No Earls Allowed (The Survivors #2)(94)

He would come out with Juliana or not at all.

At the top of the stairs, he started toward the boys’ dormitory just as a loud crack boomed over the roar of the fire. Neil looked up in time to watch the heavy wooden beam slam through the ceiling and crash onto the floor.

A cloud of dust rose up, making him cough harder and momentarily blinding him. He stumbled back, barely catching himself at the edge of the stairway. Soot and debris rained down on him, and when he finally shook it off and he had a view through the dust again, he realized his path to the boys’ dormitory was blocked.

Even worse, Juliana’s escape route was gone.

*

“I sorry, Mama,” Charlie said, his voice high and frightened.

“Shh. It’s not your fault,” Julia said, pushing him behind her and turning to face Slag. What she saw when she looked at him made her belly roil. He hadn’t escaped from the blaze at the Ox and Bull unscathed. His face was a mass of red, shiny skin. One side drooped so badly it looked as though it had melted off, the eye completely lost. She couldn’t imagine the pain Slag must have been in. She couldn’t imagine how he was even on his feet.

He stumbled forward. “For once, Lady Juliana is correct,” Slag told Charlie. “It isn’t your fault. You broke away from the group and fell right into my plans. I thought I’d have to nab one of you, but you made it easy. And you”—he pointed his walking stick at Julia—“are so predictable. I knew you’d come back.”

“You have me,” Julia said. “Let Charlie go.”

“I don’t think so,” Slag said, moving away from the door. “I want you to suffer as I’ve suffered.”

“Charlie has done nothing.”

“You love him, so he dies.”

Julia stood immobile in the center of the room. All around her the fire crackled and hissed. Small tongues of it licked at the door. It had a taste for the orphanage now. It would lick and taste and devour until the building was nothing but ashes. Slag was correct that watching Charlie die would cause her to suffer. But if he’d allowed Charlie to go, then she might have accepted her fate docilely. Now the crime lord gave her no choice but to fight.

She looked down at Charlie. She didn’t know anything about fighting. But perhaps she could distract Slag long enough for Charlie to escape. She bent and hugged Charlie, whispering in his ear under the guise of comforting him. “I will attack Slag.”

Charlie stiffened. “No.” He shook his head.

“While he fights me, you run. Run as fast as you can and straight outside.” She prayed he could still get through the fire.

“What about Matthew, Mark, and John?”

Charlie would never make it carrying the rat cage. It was too large and unwieldy for him under the best of circumstances.

“I’ll get them out,” she promised, knowing it was a lie. Knowing she would die here with Slag.

Charlie nodded.

“Ready?” she asked, hugging him tighter.

“Yes.”

And then she released Charlie and ran straight for Slag, screaming like a wild banshee.

*

Neil heard the screams and felt the twin emotions of terror and elation rise in his heart. Juliana wasn’t dead, but she was in danger. He’d been staring at the fallen beam for a good thirty seconds, and he saw only one way around it—under it. He’d have to lift it and then slide underneath. Unfortunately, the quickness required for the move would mean dropping the beam back into place. And once the beam dropped, more debris would rain down. He wouldn’t be able to go back the way he’d come.

He was trying to think of another way—any other way—when he heard Juliana’s screams. They were immediately followed by a man’s yells. Neil didn’t stop to think any longer. He ducked under the charred and steaming beam and used his shoulder to lift it. With one arm, he held it up, then slid through the narrow passage. Just as he was about to drop the beam back into place, the dormitory door opened and a small figure rushed out.

Neil’s arm shook from the effort of holding the heavy beam aloft. The heat from the burning wood seared through his gloves. But he held the beam. Squinting, he saw a child had emerged from the room—a child with his thumb in his mouth.

“Charlie!” he called.

Charlie, eyes wide and terrified, looked up. “Major?”

“This way,” Neil said. “Through here and down the stairs. Hurry now.” He said the last through gritted teeth. Charlie darted through the small opening with little trouble. As soon as the boy was safely through, Neil’s strength gave out, and he dropped the beam and rolled clear. A mountain of plaster and wood and rained down, all of it burning with the wrath of the fire.

“Major?” Charlie called.

“I’m fine. Go!” Neil answered. “Hurry!”

He ran for the boys’ dormitory and kicked open the door. The sight he came upon would forever haunt him. Slag stood over Juliana, cane raised. Juliana lay on the floor, her hands held up in a defensive posture. But Slag had turned when the door burst open. Neil shrank back at the devastation the fire at the flash ken had wrought on Slag’s face. But Juliana had wasted no time at all. She’d kicked up, her foot colliding with the tender flesh between Slag’s legs. The crime lord crumpled to the floor.

Neil rushed forward and pulled Juliana up and away from Slag. The man was clutching himself and rolling on the floor, but Neil wanted Juliana far away when Slag regained his strength.