Chapter 22
Heat roars in my face the moment I turn the corner of the building. I rear back, crying out when my shoulder strikes the jagged edge of the metal lamppost erected at the corner of the path.
I clutch my stinging arm and take in the horrific sight in front of me.
What started as two of the one-story homes engulfed in flames has spread to include the entire row of modest dwellings, as well as the three-story homes on the street behind this one. My neighbors run around like ants dislodged from their hills—scattered, disorganized, frantic.
My sore throat tightens as I take in the men and women desperately throwing water on the blaze. My earlier fear is confirmed when water doesn’t so much as diminish the stifling flames before they blaze just as high as before.
This is the Fae. It has to be.
I’m a fool.
No wonder Ferria tried to pull back the flames with her power. My clever sister, no doubt, realized exactly what I am realizing now. Verdanthia is doomed if we don’t find a way to stop this flame.
One small mercy? I don’t see any bodies. It doesn’t seem as if anyone has been caught in the blaze. At least the Fae didn’t send up a fast inferno with no hope of escape.
I ignore the part of me that still tries to say I don’t know for sure that the Fae are behind this. Now is not the time to think the best of my enemy. Now I need to help.
But how?
I draw as close to the fire as I dare, lifting my dress’s neckline to cover my mouth. Ash and sparks float through the air. Dozens of my neighbors are covered in smolder, singe-marked, and yet they don’t stop trying to douse the flames.
I rush toward the well to do my part.
Then I hear a soft cry, “Help!”
I spin in a circle but don’t see the source of the weak sound.
I grab the shirt of the man closest to me and pull him close. “Did you hear that?”
He looks down his crooked nose at me and yanks away. “Don’t touch me.”
I reel back at the hatred in his gaze.
The man passes along the water bucket in his hands, ignoring me. I turn to the next person in line, only to see an equally hateful look in the woman’s eyes.
Shit.
It looks like Ferria and I aren’t the only ones who realized there’s something odd going on with the flames. And my interactions with the Fae make me an easy target to blame.
“Help!”
I abandon the well and run in the direction of the cry. I find myself at the back of the last house on the street behind Rolf’s home.
There!
On the third floor. A small hand waves out of the window.
A child… A child is in that building. And the fire spreading across its roof is minutes from swallowing it whole.
I don’t hesitate.
I run to the back door and yank it open. The living room is dark, but light from the flames on the street peeks through the curtains covering the tiny window, casting the worn furniture in dim shadows.
The layout of these homes is all the same. I turn left. The rickety stairs groan under my boots. I press my palms against the splintered walls, coughing as hot, ashy air flows into my lungs the higher I climb. Sweat drips down my back.
Magic coats my skin like a protective cloak, offsetting the worst of the dizzying heat, but the flames are too hot. Too strong. Fueled by something unnatural. Something…powerful.
I need to find the child and get out of here.
I climb up to the second landing, duck, and creep through the narrow hall on the top floor.
“Hello?” My voice strains. “Where are you!?”
“Help!” a weak cry replies.
I trip over the uneven floorboards before reaching a closed door. My palm hovers, then presses to the knob. It’s not hot, but the thing won’t budge. I twist harder, then slam my shoulder against it with a grunt. The wood barely moves beneath the force.
A weak cough travels through the door. “Help me, please.”
Come on!
My magic flares, then pulses in my arms. I give the door another shove, and the wood cracks against the interior wall. I stumble inside. My eyes lock on a young boy, six, I’d say. His foot is trapped in a jagged hole in the floorboard near the window that faces the street.
How in the Gods did that happen?
“I’m here.” I hurry forward. “It’s okay. I’ll help you.”
Smoke billows in through the open door. Fire begins to creep over the ceiling, crawling its way closer to the window.
“I’m stuck.” The boy coughs.
Tear streaks mar his terrified face.
“I know. Just hold on.” I reach out.
“My stomach hurts,” he says.
I brush the sweaty hair from his face, and my magic flows over his body for a split second before immediately racing back into my veins with something like a hiss.
My forehead furrows.
I push the magic back into my fingertips, but it refuses to budge. It’s like the days when I couldn’t control it. Only…worse.
Come on, I beg. He needs help.
My magic recoils then goes dormant. Even the layer coating my skin fades into nothing, and the full extent of the room’s oppressing heat crashes into me, making it difficult to breathe.
Shit!
I drop to the floorboard and reach into the hole. His tiny foot is bare. I wrap my hands around his ankle and pivot his foot into a point then guide it out.
The broken boards scratch the backs of my hands, but other than that, the rescue is uneventful. Poor child. He must’ve been too panicked to figure out how to get out of the easy trap. Thank the Gods I came along.
With his foot free, I kneel and gently guide the boy away from the hole and the open window that is too high to jump from safely.
“Can you stand on your own?” I ask.
Red-rimmed eyes glance down as he puts weight on his scratched foot. He nods, lips pressed tight.
“Great. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” I seize his hand, and the shadows along my arm ripple in agitation, churning restlessly beneath my skin as if they know something I don’t.
I ignore it and tuck the boy to my side, hunching over to try and limit inhaling too much of the suffocating smoke. The gray smog makes it hard to see more than two feet in front of me.
We make it through the door and into the narrow hall. The boy’s grip on my waist is so tight, his nails dig through my bodice, biting my skin.
An ominous groan reaches my ears. My head whips up, and my eyes fly wide.
“Look out!” I shove the boy to the right and dive after him before a beam from the burning ceiling crashes down, sending up sparks and ash.
Embers land on my exposed legs. I scream. My magic remains dormant, refusing to alleviate the pain. A tug yanks on my chest, and I swear I hear Ferria scream my name.
I use my skirt to brush the sparks away, then whirl back to the staircase. The burning beam blocks the path.
Damn it!
The blaze creeps along the groaning floor, drawing near. We need to get out of here before the building comes down.
“This way.” I scramble to my feet and half pull, half carry the cowering boy back down the narrow hall.
The layout of the homes I’ve visited fills my head, and I head to the back bedroom.
We stumble through the doorway, then I slam it shut with my shoulder before frantically taking in the room.
There!
A window with no fire around it. Yet.
“Stay here.” I pry the child’s arms off me, wincing in relief when the sharp press of his nails disappears.
I weave around the narrow bed, tripping when my heel lands on a smoothed stick—the kind children use for street games.
Smoke claws its way down my throat with every breath. I stagger to the window, the boards beneath me groaning, radiating blistering heat.
My hands sting as I slam them against the splintered windowsill. I huff and slide up the grime-covered glass. Fresh air hits my cheeks, and I suck in desperate breaths.
I cup my hands around my mouth and shout through the window, “Help! Please! Someone help us!”
Nothing.
My voice vanishes into the roar of the fire creeping along the homes, slowly but surely overtaking the one we’re currently trapped in.
I look down, and a ragged gasp of relief funnels down my throat.
This back window is positioned over the awning that shields the back door from the elements.
A drop would be manageable, though still painful. And the chance of breaking a bone is high.
But there’s no other choice.
I glance over my shoulder. The boy sits on the thin mattress, red eyes staring at me without blinking.
He’s in shock.
He’s small. I might be able to toss him out the window. But then he might miss the awning…
I lean out farther, coughing so hard my ribs ache. Below me, the ground sways through the smoke.
“Help!”
Come on.
Someone has to see me. Someone has to hear.
Then—movement.
Three figures burst from the tree line, their horses galloping fast and hard. Cloaks whip behind them like wings, hooves tearing up the scorched grass.
My heart surges.
“Here! Up here!” I scream, waving one arm frantically; the other grips the charred frame to keep from falling.
One of them turns toward me.
Eyes like molten silver glowing through the smoke capture my attention. “Elara!”
The shout cuts through the crackle of flame—sharp, furious, desperate.
Rian.
Something in my chest breaks loose as relief crashes over me, dizzying and dangerous.
“I’m going to make it,” I whisper, half to myself, half in prayer. Tears slip down my cheeks, but they vanish into steam before they reach my chin. “We’re going to make it.”
Behind me, the boy cries out—sharper, deeper, almost...wrong.
Hot pain slices across my back like a whip made of fire.
“AH!” I fall to the side, the sudden sting stealing the precious breath from my smoke-tainted lungs.
I twist and scramble back. And horror lodges my scream in my throat.
The boy is no longer a boy.
Hunchbacked with midnight-blue skin and standing over six feet tall, a monster sneers through the thickening smoke. Red drops of blood drip from his black talons. My blood.
Where fearful, teary eyes and cherub cheeks had been, now there's only hunger. The beast's mouth splits wide. Jagged teeth glisten with saliva, and drool drops from dark lips as it shuffles a hoofed foot closer. Eyes black as tar fix on me.
I press my palms on the windowsill and rise on shaking legs. My heart thrums, but my power remains dormant. I take a single step back, and the beast lunges.
I scream and throw up my arms. Not fast enough.
It slams into me, and we crash to the ground. My elbow cracks against the floorboards. Firelight dances madly across its distorted face. The beast snarls, hot breath flooding my cheek. It weighs next to nothing, as if it's not made of solid flesh, but it’s strong.
I twist beneath the beast, kneeing hard—desperate. It flinches. Just enough.
I shove with everything I have and roll free. The floor scrapes my palms as I scramble to my feet.
The beast comes again, crawling on all fours like an animal, limbs bent all wrong. I grab the play stick from the floor and swing.
The wood smashes into the beast’s shoulder, splinters flying. It stares at the makeshift weapon, then slides its attention back to me.
Gods, help me…
Flames lick across the ceiling now, the wood snapping and hissing. Smoke churns in waves. The home groans, timbers cracking like bones under strain. It’s going to come down any second.
I cough and retreat to the window. The beast slinks closer.
“Stay back,” I hiss.
My hand trembles as I tighten my grip on the broken stick.
The monster sneers. Then it leaps.
I swing again. Wood meets flesh with a thwack, but the monster grabs my arm. Claws dig in. I scream, try to twist free, but it drags me down.
Fire whooshes above. Sparks rain. Heat presses in on all sides.
No time.
There’s no time.
I slam my boot into the monster—once, twice—catching its gut, its chest, aiming for every vulnerable spot that Draven trained me to exploit.
A strike to the space between its lower limbs finally makes the monster howl. Its grip loosens.
I don’t hesitate. I throw myself through the opening, prepared to tuck my body and pray I stay close enough to the building to hit the awning.
But the monster grabs my ankle.
My gut hits the windowsill, knocking the wind out of me.
“ELARA!” Rian shouts in a guttural roar.
I hang from the window like a rag doll, struggling to breathe, but when the monster starts to drag me back, I fight.
I twist and kick. Violence like nothing I’ve ever felt rips through my body as I resist the pull of the beast determined to slice me to ribbons.
At last, my magic responds.
Finally.
Warmth floods my veins, trickling down to my arms and legs.
Claws scrape down my calf. A keening scream bursts from my throat.
My magic lashes out—raw, instinctive—crackling through my body like a bolt of lightning. It slams into the creature’s embedded claws. White light flashes, washing out the beast's dark flesh.
The monster releases a scream so inhuman, so fierce and full of torment, my very soul shrivels at the sound.
No, not my soul. My power.
The light recoils, snapping back into the tiniest pocket of space just behind my heart. But the job is done.
The monster’s claws slide out of me like the needle of a syringe, smooth and painless. Or maybe that’s just the adrenaline talking. I don’t really care.
All I care about is that I’m free.
Free to tilt back as fatigue and gravity take hold.
The sight of the flaming roof crashing down on the midnight-blue monster fills my vision…
Just before I fall out of the window.