Chapter Twenty-Four #2
Several in the crowd cheered, but Vesper’s eyes went to the building. The front door had been breached. Firefighters were coming out holding victims. Several were burned beyond recognition. Goose bumps stippled her arms.
Another whistle sounded, louder and closer this time, and she swiveled.
A line of uniformed police officers were now making their way down the street, batons in hand.
There were at least twenty of them, but the crowd filling up Pierce Street had also swelled in size.
There had to be at least a hundred people there.
“An injury to one is an injury to all!” Cliff shouted. “Stand your ground, boys!”
Vesper watched as police and the laborers collided, and then the street broke out in chaos.
Men were being struck down by police batons, and women snatched up children and ran for alleys.
Someone knocked into her shoulder, throwing her off-balance, and Vesper fell to the ground hard at the same time the front wall of the burning building caved in.
There was a loud boom, a wave of heat, and Vesper went still as bright orange embers danced high into the air.
Around her, people were still screaming.
It was getting harder and harder to breathe.
In the distance, thunder clapped, but Vesper didn’t trust her mind anymore.
It wasn’t November. It was January seventeenth.
She was standing outside her family’s tenement building, watching with horror as it burned with people still inside.
You left us. Ethel’s imaginary voice was cold, accusing. You left us to die.
Rain was pouring down now, but the flames continued to devour the building, just as they had all those years ago.
Something wet slicked her cheeks, and she no longer knew if it was rain, or tears, or both.
She tried to get up, but her skirt was tangled in her legs.
Someone grabbed her wrist, and she opened her mouth to scream, then stopped.
Maximilian was standing over her, his profile traced in the fire’s light.
He lifted her to her feet. She couldn’t find words.
Her mind was still a jumbled mess, but a single clear thought permeated the darkness.
“Evans!” he shouted. “We’ve got to go, this is bad.”
“We can’t!” Vesper pointed at the building. “There are people trapped in that building!”
Maximilian looked in the direction she indicated, and she watched the color drain from his face. He closed his eyes a beat, then nodded, as though he’d come to a decision. He approached the firefighter nearest to him and tapped his shoulder.
“Are your men able to put this out?”
The firefighter shook his head.
“Where’s the nearest hydrant?”
The firefighter pointed to a red hydrant a few feet away. Maximilian nodded. “Unhook your lines and let the water run, I’m going to try something.”
The firefighter looked confused, but ran over to the hydrant and removed the large hose that’d been attached to it. At once, a small geyser of water spouted from its side outlet. Maximilian turned to Vesper.
“Stand back,” he said to her.
Vesper took several steps back as Maximilian moved closer to the burning building.
She watched as he closed his eyes and his lips began to move.
Slowly, he stretched his arms, then flexed his hands.
As first, Vesper didn’t understand, but then she saw it: An invisible force seemed to be directing the water from the hydrant in another direction.
She looked back at Maximilian and watched as he lifted his hands higher.
Suddenly, he pitched his body forward, and a wave of water crashed against the side of the building.
Some of the flames were doused, but his arms raised again almost immediately, throwing another wave against the building.
“The fire’s low!” another firefighter shouted. “We can get in!”
Maximilian sent a third wave of water into the building before lowering his arms. Several firefighters were now racing into the building through its front door. He turned and faced Vesper again and she started. The sorcerer’s skin was pale, and a sheen of sweat slicked his forehead.
“Miss Evans.” His voice was faint. “We need to go.”
Vesper didn’t object this time when he steered her away from the building and back down Pierce Street. Around them, police were arresting laborers now; some had been laid face down in handcuffs on the street. She heard a gunshot somewhere behind them, then a scream. Maximilian picked up his pace.
“This way!”
Her mind was settling, and now common sense kicked in. She grabbed the hems of her skirt and raised them so that she could run faster. A second clap of thunder sounded, and the rain began to fall harder.
“Up ahead!” Maximilian’s dark hair was plastered to his face, and his white shirt was getting soaked.
Vesper followed his gaze. Sure enough, the blue-and-gold coach was waiting on the next block.
They were closing the distance to it, drawing nearer, when a trio of men stepped out of the shadows.
One of them was holding a near-empty beer bottle, the other brandished a bat.
They leered as Vesper and Maximilian stopped short.
“Turn out your pockets,” one of them ordered.
Maximilian held up a hand. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“And we didn’t ask for any lip, boy. Turn out your pockets.”
They were closing in on them, the same way the men from earlier had closed in on the two gentlemen. They were outnumbered. Maximilian was a sorcerer, but what he’d done to douse the fire had clearly exhausted him. He’d be easy for them to take down.
“Evans.” Maximilian’s voice was low, so that only she could hear it. “Hang on.”
“What do you—?”
The words had barely left her mouth before Maximilian muttered a Thaumaric incantation and swiped his hand in an arc before him.
It was similar to what she’d seen the other sorcerer do before, but the motion was bigger.
She heard a gust of wind, then watched as all three men were blown back several feet, as though hit by a tidal wave.
They’d barely hit the ground before Maximilian was taking her hand.
“Run!”
They were steps away from the coach now. There was a new stitch in Vesper’s side from running, but she ignored it as she sprinted. They didn’t wait for the footman; Maximilian yanked the door open and half shoved Vesper inside before climbing in after her and shutting it behind him.
“Go!” he bellowed.
There was a violent lurch, and then the coach was racing down the street once more.