The Knight (Endgame #2)(52)

I shake my head. “Who else could it be?”

Damon says nothing, his expression as hostile as I’ve ever seen him. Gone is the good humor that accompanies his every sly request, the cheerfulness that infused even his most serious demand. This is the dark side of him, the one that makes him feared in the city.

“These people might have loved her,” Gabriel says. “But she loved someone else.”

“Jonathan Scott,” I say, gasping.

And that’s the fatal flaw in my deductions, the missing piece of logic from my strategy, an overlooked piece in my chess set. So many people loved my mother. And when she finally fell in love, I thought it would be reciprocated. Except what if it wasn’t? What if she fell in love with someone who had dangerous intent?

Someone willing to play games with her mind—with her life?

Nina coughs, shaking her large frame. The sound tears at my insides. It’s hard to believe she can make that and not rip apart her lungs.

Uncle Landon tilts his head, expression bemused. “Do you smell that?”

I close my eyes with chagrin. “I kind of threw up.”

He shakes his head. “Not that, dear girl. It smells almost like—”

“Smoke,” I say, voice high with panic.

The sound of shouts drifts upstairs, along with panicked shrieks and feminine screams.

“Get everyone out of the house,” Gabriel says to Damon, who nods.

Damon looks around before narrowing his gaze on Uncle Landon. “You. You’re going to help me clear this place. If even one person burns, you’re going to pay, understand?”

Uncle Landon looks affronted. “I didn’t start the fire.”

“I don’t care,” Damon says, leaving the room with a determined stride. After a brief, panicked look at my father, Uncle Landon follows him quickly, apparently taking the threat seriously.

Between the two of them I hope that they can get the downstairs empty. Uncle Landon knows the layout of the place as well as anyone, and Damon Scott has an authority that won’t be questioned.

My father stumbles, a hoarse cry of grief coming from him. I run to his side. Even with the weight he’s been losing, it’s more than I can support on my own.

“Help me,” I beg Gabriel.

He glances at Charlotte. “Can you take care of your mother?”

Nina coughs, struggling to speak. My legs shake under the weight of my father, ready to crumple.

Charlotte waves us away, looking calm and composed except for the glint of worry in her dark eyes. “Take care of him. I can help her downstairs.”

Gabriel pauses, clearly torn. In the end he gives me a terse nod. “Let’s go.”

We make our way downstairs, navigating the stairs with stark efficiency as the heavy smoke increases around us. My father begins coughing, and I realize Nina’s cough will only get worse. Charlotte said she could get her downstairs, but she isn’t used to dealing with smoke.

I glance back, but the landing is still empty. Where are they?

“I’ll go back for them,” Gabriel says, following my line of worry.

Fear nips at my ankles as we hobble outside, struggling to carry my father through the heavy flow of panicked people in tuxes and gowns. Discordant strains of music rise over the sounds of hysteria. The harsh whir and crank of strings in distress. The musicians running for their lives? The instruments trampled in the rush? It matches the frantic melody of our escape.

With a low growl, Gabriel hauls my father over his shoulder and carries him from the house. I trail after them, worried that the position will hurt my father worse. It’s with surprising carefulness that Gabriel deposits Daddy on the grass a few yards from the house.

“Stay with him,” he orders before disappearing into the house again.

I check on my father, who’s coughing even more, unable to speak. After a moment flames leak out of the roof, breaking through the high shingles. Smoke pours out of the top as if the house expels a deep breath. The flow of people out the door slows to a trickle.

Uncle Landon bursts from the house, helping a white-haired woman to the grass, before joining us. “I think we got everyone.”

Damon appears, looking haggard. “Where is he?”

“Gabriel?”

“My father.”

The sea of people mill around the lawn, looking frightened, pale with shock. A few are clearly excited, their cell phones out to snap pictures and post them online. This is the most excitement Tanglewood society has seen in years. “I haven’t seen him.”

Damon curses under his breath before charging into the crowd, clearly determined. Except that I know everyone isn’t out. Nina Thomas and her daughter aren’t anywhere to be seen.

I turn to Uncle Landon. “Gabriel is still upstairs.”

He shrugs. “He’s stronger than me. If he can’t get down, then I can’t help him.”

Fury washes through me. “Fine.”

Then I’m back through the door, Uncle Landon’s shout of protest trailing after me.

I make it halfway up the stairs before I pass Charlotte. Nina leans against the wall, almost falling down the stairs while Charlotte tries to support her.

“She’s having some kind of attack,” Charlotte says, fighting tears.

I help them down the last few steps. “Where’s Gabriel?”