Dark Lightning

by Mary L. Farmer

  A wise man was ready for action at all times.

  He turned his attention to the paperwork on the kitchen table. There, he quickly gathered up his copy of the estate sale agreement and stuffed it into a zippered leather pouch, along with Miss Crosby’s checkbook and power of attorney affidavit. Difficult as it was for Venimer to tear himself away from the girl, he did, in fact, have an afternoon meeting scheduled with the old lady’s personal banker over at Newtown Federal.

  Striding to the front door, he peered out the sidelight, making sure the coast was clear. Venimer had grown weary of putting on the ‘feeble old man act’ day in and day out, but it was an integral part of his cover. If others suspected him capable of deceit or treachery, they would be more watchful over all his actions.

  Seeing no one in the yard, Venimer hurried down the front steps and climbed into the Buick, eager to transact Crosby’s business as quickly as possible and plan his next move.

  He sped toward Newtown, eagerly looking forward to the day when Haven accompanied him away from here. The dangerous journey they would both endure to reach paradise would be well worth the risks.

  Once they finally reached their destination, she would be his captive. There, he could possess the girl completely, educate her to his particular ‘tastes.’ He would protect her, dress her in the finest clothes, the most exquisite jewels. What’s more, where they were going, she would be utterly alone in the world, with no hope of returning to her old life again. She’d have no choice other than to become his bride—the mistress of his empire.

  He licked his bottom lip, savoring that last, delicious, image.

  Patience—you’ve waited decades for this, you can wait a little longer.

  Haven Meadows, the beautiful, golden-tressed girl—the one who so closely resembled his beloved Saundrine, his long-lost love—would soon be his forever.

  ***

  Haven walked unsteadily across the flagstone courtyard, feeling stupid. How did I not see that coming? To think she’d willingly gone up to the attic alone with Claude Venimer made her skin crawl. God, what is he, some kind of pervert who preys on young girls?

  She glanced back at the house, then moved quickly toward the path to the sheds. Judging by his sophisticated manner, Venimer had likely been quite a ladies’ man many years before. Those old-school, debonair types who labored under the (mostly false) impression that they had ‘a way’ with women were usually harmless, but in Venimer’s case, Haven wasn’t so sure.

  Something about his stare was chilling. His eyes had a cold, unfeeling, emptiness that made Haven shudder. And that gold signet ring—she was sure it meant something. Otherwise, why did it look so familiar?

  Still, it wasn’t the first time she’d been touched by a stranger. Heck, she and Kristy had gotten groped plenty of times by dirtbags on the subway. It was irritating but not that big of a deal—you just dealt with it and moved on with your life. Okay, Venimer had touched her inappropriately. But other than creeping her out, how much actual harm was done?

  If she told Brian and Rich, her overprotective brother might get angry and pull out of the auction altogether. His company would lose a big commission. And if Stockton Estate Sales didn’t get paid, she didn’t get paid. Next Friday was the deadline for her final tuition payment, and her car was in the shop.

  Haven sighed. Keeping quiet…for now...would probably be best.

  “There you are, Haven,” Rich said to her cheerfully as she reached the sheds. “I was wondering what happened to you.” He adjusted some papers on his clipboard and winked at her. “Victor says you were busy flirting with Claude Venimer.”

  Haven smiled weakly. “He gave me a tour of the farmhouse.”

  Brian and Victor were in the process of dragging old farm implements outside to be priced. “It’s supposed to rain tonight. Won’t this stuff get wet?” Victor asked.

  “Probably, but I don’t think it’s possible for them to get any rustier, do you?” Rich countered. He walked over to a gray, weathered building. “Let’s take a look in this old garage over here.”

  Brian and Victor each grabbed an edge of the old, wooden garage door. It rolled aside with some difficulty, revealing a jumble of tractor parts and a vintage car coated with so much dust that it looked brown.

  Victor rubbed the end of his sleeve against the hood and let out a low whistle. “Oh, man…this is an old Electra. I’d say nineteen-sixty-three, maybe sixty-four. Original black paint. Near mint condition, too. My cousin Javier would totally freak over this.”

  “Maybe you should bring him to the auction Monday,” Rich suggested.

  “Yeah, I might do that.”

  Haven gazed absently at the tools lying in the grass. “So…what do you guys want me working on next?” she asked, eager to keep busy and get her mind off Venimer.

  “Oh, right.” Rich glanced at his watch. “Can you check out the barn? Venimer says nothing’s in there, but we have a chance of rain on Monday, and I want to make sure it’s empty in case we have to move the auction indoors. After that, maybe you and Victor can get a start on the kitchen before we head over to see Miss Crosby in a couple of hours. We can finish the rest tomorrow.”

  Haven walked over to a stack of empty bins and grabbed one. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Venimer had to leave. Said to tell you he’ll meet you later at the nursing home.”

  “All right,” Rich said. “Hey, you want to come with us to Newtown later on? Meet the owner?”

  “Um…” Haven shifted awkwardly. She wanted to avoid any further encounters with Miss Crosby’s lecherous attorney. “You know what…I’m sort of tired. If you guys don’t mind, I’ll stay here and help Victor with the kitchen. Mr. Venimer gave me the house keys, so we can lock up before we leave.”

  “Be careful in that barn,” warned Brian. “It’s falling apart. And don’t go up to the hayloft—God only knows what kind of shape the floor’s in. Here, take this.” He dropped a flashlight into the bin Haven was carrying. “There’s no electricity out there,” he explained.

  The wind picked up as Haven made her way down the path to the barn. She shivered, glad she was wearing her heavy wool cardigan today. Still, she stopped and set down the bin to button the sweater. Long strands of hair lashed her in her face and she pulled an elastic band out of her pocket to tie it all back.

  “Haven.” Victor caught up to her as she was raking her hair into a ponytail. “Hey, you okay?”

  “Um…yeah. Why?”

  “It’s just that you seemed…I don’t know…kinda upset or something back there.”

  “No. I’m fine,” said Haven, adjusting her ponytail and avoiding Victor’s suspicious eyes.

  “You sure? Hey, it’s not Venimer, is it? Did he say something to you back at the house?”

  “I—no. Well, kind of. He…I don’t know.”

  Victor frowned. He stepped closer and lifted her chin with his finger. “Hey…we’re friends, right? You know you can tell me anything.”

  Victor’s concern was flattering, but if she told him about Venimer he’d go straight to Brian. “I know.” Haven gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s nothing, really.”

  “Okay…if you say so…” Victor looked her up and down carefully, as if he could determine what was bothering her by her appearance. “Just want to make sure you’re okay, amiga. I hope you haven’t been studying too hard.”

  Haven picked up the plastic bin, shuffling backward toward the barn. “Well, it’s kind of a necessity. But only if I want to graduate someday.”

  Victor flashed her a wide smile. “You know if college doesn’t work out, you can always marry me,” he said, tapping his well-defined chest with his hand.

  Haven rolled her eyes. “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Aw, c’mon, you could be living in the lap of luxury—champagne and caviar and all that. Okay, maybe not caviar, because I can’t stand that crap.”

  “Me neither.” She laughed. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Her mood con
siderably lightened by Victor’s casual flirting, Haven strolled in the direction of the barn. She was more than a little attracted to him—he had a lean, athletic build, a great smile, and he was a good guy who actually cared about others.

  However, Victor was also six years older than she and worked three jobs to pay alimony, child support and the mortgage for his ex-wife and little girl while he crashed on a friend’s sofa. Haven was a full-time student and either worked at her sister-in-law’s B&B or her brother’s auction company on the weekends. Their crazy schedules had so far prevented any kind of a relationship from blooming.

  That, and the possibility that Brian had threatened to beat the hell out of Victor if he ever touched her. Yeah, Brian could have done that.

  The old barn loomed ahead, its silvery-grey planks broken in places, whole sections missing in others. Thick patches of moss grew on the roof.

  “Geez…this thing’s one storm away from caving in,” Haven muttered, thrashing her way through piles of damp leaves and tall grass. Scraggly bushes grew haphazardly in front of the large barn doors, which had long ago been boarded up. She went around to the side and saw a Dutch door.

  “Hey, uh…Haven?”

  She jumped, startled to hear Victor’s voice right behind her. “Oh my God, Victor, you scared me! I thought you went back to the shed.”

  “Sorry.”

  Victor hesitated, considering something. He also seemed a little nervous, which wasn’t like him at all. “So, like, I was wondering if you’d wanna go grab something to eat later. When we’re done for the day.”

  Haven shrugged. “Yeah, sure.” The auction team often went out together as a group after work. “Rich was talking about stopping at the Brick in Newtown.”

  Victor cleared his throat, then moved through the grass and leaned against the side of the barn. “Actually, I meant just you and me. You know, alone.”

  “What, like a date?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you, girl? Yeah, a date.”

  Haven bit her lip. “I’m sorry. It’s just that…” she trailed off.

  Just that what? That I’ve had a massive crush on him for years and now that he’s finally asked me out I don’t know how I feel about it?

  Victor kicked at some weeds with the toe of his work boot. “You’re surprised, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, maybe a little…” She blushed. God, why am I getting all tongue-tied? It’s only Victor. “But not that much, I guess.”

  “So what do you think?”

  “I’d like that, only…”

  Victor’s eyes lit up at her words. “I’ve already talked to Brian, and he’s cool with it, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

  Haven gaped at him. “You told my brother you were asking me out?! Oh my God, Victor. I may live with Brian and Amy, but they’re not my parents!”

  “Well I kinda had to, didn’t I?” he said defensively. “Dude’s one of my best friends. It would be totally wrong to creep around with his little sister behind his back. That’s not how I roll.” Victor glanced in the direction of the sheds. “Besides, man, he’d totally kick my ass.”

  Haven laughed. “I see what you mean.”

  “You’re not mad, are you?”

  “No. But we’ve known each other for so long. Us dating just seems a little weird, that’s all.”

  Victor’s earlobes reddened slightly. “Yeah, I know. It does to me too. The truth is, though, I’ve wanted to ask you out for a really long time. But I’m older than you and I didn’t want people to think…” He faltered and began picking at a broken piece of siding. “I just wanted to wait until you were…um…”

  “You didn’t want to rob the preschool?” Haven said teasingly.

  Victor laughed once and nodded. “Yes. I had to wait until you were…older.”

  “I get it. I’m eighteen now, right? So everything’s cool.”

  “Yeah,” he said, hooking his thumbs into his pants pockets and grinning. “Something like that.”

  Victor’s bright white smile seemed to light up the side of the barn, and Haven blushed again. There was an awkward pause. She swallowed. Ugh, why does this feel so strange?

  “Okay, so…I’ll see you later, then,” Victor said, starting toward the sheds.

  “Yeah, later.”

  As she watched him walk away, Haven felt a little bewildered. Wow, I did not see that coming. Maybe after she and Victor hung out more often, things would start to seem less uncomfortable between them. I’d better get the barn squared away so we can start on the kitchen. That way we can talk some more.

  Haven pulled hard on the Dutch door, and it creaked open on rusted hinges.

  ELEVEN

  THE INSIDE OF THE BARN was dark and chilly as Haven crept in. Tattered cobwebs drooped across the horse stalls and floated to and fro in the breeze. A few grimy window panes set high on the wall provided a bit of relief from the gloom, and here and there gaps in the siding admitted stripes of sunlight. From its derelict condition, the barn likely hadn’t been used for many decades.

  Almost immediately, Haven’s nose was assailed by the rank smell of rotting flesh. Once her eyes adjusted to the low light, she spied the source of the odor: A sizable, partially picked-over carcass of some unfortunate critter lay in the dirt near one of the horse stalls.

  “Ugh…yuck.”

  Haven made sure to breathe through her mouth as she skirted the mangled animal remains and walked toward an open space near the front of the barn. Then she switched on the flashlight and shined it up into the hayloft, which appeared to be empty—at least from her angle. A wooden ladder leaned crookedly against the edge of the loft, but it was in such a poor state that she decided not to risk climbing up.

  Haven surveyed the rest of the barn. Aside from a few ancient leather harnesses likely to disintegrate at the slightest touch, Venimer was right—nothing in here was worth adding to the inventory.

  On her way out, she spied a small bench in the far corner, and went over to sit down and rest for a moment. Weirdly enough, being alone in the shadowy, decaying barn had a calming effect on her. She removed one of her UGG boots to pull up a sock that had worked its way down to her instep.

  Haven took advantage of the silence to collect her thoughts. This was turning out to be one of the most bizarre weekends she’d had since school started, and it was only half over. First, she’d undergone quite an ordeal at the hypnotist show yesterday, and today the vision of the slave woman in the cellar had turned her around. Then...Venimer’s wandering hands and Victor’s surprise offer of a dinner date.

  Victor. Haven grinned to herself, suddenly warming to the idea of dating him. For years she’d been wondering what it would be like to feel Victor’s sensual-looking lips pressed against her own.

  Tonight, she would likely find out.

  She bent down to slip her suede boot back on.

  “Aaagghhhh!”

  Haven cried out, for she was suddenly seized with an intense stabbing in her side. The agony was the same she’d experienced in the cellar, only this time, it was joined by another scorching pain, one that seared the tender skin on her right hand. She stared in horror at her empty hand—she saw no logical reason for her to feel as though she were holding hot coals.

  Tears of fear and frustration sprang to Haven’s eyes. She stumbled off the bench, holding her wrist. “I don’t understand…what’s happening to me?” she choked out, her voice echoing through the moldering rafters.

  As if in answer, an enormous brown bird settled on the edge of a large hole in the roof and stared down into the barn, its sharp black eyes seemingly trained on the floor. Haven was astonished to see it was an eagle.

  The creature unfurled its large brown wings and let out a long, plaintive shriek.

  Incredibly, Haven’s pain immediately vanished.

  That’s so strange. It’s as if it heard me…and came to help.

  The eagle s
hrieked again.

  Panting with relief, Haven looked over at the dead animal on the ground, then back up at the hole in the roof.

  “Okay, take it easy,” she said to bird. “You can have your nasty dinner. I’m leaving.” Haven pulled on her boot and released a deep sigh. She’d better take some ibuprofen in case the weird pain came back. She had some in her messenger bag, but she’d left the bag in Brian’s car.

  The eagle screeched yet again, and for a brief moment, Haven’s mind echoed with one word: HAYLOFT.

  The sound played over and over in her head as if bouncing off the sides of a steep canyon. The hayloft? No, that ladder wasn’t safe…and Brian said not to go up there.

  HAYLOFT.

  All at once, Haven stood up and moved trance-like toward the rickety ladder.

  “I’m going up to the hayloft,” she announced giddily to the lifeless carcass on the ground. Several flies flew off its mangled fur as she staggered past it. Tucking the flashlight into her waistband, Haven climbed to the second floor and crawled a few feet away from the edge before standing.

  Her stomach sank in disappointment. She saw nothing up in the hayloft but scattered bits of—big surprise—hay. I must be out of my freaking mind.

  Haven walked around the perimeter of the space, shining the flashlight on the wide wooden planks and kicking straw aside with her UGGs. Then she stopped near one of the far corners and began to laugh hysterically. This is really stupid. Nothing’s up here.

  “Are you happy now, you psychotic bird?” she yelled at the hole in the roof.

  But the eagle was no longer there.

  Haven huffed, her breath visible in the cold air of the dark barn. Time to go back to the farmhouse…where it’s warm. Stepping forward, she heard a sharp crack and froze. A second later, the 250-year-old plank gave way beneath her boot and she tumbled sideways, her right leg plunging into the space below.

  “Aaaahhhh!”

  The flashlight flew from Haven’s hand and skittered across the hayloft floor. She struggled to sit up, being careful to distribute her weight so her whole body didn’t fall through.