April
"Caitlín?" She opened her eyes at the sound of her name, sat straight up and saw gray smoke lingering close to the ceiling.
A fire. She could smell the intoxicating fumes, overwhelming her senses and even burning her eyes. She felt the presence of people in her home and it unnerved her. She would've gone to eject them from the property but she couldn't. By the scent of household cleaners mixed with burning wood, she knew her kitchen was the source of the fire. Sounds of men barking orders, water hitting whatever was in it's path and glass shattering echoed throughout the room.
She heard footsteps running from one end of the downstairs hall to the other. A firefighter, she assumed, was checking the rooms below for survivors, opening and closing doors.
"Caitlín?" she heard again. The sound of the footsteps ran up the stairs and stopped just outside her door. The doorknob jiggled but the door didn't open.
All of a sudden, the surrounding noise seemed distant, as if someone placed ear muffs over her ears and barely any noise came through. Then the door crashed open, the frame splintering to pieces as it swung on a single hinge. Even the sound of the crashing door was faint.
A firefighter, wearing a black suit with yellow reflectors around the cuffs and a mask connected to an oxygen tank, stepped through the doorway. More smoke crept in behind him, making the room darker. He spotted her on the bed, moved across the room and asked, "Are you alight? Why are you just sitting there?" She barely heard what he'd said regardless of her superhuman hearing.
Caitlín shook her head until finally her ears popped. Everything was coming in loud and clear again. What was that? she thought.
A loud crashing noise came from below, slightly shaking the floor. Her and the firefighter looked towards the bedroom door. The men below were yelling louder now and more glass shattered.
"Let's go," the firefighter ordered as he threw a blanket over her and though she didn't need it, she pulled it around her and climbed off the bed, following him towards the door.
Halfway across the room, Caitlín felt a sudden presence, an eerie feeling crept inside her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood. Her body fell tense and her senses automatically heightened. The room began to feel smaller and the air grew thick and heavy. Someone was in the room.
She looked around the room until she saw him. There he was, by her bathroom door. The man she couldn't see the face of. He wore neatly starched black slacks with matching suit shirt. His hair pulled into a tidy ponytail. She'd dreamt of this man for months, always the same clothes and always unable to see his face.
In her dreams, he'd whisper, "Come Caitlín." He'd reach his hand out for her and as she would reach for him, he'd disappear.
She turned and began to approach the mysterious man, but the firefighter stopped her. "What's the matter? We've got to get out of here."
I have to see him, she thought. Slowly, cautiously, she continued walking towards him. The mystery man reached his hand out, Caitlín raised hers as she drew closer and just before she could grasp his, he faded away.
"No," she whispered, falling to her knees, hand still extended before her. Her heart had beat for the mysterious man, but when he disappeared, it stilled. The same would happen in her dreams.
The firefighter grabbed her arm and lifted Caitlín to her feet. With his touch, she knew exactly who he was. Tomas O'Shea, a local firefighter and contractor. She'd done fundraisers with him and hosted local charities. From what she saw, he wasn't just a firefighter or contractor, he was a...Faoladh?
Faoladh's were a different breed of werewolves. They were protectors to the humans, not savages like the Lykans. They didn't hunt or kill for sport. They had morals and kept their temperament in check, unlike the Lykans. They were also allies with her kind.
The discovery shocked her and as Tomas dragged her towards the door, thought about what she saw. She worked with Tomas for so long, she never knew he was a Faoladh. She'd only met a handful of them and never in Ireland. And though she knew she was in good hands, it didn't mean she wanted him touching her. She pulled her arm away.
"Let's go, Caitlín," he tried reaching for her again, but she diverted his reach. Caitlín needed to avoid his touch at all costs if she was going to get out of the house alive.
"You don't have to touch me," she snarled.
He shrugged then continued towards the door, barking orders for her to stay close. She remained rooted in the room. Tilting her head up to the ceiling, closing her eyes, she sensed it. Daylight. Mid-afternoon. She couldn't go outside.
"Caitlín, come on," Tomas shouted.
She knew she didn't have a choice. Either burn in the house or outside. Maybe she would get lucky and the smoke covered the sun enough for her to seek cover someplace safe. The direct sunlight was harmful to her, but if it was covered in smoke and clouds, she would be okay, but only for a short period of time. Caitlín followed Tomas out the door, pulling the blanket closer to her.
When they reached the second floor, the smoke was thicker. Caitlín shrieked when a stream of sunlight coming from the southern hall window hit her barefoot. She jumped back and Tomas stopped.
He asked what happened but she ignored him, shaking her foot and cringing at the pain. Eager to get out, with her hand she motioned him to keep moving. With no choice but to vacate the house and hopes the blanket would conceal her from the sun, she pushed forward.
Tomas continued down the stairs leading to the first floor. She trailed behind him until he abruptly stopped in his tracks. She should have seen that coming, but she didn't. Her senses weren't up to par since the sun was high in the sky.
He looked back at her, tilted his head to the side, then grabbed her arm, pulling her to him.
Images swarmed before her eyes. A group of men and woman, Faoladh's she assumed, were in deep discussion. Caitlín couldn't make out what they wre saying but by the expressions on their faces, it was an intense subject. She jerked her arm free.
"Don't do that," she snapped. Why did he have to touch her? Why did he stop?
He didn't say anything, but she could see, through his mask, his eyes were darting around.
What's wrong with him? She thought, glancing passed him. There wasn't anything obstructing his path. She motioned him to continue, but he remained planted on the fifth step going down.
"Someone's here." He lowered his voice. If she'd been mortal she wouldn't have heard him.
Caitlín glanced around, not seeing anything. "There's a lot of people here. They're downstairs putting out my fire."
"No...I mean someone's up here."
She shook her head. She was on the verge of just tossing down the stairs. "I don't see anyone nor do I sense anyone up here except you and the people below."
Then he said, "We better hurry. The rear of the house is going up." But he didn't move. He just stood there like a statue.
Caitlín didn't have time to analyze him, so she shrugged him on. "Why are you standing there? Go!" She yelled.
"I know who you are. You can't go outside. Jeramyah will suck me dry."
"Umm...okay, so then why are you standing there. I'm pretty sure he'd rather you get me out of the house." Tomas was getting on her nerves. She knew the price he would pay if he didn't get her out.
"I have to think. The sun's high."
"No time to think. The sun's out, I know. But I have a place to go. Just get me there." She pushed him a little to get him to move on.
He took a step toward her but she took a step back.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, glaring at him.
"You can vanish. I know you can. Why don't you do that?"
Caitlín shook her head incredulously. "What? First of all, not all of us can do that. Second, if you knew anything about it, you would know that daylight keeps us from vanishing."
"Oh," he simply said.
Okay pal, I'm gonna throw you down the stairs if you don't get moving, she thought. Caitlín was tempted to say it instead she roared, baring her teeth, Move it Faoladh. We don't have time."
That got his attention. He quickly began running down the stairs. There was another loud noise beneath them and the house shook. Tomas staggered from side to side, trying to keep his balance. Caitlín clutched his arm to steady him. Bad move, the vision of the meeting came before her eyes. Still she wasn't able to hear them clearly. She quickly released him then continued down the stairs.
When they neared the bottom, red and orange light flickered. They slowed their pace until the reached the very bottom. Caitlín stopped, mouth gaping.
"Oh my goodness," she whispered. Hoses ran through the living and dining room from the front door to the kitchen. The floors were muddy and soaked. Dark smoke lingered along the ceiling and up the stairs. She could taste the ashes in the back of her throat. She thought she was going to choke. Caitlín needed to stop breathing to avoid it. She didn't need air to breath, only to talk and smell. She nudged Tomas to move on.
They hastily walked towards the front door until another firefighter stopped them, grabbing her arm. His thoughts rang in her ears like a freight train, random thoughts racing sporadically.
Caitlín broke from his grip. He turned, "What are you doing?"
"I'm fine," she shouted through the rumbling noise of men running and yelling here and there.
"I'll take her out," Tomas shouted.
The firefighters argued amongst themselves while she drank in the sight. The furniture was soaked with water and blackened. The windows were broken and had hoses coming through them. Mud covered the once light stained hardwood, wood chips and sheetrock scattered the floor.
Tomas yelled at her, snapping her out of her daze. She looked at him. He motioned his head towards the door. She followed him to the front door until they were outside. There was a slight overcast, which she was thankful for. Direct sunlight would, at her age, do a lot to her body and mind.
She glanced around and spotted two paramedics approaching them. Tomas reached out his arm, "No, I'll take care of her."
Oh great, Caitlín thought, rolling her eyes. She didn't want to deal with the humans, so she tucked herself further under the blanket to avoid contact with them.
She watched the activity around her, firefighters moving along the property, witnesses at the end of the driveway, some snapping pictures other with video cameras.
Caitlín needed to get out of sight. She could feel the heat of the sun baring down on her. As she turned to Tomas, she heard a rumbling sound come from Tomas' chest. She looked up at him, his mask was off, showing his big purplish eyes, blond red hair, which was mussed from his hat and wet from his sweat. His lips were pulled back, baring his big white teeth.
Then she glanced over at the medics, who were now stumbling backwards away from them with horror in their eyes. She looked back at Tomas. He stood staring at her with wide eyes and mouth gaped open, as if to catch flies.
"What?" She asked eyeing him. Why was he staring at her like that when he was the one showing off?
"Nothing," he simply said, sticking out his bottom lip, shaking his head. "How can you be so calm?"
"I'm not calm. I was about to tell you we need to move. I can feel the heat of the sun."
"Right. Where to?"
"The back of the house." She walked towards the back where her shed sat. Under it was a room, furnished and out of sight, light proof. She never used it but she had it just in case. She knew it would come in handy and fortunately, now she doesn't feel like she wasted money having it built.
Tomas followed. "Are you upset about this?" he asked.
"Yep!" Caitlín pursed her lips in annoyance. Something as drastic as this wouldn't make anyone happy, she almost said, but refrained.
"You know, the fire's back there?"
"I know, but I have a place back there." She continued walking, stepping over hoses and avoiding the firefighters. When she rounded the corner, she spotted her shed, on fire. She let out a frustrated sigh.
Tomas came up behind her, "Well, there goes that idea."
"Ya think?" she snapped.
The shed wasn't very big but since it sat closely to the kitchen, fallen debris had set it on fire.
"So what now," Tomas asked, surveying the property.
The heat of the sun was beginning to hurt. Caitlín could feel her skin heating up. Her safe place, or at least the entrance, was blocked and she couldn't go back into the house. Vanishing was out of the question. Vanishing when the sun was up, was non existent. The sun drew the energy of the power out of those who were gifted with it. It was something not all of her kind could do, only a mere handful of them existed.
She turned back to Tomas to see he'd walked to a large oak tree and a line of bushes, examining the coverage around it. "How about this? It's only for now."
"No," Caitlín hissed. There was no way she was going to hide under those particular bushes. Every time she got remotely close to them, memories would flood her brain and vision. She'd have a melt down. She still hadn't figured out why that would happen either. It was an odd reaction since they were a bunch of sticks and leaves.
"Why not?" He asked with a puzzled expression.
"Absolutely not!" She shrugged and tucked herself further under the blanket to avoid eye contact with him. Quickly glancing around, she spotted another tree with thick branches on the opposite side of the property, away from the house and the group of people at the end of the driveway. She hastily walked towards it and Tomas followed.
When they got under the tree, Caitlín examined the coverage. The heat of the sun, slowly faded. She knew the trees branches were thick enough to keep her from roasting.
Caitlín and Tomas stood watching the activity. She thought about the image she received from Tomas. The Faoladh's had a gathering. She hadn't seen so many of them in one place. Something was happening and the expressions on their faces were disturbing. Worry, anger and puzzled. She wished she could've heard what they were discussing.
"So, you're...a Faoladh?" she asked, breaking their silence. She just wanted to make sure her assumptions were correct.
"Yep," he simply answered.
"All the years we've worked together, I never would have thought."
"That's because we don't smell like dogs, unlike the Lycans," he laughed. He was right about that. Lykans smelled like dogs, so they were easily identified. Faoladh's didn't have a scent, which made them a strong element in the time of war. They passed for full blooded humans.
"Thank goodness for that. All these years. I don't think I ever come across one of you in Ireland."
"You have. O'Connor and MacDonald," he said matter of fact.
She thought about it. That would explain why the men were so close. O'Connor was the fire chief and MacDonald was the fire investigator. All three men grew up together. Now, Caitlín knew she would be properly cared for. The three of them would jump to figure out what caused the fire.
Tomas had mentioned Jeramyah, which lead her to believe, Tomas knew what she was. So she asked, "How did you know about me?" Caitlín wasn't familiar with the abilities of Faoladh's.
"I sensed it the moment I met you." He watched the property, making sure no one was listening to their conversation.
"Why didn't you ever say anything?"
"Because, I knew you were in hiding. Most of your kind come out upon meeting someone. But you, you didn't offer the information."
And Caitlín knew he was right. She didn't advertise what she was and neither did the Faoladh's. She examined the property. The house was on Stocking Lane facing west with twenty-five acres of grassy knolls as a backyard. Her nearest neighbor was about ten minutes away by vehicle, other than the one across the road.
At the end of the driveway sat five police vehicles, four fire engines and an ambulance. The ten officers were standing randomly in a line at the front to keep onlookers and reporters from coming close to the house.
She slanted a glance at Tomas and watched him. He was watching the property as well. She concentrated on his thoughts. Doesn't seem right...in the house...not an accident...up too fast. Tomas looked back at Caitlín and caught her watching him. He smirked and she returned it. Still listening to him, she heard, a beauty...Jeramyah's woman....has to be...not going to be happy...have me searching. She pulled out at that point. His thoughts weren't coming in fully. Normally, she would hear every single word, but because he was a Faoladh, she wouldn't get everything. Only a little here and there.
"I agree. Jeramyah will not be happy about this," she whispered, voicing his thoughts.
"No! He won't." He didn't seem to notice she'd said the same thing he was thinking. He looked up at the sky and she followed. The clouds were moving across the sky but kept the sun concealed, for now.
As they watched the house and the firefighters working hard, Caitlín felt a presence. She turned and saw a short robust woman running their way. Tomas stuck his arm out but Caitlín shook her head. "No. She knows," she whispered.
"Oh, Caitlín. Are you okay?" The woman said as she gave Caitlín a hug. Her voice squeaked like a squeegee on dry glass. Caitlín hugged back, keeping the blanket over her. Tomas watched the two women embrace.
"I'm fine, Roberta."
"Seems you found a good spot for the time being. This tree is so thick," Roberta said as she touched the bark and examined the coverage. The tree was indeed thick. A large oak with a canopy of leaves, no direct sunlight would shine through.
For an hour, Caitlín and Roberta watched the firefighters running here and there. The fire was much bigger now, taking up almost the entire rear of the house. Tomas had left them a few times to help, but because of what he was and knew who she was, he would always return to check on Caitlín.
When she looked up at the sky, the sun was still hidden by a cloud of smoke and clouds.
"It's time to go," Roberta said. "The sun will be setting soon. You need to rejuvenate before then. You have only an hour or two." She took Caitlín's hand and began to lead her towards the road. Caitlín love Roberta like a mother. She was a small seventy-year old woman with gray hair and baby blue eyes. Roberta's family, the O'Keeffe's, had lived across the road since the early seventeenth century. When Roberta found out that a member of the Kennedy family returned, she didn't hesitate to come by with a basket of freshly sliced Irish Soda bread.
Caitlín looked over her shoulder at Tomas, who'd returned to check on her and mouthed, "Thank you."
He gave her a stiff nod then turned to aid with other firefighters on extinguishing the flames.
Roberta and Caitlín were twenty feet from the line of officers when Caitlín heard a blast. The crowd ducked, threw their arms over their heads and screamed. Her and Roberta ducked then whipped around. Men scattered from the inferno, two of them were on fire.
Without thinking, Caitlín left Roberta, racing over to the burning men with her blanket in hand. When she reached one, she tossed it over one man. His jacket was on fire as well as his exposed hand. She could smell his flesh burning, like fried chicken. She stopped breathing so she couldn't smell the blood. The thirst would take over if she didn't. The man tried to shake her off.
"Stop moving," she breathed and continued to pat him down until the fire was out. When she went to help the other man, Tomas was already there, extinguishing the fire.
Caitlín sat on her knees next to the firefighters. She looked up at the sky and saw the clouds moving, the sun was going to peak through any second. Before she could stand, a stream of sunlight hit her right shoulder. She could feel her flesh begin to bubble. Just before she could move to throw the blanket over herself, screams came from inside the house.
With much effort, she struggled to her feet and quickly ran into the house, blanket in hand. She could hear Tomas yelling after her, telling her not to enter, but she went anyway.
The smoke leaked from all the windows on the first floor. Caitlín stood just inside the door, stopped breathing, such a convenience for her, then hastily walked through the living room.
She heard a moan coming from the dining room. Walking in the direction of the moan, she spotted a man laying on his stomach. His jacket was blackened and singed from a fire he put out himself, she assumed. A large thick wooden beam lay across his legs, pinning him. Blood seeped from the wounds onto the now blackened hardwood floor. On impulse, she raced to the man, lifted the beam at the end with ease and tossed it to the side.
Whoops, Caitlín thought. Not good. She rolled her eyes then looked down at the man. His eyes were closed. The beam would have taken two or three men to move and she just done it by herself. She was certain the man would notice she was the only one there. Nothing I can do about that now, she thought.
Caitlín knelt beside him, felt his pulse then checked his eyes. He was still alive. His eyes were responsive. She carefully turned him onto his back but made she she didn't touch his bare skin. Doing so would send images raking before her eyes. She hadn't touched Tomas' skin but he was a Faoladh, his energy seeped out of everything he wore.
The man moaned when Caitlín placed an arm under his neck to bring him into a sitting position. His eyes fluttered open and closed.
"Are you an angel?" he asked incoherently.
"No. Far from." Humans can be so ridiculous.
She rested the blanket over him then placed another arm under his legs and began lifting him. The man screamed in pain, but there was nothing she could do about it. She needed to get him to safety. Suddenly images of the man's life flashed before her eyes. He thought he was going to die.
Caitlín stumbled a little, almost dropping him, but she kept her footing. Heading towards the front door, she quickly blocked out his thoughts and images, blinking her eyes a few times to focus.
When she neared the door, Tomas stood inside the house, blocking the view of the outsiders. He quickly took the man from her arms and gave her the look that told her she better be careful. She nodded then ran back to search for more men.
Reaching the dining room, she spotted two more men not far from where she'd picked up the first. She went to them, knelt beside them. They were alive but one was unconscious. Caitlín tried to awaken him but he wouldn't rise. She gripped his arm, tried to get him to stand, hoping he'd awaken if she moved him, still nothing.
Caitlín ran into the living room, grabbed a blanket from the metal chest that sat in the corner of the room and ran back to him. Tucking the blanket under him on one side, she rolled him and pulled the other end out from under him. Placing him back onto his back, Caitlín wrapped him in the blanket. She'd have to drag him. Carrying him out the way she'd done with the previous man, would raise some questions about what she was. She'd already made that mistake, she couldn't make anymore.
She reached for the other man, he was conscious but seemed disoriented. She helped him get to his feet. "Come on, help me," she said. The man did his best. He threw his arm over her shoulders as she wrapped one of her arms around his waist. She grabbed the end of the blanket with her free hand and began dragging them toward the door.
As they haphazardly walked through the living, there was an explosion. Caitlín glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a large chunk of wood flying their way. She forced herself and the man to the ground. The wood flew past them, barely grazing the collar of the conscious man's hat. Then the ceiling in the kitchen came crashing down, sending debris of wood, sheetrock and metals in all directions. There went the second floor bedroom, she thought.
"That was close," the conscious man whispered.
"You're not kidding," she mumbled.
Then Caitlín felt something hot on her left leg. She shifted to a sitting position and saw her leg was on fire. Biting her bottom lip in pain, she grabbed a throw off the nearby couch and patted it over her leg until the flame was out. Looking over at the two men, she was thankful they hadn't seen. The conscious man had begun to drag himself towards the door. Caitlín quickly got to her feet, grabbed the blanket then helped the conscious man to stand.
Again, Tomas was waiting at the front door. He relieved her of the conscious man and ran out. The man on the blanket was still unconscious and she didn't want to carry him out of the house. Instead, she lifted him under the arms, blanket and all, and hauled him out the door, careful not to hurt him on the concrete front steps.
When Caitlín got out of the house, she gently placed the man on the ground far enough from the fire. The two paramedics from before stood gaping at her. She put her hands on her hips, acting as if the ordeal tired her, taking deep breaths and moving her long auburn hair away from her black smudged face.
"That's everyone," she said breathlessly. She glanced towards the witnesses. The reporters and witnesses were flashing cameras in her direction. There was no way to avoid them. Her face was going to be plastered all over the television.
The sun was high in the sky, she left the heat of the sun baring down on her. She tried not to appear panicked, keeping her face expressionless. If she did, the locals would discover what she was. Caitlín was going to have a hard time explaining the steam rising from her skin if anyone got a picture of this. But she couldn't move. Everything in her body froze. The sun was taking it's effects on her. Her vision blurred and all she could do was stare at the ground.
Though she couldn't see clearly, her hearing still worked. She heard Tomas yell, "Hey! Thicko! Don't just stand there. Get your arse moving."
Thank God for Tomas, she thought.
Caitlín heard the paramedics footsteps running to where Tomas stood and she assumed they were now tending to the injured. Then she saw Tomas' feet in her line of vision. She knew he saw what was happening because he grasped her arm to steer her away but she didn't move.
Again, visions of the gathered Faoladh's raked her vision. She tried to mentally shake them off but she couldn't. And she couldn't shake from his grip.
"Caitlín, you're burning," she heard him whisper in her ear. She saw his hand come into view, waving it back and forth to get her attention. Caitlín could see him but she couldn't tell him. Her voice wasn't working. She couldn't even blink.
Then Tomas' hand came up under her chin, moving her head until her eyes met his. He looked puzzled. He leaned in closer then whispered, "What's wrong? Why are you just standing there?"
Again, Caitlín couldn't respond. He knew something was wrong with her cause next thing she knew, he threw a blanket over her head, swept her off her feet and carried her to the large tree they stood before.
Tomas placed her on her feet and stared at her, with his arms crossed over his chest.
Finally, she blinked. Then he laid it into her. "What the hell are you doing?" he scolded.
"What?" she said, dazed. The sunlight not only burned her but mentally paralyzed her.
"The sun. You just stood there. What's wrong with you?" He scrutinized her.
"Please don't lecture me. The sun has a different effect on me than the others."
"Well, that stunt you pulled, going into the house, wasn't very good. Especially for you."
Caitlín's body was coming back to life, so to speak. She was able to move. She quickly looked at him, surprised. "What exactly do you mean?"
"I know what you can do. Kind of figured it out on the staircase. It's rare for your kind to have such abilities. I only knew of Jeramyah having it. But you," he pointed a finger at her, "you're a different story. I have a feeling it's stronger than his."
Damn it! She cursed. Caitlín knew he'd notice. She spoke what he was thinking and he noticed. Despite the centuries under her wings and mingling with humans, she still hadn't managed to prefect it.
"Don't worry. You have my word, nothing will be said," he added.
"Meaning?"
"I mean with the media. The paramedics and everyone else whose got their handy little cameras out. I have more than enough people to take care of them. Make sure word doesn't get out." Tomas gave her a reassuring look, then glanced at her shoulder. By the expression on his face, the wounds had healed. He added, "At least, you won't need medical attention," touching her skin with his forefinger.
Caitlín jerked away from his touch. "Please don't touch me. When you do that...things happen."
"Oh, sorry." He pulled his hand back and stuffed it into his pocket. "I think it's going to be a little hard to explain everything. The media will try to have a field day with it, but again, don't worry about it. One of us work for the new station. He'll be sure to cut everything with you out."
"Just make sure you come up with something good and convincing. I don't want to talk to them." Caitlín stayed away from media at all costs. She knew she screwed up, but those men needed saving. She was a little surprised Tomas hadn't taken the steps to do it himself, but like her, he had his secret to keep too. Faoladh's weren't public about their existence.
"Got it." He gave her a thumbs up and nodded.
Caitlín knew it was going to be easy for him to explain what happened here. Cover-up stories were a thing Faoladh's were good at. Another crashing sound came from the house. Firefighters with hoses continued running around, some in the backyard other's on the side. The fire was spreading and it was unnerving that they couldn't put it out. It'd been over two hours, at least, since the fire started.
Smoke filled the clouded sky, covering the sun even more. Making it safer for Caitlín to be out, but it didn't mean that she would jump out from under the tree.
Roberta came up behind Caitlín, took one arm and entwined it with her arm, placing her hand on it.
"O' dear. I hope it doesn't go all the way up." Roberta stood, shaking her head in disbelief. Then she said, "I remember when me grandda told me stories of me ancestors helping you folks build that house. It would be a shame to see it gone."
Tomas quickly glanced over at her then at Caitlín. You think she could talk any louder? She heard him think. Caitlín smirked then shrugged, squeezing Roberta's arm to get her to shut up. The old woman loved to talk. Fortunately, Caitlín had been lucky the woman hadn't talked about her secret to others.
"Come dear. You don't have much time left. You need to rest," Roberta said as she began to lead here away from the house, again.
Caitlín wondered how the fire started. The house was old but like Tomas, she didn't think it was an accident. Her great grandson was an electrical and had done all the wiring himself. Caitlín didn't think it could have been electrical.
When she returned to the house almost twenty years ago, she had everything inspected. Everything passed and if any repairs had to be done, it was done and she even upgraded the appliances.
Caitlín's late husband and Roberta's family built the house back in the seventeenth century, one of her children and her children's children lived in the house. She hoped years of life wouldn't be lost.
She shrugged at her thoughts since there was nothing she could do now, except to wait and find out what the damage was. Caitlín didn't want to deal with contractors, but unfortunately there was nothing she could do about that either. She didn't find a reason to make a scene of being upset. Shit happens! she thought.
Absently, Caitlín walked across the road with Roberta. The officers at the end of her property kept the reporters and witnesses away. One even escorted them onto Roberta's property and stood there, making sure no one followed.
Caitlín opened her mind and began hearing the thoughts of those around her. Oh, thank goodness she's alright...run into the house...brave woman...clothes are burned...with the paramedics...Roberta...helping others.
Before Caitlín closed her mind she heard, "Pity she didn't burn. Money doesn't make up for what she really is." She stopped walking and turned towards the crowd, scanning the faces of the witnesses. There were many people she knew but many she didn't. No one looked disgusted with her.
Whomever thought it, wasn't Irish. The accent was from America, a New Yorker. She was familiar with the accent, it was one she'd always remember. She drowned out the noise around her, turned and continued walking towards Roberta's house.
They walked past the line of trees Roberta had on front lawn. Caitlín glanced to see if anyone was watching them. When the coast was clear, Caitlín bent a little, wrapped an arm around Roberta's waist, lifting her off the ground then said, "I'm gonna try this, so hang on." With one more glimpse, just to be sure, she closed her eyes and concentrated, thinking of Roberta's front door. After a few moments, she vanished, appearing at the front step of Roberta's house.
Releasing Roberta, Caitlín rested her head on the old woman's shoulder. The energy it took from here was unbearable. Everything in her body hurt more now than it had when the sun bared down on her. Her hands were shaking, her knees felt like jello.
"Thank you dear. That was one hell of a trip. Are you okay?" Roberta asked, holding Caitlín at the waist.
Caitlín never vanished with Roberta. "Sorry. I should have warned you. No. I need to get inside and rest," Caitlín said breathlessly.
Roberta helped Caitlín inside, walking through the living room, down the tiny hall to the kitchen where the door to the basement sat. Roberta opened the door, switched on the light and helped Caitlin down the stairs. Despite Roberta's age, the woman was as strong as an ox.
Roberta placed Caitlín onto a twin size mattress then put a rosy quilt over her. "Rest now," the old woman said, brushing a strand of hair away from Caitlín's face.
She left Caitlín, switching the light off and closing the basement door.
Lying on the little twin, Caitlín thought about her house, the voice she picked up from the mob outside and the reporters. The house she could deal with, but the voice and the reporters, wouldn't be easy. She hoped Tomas would keep his word and handle everything. The voice from the crowd would have to be thought about thoroughly. She didn't recognize its source and it disturbed her. Deep in her thoughts, she drifted off to sleep.
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