Page 18 of House of Pawns
And I know this is something far more than lust and like when I see his entire face soften.
I barely hear him whisper the word “forever” as his lips come back to mine.
I’ve just slipped Ian’s shirt over his head when something comes shattering through the window. An animalistic growl erupts from Ian’s throat, and suddenly he’s gone. I see the flames lick around Ian’s hand as he picks it up and realize it’s a glass bottle with a flaming rag poking out the top just before he throws it back out the window.
And then with a pained hiss, Ian ducks into the corner as the mid-day light pours through the broken window.
I stand and cross the room, horror filling myface.
Out on the lawn, down a little ways, because I’m sure they were too scared to come any closer to the house, is a burning cross.
It’s huge, maybe twelve feet tall. Flames lick up its length and stretch toward the sky. But even through the flames, I can see the name CONRATH written into the wood.
“I think Jasmine’s little reminder worked,” I say coldly.
Rath suddenly appears in the doorway. “Are you alright?” he asks. He’s attempting to keep that calm demeanor he always possesses, but there’s a slight prick to it.
“I’m fine,” I say, surveying the landscape for the culprits. “Ian got the flames out before it could do any more damage.”
“I’d offer to track them down for you and make them come face you in person,” Lillian says from behind Rath. “But the daylight is a bit of a problem.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to deal with it like that.” The gears are suddenly spinning in my head. I have to think bigger, larger than I ever have. “They’ve never had a reason to hate me personally. My father may have ignored everyone in this town every day of his life except one, but I’m going to change that.”
Everyone is looking at me with confusion. I’ve just been attacked. Why am I not retaliating?
“What can we do to help this town?”
Jasmine may be attempting to isolate me from Silent Bend, so now I vow to embrace the town wholly.
Chapter
Eight
ONCE UPON A TIME, CHRISTMAS was my favorite holiday. My mom and I never had much money, but she’d make it magical in ways other than presents. Cutting down our own tree. Going ice-skating at the lake. Homemade cinnamon rolls Christmas morning.
But she’s gone now. And everything is different.
It’s bright and beautiful that morning but no one else at my House seems to know it’s Christmas. There is no tree. There are no gifts.
I drive to Jasmine’s House on my own. I leave an insulated bag on her front steps with a huge red and white bow atop it. No one knew I was coming here, I made sure of that.
Then, I spend the rest of the day driving around Silent Bend.
I don’t take Main Street. I branch off, wandering through neighborhoods, driving far out to the outskirts of town. I watch and observe, twirling my father’s key between my fingers as I drive.
There are many, many homes that are more than a century old. Beautiful brick and stone buildings that have been preserved. Historical estates not as grand as my own, but still impressive.
But then there are the majority of homes in our town. They are small. Tiny, really. They feature broken windows, sagging porches, sinking foundations. There are trailer homes that look as if they need to be condemned. Lawns that are just weeds and rocks. Broken down cars sitting in front of houses. Dwellings that are nothing more than sheds.
When I learned I had inherited an estate in Mississippi, I did some research on where I would be moving. It’s the poorest state in America. We have the worst schools here. Most people live at or below the poverty level.
I don’t think Silent Bend is anywhere near the worst in the state, but there are a lot of people here that need help.
I may not be receiving any presents this Christmas, but I’m betting a lot of other people here aren’t, either.
THE TRANSACTION ONLY TAKES THREE days to close because I had the money to buy the property outright.
Two days after it was all said and done, the ground is being broken.
