The Maze of Bones (The 39 Clues #1)(14)

The heat was getting worse. The air filled with ash. It was like breathing in a poison fog. Amy couldn't even crawl fast because she was wearing her stupid funeral dress.

She heard Dan coughing and wheezing behind her. His asthma -- he hadn't had an attack in months, but this smoke might kill him if the heat didn't.

Think, she ordered herself. If she were Grace, she would never make a secret room with only one exit.

Amy sank to the floor, coughing and choking. All she could see was the oriental carpet -- a parade of woven silk dragons.

Dragons ... like the one on Grace's necklace. And they were all flying in the same direction, like they were leading the way. It was a crazy idea, but it was all she had.

"Follow me!" Amy said.

Dan was wheezing too badly to answer. Amy crawled along, looking back now and then to make sure he was still behind her. The dragons led them between two burning bookshelves and dead-ended in front of an air grate about three feet square. Not very big, but maybe big enough. Amy kicked at the grate with her feet. On the third try it rattled off, revealing a stone shaft slanting up.

"Dan!" she yelled. "Go!"

She pushed him through and realized with a start that he was holding Saladin.

Somehow, he'd found the cat, and the cat was not happy about it. Saladin clawed and growled, but Dan held him tight. Amy followed, gasping for breath. Her eyes felt like they were being sandblasted. They climbed up the dark shaft, and after what seemed like ages, Dan stopped.

"What are you doing?" Amy demanded. The heat wasn't as bad now, but the smoke was still thickening around them.

"Blocked!" Dan wheezed.

"Push it!"

In total darkness, she crawled up next to him and together they pushed on a flat smooth stone that was blocking their path. It had to open. It had to.

And finally, it did -- popping up like a lid. Daylight blinded their eyes. They crawled out into fresh air and collapsed on the grass. Saladin got free with an indignant

"MRRRRP!" and shot off into the trees. They were lying in the cemetery, not fifty feet from Grace's newly filled grave. The slab they'd pushed aside was somebody's tombstone.

"Dan, you okay?" she asked.

Dan's face was streaked with soot. Steam rose from his hair and his clothes were even blacker than they had been before. He was breathing heavily. His arms bled from a hundred cat scratches.

"Think ..." He wheezed. "Don't want ... collect tombstones ... after all."

Smoke poured out of the tunnel like a chimney, but that was nothing compared to what Amy saw when she looked up at the hill. Her throat constricted. "Oh, no."

The family mansion was a roaring inferno. Flames winked in the windows and lapped up the sides of the building. As Amy watched, one stone tower collapsed. The beautiful stained glass windows melted. The family crest above the main entrance -- that old stone crest Amy had always loved -- crashed down and shattered on the pavement.

"Amy ..." Dan's voice sounded like it was about to break to pieces. "The house ... we can't let it... we have to ..."

But he didn't finish. There was nothing they could do. A section of the roof crumpled, belching a fireball into the sky. Despair crushed the air right out of Amy's lungs, like the house was collapsing on top of her. She reached for Dan and hugged him. He didn't even protest. His nose was runny. His lower lip trembled. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him it would be all right, but she didn't believe it herself.

Then she noticed something that jolted her out of her daze. In the driveway lay a collapsed figure, a man in a gray suit. "Mr. McIntyre!" Amy cried.

She was about to run to his aid when her brother gasped, "Get down!"

He wasn't as strong as she was, but he must've been desperate, because he tackled her with so much force she just about ate the lawn. He pointed up the road that led through the hills -- the only exit from the property.

About five hundred yards away, half hidden in the trees, a man in a black suit was standing very still. How Dan had spotted him so far away, Amy didn't know. She couldn't make out the man's face, but he was tall and thin, with gray hair, and he was holding binoculars. With a chill, Amy realized he was watching them.

Amy said, "Who -- " But she was distracted by the chirping sound of a car alarm being deactivated.

Alistair Oh, sooty and smoky, burst out of the mansion's main entrance and hobbled toward his BMW, cradling something against his chest. He looked terrible. His pants were ripped and his face was white with ash. Amy had no idea how he'd managed to get out. She almost called to him, but something held her back. Alistair staggered past William McIntyre with hardly a glance, jumped in his car, and peeled out down the driveway.

Amy looked back toward the woods, but the man with the binoculars had disappeared.

"Stay here," she told Dan.

She ran toward Mr. McIntyre. Dan, of course, didn't obey orders. He followed her, coughing the whole way. By the time they got to Mr. McIntyre, the entire mansion was collapsing. The heat was like a new sun. Amy knew there would be nothing left to salvage -- nothing except the jewelry box she was still clutching.

She set down the box and rolled Mr. McIntyre over. He groaned, which at least meant he was alive. Amy wished she had a cell phone of her own, but Aunt Beatrice had never allowed them to have one. She fished around in Mr. McIntyre's pockets, found his phone, and dialed 911.