Stormy Sky Magic (Familiar Kitten Mysteries Book 9) by Sara Bourgeois (best ereader under 100 txt) 📗

sorry. I’m sorry,” I said as I tried to get a grip on myself. “I just thought that you…”

“It’s okay,” Dorian said. “I appreciate that my loss would affect you that deeply.”

I punched him in the arm, but his teasing helped me considerably. Reggie was there too rubbing my back.

“No, I’m sorry,” said the old man.

“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “I just freaked out a little. I’m glad we were able to save her. It’s good that we came along when we did.”

“I think she needs a vet,” the old man said. “My car is down the block on top of a neighbor’s garage.”

Just then, a man across the street came out of his mostly intact house. It was so weird how the tornado had destroyed most of the houses on the block but had left a few relatively untouched. It had no rhyme or reason.

“Mr. Casen?” The neighbor called out. “Is Shelly okay?”

“She needs to go to the vet. I don’t have my car,” Mr. Casen called back.

“I’ve got mine,” the neighbor said. “Let me pull over there. I heard the vet over on White Oak is open for pets hurt in the storm. If it’s not, we’ll drive until we find one.”

“You’d do that, Tyrone?” Mr. Casen started to cry again.

“Of course I would. Let me get my car.”

We helped Tyrone load Shelly into his car, and Dorian helped Mr. Casen into the front seat. I started to believe he was injured somehow the way he was stiffly moving about. He was obviously in pain. His focus was on his Shelly, though, and I figured his injuries weren’t life-threatening. He’d get around to seeing a doctor when his dog was safe.

Still, I mentioned what I’d noticed to Tyrone before he got into the car. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

With that assurance, they pulled away from the curb, and we continued on our mission to see who we could help.

Chapter Four

A few blocks later, we came across a group of people all standing around the front yard of one particular house. The houses on that block had sustained extensive damage, but none of them appeared to be on the verge of collapse. They had siding stripped off, roofs or sections of walls blown off, and windows broken, but they were still standing.

“What’s going on?” I asked as we approached the group.

“We’re all here,” one woman said. “Everyone on the block is here except the man who lives in this house.”

“Who cares?” another woman spat. “I don’t know why we are wasting our time on this fool. If the storm took him, it was the Lord’s will.”

“Beatrice, don’t talk like that,” the first woman said. “I don’t like him either, but we need to see if he’s alive. We agreed that the block sticks together.”

“That was before he moved in,” Beatrice complained. “Olivia, that man is a scourge.”

“We don’t make exceptions or else we’ll start making them for any willy-nilly reason. The block sticks together. That includes Stewart Randell, whether we like it or not,” Olivia said.

“Fine, but I’m not going in there after him,” Beatrice countered.

“I’ll go,” Dorian volunteered.

“Oh, no,” I said and stuck my arm out to stop him from walking forward. “You’re not going into any more houses today that might fall down on you.”

“The house looks mostly fine,” Dorian protested.

“Yeah, it looks like that from here, but we don’t know. The middle could have collapsed or whatever. We don’t know why he hasn’t come out, but you’re not going in.”

“Wasn’t his kid with him this weekend?” a man in the small crowd asked.

“Oh, he was,” Olivia said. “Oh, no.”

Dorian shot me a look. “Fine,” I said. “Go in.”

“I’ll go too,” the man who had just asked about the kid said. “I’m Herb. Might as well introduce myself if we’re going to face death together.”

“Dorian,” Dorian said and extended his hand to the man. “Let’s do this as quickly and safely as we can.”

Reggie and I followed them up to the house, but we didn’t go in. Instead, we circled around the outside to look in any windows that weren’t covered.

We were around the back looking in a dining room window when I saw him. “Dorian, go back outside!” I yelled out.

“What?” I heard him yell back from inside the house.

“He’s dead! Go back outside!” I tried again.

He didn’t respond that time, but I could only assume he heard me. Of course, what I’d yelled brought all the neighbors around to the window where Reggie and I stood.

They all started taking turns looking as I dialed Thorn’s cell phone. My heart thundered in my chest as I waited for him to answer.

“Sorry,” he gushed as soon as he picked up. “Some of the cell towers are down, and I just got back to an area with reception. I swear I was going to call you or text you as soon as I wasn’t driving.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m glad you’re okay, and I love you, but that’s not why I’m calling.”

“What’s going on?”

“Okay, so we were out walking around looking for people who needed help, and we came across a house where a bunch of neighbors said a man was missing in action. Dorian went inside while Reggie and I walked around the outside and looked in the windows. I didn’t go in, but I did see a man. His neighbors say his name is Stewart Randell, and he’s dead,” I said.

“Maybe he was killed in the storm, but I’ll head over that way,” Thorn responded.

“You might be inclined to think that, but I’m not so sure it was the storm,” I said.

“Why do you say that?” Thorn asked.

“Because there’s a giant knife sticking out of his back,” I said. “And you might need to issue an Amber Alert. His neighbors say his son was with him, and so far I haven’t seen a kid. Should we go upstairs in the house and look?”

“No,” Thorn said quickly. “I’ll do that when I get