Chapter Seven
In which Wallace is not thinking straight.
Wallace…
I dinnae know why I took her.
Scarlett Banner. She’s from the enemy’s syndicate, and she’s sitting in the passenger seat of my jeep with a stupefied expression on her soot-smeared face, clutching that little furry bastard who clawed ribbons of flesh off my chest.
What the hell are that cat’s claws made of? Titanium?
As the fire started…
That eejit night watchman was racing toward the fire, waving his arms, and screaming, “Fire, it’s on fire! Scarlett, get out!”
Feck me.
Someone else was in the building? How? I was meticulous in my research.
It dinnae matter, I pulled my balaclava over my face and intercepted the man. “I’ll get her! Call the fire department and get back, this building’s going to go up in minutes!”
I was racing toward the front doors when he shouted, “She’s in the corner office! I can see her, she’s alive!”
Fortunate that I put that charge in Kyle’s office instead.
The back staircase was already engulfed in flame, the front stairs were still passable, they were stone, with less material nearby to catch fire.
My accelerant in Kyle’s office went off, sending a huge gout of flame through that end of the building. The third canister would take longer to ignite but when it did, the flashpoint would turn us to ash and bone in minutes.
The greedy reach of the fire was already spreading toward Marlena’s office. The lass dinnae try to open the door, clever thing. I could hear glass shattering from inside. Good. She was trying to get out through the window.
Spinning around, I looked for another way to get to her. They’d remodeled recently, a shoddy job with paper-thin walls. There was a newly-painted section around the right corner to Marlena’s office, maybe an add-on bathroom or boardroom.
I was right. It was a shite job.
I broke through the sheetrock in seconds, enough to wedge my way through and tear open the door.
Ach. It’s that Scarlett.
Scarlett Banner, eyes wide with terror, holding her cat close to her chest and gripping a broken chair. Slamming the bathroom door shut to slow down the spread of the fire, I charged toward her.
Kicking the stubborn iron window frame apart took precious moments we dinnae have. I took a chair and broke apart the bent iron, sending it to the ground to create a space big enough for us.
I got us up on the windowsill barely before the main door exploded, the exquisite, combustive mix of fuel, heat, and oxygen catapulting us out of the building. I wrapped my arms around the cat, trying not to crush the wee beast as I landed.
My left thigh was spasming, which dinnae hurt nearly as much as the furry fiend’s claws embedded into my chest. Not my first time jumping out of a building, and if I’m being honest, not my most graceful landing. However, I was back on my feet and pulling the lass up in seconds.
I wasn’t thinking straight.
I wasn’t thinking at all because I pulled her along behind me like a deer I’d just shot and she was fighting me, screaming something about “Maury.”
Ah. The night watchman. He was running in our direction, still too close to the building, damn the fool!
“Run!” I roared, pointing in the opposite direction. He had the sense to listen, taking off, arms pumping and head down. When the first explosion liquified that corner of the building, he was at a safe distance.
We weren’t.
Scarlett ran with me once she knew the watchman was safe. I threw her into the jeep and put that murderous cat in her arms before getting us out of there.
The worst part?
I dinnae get to watch my beautiful creation bloom and fade.
Currently…
“Did you set it?” Finally, she says something.
My balaclava is long gone, scorched, or ripped off my face in the fall from the second floor. There’s an ember smoldering angrily on the leather of my left boot and I impatiently shake it off, stomping it out.
“Do you think you should be asking that?”
“You mean, because I’m trapped in a car with the man who most likely just tried to fry me for dinner?” Scarlett laughs humorlessly. “Trust me. This isn’t the worst thing that’s happened to me. It’s not even the worst thing that’s happened to me this month.”
“You must lead one hell of a life,” I nod.
“Is Maury safe? His son’s getting into a great college. He needs this job.”
“Don’t worry about him. He was running toward the corner of the parking lot, well out of the blast zone,” I say. “He’s safe.”
“Thank you. Where are we going?”
The lass is in a bit of shock. There’s blood streaming from an ugly cut in her shoulder and her arm is lying limply on her lap, likely broken. She’s staring out the window, skin pale and clammy.
“You need medical attention and I need to be away from there. Here.” I pull my scarf from the glove compartment and hand it to her. “Put that on your shoulder, it’s still bleeding.”
Turning on to the Essex Coastal Scenic Byway, I keep at exactly six miles above the speed limit. No more. No less, staying precisely in my lane. I dinnae have time to get pulled over by a bored Massachusetts State Trooper.
“I… um…” Scarlett seems to collect her thoughts.
“Can you drop me off at my friend’s place in Salem?
Or just in Salem? Or here on the side of the road?
You have to know I’ll never be stupid enough to say anything.
I don’t know who you are, I couldn’t possibly describe you with all that soot on your face. ”
“Is your friend a doctor?” I ask dryly, “Your shoulder’s going to need stitching.”
She’s petting her cat, running her hand soothingly over its filthy fur. “No. She’s a witch.”
“Of course,” I laugh humorlessly.
“She’s also an EMT,” she snaps. “Please.”
“That’s different. What’s her address?”
Even for a man considered as spooky as I am, this is a wee bit much.
Standing in the tiny back room of the witch’s spellshop, I’m feeling mildly claustrophobic, what with the shelves piled with unsteady stacks of cards, bottles, herbs, unidentifiable boxes, some leaking, and a plethora of candles. The competing scents are giving me a headache.
Scarlett huddles on the only chair, her torn t-shirt pulled down to show the long cut on her shoulder. Her wee beast is sitting next to her on the counter, pointedly grooming her filthy fur, making it clear how much she’s been inconvenienced.
“It looks like the bleeding’s stopped, that’s good,” the witch says, glaring at me as she opens a very well-stocked first aid kit. “That cut on your hand looks worse than it is, you won’t need stitches. The shoulder, though…”
She snaps on latex gloves, cleaning Scarlett’s wound with a deft touch. “I’m gonna be really careful, okay?”
Her face is filthy and all that long burgundy hair is ratted into something that looks like a badger’s den, even so, Scarlett is beautiful, blue eyes soft and warm as she looks at her friend. “I know. Thanks.”
The witch gives her a shot of Lidocaine and directs her gaze at me, eyes narrowed, as she waits for the wound to get numb enough to stitch.
“So, I’m guessing this is Pyro McAsshole?”
I consider if it’s time to go.
No.
Something’s keeping me here. Something compelled me after dragging this poor lass out of the fire and bringing her with me. I’m not leaving, just yet.
“How do you know about the fire?” Scarlett asks, wincing only slightly as the witch puts in the first stitch.
“Please. This dumb shit set up a bonfire so big you could see it from space.” Another careful, tidy stitch. “Then the pair of you come stumbling into my shop smelling like you just crawled out of hell? It doesn’t take much to put two and two together.”
She gives me another menacing glance before returning her attention to Scarlett’s arm. “Please tell me he torched the office building and not the cannabis warehouses. Do you know how much of that shit I buy for my tinctures?”
“You’re in luck then,” Scarlett says bitterly, “just the offices. Given that the Wicked Stepmother ruined the building with that hideous remodel, it’s not like we’re losing much.”
The witch grins, and her entire face transforms into something rapturous. “Oh, man. Do you realize how pissed off Marlena’s going to be? This is gonna give her an aneurysm!” She throws back her head, giving a proper cackle as Scarlett joins in.
“Stop making me laugh,” Scarlett wheezes, “you’re hurting my arm.”
“Well, the good news is, your arm isn’t broken.” The witch carefully traces her long, spidery fingers over the limb in question. “I don’t need an x-ray to show that. You said you fell out of the second story?”
“We exploded out the second story window,” Scarlett corrects her. “I would have died in there if he…” she looks over her shoulder at me. “Whoever he is hadn’t saved me.”
“Yeah, and you wouldn’t have been in that position if he didn’t set the fire,” the witch snaps. “Right, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Reeking of Brimstone?”
“More about her arm,” I deflect, “do you think it’s a sprain? Are you sure it’s not broken?”
“See the swelling here?” Her pointy fingernails trace Scarlett’s swollen arm. “I bet she dislocated her elbow when she hit the dirt and then put it back in when she rolled over. Does that sound right, honey?”
“I did not land the way he told me to,” she admits. “Though in my defense it was the first time I’ve been, you know, exploded out a window.”
Someone knocks on the front door, I can hear their plaintive whine from here. “Mistress Morgan? Why are you closed early? Did you forget my appointment?”
“You’re a dominatrix in your spare time?” I ask.
“You look like a bottom,” she sneers, “but no. Both of you keep quiet and I’ll chase Charles off.”
She parts the velvet curtains separating our area from the front of the shop, striding majestically to the door. As the velvet falls back in place, I murmur, “Oh, yeah. She’s a domme.”
“She is not!” Scarlett hisses, putting her finger to her lips.
The front door slams, the bell ringing cheerfully and the witch is back, pulling an ice pack out of the little fridge that is wedged next to a full-sized human skeleton and a pile of burlap sacks.
“Keep this on the swollen part,” she says, wrapping the ice pack in a little embroidered towel that reads, You say Witch like it’s a bad thing.
“Thank you for your help,” I say, helping Scarlett up. “It’s time for us to go.”
Morgan moves between me and the back door. “Like fuck it is. You’re not taking her.”
“Listen to me carefully.” I step closer, looming over her. At 6’4, it’s easy to loom. “The police will be looking for Scarlett, once Harvey or Henry-”
“Maury, his name is Maury,” Scarlett interrupts, “and are you remembering you just set fire to my family’s business?
I’d think you were taking me away to bury me somewhere, aside from the fact that you stopped to get me medical help and showed your face to another potential witness, which really makes no sense, now that I think about it. ”
“You’re not helping your case, sweetheart. Regardless, I’ve punished your pathetic syndicate for stealing from my family and killing our men.”
Folding my arms, I lean against the door, avoiding an angry swipe from that damned cat’s paw as I get too close.
“I’m thinking your arsehole stepfamily will believe you’re behind it.
You disappeared with a strange man, any footage from security cameras around the area will make it look like you came with me willingly. ”
Both girls open their mouths to argue, look at each other, and back at me.
“After delving into the Banner Syndicate history last night, I know enough that you’re treated like a servant,” I continue. “Though I didn’t think that would extend to office custodial work as well. So, the question is, why are you sticking around for this kind of abuse?”
Scarlett’s complexion pales under the soot streaks. “Exactly who are you working for? Another crime family? What did my idiot stepbrother do now?”
“As I’ve said, he killed our men. He stole from us. Like the drunk in the bar picking the biggest, meanest guy to fight.”
“Trying to improve his reputation,” she rubs her eyes. “Of course. Thank you for not killing any of our people.”
Consulting my watch, “We don’t have a lot of time, Scarlett Banner. Your stepbrother and mother are going to be furious. This is a humiliating blow. They will be looking for someone to blame, and if they think you are connected, your life will go from bad to worse. Much worse. Do you understand?”
The girls look at each other again, a silent conversation that I finally have to interrupt. “There is nothing left for you here, and if you stick around, your witchy friend will not be left unscathed if your stepmother is as spiteful as I think she is.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Scarlett weaves slightly, trying to keep her balance and I hold her good arm to keep her steady. “Why would you want me to go with you?”
Looking down into her wide blue eyes, bay water blue, I realize I know the answer. But I canna tell her.