Chapter 48
CHAPTER
FORTY-EIGHT
They emerged at the top of the staircase. Already, Jack’s eyes and throat stung. Still, he looked around wildly, shouted, “Carla! Where are you?”
“He said she’s gone,” Boris said, clutching Jack’s arm, choking on fumes. “We gotta go. Come on.”
“Carla,” Jack screamed, but his voice was raw, rasping. Tears bled down his cheeks, and he blinked them away furiously.
They raced through the kitchen, collided with a table, then darted out into the hall, where the front door was already obscured. Smoke chased after them, filled the hallway until it was nearly black. An alarm rang out, high-pitched and distant.
“Low,” said Jack, remembering suddenly an ancient instruction from his mother after their neighbor’s stove caught fire. “Smoke rises.”
On hands and knees, they crawled across the tile, past Ronnie’s office, and the side table with the phone. For a fleeting moment, Jack considered lifting the receiver, calling for help. But Boris was coughing violently beside him, losing momentum.
There was no time.
They reached the front door. Jack tugged his sleeve over his hand, reared up, and twisted the deadbolt. The door wrenched open. He dragged himself over the threshold.
The porch was blessedly cool. He staggered upright, helped Boris to his feet. In the distance, someone screamed.
“Carla,” Jack said, voice weak. “It’s gotta be Carla.”
“Fucking hell,” Boris groaned. “Carla!” he echoed, cupping his hands over his mouth. Then he doubled over into a hacking fit so great that his shoulders trembled.
“Carla!” Jack cried, spinning around, searching the trees for movement. “Carla!”
“We need to go,” Boris insisted, straightening to glare at Jack with red, watery eyes. “When the mob finds this—”
Another scream rang out. This time, it came from the trees. Good. She was nearby.
Then he realized. Even stone couldn’t prevent the fire from spreading. The basement was already ablaze. Soon, the castle would be engulfed, and with it, the forest.
If that happened, if the flames poured through the windows and ignited the nearby trees, there was no way to survive this on foot.
“Carla!” he screamed. “Carla, go to the road!”
“Jack? Jack?” Her voice carried through the pines, loud and frantic.
“I’m right here,” he rasped, throat scorching, lungs burning. “We have to go. There’s a fire.”
“No,” she moaned. “No, there can’t be.”
Fingers dug into Jack’s bicep. “We gotta go,” said Boris.
“Follow the sound of my voice,” Jack instructed. Behind him, green flames licked at the sides of the house. Smoke billowed from the windows. “We need to get to the road.”
“Or,” said a voice from behind them, calm and businesslike. “You can accept a ride.”
Jack whirled around. The yellow-eyed man waited, briefcase in hand. “I—”
“Is this a trick?” Boris demanded, releasing Jack’s arm and coming to stand between them. His chest was puffed out, eyes narrowed into a watery glower.
“No tricks,” said the yellow eyed man. “Simply a ride into town. Away from,” he waved to the house behind them, wrapped in flames and smoke, “all of this.”
“Carla,” Jack screamed, frantic at the sight. “Carla, come on! We need to go somewhere safe!”
When she appeared at the tree line, she was barefoot, muddy, disheveled, her dress torn—but uninjured. Relief coursed through him, powerful as a sedative.
“Let’s just take the ride,” he pleaded to Boris. “We aren’t gonna make it if we don’t.”
“Fine,” said Boris, taking in the sight of Carla and sagging. “Fine, yeah, let’s get out of here.”
“Jack,” said Carla, stumbling to his side. “Jack, what’s happening? What’s going on?”
“Whole coast is about to go up in flames, we gotta go.” Boris stalked after the yellow-eyed man, throwing a glance over his shoulder to make sure they followed him.
The dark sedan waited at the top of the drive.
Jack grabbed Carla’s hand. Together, they hobbled toward it.
Boris paused and cast a nervous glance at the castle.
Jack turned, too, and flinched. The grand balcony collapsed onto the lawn with a creaking roar, leaving behind a gaping hole in the stone facade.
Ash sprayed. Flickering green flames meandered onto the lawn from finely crafted pillars, now splintered and crackling with embers.
Smoke swirled through the trees, twisting like fog. Carla coughed and fanned her face with dirty hands.
“Almost there,” said Jack, watching with anticipation as the yellow-eyed man thrust open the driver’s side door with all the urgency of someone leaving a casual luncheon. He climbed in, slammed the door behind him. The ignition turned.
“Wait!” Boris cried, hand outstretched, but the tires were already spinning.
And then the car was beside them, the passenger doors flung open all at once, as if prompted by invisible hands.
Jack wasted no time helping Carla into the backseat and jumped in after her, breathing a sigh of relief when Boris appeared on her other side, red-eyed and coughing into his fist.
The doors slammed shut of their own accord. Tires peeled against gravel.
Jack pressed his forehead to back of the seat in front of him, gulped clean air. When he lifted his head, the castle on the cliff was already far behind them, burning green. Somewhere in the distance, sirens sounded.
They drove in silence. Whenever Jack looked out the window, he grew nauseous at the sight of passing trees, of the lines on the road whipping by. He closed his eyes, found Carla’s hand, squeezed it hard.
Minutes passed. The windows rolled down. Jack leaned into the breeze, only realized he’d been crying when he reached to touch his wet, frozen cheeks.
The windows rolled back up. When he opened his eyes, he saw a silently staring Boris, a shivering Carla.
The yellow-eyed man caught his gaze in rearview mirror and grinned.
Anguish unfurled within Jack’s breast. Something was wrong, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to fight it anymore.
Then the yellow-eyed man spoke.
“I’ve a proposition for you.” At once, Carla and Boris sat at attention, eyes wide.
Boris looked ready to yank the door open and take his chances with the road.
“I can take you to a motel. You can live your lives in fear of the mob, in fear of the law, in fear of another creature finding you. They’ll always be attracted to you now.
You’ve been marked by one, you’ll be marked by others. That’s the way it works.”
Carla chewed her lip. Boris’s knee bounced.
“Or I can take you with me. You can stay within the academy and learn how to fight against them. Eventually, you’d be able to do my job. Stop things in their tracks before they ever get to this point.”
Jack’s breath hitched. What?
“Temporal disturbances cause mental blocks. It’s rare to find anyone who can break free of them,” the yellow eyed man continued. “Let alone fight off its source. The fact that you went up against her and lived is nothing short of impressive.”
“What… What happens if we go with you?” Boris’s voice shook. “Are you gonna make us torture people? Are you just gonna… hold us hostage?”
A chuckle. “Hardly.”
The car slowed to a crawl. Jack blinked and realized that they were already on the highway. The city glittered like a jewel box in the distance. Hidden Cove was already devoured by swaying trees and smoke.
“Then how does it work? You said something about interdimensional laws earlier. If we go with you, are we gonna be on, like, another planet?”
“It’s far more complicated than that,” said the yellow-eyed man. “But no. Not yet. You’d train down south.”
“What if we change our minds?”
“No one will stop you from leaving. But you won’t. You won’t be able to function anymore, knowing what you know. Nobody ever leaves.”
They sat in silence for a long moment. Jack chewed his lip, looked out the window, searching for any signs of the mob behind them. But he saw only normal traffic. No one swerved between lanes, windows down, ready to shoot out their tires.
“It’s not much of a choice, is it?” said the yellow-eyed man. For the first time, Jack thought he detected sympathy.
“OK.” Boris exhaled. “What if I want the hotel now, but later I… I change my mind?”
“I’ll know,” said the yellow-eyed man simply. “How about this? I’ll leave you in a motel tonight. If you change your mind, I’ll know.”
Boris glanced at Jack, then Carla. “What do we think?”
“Hotel,” said Carla, voice a cracked whisper. “I-I can’t think right now.”
“Seconded,” Jack managed. Privately, he suspected they needed a hospital for smoke inhalation, but he didn’t dare mention it. The staff would call the police, and then they’d have to explain why they were suffering from smoke inhalation immediately after a famous mobster’s house went up in flames.
No way.
“Deal,” said Boris. Jack nodded, mute.
“Wonderful,” said the yellow-eyed man, jerking the steering wheel toward an exit ramp. Seconds later, they were in front of a motel, the highway far behind. Too far behind. Jack shuddered. Had they teleported? Was that even possible?
The yellow-eyed man nodded to them. “You’ll find everything you need inside.”
Something cold and metallic slotted into Jack’s hand. He found himself staring down at a set of keys. Room 309, said the tag.
Ironic.
They stumbled out of the car one at a time, reeking of smoke.
Room 309 was clean, with two twin beds and a tray of sandwiches waiting on the tiny table.
Jack’s knees buckled.