Scorched Heart (The Firebrand Series Book 4), Helen Harper [free ereaders .txt] 📗

she drew back. For the first time, I’d genuinely surprised her. ‘Good grief! No, I was not. Who told you that?’ She put her hands up. ‘Wait. Don’t answer that. I don’t need to know.’

She shook her head in exasperation. ‘There’s been a lot of village gossip about me over the years so I shouldn’t be surprised that people think I was sleeping with Mark Bellamy. I did enjoy myself in those days.’ She smirked. ‘But Mark only had eyes for your mother. Besides, at the time I was involved with Sammy.’ She paused. ‘How else do you think he ended up with your parents’ blood on his clothes?’

What? I straightened up, my heart suddenly racing. My skin felt clammy and the hairs along the back of my arms rose up. ‘What do you mean, Miranda?’ I asked, keeping my body very, very still.

She looked at me sadly. ‘Are you sure you want to hear this? It won’t change the fact that your parents are dead. It won’t bring them back.’ She ran the tip of her finger round the rim of her china cup. ‘They’re not like you, Emma,’ she said quietly. ‘There’s only ever one phoenix at any one time, and it’s you. Not your mum or your dad. I had to make a terrible choice.’ Her eyes met mine. ‘And I chose you.’

The kitchen walls started to close in on me as my chest constricted and I found it hard to breathe. Something indecipherable clawed at my heart. ‘What—? How—?’ I tried to find the words. ‘But—’

Miranda smiled gently. ‘What I’m about to tell you is sacrosanct. You cannot ever repeat it, not to anyone. Not ever.’

I didn’t know what to say. What was going on here? What—?

There was a loud thud and I jumped half out of my chair. The crow flapped upwards then fled out of the window without a backward glance. I heard heavy shuffling footsteps from the hallway. Without thinking, I reached down for my crossbow, my fingers curling around the cold metal shaft.

Albion appeared in the kitchen doorway. ‘I’m home,’ he grunted. ‘What’s for tea?’ His gaze fell on me and his expression immediately shuttered.

I hastily removed my hand from the crossbow and tried to smile. ‘Hi there.’ It was more of a croak than a greeting.

Albion looked at his mum. ‘What’s she doing here?’

‘I told you she would come,’ Miranda said. ‘She has questions.’

His young face spasmed into a snarl. ‘She shouldn’t be here.’ He looked at me. ‘I thought you’d be at Roselands with the other coppers.’

I frowned. Roselands? What was that?

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it but Miranda jerked her head towards the sound. ‘You should answer that,’ she said. ‘It might be important.’

I slid it out almost mechanically, my mind still whirring with what she’d said before Albion had interrupted. I glanced at the screen. Boateng. I held it up. ‘I’ll take this in the hallway,’ I said.

Miranda smiled serenely. Albion glared.

I headed out, passing underneath Boris the spider. I could hear Albion arguing. ‘She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t have come. If you get ill again…’

My phone was still ringing as I moved out of earshot. ‘This is DC Bellamy,’ I said.

‘I’ve been trying to reach you,’ Boateng said. ‘We’re at a park near the square. Roselands. It’s small but you can’t miss it. You ought to get down here as soon as you can.’

‘This isn’t a good time,’ I began.

‘DC Bellamy,’ he said. ‘Emma.’

There was something in his voice, something dark. ‘What?’ I asked.

DCI Harris Boateng sighed. ‘There’s been another murder.’

I left the manor house at high speed, after extracting a hasty promise from Miranda that we would continue our conversation at the earliest opportunity the next day and receiving another vicious glower from Albion.

This time I didn’t pause to enjoy the scenery as I ran down the long driveway towards the main road. I didn’t even waste time looking around for that bloody crow. I simply put my head down and sprinted, briefly aware that, after my latest death, I was stronger and faster than before.

I emptied my mind of Miranda’s revelations and the hundreds of unanswered questions that burned within me. Another unlawful killing put all the residents of Barchapel in danger; my parents’ death, and even my own supernatural existence, had to be put on the back burner.

Boateng had been right: it was easy to locate the park – in fact, I’d passed it on my journey to the cottage yesterday. Even if Barchapel hadn’t been such a small place, I would have found it easily thanks to the large group of pale-faced residents and the flashing lights of the assembled murder squad detectives.

I skirted round the crowd, waving at the two officers next to a temporary barricade. ‘DC Bellamy,’ I said, hardly even breathless after my run. ‘DCI Boateng is expecting me.’ I held up my warrant card.

The nearest officer nodded. ‘Wait here,’ she said. ‘I’ll get someone to escort you in. You’ll need to be suited up.’

For the second time that day, I pulled on disposable white booties and clambered into a paper suit designed to minimise contamination of the crime scene. I’d just finished pulling the hood over my hair when another white-suited figure appeared.

Rothsay looked even paler than normal. ‘She’s this way,’ he said, without bothering to say hello.

‘She?’ I hesitated. I hadn’t expected that. Most serial killers tended to choose similar victims; switching genders wasn’t unknown but it wasn’t usual.

My blood chilled further. I’d already decided that the perpetrator was a serial killer. If they were also a supe, the consequences for the supernatural community in London could be catastrophic and things there were already on a knife edge.

Rothsay didn’t answer. He pointed to the park gate. ‘I’ll show you,’ he said, his voice thin and thready.

The first crime scene technicians to arrive had been busy. A makeshift tent had been erected to hide the body from prying eyes and there were people