Read Traitor, Book 1 of The Turner Chronicles Page 65

  * * *

  The store was a ruin though the fire brigade did arrive in time to douse the building flames before they spread. Their quick action saved the lower levels of the store but they could do little for the upper floor. The back room was still intact but all Aaron's stock was broken and ruined. Next door, Cathy's Emporium suffered from smoke and water damage. It had some charring on one wall where fires had tried to start and then died in the thick, oxygen poor smoke. Somewhat fortunately, most of Cathy's books had not been stored on that wall. Even so, over half of all the books were ruined.

  But Cathy lived.

  The town consensus was that Beech must have been weak and conserving his energy when he struck at Cathy because she suffered nothing more serious than a badly burned face. While holding Sarah's stiffening fingers Aaron heard Doc promise that Cathy would not show a single scar.

  When the immediate crisis was over, and Aaron had no busy work to do, he did the one thing he most desired. He collapsed.

  Three days went by. Three nights passed. At the end of those days he stood by while they buried the charred remains of his wife and child. Sarah's father and mothers stood by. Crying shamelessly, Aaron fought not to fall apart while Mister Turnbull gave last rites to Sarah and Ernest. He was not the only one who wept because almost the entire town was there.

  That night, Aaron lay down in his empty bed in his empty house and, once again, could not sleep. His belly rumbled, demanding food he would not give it, and his soul felt empty.

  Somebody knocked on his door while he lay in bed, but he ignored it. The knocking became insistent. Aaron blinked once and then again.

  Creee-squunc

  With a crack of splintering wood the front door broke open. Footsteps approached, and then Kit entered the bedroom, strode quietly over to him, and lowered herself to lie down beside his stiff body.

  "I'm thinking," Aaron said. Nodding quietly, she cried while he held her close.

  Later that night he finally slept, and he dreamed of a blood covered, laughing face that sneered at him while he held Sarah in his arms. Her ash caught in the wind and blew away until he held nothing but her one remaining eye in the palm of his hand. Within its depths he could see the dead charred bones of Ernest playing.

  He woke from the nightmare hours later, cursing the betrayal of his mind and swearing he would never sleep again. Holding Kit close, he continued thinking. There had to be a way.