Scorched Heart (The Firebrand Series Book 4) by Helen Harper (top non fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

sympathetic. ‘I’d have moved your body to the bed but I figured you probably didn’t want to set the whole pub alight when you resurrected. The floor seemed the best option for minimising the damage.’

I looked down. There was a vast scorch mark on the wooden floorboards where I’d been lying. I winced.

Laura stood up and grabbed hold of the edge of the rug near her feet, dragging it across to cover the burn. Almost. There was still a bit of charring visible around the edges. ‘There,’ she said cheerfully. ‘As good as new.’ Then her grin vanished and she gave me a long look. ‘Trouble follows you around like a bad smell from a skunk,’ she said. ‘What happened? Who did this?’

I glanced at the small clock on the dresser. It was just after six in the morning; it always took me twelve hours to resurrect. That meant I’d died almost instantly after that hand had reached for my throat.

As I looked round the room, my gaze settled on the large armoire in the corner. My mouth thinned as I stalked over to it and flung open the door. It creaked loudly. There, smack bang in the centre of the damned thing, were two large, booted footprints.

‘Someone was in here,’ I said darkly. ‘They came in here, hid in this fucking wardrobe, and when I came into the room they jumped out and…’ I gritted my teeth. Bastard.

I was almost as annoyed with myself as I was with my damned would-be murderer. I was too strong to allow someone to kill me so easily. I’d been taken completely unaware and I’d died almost instantly. I should have – and indeed could have – done more.

‘That is not good,’ Laura murmured.

No, not good at all. Another thought occurred to me. ‘Fuck!’ I hissed. I’d left Julie waiting in the bar and I’d never returned. She probably thought I’d done a runner. I balled my hands up into fists, clenching them so tightly that they hurt.

‘Did you see who the killer was?’ Laura asked.

I shook my head. ‘No.’ I made a face. ‘But they were strong. Really strong. I didn’t have any time to react, and these days I’m pretty powerful and very fast. Whoever it was, they didn’t hesitate.’ Unbelievable, I growled to myself. Un-fucking-believable. Why did this keep happening to me?

‘I arrived here just before nine last night,’ Laura told me. ‘I checked in and tried to call you. When you didn’t answer, I knocked on your door. I knew you were expecting me and the bloke downstairs told me you hadn’t gone out, so I persuaded him to open the room up and let me check on you.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘We’re sisters now, if anyone asks. It’s the only way I could get him to unlock the door for me.’

‘Did he see—?’ I gestured to my body.

‘No. When I saw your feet, I knew what had probably happened so I made sure he didn’t spot anything untoward.’

That was good. Plenty of people in London were already aware of my ability to avoid death, but I didn’t imagine such a revelation would go down particularly well in the little village of Barchapel. Especially not in the light of Patrick Lacey’s murder a few days ago.

‘I examined your body,’ Laura said. ‘I can’t be entirely positive without X-rays, but it looks as if your neck was broken. From the bruises and the lividity, I reckon the murderer started by trying to throttle you and then snapped your bones. If it helps, I don’t believe you suffered.’ She looked at me anxiously.

All I could do was shrug. I must have blacked out almost immediately, because I had no memory of it.

‘The only thing we can be sure of is that he wouldn’t have expected you to re-awaken,’ Laura continued.

‘He?’

‘Whoever did this was strong. And from the size of those boot prints in the wardrobe and the marks on your neck, it was someone large. I’d lay money that it was a male.’

I glanced back at the wardrobe. Those boot prints… Another thought occurred to me and I reached for my suitcase. As soon as my hand fell on it, I sucked in a sharp breath. The padlock was broken. Whoever had killed me had forced it open. I flipped open the lid. My clothes were still there and so was my crossbow – much good it had done me – but the files pertaining to Lacey’s murder were gone.

‘This was no opportunistic murder,’ I said. ‘It’s obvious I was deliberately targeted. And I was targeted because of Patrick Lacey.’

I wasn’t so much angry as filled with an incandescent rage that was powerful enough to make me shake uncontrollably. Never mind that Barchapel was a small place and that I was confident I’d find my latest killer within days. Never mind that I’d sprung back to life yet again and could already feel the surge of strength my re-awakening had created. Whoever had ended Patrick Lacey’s life had ended mine as well – and in the very village where my parents had also been murdered.

I would rampage through this damned place until I found the person responsible and then I’d ensure that they never experienced freedom again. Fuck them. The fury that coursed through my veins and arteries wouldn’t settle until justice was done - not that anyone would have known how I was feeling from the way I was sitting primly at the table in the breakfast room at the Bird and Bush. My crossbow was beside me; from now on I was keeping it beside me at all times. Just in case.

My phone dinged and I slid it out. Lukas. My heart fluttered momentarily as I opened his text message.

I missed having you next to me when I woke up this morning. Did you sleep well? x

I stared at it, wondering whether I should phone and speak to him directly. Instead, I took the coward’s way