Page 6 of Thorn of Sorrow

“That sounds about right.” I turned just a fraction, watching as the car rolled past us. “You’re not the only one he evokes that feeling in. I think half the residents, all twelve of them, feel the same way.”

He chuckled. “There’s more than twelve residents.” His smile faded. “Isn’t there?”

A horn blasted, causing me to grit my teeth.

Deputy Harrington pulled to the curb beside us. “Just act cool,” I whispered to Dane.

“How? The day Whitmore and Harrington showed up at the farmhouse, Richard claimed to be my uncle and told them I had delusional tendencies.”

My jaw dropped. “No. Tell me he didn’t.” Laughter bubbled up, real and raw, catching me by surprise. I hadn’t laughed in over a month, and it felt good, like I was finally able to breathe again.

Harrington slid out, nodding at a few ladies strolling by, seeming unaffected at the nauseated look they’d given him before hurrying away.

Then he pinned us with a glare like we’d ruined his day by merely existing. “You can’t give me the same creepy smile you gave those women?” I asked as Harrington approached us. “Seems unfair.”

Dane tucked a few strands of windblown hair behind his ear, looking both irritated and like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Harrington’s eyes sparkled for some reason when he looked at Dane, causing me to inch closer to my friend.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Bloody Car. Stopped by your uncle’s place twice, but no one answered.”

The farmhouse was real. It was once you walked inside that it felt like you were hallucinating as you stepped into another dimension. I wasn’t sure how that worked, and when I’d asked a year after arriving, I’d been ignored.

Still, it was pretty cool. When I first discovered the door, I’d run myself into exhaustion. Whenever bored, I walked onto the porch, raced back inside, turned around, and repeated the action until it no longer entertained me.

“Our uncle tends to sleep during the day,” I interjected. “Since he stays up all night sucking blood from his victims.”

I heard Dane stifle a disbelieving laugh.

Harrington, on the other hand, turned his sharp gaze on me. “Since when do you have an uncle, Kyman?”

He’d never gotten my name right in all the times we’d interacted. Or he was purposely mispronouncing it.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I argued while telling myself to shut the hell up before he found a reason to arrest me.

“Was there something you needed, Deputy?” Dane asked in a tone that said I needed to press my lips together and let him do all the talking. God, I hated Harrington. A loser who thought he was a big shot. Over the years I’d heard people talk about him.

Harrington was the mayor’s son. Nepotism at its finest.

From what I’d heard around town, being related to the mayor was how he’d gotten the job as deputy. Though, according to some folks, Harrington hadn’t even graduated high school, and Daddy Mayor had gotten him the job mainly to keep his son out of his hair.

I was inclined to believe the rumors. The deputy just had a way of getting under your skin like an itch impossible to scratch.

“We processed your car.” Harrington’s gaze slid back to Dane. Although I shouldn’t have been worried, a part of me froze. If anyone processed Malachi’s blood, they would discover the truth. Or, at the very least, they’d know something was definitely wrong.

As much as I’d complained about them, the vampires were the only family I had, and I didn’t want anything to happen to them.

Malachi was the worst kind of friend, but I honestly cared about him. It was the same with the others, even if they would probably rejoice if I ever moved out.

Or suck me dry, if I hadn’t stunk so badly to them.

“And?” Dane asked, clearly irritated. He had his hands on his hips and a hard glare in his eyes.

“I don’t know.” Harrington shrugged, his gaze sweeping over the streets. “The lab samples mysteriously disappeared.”

“And you think I had something to do with that?” Dane’s brows shot up, his hands dropping, his arms going limp at his sides.

“Your uncle did say you had…” Harrington cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders slightly, then frowned. “Issues.”

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