Page 14 of Bound By Blood
“What happened?”the voice demanded.
Caro gawked at thedoor. Whowasthis douchebag? What right did he think he hadto such intimate information?
“That’s none ofyour business!” she snapped.
She turned andstalked toward the back room. She didn’t want to be near herparents’ blood, but sherefusedto talk to thisinconsiderate asshole anymore.
As she walked, shekicked aside the container she’d brought with her, and it skatedinto a shelf where it crashed with a loud clatter. Some of thestatues rattled but quickly settled into place again.
Caro’s gaze wentto the swords, knives, and other assorted weaponry lining the wallbehind the cash register. Though they were mostly decoration astheir blades were dull, and they weren’t available for sale, theywere still exquisitely crafted and valuable to anyone who knewweaponry.
Her father didn’tfeel comfortable selling them to the public, but even if theyweren’t their best work, he was proud of the weapons the two ofthem had forged. He loved showing them off.
None of them werestolen either. If a murderer was going to break in and takesomething, it would be one of those masterpieces that could easilybecome a fun kill toy for them.
Her father createdmany beautiful pieces of work, but his real talent lay in forgingweapons. What he could do with a sword made Damascus steel lookweak.
“Who are you?” theannoying voice demanded.
Caro didn’t replyas she lifted a small sword from where her dad had secured itbehind the register. The weapons on the wall were all decorations,but they had hidden a couple away that could slice and dice anenemy.
She adjusted herhold on the hilt as she pushed through to the back. Not only hadher father taught her how to create these magnificent weapons, buthe also taught her how to wield them. If that imbecile tried tocome inside, she’d chop him into little pieces.
At this point, shedidn’t care if he was human, vampire, or Savage. She wouldn’ttolerate his disrespect, and she would defend herself if it becamenecessary.
With angersteeling her spine, she stormed over to where her parents’ bodiesonce lay. She froze when she spotted the blood staining theconcrete floor.
After what theydid to her parents, blood should have stained everything, but onlya couple of larger spots marred the floor and dotted the wall. Atremor worked through her as memories of that awful day bombardedher.
Whoever did thisleft her parents in pieces. The first officer to arrive ran outsideand threw up; Clarice was a shaking, babbling mess. While Carodidn’t like messing with the minds of others, one of the bestthings she ever did was take this memory from those who witnessedit.
They’d slaughteredher parents and left them behind like they were little more thangarbage. Her mother, once so beautiful, was barely recognizableafter the damage they did to her face. Her father wasn’t muchbetter.
His wallet laybeside him; it was open to a picture of her. He had many picturesof her and her mom in there; it would have been impossible for itnot to have fallen open to one of them, but recalling it now madeher stomach turn.
Some of her angerdiminished as she set the sword on a box and knelt to examine thefloor. She had no idea what she was looking at or for as shestudied the pattern.
For the firsttime, it occurred to her that one of the bastards who did thismight be at the front door. Her mind hadnotbeen workingright since the death of her parents, and if she wasn’t careful,she’d end up like them.
Closing her eyes,Caro worked to push down her grief so she could think past it. Whatif their killer was out there now?
She would have tokill them. And she had no problem with that.
She didn’t knowwhat to do with her life, but if she got the chance, she would huntdown and slaughter every vampire who had something to do with this.The only problem was, she had no idea where to start or how to dosomething like that.
But if the one outthere was a murderer….
Then she realized,if he’d killed them, he wouldn’t have been asking about her father.He wouldn’t be here looking for him and would already know whathappened.
Still, it didn’tmatter; the man was a jerk.
Or… he could bepretending. She glanced back toward the swinging door, but he’dstopped knocking or trying to talk through the door.
They kept theircleaning supplies in a closet back there. Rising, she reclaimed thesword she’d crafted and weaved her way through the suppliescluttering the back. She’d get the mop, scrub brush, bucket, andbleach. She’d get rid of the blood, and then….
Well, that was thequestion of the day. Then what?
Maybe she couldfigure out a way to discover who did this, but she didn’t knowwhere to start. Cameras were mounted over the back door and outsideother stores along this main strip of road, butnoneof themgot a good view of the killers.
