Read Online CnC 4 A Harvest of Bones by Yasmine Galenorn - Free Book Online Page B

I’d let her down. Somehow, someway, I’d failed.
    A glance at the clock forced me to get myself in gear. I wiped my eyes and jumped in the shower. Joe would be coming over in an hour or so; I needed to be in good spirits for him, considering all he’d had to cope with last night. Thank God I had Murray and Harlow to talk to when I needed a little comfort.
    As I lathered up, I leaned my forehead against the tile and let the water stream over my shoulders, willing it to remove some of the knots that had formed in my muscles. Our yoga class was in hiatus for two weeks while our teacher was away on vacation and though I tried to get in a workout at home, it wasn’t the same as having somebody guide me through the motions.
    When Randa dragged herself down to breakfast, one look told me she hadn’t slept very well. Kip glanced at her, then me, frowning. He must have sensed something was up because he waited until I was stirring the oatmeal and sidled over to me.
    “Mom, what’s wrong with Randa?” he whispered.
    My kids asked tough questions, but I operated under the belief that the straight approach was usually best. I never lied to them unless I had an important reason. Sheltering them from the world’s ills wouldn’t help them, though I did tone down some of the darker aspects of existence when we got into discussions about crime and death and anger. If they could trust me to tell them the truth, then they might trust me with what went on in their lives.
    “Honey, Gunner’s parents were hurt really bad in a fire last night. Joe was there. He called me so I could tell Randa before she heard about it from somebody else.” I gave him a tired smile.
    Kip’s eyes grew wide. “Her tutor?”
    I nodded. “That’s the one.”
    For once, he didn’t press. He quietly set the table, even though it was Randa’s chore. When he went to feed the cats, I heard sniffling in the pantry and followed him. His eyes were wet as he filled four dishes.
    “I want Sammy back,” he said, and my heart broke as his voice cracked. I sighed and wrapped my arms around him, rocking gently. He leaned his head against me and I softly kissed his hair.
    “So do I, baby. So do I. We’ll look for her again today.” I contemplated telling them about seeing Samantha, but since it had been either a dream or a vision, I decided to hold off. They wanted her home in the flesh.
    I dished out the oatmeal and poured orange juice, then made my mocha. I needed that black gold today, so brewed four shots of espresso and dosed it liberally with Coffee-mate, cocoa, and peppermint syrup.
    Breakfast was a subdued affair. Kip hurried through his meal, and I knew he wanted to be outside, hunting for Samantha. I excused both of them from their chores, on the condition that they stay out of the lot next door. After stacking our plates in the dishwasher, I steeled myself for another trip over to the twilight zone.
    As I picked my way across the lot, it was hard to imagine that I’d really seen the bright orbs darting and dashing around. Except, by now, I knew better than to question anything I’d seen firsthand. I’d learned that lesson the hard way over the past year.
    As I got close to the basement, I tried to imagine what the house had looked like. Horvald’s description had been vivid—but what it conjured up was the silhouette of a haunted house against a full moon, with lightning striking the weathervane. I decided that I’d been watching too many horror movies. I skirted the wheelbarrows we’d used to carry brambles to the truck and headed over to the basement, cautiously stepped over the tape, careful to avoid slipping. One misstep and it would be over the edge with me, and possibly a broken neck, broken arm, broken leg … a lovely thought I had no intention of trying out.
    As I peeked into the dank hole, it was easy enough to see the thick layer of leaf mulch that filled the basement. Thick, charred timbers lay half-buried where they’d fallen.