Chapter 3
It’s amazing how fast things burn.
There’s a roar of ignition around the entire structure of the church that sends vibrations through the walls.
Tongues of flame stab up into view, flickering snake-like through the office window.
Faint crackling drifts down the hall from the nave where the front doors must be.
Every possible way out of the building is blocked.
Except the back door, of course, where all the vampires are. That’s the one escape route they left open, the one exterior wall they didn’t splash with gasoline. The creatures have conveniently backed off several yards, just enough to give the illusion that we might be able to make it past them.
Vampires are supposed to be scared of fire. I’ve seen for myself they’re flammable. But apparently these ones can think like humans—very evil, very motivated humans—so I guess they figure the risk-reward ratio works out in their favor. They aren’t wrong.
My eyes immediately start to sting. There’s a tickle in the back of my throat. They say it’s not the fire that gets you, but the smoke—and there’s a lot that can burn here.
The elf thrusts himself back on his feet. “Alvin Alonso! You have the Avatar. Fix this!” His expression is desperate, his eyes wide.
“Get down, you idiot!” Rafa hisses, kneeling. “Unless you enjoy suffocating…”
The elf reluctantly joins him, hunkering at his side. “Dying here on my knees next to a dog like you is unacceptable. I am a prince.”
“Well, you should have said so from the start. Please, feel free to die wherever you think best, Your Highness!”
The elf rolls his eyes, but the corner of his lip curves, amused.
Rafa takes my hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Alvin… If this Avatar doesn’t have anything, we can try to make a run for it. I might be able to figure out a way to use the fire against them. Maybe create some kind of torch to hold them back.” He doesn’t sound confident.
I look over my shoulder. I expect Collin to be urgently searching the rafters for some answers, freaked out like the last two million times I was in real trouble. (I honestly need to break that habit.) But he’s just sitting cross-legged next to me, staring forward, quiet, thoughtful.
The smoke has thickened on the ceiling, becoming darker as it finds more chemical-laden stuff to burn in the walls. It’s slowly drifting down, prompting me to blink out stinging tears. The pops and snaps of crackling flames outside are getting louder.
I let go of Rafa, turn my body, and touch the blond boy’s knee. I wonder if he’s given up. “Collin? Is there a way out of this?”
He turns to me, and smiles gently. It doesn’t brighten his face. “I’ve already played through every possible scenario. If you stay here, you all die. If you try to leave, you’ll be run down in moments and almost certainly killed. You are out of options.” He ruefully quirks an eyebrow. “Except one.”
My heart sinks. He doesn’t need to say it for me to know what he means. It’s the one thing I swore I wouldn’t do.
I side-glance back at Rafa, feeling like a villain.
His back is stiff, his jaw set. He’s trying to look tough and brave, but he just looks young, like he did in Stryker’s office—a strong Monster Hunter made helpless by circumstances outside of his control.
And vulnerable because of the lies I’ve told him.
Next to him is the elf who, despite his innate beauty, I have zero interest in.
And would I even have the strength to overpower a fae prince with incubus desire?
And does that even matter if saving myself means sacrificing another person, even if that person is an asshole?
I raise my fingers toward Rafa and the elf in a sort of halting wave, letting them know they should stay where they are, and slide myself away. This is one discussion I don’t want them overhearing. The fae glares at me, but neither of them say anything.
Once I’m across the room, I turn my back to them and hiss out words from deep within my burning throat. “You want me to feed…”
Meaning, you want me to try to have sex with one of them.
I’ve done some crazy, impossible things with Collin, but I really don’t think I can do this. This time, for real. Not with a building burning coming down around my head.
Collin chuckles, mirthlessly. “If you were fed, it’s true, those vampires wouldn’t be any match for you. But even if I could convince you to do it, there isn’t time.”
As if on cue, I start to cough. Short and sharp. It’s becoming difficult to breathe.
“What then?”
“There’s a lot of energy in fire. Both physical and magical. I think you should be able to use it against the vampires—because of what you are.”
What I am. A lot of folks believe incubi are demons, but we don’t actually have any special hellish relationship with fire. (Or Hell, for that matter.) Collin would know that.
He has to be talking about my father. Who I know nothing about.
“This is about that thing you didn’t want to tell me before, isn’t it? The thing you didn’t want Mom to learn about me?”
His frown is fierce. “I don’t want anyone to know about it, Alvin. Not until I have more information. But… if there are consequences, we’ll just have to deal with them later.”
“What do I need to do?” My voice comes out in a croak.
Both Rafa and the elf are seriously coughing across the room, but they stay kneeling there, eyes locked on me like I’m the last lifeboat in a stormy sea.
Rafa is doing a better job of hiding his fear than the elf, but whether we live through this or not is all on my shoulders.
“It shouldn’t be hard,” Collin says quietly, taking my hand. His warm, soft skin feels nice. “Most of it should be instinct. I think all you’ll need to do is step into the fire—and get angry.”
Oh, is that all?
Well, if I need fire, there’s for sure a lot of it. Not through the back door, where all the vampires are—that’s still clear. But, at this point, it’s everywhere else around the building.
I should probably ask Collin a ton of questions right now, since what he’s telling me to do is even crazier than the last ten crazy things he suggested. But he’s not volunteering anything else, and I don’t know how much longer I can stay conscious.
I’m dead either way. No point in waiting.
“Right. We’re needing a way out. So… front door?” I ask him, fist pressing against my mouth, trying to contain my coughs.
“That’ll certainly work,” Collin responds. He flashes me a smile that looks slightly less worried. Hopefully, that’s a good sign.
I get down on my hands and knees and crawl past Rafa and the elf.
“This way,” I say.
They follow without an argument. (Which is good, because I don’t have any good answers for them.) It’s taking almost all my attention just to try to keep moving. My throat is raw. My lungs burn.
Still on all fours, I make it through the narrow hallway into the nave.
The fire has already penetrated the cavernous room.
It’s licking up the edges of the small stained-glass windows along the sides.
Rivulets of now-molten lead trickle down the wall under them.
Flames creep along the wooden beams supporting the roof.
But, as I suspected, it’s the front door that’s really cooking.
Apparently they put extra fuel on its outside and the blaze is roaring up the frame, hungrily devouring the arch above.
A pool of gasoline must have spilled in from under the doorjamb, because a wall of fire stretches across the threshold.
The heat of it scalds my face and arms from across the long room.
That’s what I’m supposed to step into.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say I felt hella scared, but whenever Collin has needed me to do something an incubus shouldn’t be able to do, it’s been about fire, or at least a spark.
Each time, he told me to feel an inferno on the inside.
To get angry. And when I pushed that Molotov cocktail into Rafa’s Evil Vampire Dad, I got cut, but I didn’t get burnt.
And I really should have gotten burnt. I mean, the flaming liquid got on my hand, and I didn’t make any effort to put it out.
I have no idea what my father could be. But if it worked before…
“Rafa,” I say, forcing out breath needed for the words. “I’m going to do something crazy. The Avatar thinks it’s our only option and if I can pull it off, you and the elf should be able to follow. Just… don’t try to stop me, okay?”
The Hunter frowns. “You really sure you trust this spirit, Alvin?”
I look over at Collin, who is gazing back with anxious affection. It doesn’t look like he’s certain this is going to work, but he sure wants it to. He wants me to be okay.
“Yeah. I do,” I say, and I mean it.
I give Rafa and the elf one last glance. Neither one looks happy, but only the Hunter looks worried. “Stay here. You’ll know when to move.”
I hope.
Well. I’ve been wanting to fully embrace some do-or-die moment of heroism for the last two days. Since my vision is legit darkening around the edges—despite the raging glare from all the fire—looks like I’m going to get my wish!
Now I just need to get angry.
Luckily, it’s not hard. In the last thirty-six hours, I’ve been screwed over by an elf prince.
(Twice!) Drugged and then attacked by a bear.
I nearly violated some random Uber driver against my own deepest wishes.
And I blew it so badly back at the Benevolent Society, I almost certainly got a bunch of innocent kids killed.
All of which can be traced back, one way or another, to my own stupidity and weakness.
Collin never said the anger had to be directed at anyone else—and seeing how being mad at myself is essentially my default, it’s not difficult to think of all the ways I’m a major fuckup.
How I’ve put everyone I wanted to help in even greater danger.
How, despite my best efforts, I always somehow manage to make things worse!
It’s when I’m gritting my teeth hard enough that they begin to hurt that I know I’m ready.
I get to my feet, wrap my arms tightly over the top of my head, and charge full out down the center aisle—and directly into the wall of fire.