I take off back the way I came, this time with my mother at my heels. Emergency services have arrived en masse and are swarming the place—there are more members of the royal family security detail, more cops and paramedics here now than I’ve seen in one place ever.
A few glom on to us as my mother and I sprint down the hallway. I’m inclined to wave them off, but with just a few words she has an entourage following behind us. Declan is still with the security guards, talking to the paramedic who is taking care of the lone survivor. But one look at my face has him springing into action. Just not the way I’d like him to.
He grabs my arm just as I’m about to step into the hallway for the other wing, the one that leads straight to Rachael’s room. “It’s dangerous,” he tells me when I try to wrench my arm from his grip.
“Let me go!” I demand. “Rachael’s down there.”
“Fuck.” He drops my arm. “You stay here. I’ll go.”
I look at the chasm yawning in front of us, the uneven boards on the other side of it that used to be my mother’s hardwood floor. There’s smoke drifting down the hallway, which means there’s a fire in that part of the house. I can’t let Declan go, can’t let him risk his life for my sister.
When I say as much, he shoots me a fulminating glare. Then looks at one of the cops standing near us, points to me. “Watch her.”
“Yes, sir.” The cop steps in front of me. “I’m sorry, Your Highness—”
I blast him out of my way with a surge of magic I didn’t even feel coming on, one I had no idea I even had in me. “She’s my sister!” I scream at Declan. “I’m going with you.”
He locks his jaw so tightly that I’m shocked he doesn’t break a tooth or three. But after a good look at my face—and the shell-shocked cop who is now on the ground at our feet—he doesn’t waste time trying to argue. Instead, he grabs me and hurls me (with a little help from a spell, I’m sure) over the five-foot chasm that stretches between us and the other wing.
I land on my hands and knees and scramble to my feet, ignoring the jarring pain that comes with every move I make. By the time I’m standing again, Declan is beside me, looking as grim as I have ever seen him.
Now that we’re over here, I can hear the fire crackling down the hall, can feel the residual heat of it creeping through the air. Declan turns back to the others, yells at them to get the fire department up here. One of the cops assures him they’re on their way.
Declan nods, then turns back to me. “Are you sure about this?” he demands.
I nod. Who knows how long it will be before the fire department gets up here. Rachael could be dead by then.
“Okay, then. Stay behind me—follow my footsteps exactly.” Then he’s grabbing my hand and we’re running straight into hell.
Twenty-six
Declan has an instinctive knowledge of which boards are shaky and which ones will hold our weight. I stay directly behind him as he runs across them, making sure to place my feet exactly where his have just been.
But the smoke is getting heavier the farther down the hallway we go and it’s getting harder and harder to see. Fear ravages me from the inside, my body recoiling from what we have to do. Where we have to go. I ignore the warning signs from my brain and keep my feet moving forward. My already abused lungs are protesting, aching, at the sudden influx of smoke and toxins.
Ducking my head, I pull the collar of my shirt up over my nose and mouth to try to filter out some of the smoke. It doesn’t work very well, but it’s better than nothing. I think about what I learned in school years and years ago, about dropping to the ground and crawling to avoid the worst of it.
But the floor beneath us is way too uncertain. I’m scared enough balancing on a board here and there. I can’t imagine what would happen if Declan and I tried to spread our weight out into so many different spots.
When we get to the corner, Declan stops, looks back at me. “Are you okay?” he demands. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I’m not sure of anything at this point, but my sister is somewhere in the middle of this smoke-filled mess and I can’t just leave her here. I nod, because my throat feels raw . . . and because I can’t trust my voice not to shake. If Declan had any idea how scared I am right now, there’s no way he’d let me go through with this.
“Which room is Rachael’s?”
“The second on the left.” I’m shocked at how ravaged my voice sounds and can tell from Declan’s narrowed eyes that he is, too. I squeeze the hand I’m still holding, a sign that it’s okay. That I’m okay.
“Do you trust me?” he demands.
I nod more vehemently this time. If I didn’t, there’s no way we’d be on the fourth story of a burning house, attempting a rescue that even I know is damn foolhardy.
“Okay, then,” he says. I can feel him bracing himself, his muscles tensing up until it’s a miracle he doesn’t snap in half. “It’s going to get ugly.”
Uglier than this? I bite my tongue at the last second to keep from spewing the words out, but he knows what I’m thinking.
He smiles grimly. “Way uglier.” Then, making sure he has a tight grip on my hand, he rounds the corner, pulling me after him.
I gasp at my first sight of the corridor, recoil instinctively. Because this one isn’t just smoke filled. It’s covered in wild flames bent on devouring everything in their path. There’s no way we’re going to get through this without being burned to a crisp. It’s not possible. And while I’m willing to die for my sister, I can’t ask the same of Declan.
“Let’s turn back,” I tell him. “Get the firemen.” I’m terrified doing so will end up being a death sentence to Rachael, but I also can’t sacrifice Declan for her. I won’t.
That’s when I learn just how crazy the man I’ve fallen in love with is. Because instead of beating a fast retreat, he just grins at me—a flash of brilliant white teeth in a soot-streaked face. “You’re not giving up that easily, are you?” he yells over the voracious roar of the fire.
“You’ll die!” I scream at him, trying to hold him back as he takes his first steps down the inferno-like hallway.
“Have some faith!”
He throws one hand out to the side, the other above his head, and starts walking steadily down the corridor. I follow tentatively, expecting the flames to leap onto us at any moment. But I’ve underestimated Declan. From the moment he walks into this fiery hell, he is in control.
Fire is all around us, and though I feel the heat from it closing in on me, never does one spark from it so much as brush up against me. Declan holds it back—with magic or with the sheer power of his will, I’m not sure. Either way, it doesn’t touch us. Even the smoke seems to retreat. It sounds ridiculous, and maybe fear is making me hallucinate, but I swear, it’s easier to breathe here than it was on the other side of the stairs.
I start to relax, start to believe that we have a chance to get Rachael out of this alive. At least until we turn the corner toward her personal hallway and I get a glimpse of what hell must really look like. The entire hallway is engulfed in fire, so much so that nothing—not the walls, not the carpet, not the art—nothing, is distinguishable from the flames raging completely out of control.
Declan curses viciously. Turns to me and says, “Go back. Now.”
I can barely hear him over the roaring in my ears. Terror is a wild animal inside me—terror for my sister, terror for Declan, terror for my entire family. Because if the fire is this rapacious up here, I can only imagine how little time it will take for it to engulf the entire house.