“What?”
Dom let go of my wrist to point at the shadeling. “Are there innocent things in danger here?”
What the hell did he care? But I couldn’t stop myself from blurting out, “Yeah.”
He took a deep breath and straightened. His eyes were still wide. There was still a bit of tremor to his hands, but when he spoke, his voice felt like the only steady thing in the world. “Are we going to do something about this or what?”
Nothing like a crisis to snap a guy out of a justified panic. I’d have to explain things to him. Later. When the crisis passed and he remembered how pissed he was. At the moment, he wanted to help. I had to try to be grateful. I nodded and pulled away.
“Right. Okay. Let’s go.”
I took off down the hall, boots thudding like hammer blows against the tile.
As soon as I charged through the double doors and outside, the acrid stench of smoke washed over me like a wave on the air. My stomach turned. All I could picture was a smoking heap of embers where my home had been and God, oh God, another home ruined because of those monsters.
Dom veered off toward Grey Elm, where most of the nicer houses in town were. I could have just let him go. Clearly he had no idea where I really lived. Probably would have been better to handle this alone. But the shadelings were in danger. I could use all the help I could get. I grabbed the back of his shirt.
“This way,” I barked as I charged down the road to the edge of town. Dom jerked back and ran close behind, huffing and puffing. I should have been tired, too, but I couldn’t feel it. It was like my whole body was made of lightning. As I ran, I dug my ancient cell phone out of my pocket. My fingers shook, making it impossible to dial.
991 … 992 … 891 … 911!
“911, what’s your emergency?” came the well-rehearsed greeting.
“My house is on fire,” I gasped. “7 Gosling Road. I-It’s the only house, it’s on the hill at the end near the woods.”
“All right, miss. Are you inside the house?”
“No, just … just get there.”
“Miss, please don’t hang—”
The phone slipped from my grip when I saw it. Atop the hill, my house burned like a bonfire. Black smoke billowed from the windows, orange flames dancing within. The wind blew sparks away, right into the rowan tree at the gate. Here and there, tiny fires lit our protective tree up, its red berries falling like fireballs onto the ground.
“Yes ma’am … yeah, no, of course,” Dom said, holding my abandoned phone to his ear. He must have picked it up. With a sharp whistle, he gestured to me. “Uh, the emergency lady says we need to stay outside and wait for—”
Like hell. I raced up the hill, through the iron gate, and grabbed the water hose from the side of the house. The old iron handle was warm to the touch as I twisted it. Water spewed out, turning the dirt beneath my boots to mud in seconds. Dom nearly dropped the phone.
“Are you kidding me?!”
Well, as long as he was around. “Take this. Break the windows, spray inside,” I said, shoving the hose at him.
Dom scrambled to take the hose and succeeded in spraying himself in the face. He sputtered. “What? Okay, where are you—are you crazy?”
Well, couldn’t call the boy dumb. I tore off my jacket and shoved it under the spray.
“Just spray it inside whatever room looks worst,” I ordered. “I need to get everything living out of there.”
Dom gaped like a fish on land, and for a second I thought he was going to bolt. But he snapped back to scared-but-functional. Hopefully, the notion of living things in actual danger would be enough to keep him from turning heel and running while I was inside. And if he did? Well. He probably should have already, anyway. I charged inside, the wet jacket pressed to my face. It was easier if I didn’t really think about it. One step at a time.
Step one: Don’t touch the doorknob. There might be fire on the other side.
Crrrack! The doorframe splintered under my boot as I kicked it in.
Step two: Get low. The number one threat in a fire was smoke inhalation.
I dropped to the floor, still holding the jacket over my face. The tile was warm against my bare hand as I shuffled across the floor. It was hard to see anything through the clouds of black smoke. Dimly, I could just make out the misty forms of shadelings shuffling back and forth, carrying anything and everything they could find to toss out the windows. One scrambled across the living room holding a loaf of bread, only to drop it in favor of the remote control, only to drop that so it could grab a throw pillow.
“Get out!” I cried, then choked as my chest began to burn. The shadelings squealed, swarming around me. I waved at them, shouting through my damp jacket. “Go, go.”
“Missy, the worst of the fire’s in your room.”
“We tried to throw water on it.”
Then a lot of Welsh I couldn’t follow. Crap, I’d really let the language slip, hadn’t I? My head began to spin. I didn’t have much time. I pointed at the door and waited until the first couple of them disappeared before I scrambled forward. Smoke swirled above me, sucked out through the open windows. No. Not open. Under each one was a smattering of glass. Broken.
At this point, step three might have told me to get out of the house … too bad personal safety rules only went so far when you had fairies on your ass. I crawled forward, eyes locked on the shards. There had to be a clue.
There, right in the middle of the mess, were the remains of a broken bottle. Brown. Not window glass. Looked like the Unseelie were familiar with Molotov cocktails. Lucky for me, the one intended for the living room lay in flameless pieces. A dud. I snatched a blanket off the back of the couch and gathered as many shards as I could in one hand.
The world went hazy at the edges. I had to get out. Not much air, but …
If you could only grab one thing, what would it be?
I shuffled along the hall to my room. Fire licked the walls. Through the haze of smoke, a spray of water peppered the floor. Whoever this Dom guy was, he was reliable. But it wasn’t enough. My room wasn’t safe. There went everything I had.
What would you grab?
No time to think. Thinking would slow me down. I stumbled forward, hands full, and charged into Dad’s room. He kept Mum’s jewelry in an old wooden box under his bed, doling out bits and pieces to me for important milestones. Her opal earrings on my thirteenth birthday. A gold chain on my sixteenth. Those would be lost, now, but the rest of it would be there in that box. A lifetime of memories to save or to lose.
Dad’s room was farthest from mine and, as such, the coolest in the house. I almost dropped the jacket from my face. No. Keep to the rules. No sense in saving something if I couldn’t live to enjoy it.
I set the blanket with the glass shards aside and dug single-handed under the bed. Amidst the half-used tubes of wrapping paper and old shoes, I felt it: polished wood with delicate carvings in the grain.
I sucked in a sharp breath, then hacked as the hot air singed my lungs. Black spots danced in front of my eyes. I shoved the box in the blanket with the glass and tied the whole thing like a satchel. Couldn’t go back the way I came. Too hot. I wouldn’t last.
I glanced at Dad’s window, the buggy one he kept complaining that he could never open on nice nights. Possibly the one window in the house that hadn’t been smashed open.
Well, what was one more busted window? I took a deep breath and kicked. Glass shattered outward as fresh air rushed inside, whooshing against my skin like a kiss from the fresh air itself. I gulped in a deep breath and scrambled out, careful not to touch the jagged bits of window with my bare hands.
The second my feet touched the ground, my knees buckled. I crashed down into the yard, pressing my cheek against the grass, sucking in fresh, clean oxygen. Distant sirens wailed. Looks like the authorities finally bothered to show up. I took another deep breath, then wheezed. Well, maybe I could take just a couple of minutes to catch my second wind. I’d earned i
t, hadn’t I?
“Bryn?”
So much for my second wind. With a groan, I pushed myself to my feet, leaving the jacket on the ground. A pair of Doms stood over me, their faces the color of soot. Right. He’d been close to the fire. I blinked up at him, waiting for the two Doms to become one.
“Leave the hose in the window,” I wheezed. “Firefighters’ll take care of the rest.”
“You are out of your mind,” Dom accused, but there was a glimmer of something like exhilaration sparkling in his eyes. “I saw more of those things come out of the windows. Was that all of them?”
He was a bleeding psycho, that’s what he was. Raging fire and all he cared about was the safety of a bunch of creatures he didn’t believe in an hour ago. Of all the guys in school I could have attacked …
“I have to go,” I said, taking a step forward. Okay. No. Maybe not such a good idea. I wobbled and might have fallen back down if he hadn’t caught me. Boy, he was strong. Or maybe he just seemed that way, since he was the only thing keeping me from the ground.
“Hey, impulse control! You’re in no condition to go anywhere,” he insisted, holding me tight. “Seriously, what was so important that you had to stay in there?”
Mum’s jewelry box.
“I needed to know who caused the fire.” That was the smart answer. That was the one I had to work with, anyway. It was an answer I could move forward with.
“If you think I’m going to let you just take off after—”
“Fine, then come with me,” I huffed, clutching the blanket to my chest. “Just don’t get in my way.” I pulled away and managed to stagger to the back gate without falling flat on my face. I probably should have felt bad about not being able to save anything else. Later, when it really hit me, I probably would. For now, this was easier.
“Well … w-what about the fire trucks?”
“They’re professionals,” I snapped back, my heart pounding. I needed to get out of here. Get answers. Breathe. “But please, feel free to hang around someone else’s house and try to explain how it caught on fire. I’m sure they’d love to hear it. But I’ve got to go.”
“Well, I’m not letting you wander off to get yourself killed!” He tromped behind me. “I don’t want that on my conscience. Did anyone ever tell you you’re completely insane?”
“All the time.”
For once, the woods didn’t feel like some kind of malevolent force out to get me. Maybe it was because, for once, I wasn’t alone. The rich smell of earth and pine fought the lingering smoke in my nose. The shade and the damp air were like a cool balm on my hot face. I probably had burns. Couldn’t be too serious if I still felt them, right? The serious burns didn’t hurt. This pain meant I still had nerve endings.
“This doesn’t feel right. Where are we going? And who would even want to do that to someone’s house? And what was that thing in the bathroom? And why were there so many of them in your house? They just disappeared when they got out. Where did they go?” Dom babbled, lumbering down the path like an elephant at a tea party. Was there a single twig or branch he’d left unsmashed?
I tried to whirl around to tell him to shut up, but apparently smoke inhalation wasn’t good for whirling. The world pitched sideways. I stumbled, catching myself on a tree. Usually this was the point when the shadelings would pop out of nowhere and demand to know what was wrong. Except I’d told them not to show up if anyone else was around.
Dom was on me in a second, hovering like a persistent fly. “Oh my God, you need water. I don’t have my water bottle. Uh … berries. Those have liquid in them. How do you tell the poisonous ones from the safe ones? Shit, should we get you to a hospital? Hey! Don’t pass out on me!”
He was more suffocating than the smoke had been. I set the blanket down on the path so I could shove him away. Dom stumbled back, his eyes wide. Now he looked like a wounded puppy. Great.
“What the hell?” I snapped, sagging against the tree.
Dom blinked, and the wounded puppy was replaced with an irritated cat. “I think that’s more my line right now.”
“No, seriously. What the hell?” My head began to spin, and Dom went blurry. I groaned and sank down to the ground. Pine needles crackled underneath me, sounding just like the fire. I swallowed back an ashy taste. “There was a fire at my house, and you just ran toward it. No questions asked. After I threatened you and … and you saw the shadeling and now you’re in the woods with me. Seriously, what is wrong with you?”
Dom’s dark eyes were unreadable. He looked so much like the prince I wanted to cry. My throat tightened, and my eyes began to sting. Just trying to hold it back and the lingering smell of smoke made me want to puke. Maybe I did need water.
“You know,” Dom said at last, “most people would either say ‘Thanks’ or ‘Sorry’ at a time like this. So maybe the real question is: Why are you being such an asshole right now?”
Wait. What now? I blinked up at him. It was like Jasika and Gooding were speaking through his mouth. “That’s … that’s not even the right insult. Shouldn’t you call me a bitch?” Was the smoke inhalation getting to me?
Dom shrugged and crossed his arms, looking like a kid who’d been stranded halfway between embarrassed and terrified, and there was no adult to tell him which direction he ought to go. “No, cause you seem like an asshole. You’re clearly arrogant, you project the problems onto someone you can yell at, and after I just followed you to apparently not try to save your house, I think I deserve a little less attitude. I mean … seriously.”
Crap. If that wasn’t right on the money, I didn’t know what was. I’d already attacked the guy. Now I was giving him hell after he’d helped me save the shadelings, for no reason other than the fact that they needed help. I took a deep breath, not liking the squirm of guilt in my gut. “Okay. Sorry. It’s just … It’s been a stressful day.”
Dom didn’t exactly look satisfied, but neither did he look completely pissed. “Yeah, Jasika warned me your social skills were a little on the rocky side. She just didn’t warn me it’d be like this.”
I knew it.
“You two have chitchats about me?” I grumbled.
Dom snorted. “You came up now and then. When she talked to me.” He wrinkled his nose. “You know, I find it a little funny that she suddenly stopped yesterday. Just completely avoided me.”
Typical. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to boss her around. Just made me that much more of an asshole, in retrospect. “I must have seemed pretty crazy.”
“Jury’s still out. But it’s definitely a different kind of crazy.” Dom crouched down, balancing his elbows on his knees. “I’m going to try really, really hard not to freak out because obviously you’re having kind of a day, but I need you to tell me what happened. What was that thing in the bathroom? Why was your house full of them and, you know, on fire? You said it was something not human that you thought I was.” He froze, his breath hitching. His eyes grew wide. “Oh my God. Is … is magic real?”
It wasn’t funny, but for some strange reason, that innocent question sure sounded hilarious. I started to laugh, but my breath caught in my throat. It felt like I had a giant rubber band tightening around my chest until my lungs burned. I hacked again. This was bad.
Dom reached out to help me sit up straight, which really wasn’t all that helpful, but I suppose it made him feel better to do something.
When my chest stopped trying to squeeze itself into nothing, I almost shoved him away, but stopped myself. I needed to not be an asshole. I waved him off.
“Go get Gwen,” I called out to the shadelings, who had to be eavesdropping just out of sight. Where else would they have gone but the woods?
“Who’s Gwen?” Dom demanded. “Shit, are you hallucinating? How many fingers am I holding up?”
And, helpfully, he shoved his entire hand in my face. “Back off,” I growled, very nicely pushing his hand away. Not slapping it. I could at least try to be a nice person. “I’m talking to the shadel
ings.”
A pair of lights flickered in the trees, just for a second. Either I was seeing things or that was a shadeling letting me know it had heard me.
“Shadeling? Wait, you mean one of those things we saved?” Dom glanced over his shoulder. “Bryn, we’re alone.”
“They’re always around.” I shifted and reached for the glass-filled blanket. “They’re … not exactly servants. More like volunteer help, only they won’t let you send them away or tell you why they hang around. They’re shadow creatures, I think.”
There it was. The blood drained from Dom’s face. Ask the guy to take on a house fire, and he was fine. Give him a bunch of Labyrinth rejects, and he got squeamish.
“And they’re … what?” His voice cracked. “Demons? Did we just save demons?”
I pictured the drooly little boogers stuffing baked goods in their faces while serving Lucifer, and couldn’t help the loony smile that worked its way onto my face.
“You know, I read somewhere that they’re descended from fallen angels or something.” Another giggle threatened to bubble up. I had to take a deep breath to stop it. “But whatever. No. Fairies are fairies.”
“Fairies.” Dom stared at me for a few seconds, brows raised. Oh. He was waiting for me to say I was joking. How adorable.
I grinned. “Yeah. Fairies.”
“Like … like the little girls with the butterfly wings who live in flowers?”
That mental image was almost as absurd as them serving the devil. Now I was picturing evil demon shadelings with butterfly wings. It was like Halloween had come early.
“I have actually never met a fairy like that,” I said. Well. Slurred. It was getting hard to speak. I licked my lips. “It’s … more like a … a folklore thing. Those fairies are like Shakespeare and…” And it was getting hard to focus. It was amazing how fast the exhaustion was crashing into me.
Dom said something, but all I heard was a soft whooshing sound, like water rushing through grass. Couldn’t be him. Dom’s mouth stopped and he turned, his expression twisted in nothing short of pure astonishment. It was a funny expression. I almost giggled as my eyes finally slid shut. The last thing I felt was a cool hand on my forehead. Gwen.
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