Free Art's Blood by Vicki Lane

frowned as she realized that the siren was getting much closer. She stepped quickly out to the porch and listened; yes, it must be just down the road on Ridley Branch.
    With an abrupt gurgling noise the siren stopped and Elizabeth was horrified to see a red glow tinting the night sky, just in the direction of Dessie’s house. Pushing her feet into her boots, she started for her car, then turned and hurried back to the guest room.
    “Kyra!” She rapped urgently on the door. “Kyra, wake up!” There was no sound within. Elizabeth opened the door and said again, “Kyra—” The light from the hallway revealed an empty bed. The French door leading outside stood ajar.
    Elizabeth hesitated. The path beyond the door led down the mountain by way of Ben’s cabin. Maybe Kyra had—
    “Dammit, Elizabeth, don’t just stand there,” she said aloud. Stepping out the open door, she faced Ben’s cabin. Lights were still on and for once he didn’t have his music turned up loud. “Ben!” She pitched her voice to carry, and called again. “Ben!”
    Almost immediately the cabin door opened and Ben emerged, wearing only boxer shorts. “Aunt E?” He peered into the night, straining to see. “Is something wrong?”
    “I think there’s a fire down on the road— maybe Dessie’s place! We’d better go down and see. Is Kyra…” She paused. “Have you seen Kyra?”
    “No,” he called back, sounding puzzled. “Isn’t she over there? Gimme a second to get some clothes on and I’ll meet you at the car. You might want to grab some rakes and shovels in case they need help with brush fires.”
    As Elizabeth went back through the house she called Kyra’s name but still there was no response. She was throwing two rakes and a shovel into the back of her jeep when Ben appeared, clubbing his long hair back into a doubled-up ponytail. The dogs were howling again and more sirens could be heard. “Did you find Kyra, Aunt E?” he asked as they hurtled down the road.
    “Not a sign of her. I don’t understand—” Her words were cut off by the sight of Dessie’s house, windows glowing red and flames shooting from the roof. Three fire trucks were parked in the yard of the little house, and yellow-suited volunteer firemen aimed heavy fire hoses at the conflagration.
    Ben and Elizabeth left the jeep at the foot of their drive and sprinted across the paved road to the fire. It seemed confined to the house; the barn that The 3 had used as a studio was untouched, and the surrounding vegetation, still damp from a heavy rain the day before, was not in danger of burning.
    “Jerry!” Ben hurried over to a heavyset man who, though completely togged out in firefighting gear, was leaning against the truck and seemed to be observing, rather than engaged in, the work at hand. “Was there anyone in the house? The girl who lives here—”
    “She’s over under that tree, Ben. Howdy, Miz Goodweather. Yep, that little gal come runnin’ down your road just about time we got here. Said she had her a feelin’ somethin’ was wrong. Tried to run in the house after some of her things but we had to stop her. She’s all tore up about it, some picture of her mama, I believe she said.”
    In the glare of the fire engine headlights, Elizabeth could see Kyra leaning against the trunk of the big sugar maple that dominated the little yard. The girl was looking away from the house, and once again she was obsessively rubbing the tattooed roses on her left hand. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and she didn’t turn when Elizabeth sat down beside her.
    “I couldn’t sleep,” Kyra said softly. The words were soft and devoid of emotion. “I could hear music over at Ben’s cabin and thought I’d go over and talk to him for a while. There was a flashlight there by the bed and I thought I could find the way. But when I got outside, I had this funny feeling that something was wrong and I just started walking down the road. Then I heard sirens and I