Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(50)

All of a sudden, Julia caught a whiff of smoke. A throb of panic went through her body. Wondering if it was her imagination, she inhaled more deeply. The smell was stronger this time. Her heart slammed in her chest, and her thoughts turned into chaos. Fire had destroyed the theaters in both Drury Lane and Covent Garden eighteen years before. The death toll was frequently heavy in such situations, not only from the fire and smoke, but also from the panic that ensued in a crowded building. People would be crushed and trampled, even if the fire was quickly brought under control. Her cue was approaching—she had to tell someone—but where was the fire if she couldn't see it?

As if in answer to her silent question, the flat on stage right erupted into flames. It must have been overheated by a carelessly positioned lamp or flare, the blaze traveling greedily across the paint-coated surface. The actors on stage froze in sudden awareness of the disaster, while screams shot through the audience. “My God,” Julia whispered, while members of the crew shoved past her with a volley of curses.

“Sweet Jesus,” William exclaimed, staring spellbound at the blaze that had begun on the side of the stage. “Damon—we have to get out of here!” The boxes above, below, and around them were bursting in pandemonium as the audience realized what was happening. People fought frenziedly, pushing and shoving each other in the savage battle to escape the potential deathtrap. Women screamed in horror, while men brawled and pummeled to forge a path through the riot.

Damon stared at the blaze onstage, realizing it would be a miracle if they contained it. The Water reservoirs built above the stage appeared to be of little use, despite the crew's frantic efforts to douse the fire. Red flames snaked along the painted flats and shot across the backcloth, sending scraps of scenery curling and blazing to the stage. Through the smoke and the rain of fire, Damon could see Julia's slender form arching and bending as she plied a water-soaked cloth to beat back the flames. He was filled with terror and fury. She had remained behind with the male cast and crew to combat the fire. “Damn you, Julia!” he shouted, the sound lost in the frightened roar of the crowd. All conscious thought was consumed in the need to reach her.

Running from the box, he made his way to one of the twin grand staircases that led to the main theater hall on the first floor. The stairs were packed with the writhing, screaming mob. William was at his heels, following him as he launched himself into the melee. “Let's try the side entrance,” William panted. “Less crowded than the front.”

“You go that way,” Damon said over his shoulder. “I'm heading back inside.”

“For what? For Julia? She's surrounded by a dozen people who are perfectly capable of taking care of her. By the time you reach the stage, she'll be outside…and you could very well be trapped!”

“She won't leave,” Damon said hoarsely, staying close to the railing and shoving his way down a few more steps.

William grunted with the effort to follow him. “Anyone foolish enough to stay in that furnace deserves what they get!” He swore as he realized Damon wasn't listening to him. “I'll be damned ft if I go with you! Unlike you, I don't have a heroic bone in my body.”

“I want you to leave.”

“No,” William said in outrage. “With my luck you'll perish in the fire…and then I'll have to be the responsible eldest son…Hell, I'd rather take my chances in here.”

Ignoring his brother's complaints, Damon continued to the bottom of the stairs, vaulting over the railing when there were only a few feet left. William followed him into the swarm, toward the doors that led to the pit and orchestra seats. It was nearly impossible to make way through the violent flow of the crowd, but they managed to travel a few feet at a time until they were in the middle of the bedlam. The air was rife with wholesale panic.

Leaping over rows of seats in an effort to reach the stage, Damon caught a glimpse of Julia. She was beating out flames with a vengeance, trying to stop them from spreading to the curtains. Crew members worked nearby to remove flammable ground pieces and collapse the flats before the blaze could reach the frontispiece of the stage and the scaffolding above. Yearning to throttle his wife for placing herself in such danger, Damon scrambled around the orchestra pit and hoisted himself onto the stage.

Half-blind from smoke and fumes, Julia beat at the yellow flames that tore across the scenery, while bits of burning ash stung her arms. Her breath burned in her raw throat, escaping in angry sobs of denial. The theater must not be destroyed—it meant more to her than she had realized. She was dimly aware of Logan nearby, working desperately to save the only thing that mattered to him. He wouldn't survive the loss of the Capital—he would stay there even if it burned to the ground.

Her arms trembled with exhaustion, and she felt her body swaying as it was engulfed in blasts of heat. She heard warning shouts from somewhere nearby, but she didn't pause in her battle to smother the flames that had begun to eat at one of the side curtains. Suddenly she was hit hard around the middle, her waist and sides compressed by a force that drove the breath from her. Flinching from pain and shock, she couldn't make a move to defend herself as she was dragged across the space of several yards. There was a cracking, whooshing sound in her ears, mingling with the heavy throb of her pulse.

As she pushed a lock of sweat-soaked hair from her eyes, Julia realized that the crew had collapsed the flat on stage right. She had been standing directly in its path. Someone had pulled her out of harm's way, the same person who was now beating at her skirts, his hand descending with bruising thwacks against her thighs and calves. Coughing, struggling for air, she tried to evade him before realizing with a thrill of horror that bits of burning residue from the backcloth had set her costume on fire.