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“He already has one, girl.” Eoghan gave a full-fledged laugh. “It’s Yoda, remember?”
She pressed her hand to her mouth, really trying not to join in. “Right. But do you like it?”
Liam shook his head ruefully. “The only thing that matters is what you call yourself,a stór, and I’m fine with Liam. It means helmet of will or resolute protector.”
He had been her protector from the very beginning, from her physical well-being to her secret life as Veritas. Later, she would make love to him and show him how much she appreciated who he was deep down. Right now, there was Eoghan, who appreciated a good joke. “Well, you do have a helmet of will with all your meditation and breathing practices, don’t you?”
Eoghan let out a trill of a laughter, and this time she joined in noisily as Liam grinned. “You two are hilarious,” her soulmate commented. “I’ll be in the car. Join me when you’re finished. I’m not sure you can walk and laugh at the same time.”
He was right. She and Eoghan were holding on to each other and snorting with laughter as they stumbled out of the house. The rain had started up again—a commonality, she was learning—so they ran to the car through puddles. Inside, she nearly sighed. Liam had turned the heat on high to warm it up for them. He got a kiss for that one.
She set the shopping bag on her lap as they sped out of the gate and onto the road. The night was dark, the kind of intense ebony that absorbed every other color around it. She couldn’t even make out the newly painted Kindness Sheep in the pastures as they drove by. Which was why the orange glow above the horizon at two o’clock caught her attention.
“What is that?” she asked, pointing toward the windshield.
“Fire,” Liam said after a moment. “A nasty one.”
“In this rain?” Eoghan’s hand was suddenly on her seat as he leaned forward. “Hard to imagine anything burning.”
Also, weren’t most of the houses made of concrete?
“We should call emergency.” Taylor pulled out her phone, only to realize she didn’t know what address to give them.
Her stomach did a flip-flop. God, it wouldn’t be the arts center on fire, would it?
She wanted to think Malcolm couldn’t be that cruel, but she knew otherwise. The car was silent with their harsh breathing until Liam passed the arts center. The buildings were fine, thank God. She slumped in her seat as Liam increased his speed. The orange light looked like a tower of fire the closer they sped.
“It’s my aunt Mary’s house,” Liam uttered quietly.
Taylor turned to look at him. His face in profile was a heartbreaking study in anger and agony. She put her hand on his thigh as he punched the gas. The flames were flickering in the rain, tongues of orange and yellow and red as he turned into a driveway.
Taylor gasped at the sight. Violent flames were licking up the concrete walls of the cottage and sweeping across the roof. She heard the sound of glass breaking and watched as a blast of fire blew through the front windows like a cannon shot.
Liam parked the car at the far end of the lane on the grass and sat there, breathing heavily next to her.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Eoghan breathed out, touching her shoulder. “Do you think she’s in it?”
“No, she’s gone,” Liam said, taking out his phone. “I don’t feel her. Plus, her car isn’t in the driveway like usual. Hello, this is Liam O’Hanlon, and we’ve just come across a fire at Mary Kincaid’s house. Yes, thank you.”
“Should we get out?” Taylor asked after he hung up as the cacophony of destruction outside intensified.
“I wouldn’t,” Liam answered. “I’m going to text my mum.”
She grew aware of the heat as the fire strengthened its hold. Reaching out, she touched the windshield and sucked in a breath. Even with the cold rain falling, the glass was hot.
“Her prized rose garden is blazing with fire,” Eoghan observed from the back. “Nothing will be left.”
“I imagine that was what she wanted,” Liam answered cryptically.
Taylor couldn’t take it anymore. She was a reporter, and she’d never been to a fire. Plus, wouldn’t it be wise to take photos of this event in case someone needed them? “I’m going to get out.”
Liam put his hand on her shoulder. “I won’t stop you from being who you are, but keep well away from the house,a stór. There’s more to this fire than is obvious to the eyes.”
She nodded, his statement giving her chills. Exiting the car, she sucked her breath in at the blast of heat. Deciding it might be wise to cover her hair, she pulled up the hood of her jacket. The smell of smoke assaulted her, but she detected something else as Liam and Eoghan stepped out beside her.
“Do you smell gasoline?” she asked.
“It’s diesel.” Liam put his hand to her back protectively. “Slower to put out once it takes. I also smell peat—the kind she used to stockpile for her woodstove. She did this. I can feel her rage in the flames. I can even see her pouring diesel on her rosebushes.”
