At Wick's End (Book 1 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF Page B

apartment until I had a brand-new lock in place, and the only
key to it.
     
    Going through some of the other boxes as I
waited for the locksmith, I found the two-foot candle I’d picked up
earlier to defend myself and decided it was one worth keeping. I
don’t know what made me do it, but I put it on the countertop at
the bar and lit it with an igniter I found in one of the drawers.
Ordinarily I wasn’t a big fan of scents in candles, but this one
had an aroma of cinnamon that made me think of Snickerdoodle
cookies, a treat Belle had baked for me as a kid. I decided to burn
it an hour a night in honor of Belle, my own tribute to her. As the
wick took life, I found myself finally beginning to experience the
grief of losing her. Delayed reaction, I guess. A tear ran down my
cheek and struck the flame. It wasn’t enough to put the fire out,
but it did cause it to sputter for a moment before jumping back to
life.
    It was as if Belle herself was telling me
not to waste any tears on her. The words of her letter echoed in my
mind again, and I decided this simple tribute was more in order for
a life well led than any service or eulogy.
    It was the best way to say good-bye I could
imagine.
    It’s always hard for me to sleep in strange
places, and I there were few stranger than the second floor of
River’s Edge when the complex was deserted. I tossed and turned
until I finally tired of fighting it. Instead of lying there with
my eyes wide open staring at the ceiling, I decided it might be a
good time to do a little more exploring in the candle shop
downstairs. There was one thing to be said for Belle’s arrangement:
it certainly made commuting between work and home easier. As I
walked outside to get into the shop, I saw a brief flash of light
in the distance, accompanied by a muted rumbling, but it was too
far away to matter to me. I had work to do. I had my key in the
store’s front door lock when movement caught my attention out of
the comer of my eye. The bushes near the building shook slightly,
and I wondered if it was just the wind, or perhaps something more
ominous.
    “ Who’s there?” I called out
into the night.
    There was no answer, and I thought about
checking it out more thoroughly, but the darkness was getting to
me. I decided the best place for me to be was on the other side of
that locked door. I didn’t really breathe again until I was safely
inside. No doubt it had just been my imagination, but I still felt
better with all the lights of the shop blazing.
    I was so lost in the world of candles in At
Wick’s End that the storm was on me before I realized what was
happening. There was a flash of light, followed almost immediately
by the crack of thunder, and instantly I was plunged into
darkness.
    River’s Edge was without power, and I was
alone in a strange place in complete and utter blackness.
    Right on its heels, another explosion of
lightning ripped through the night, blinding me for an instant as
the candle-making shop was bathed in sudden white light. I
remembered seeing boxes of decorative matches near the cash
register, so I felt my way toward it between flashes of lightning.
Outside, the rain was drumming against the windows like fists
hammering urgently to get in. I struck a match and followed its
brief light to the display candles up front. Grabbing the nearest
twisted taper, I lit it, feeling instantly better now that I had my
own source of light. It was amazing how much illumination it
offered. The flickering flame from the candle in my hand was no
match for the next burst of lightning though. As the brutal force
of the flash vanished, it was followed almost instantly by a
thundering roar that shook me so violently I nearly dropped the
candle. I could smell the burning ozone in the air as I fought to
get my sight back.
    My eyes were just starting to clear when
another flash of lightning blasted into the room.
    Even worse luck, I happened to be looking
toward one of the bay windows in front of