Bitter Spirits (Roaring Twenties #1)(70)

Setting the locket on her nightstand, she slipped beneath the bedcovers and tried to block out Sam’s words. It took a long while to fall asleep, and when she did, she dreamed of Winter standing outside the incense-filled temple from the day before. Then the scene changed, and she was watching his hand slipping away from hers as she reached out the window of a departing train. When he was just a speck on the receding landscape, she sat down in an empty train car and unwrapped candy with a beehive printed on the wrapper. It tasted of honey, only far too sweet and bitter. She tried to spit it out when she saw a shadow moving across the window. Just as she turned to study it, the train burst into flames.

Even inside her sleeping mind, she distantly recognized the recurring dream. It was like an old enemy that she’d held at an arm’s length for so long, they were almost friends by default. The earthquake. The Great Fire. Holding on to Sam while the city burned to smoldering ash. Her parents out of reach.

She tried to wake herself up, but the dream was so vivid.

So real.

She came awake with a start to find that it was real! She was not dreaming.

Yellow and orange flames leapt from her apartment door, quickly spreading across the floor and over the inner wall. Aida lurched from her bed and spied movement outside her window.

Someone was racing down the fire escape.

Billows of black smoke rose from the flames. She coughed and stumbled. Her vision wavered. She tried to walk, but her knees buckled.

What was wrong with her?

“Help!” she shouted, again and again.

It was her absolute worst nightmare. The fire was consuming the small apartment. Already, the door to her bathroom was blocked by flames. The only way out was the window.

Dizzy and confused, she glanced around and despaired. She was going to lose everything.

This couldn’t be happening.

She crawled to the open closet and pulled herself up by the door handle. Her handbag was here on the back of the door, thank God, along with the the fox coat. Tearing it from its hanger, she coughed against her forearm and waved away smoke, desperately looking for Ju’s dress, but it was impossible. She couldn’t see her bed anymore, the smoke was so thick.

She shoved her arms into the coat’s sleeves and sloppily ducked onto the fire escape. The iron creaked and groaned as she zigzagged down the steps, back and forth, one story at a time, until she reached the bottom, one story above the sidewalk.

She pushed a bare heel against the drop-down ladder. It was rusted. Not budging.

A blaring bell nearly startled her off the fire escape. Someone had pulled the alarm. The girls on her floor would hear it. Mr. and Mrs. Lin—dear God! The whole building might be lost if the fire department didn’t get here quickly.

She kicked at the ladder again, surveying the streets for people. It had been after midnight when she’d fallen asleep, and she had no idea what time it was now. Two A.M.? Three? Not late enough for the milkman.

In the distance, a group of late-night revelers sauntered down Grant. She screamed for them at the top of her lungs. Had they heard her? It was too dark to tell. Yellow light pooled at the bases of the dragon lampposts dotting the sidewalk. The lights swayed as a wave of dizziness rolled over her.

“Hey!”

The people had seen her—they were rushing up the incline. More onlookers emerged from the apartment building next door. She called out to them, trying to get someone to knock on Golden Lotus’s door to wake up the Lins. The other girls living in the apartments were in danger; just because she’d gotten out didn’t mean they’d be so lucky.

The stairs creaked. She glanced up and saw flames pouring from her window. Then the iron railing made a horrible sound. Rusted bolts ripped away from the brick building.

The world fell away beneath her feet.

She blindly gripped the railing as the bottom flight of the metal stairs collapsed and crashed to the sidewalk with an explosive Boom! that rattled her bones.

Flung from the fire escape, she sailed sideways. Her back smashed against the building, knocking the wind from her lungs. Pain ripped through her body. Her vision went blinding white for several moments, then slowly pulsed back to reality.

Not dead.

A rusted iron dragon skeleton groaned in front of her as a cloud of dust swirled from its fallen carcass.

She inspected herself. The pain receded, which was odd. She should be really hurting, but all she felt was numb, physically and emotionally. Her tongue darted out and swept the side of her mouth, tasting blood and sweetness and that awful honeyed bitterness from her dream.

Strange hands lifted Aida to her feet, then steadied her wobbling. Her foot was bleeding.

Cantonese and English erupted around her as a crowd gathered. She assured people that she was okay, which might not have been entirely true. She was so dreadfully sleepy and dizzy. It was all she could do to stand without aid.

“Miss Palmer, Miss Palmer!”

Aida turned to see Mrs. Lin’s tiny figure racing toward her in a housecoat and slippers, her tightly wound hair now tumbling loose to her waist.

“Are you badly hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Aida’s handbag still dangled around her wrist. A small miracle.

“What happened?”

“Someone came up the fire escape and set fire to my room.”

“Oh, no, no, no—this is terrible.”

“I broke the fire escape on the way down. I’m sorry for that and the fire.”