Sizzle and Burn

Spicer called. “It’s me, Doug, from Spicer Properties. Where are you?”
    Zack took his fingers from her mouth. Raine didn’t realize how tense she had been until she suddenly went limp with relief. Too much stress lately , she thought.
    “My real estate agent,” she explained.
    She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm her overhyped nerves, and went out onto the landing. Gripping the railing, she looked down. Zack came to stand beside her. Doug Spicer was at the foot of the stairs, one hand on the newel post. His leather briefcase was clutched tightly in his other hand.
    “Hello, Doug,” she said. “We just came to collect a few things of my aunt’s.”
    He gave her a genial smile. “Saw Chief Langdon at the café this morning. He mentioned that you and a companion had phoned and told him you were on your way up here today.” He switched his attention to Zack. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Doug Spicer.”
    “Zack Jones,” Zack said.
    Doug nodded and turned his attention back to Raine. “I thought I’d drop by and let you know that I’ve had a nibble on the house. It’s not a very impressive offer, I’m afraid, but under the circumstances, I strongly recommend that you consider it.”
    “Are you kidding? I’ll take it, whatever it is. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that someone actually wants to buy this place.”
    “The buyer is from the Seattle area,” Doug said. “Looking for a weekend house in the mountains. I was going to fax the offer to you today but since you’re here, we might as well deal with it now.”
    “I’ll be right down.”
    “Fine. We can work at the kitchen table. I’ll get the papers ready.”
    He tightened his grip on his briefcase, turned and walked briskly toward the kitchen.
    “Looks like this is my lucky real estate day,” Raine said, starting down the stairs.
    Zack caught her wrist, halting her on the top step.
    “Wait here,” he said softly.
    She looked at him in surprise as he went quickly past her. When he reached the bottom of the stairs he flattened his hand on the newel post where Doug’s palm had been a moment earlier.
    He snatched his fingers away from the wood. He swung around and started back up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.
    “Oh, shit,” she whispered. “Not my lucky day, after all.”
    He grabbed her wrist again with one hand. He used the other to take his gun out of his shoulder holster.
    “The bedroom,” he said into her ear. “Hurry.”
    Gritting her teeth against the pain radiating from her weak ankle, she struggled to keep up with him.
    They made it to within a foot of the bedroom doorway before her ankle betrayed her. She lost her balance. Zack’s grip on her wrist kept her from sprawling but she nevertheless went down hard on one knee.
    She glanced over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of Doug Spicer through the opening between two of the banister posts. He was just inside the kitchen, using the doorway for cover.
    “ Witch! ” he screamed. He raised one hand.
    Before she could process the scene and make sense of it, Zack fell on top of her, crushing the breath from her lungs. She registered a loud staccato drumbeat of noise and felt a violent shudder go through Zack.
    Cold fire splashed violently through her senses. She knew intuitively that she was sharing Zack’s psychic reaction to the bullet that had slammed into him.
    “Zack.”
    He was moving, rolling with her into the bedroom. A second flurry of shots crashed through the house. She heard wood splinter.
    The sensation of icy fire dissipated. She knew Zack had somehow clamped down on his senses.
    Flat on his belly, he leaned through the opening and fired twice.
    “Can’t get a clear shot from here,” he said, his voice low and harsh. “Have to wait until he comes up the stairs.”
    There was a long pause from down below. Then Spicer’s voice, unnaturally shrill, reverberated up the staircase.
    “Only one way to kill a witch,” he yelled from the kitchen.
    Raine glanced at Zack. Beneath the open edge of his leather jacket she could see a terrible red stain on the side of his shirt.
    She started to move toward him.
    He motioned her toward the window. “We’ll go out that way.”
    “You’ve been hit. I need to stop the bleeding.”
    “Not now. Got to prioritize here.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    Then she caught the stench of gasoline.
    “Dear God,” she whispered. “He’s going to burn the house down with us