didn’t want him found. A threat had followed Danny’s arrival. If he left, would that be the end of it? Could she go back to pretending to
be normal? She wanted everything to go away, including the emotions and desire Danny stirred up inside of her. She couldn’t miss what she’d never had. But once she let that heat build, how would she go back to the cold?

She opened her mouth to tell him the inn was full. The door to the family quarters opened.

“Of course we have a room for you.” Leaning heavily on a cane, Mandy’s mother walked in. Pain lines around her eyes and the deliberation in her gait tightened Mandy’s chest.

“I’m sorry I woke you, Mrs. Brown.” Danny held out a hand.

“I wasn’t asleep.” Mandy’s mother took his hand in both of hers. Gratitude shone from her pale face. “You saved my daughter. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I’m just glad I was there to help.” Danny smiled, but concern flashed across his face. He’d noticed her mother’s fragile appearance.