TWENTY-TWO EMERGENCY EXIT
TWENTY-TWO
EMERGENCY EXIT
‘ Y ou’re one of them, aren’t you?’ I say, my voice trembling. I take a few steps back.
Miss Williams smiles, circling around me, like a predator closing in on its prey. ‘I’m not one of them, Liam. I am them. The Dark Friars are my blood.’
I knew it, even before the words left her lips. ‘You’re a Blyth.’
‘Correct, Liam. My name is Layla Blyth.’
‘Draven is your…’
‘Ancestor. Yes, unfortunately.’
It’s sickening to think that the evil that runs through Draven’s veins also runs through Miss Will… no, Layla’s veins.
‘He’s a monster,’ I hiss through clenched teeth.
Layla chuckles. ‘Oh, I don’t disagree. Every family has one, right?’ Her words drip with a twisted kind of amusement.
I turn to keep her in sight, my mind racing to find a way out of this.
‘What do you want?’
Layla sighs, as if this conversation is a mere inconvenience.
‘I’m afraid that information is redundant, at least for you.
You see, you’ll be dead in a few minutes.
’ Her words send a chill through me, and the glint of the knife she reveals from behind her back freezes me in place.
It’s the same design as the one Draven used on Katie.
My stomach twists, and I step back, trying to break free from Layla’s unsettling orbit. My heart races. The hard edge of the staircase is against my heels. ‘You don’t want to do this.’
‘You’re right, I don’t want to. I’d rather not murder one of my students. But you see, the Guild have been getting a bit too close for comfort the past few days. Draven warned you Keepers. You’ve broken his offer.’
‘So, where is he? Shouldn’t he be the one holding that knife?’
‘Probably. But I have a family legacy to uphold. Draven may have found immortality, but I will lead the Dark Friars to our greatest victory in centuries.’
‘And you will achieve this by killing me?’ I say.
Layla’s lips curl into a cold smile. ‘Oh no, we have an… occasion approaching that I must play a crucial role in. Your demise is merely a bonus point on my way to power.’
What occasion is she referring to? I don’t think it’s Christmas.
I get myself into a ready position, hold up my fists like a boxer in a ring. ‘I’ve already started training,’ I say, hoping my voice sounds more confident than I feel. ‘If you want a fight, I’ll give you one.’
Layla laughs. ‘Oh, how charming. A few misguided combat lessons – do you truly believe that’s enough to stop us?’
‘Us?’
As if on cue, hooded figures emerge from every corner of the library. My heart sinks. I’m trapped.
‘Now, Liam, stand down, and I’ll make your death quick.’
A single Dark Friar steps toward Layla, offering her a cloak. With a dismissive air, she hands off the knife and slips into the robe.
‘Apologies for the delay in proceedings. Our Order insists on these robes during our main duties,’ she explains, pulling up her hood.
Amid the sea of concealed faces, hers remains visible. She reclaims her weapon.
‘Duties like murder?’ I challenge, taking a step up the stairs, my eyes never settling on any one Dark Friar as they surround me.
Layla’s tone remains chillingly calm. ‘Our Order has a goal, one that the Guild and Keepers like you have always hindered. Killing you isn’t mere murder; it’s a means to an end.’
I can’t take on this many Dark Friars alone, that much is clear. But maybe I can keep Layla talking until Tariq arrives.
Then, it hits me – my pendant. I tug it out as I take a step up the stairs. The Dark Friars on the upper-level shift uneasily.
‘The Guild knows where I am,’ I say, hoping that my bluff will buy me some time.
Layla shakes her head. ‘Nice try, Liam. But that won’t fool me. The Guild’s magic is as limited as ours. They won’t waste it by constantly tracking their Keepers.’
With a defeated sigh, I let the pendant fall back against my chest. There’s no escaping. My only option left is to fight. My training thus far has been focused on one-on-ones – how am I supposed to take on a mob like this?
‘You can’t win, Liam,’ Layla taunts.
I’ve reached a point on the stairs where I’m about a third of the way up. Five Dark Friars block my way to the top. There’s no way out of this without a confrontation. What else is there to do? I have to make a choice – stand my ground and let Layla’s dagger find its mark, or fight my way out.
I scan the surroundings again. The Dark Friars at the top of the stairs seem to be the easier obstacle than Layla and the group that now surround her. There is a chance, a slim one. If I can just get past the ones at the top, maybe I can reach the fire exit at the back of the first floor.
‘Get him!’
The Dark Friars advance at Layla’s command.
Somewhere inside me, the spark ignites. It’s now or never.
I charge up the staircase. The first Dark Friar barrels down the steps, aiming to seize me, but I evade with a nimble dodge. He swings for me, but I dodge again, letting his weight carry him over the banister and onto the hard floor below.
Another two swiftly follow, lunging at me. Using their momentum against them, I rise, propelling them into the group climbing from below.
Layla’s commands ring out, urging them onward.
I can’t stop. I surge up the staircase, meeting another Dark Friar head-on.
The impact reverberates as we collide, my momentum driving us both into the steps. I land a solid punch, and he falls unconscious.
Behind me, the horde are regaining their footing, closing in. One Dark Friar remains between me and escape. I hurl myself at him. A fierce punch connects with his face and his body goes limp.
With escape in sight, heat courses through me, driving me onward.
I reach the top. The green ‘Exit’ sign glows like a beacon. But I can’t let them follow me.
I seize a nearby desk and the monitors crash to the floor. It’s weightless. Without aim, I swing it down the steps, toward the approaching Dark Friars.
They stagger backward, unable to halt its momentum. Seeing them fall fuels my final sprint. I rush for the exit. My heart pounding in time with each step. The heat is fading under my skin.
I burst through the door. The cold air hits me. I need to get to Tariq.
Then, a surge of agony slices through me. My abdomen is engulfed in searing pain. A knife protrudes from my gut. The bony hand gripping the handle belongs to Draven.
‘Hello, Mr O’Connor.’
In an instant, he yanks the blade back, and I can’t stifle the guttural scream that tears from my throat.
My trembling hands press against the wound. I stagger back, desperate to put distance between me and Draven. But what’s the use? It’s over.
As Dark Friars scramble to the top of the stairs, Layla breaks through them.
‘No!’ Her voice is a fierce bellow as she takes in the sight of Draven’s blade and my crumpled form.
‘He was my kill,’ Layla protests.
‘Was he now?’ says Draven.
My vision blurs, and my body sways as I clutch my wound. Darkness edges at my vision, pain slowly morphing into numbness. Their voices echo in my ears, distant and fading.
‘It’s your fault the Guild are on to us,’ says Layla. ‘Making an offer to the Keepers was a stupid idea.’
‘You let an untrained Keeper slip through your fingers. I think the foolishness here falls on you; would you agree, my Friars?’
There’s some light cheering from the group, but it’s clear that not everyone has picked a side between Draven and Layla.
‘Now, don’t you have a summoning to prepare for?’ Draven continues. ‘Perhaps you should finish the boy, now I’ve incapacitated him for you, and be on your way.’
The cold metal of a blade is at my throat.
The world spirals, my consciousness is slipping.
‘Time to put you out of your misery,’ a voice says.
Then, a blinding orange light. My fading vision is engulfed in a blazing inferno. Flames dance like phantoms around me.
Screams echo through the air.
Fire consumes everything.
There’s a presence by my side. The flickering light casts shadows on their form. Darkness inches in, consuming me.
‘Liam, stay with me. You’re going to be okay…’
Then nothing.