Blood and Fire (McClouds & Friends #8)(164)

She came on. King’s back hit the base of the curving wooden staircase. Thwack, Bruno’s distraction earned him an elbow to the jaw that sent him spinning way too close to a pool of dancing flame. He twisted and skittered to keep from falling into it, which opened him up to a devastating whap-bam double punch to his kidneys. Down he went, oof. Fuck. Julian came at him, boots flying. Bruno jerked an arm to block a kick and saw Lily, swinging her strange, jagged-edged club—

Whack, right between Julian’s shoulder blades. The kid stumbled forward with a startled grunt, turned—and witnessed King, clasped in Zoe’s fiery embrace. Clothes aflame, mouth wide, issuing a rasping, inhuman sound. King fell, Zoe on top of him. Flames roared around them, closing until only their legs emerged, jerking. Shiny, blistered hands poked out of the blaze, groping for the bottom of the tasseled velvet curtains, which were also on fire.

Julian bolted toward his master. Dove in, heedless of the flames, trying to pry King loose. The blazing curtain gave way and billowed down onto the struggling knot of people, thawhump . Crackling.

Bruno and Lily were alone in a roaring inferno. The heavy folds of burning cloth writhed, flopped. Bruno pushed himself up to a sitting position. Lily straightened and tossed the makeshift club to the ground.

Bruno got to his feet and gestured toward the door. “Let’s go!”

Amazingly, she shook her head and backed toward the staircase that was not yet in flames. “No! The kids are still in there!”

Her voice sounded like it was coming through thousands of miles of phone wire. He shook his head. The movement made everything hurt.

“They got out!” he yelled. “Julian chased them onto the grounds!”

“Not them! The babies!” She headed back up the stairs.

Babies? What in the flying f*ck . . . ?

Boom, the other cell phone exploded. Bruno barely heard it, he was so deafened by gunshots. A new pool of flames whooshed into existence, threatening to engulf the second staircase, where Lily had gone. The other was already a solid wall of flames.

The air was hot, the smoke thick and greasy. He heard himself, from faraway, screaming obscenities as he leaped the flames to the foot of the stairs, practically barbecuing his testicles in the process.

By the time he got to the top, the base of the stairs was engulfed. No going back down that way. It was brutally hot. He peered down the corridor after Lily. Flames crawled along the sprinkle of gasoline that Zoe must have laid down,icking hungrily at one side of the corridor wall. Fiery light lit the clouds of smoke into an eerie orange haze.

He spotted her at the end, a tiny figure, doubled over, hand to her mouth. She rounded the L-turn without looking back, and disappeared.

Not waiting for him. Not expecting help from anyone.

Aw, f*ck. What else did he have to do? He bent down, pulled in all the oxygen he could without choking, and charged after her.





Lily crawled with her face to the ground. Stopped at the room she devoutly hoped was the one where she’d found those babies. She couldn’t leave those little kids in those cribs while the house burned around them. Not if it killed her. Probably it would. She couldn’t carry both babies or go back the way she came. The flames were rising. She had no air to breathe. She wasn’t Tinker Bell. No wings. No fairy dust.

She leaned against the door, eyes tearing in the smoky air, fumbling with the bunch of keys. Zoe hadn’t splashed her gasoline this far down, but the flames were advancing fast, even without accelerant.

Key after key. A figure burst through the haze. After one heart-stopping moment, she recognized Bruno. The graceful lines of his body, stretched out in a run, straight toward her.

Good. Another pair of arms. She’d squeeze every last drop of usefulness out of them. So, then. He was still a righteous, heroic dude, even if he had mistaken her for a rotten-hearted, backstabbing whore.

He sagged against the wall, sliding down and coughing. “What the f*ck are you doing, Lily?” he demanded.

“I didn’t invite you, so I don’t owe you a goddamn explanation.” She shoved another key into the lock.

He watched, glancing toward the leaping flame. “How’d you get your hands on those keys?” he asked.

“How about you shut up and let me concentrate?”

He watched three more failed attempts before opening his trap again. “Um. Lily. Want me to do that for you?”

“One more word, and I’ll rip out your throat and leave you to die.”

“Ah.” Bruno flopped onto the ground. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Right.”

She continued grimly plugging in keys in, with the sinking sensation that she’d missed the right one, when click—it gave, turned.

They practically fell inside. Bruno slammed the door behind them. They lay there, gasping the relatively untainted air. The room was dim, only a long slit of cobalt blue dusk sky showing between the drapes.

Bruno cleared his throat with a rasping gurgle. “So? What the hell?” he demanded, irrepressible. “What is this place?”

She ran through the bathroom. Bruno hurried after her. She threw open the drapes so that he could see the cribs in the dim light.

He stopped short. “Oh, shit,” he whispered. “Oh, no.”

Lily struggled with the window latch while Bruno leaned over one crib, prodding under a plump chin. “Are they even alive?” he asked.