Chapter 151

#Chapter 151 – Down in Flames I dash into the boys room, waking them as gently as I can in my frantic state. Archie comes with me, barking at my heels.

“Boys,” I say as they rub their eyes and groan. “Quickly – you’re safe, but I need you to move.”

They respond quickly, their faces grave as they pull themselves out of bed and slide their slippers onto their feet. Taking each by the hand, I pull them down the stairs, the dog following behind. Victor is already by the back door, looking out.

“Mama,” Alvin says, his voice trembling. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a fire, baby,” I say, trying to peer beyond Victor at the flames, “up at the big house.”

Both boys gasp and I go to one knee in front of them, trying to will seriousness and confidence on my face to calm them. “Daddy and I are going to go up and see if we can help, but we need you two to be safe. Okay?”

The books look at each other, considering, and then turn to me and nod. “Good boys,” I murmur, and then pull them over to the front door. Beta Frank is there, the radio on his shoulder buzzing with communication from the other Betas up by the house.

“Frank,” I say, speaking quickly and pushing the boys towards him. “I need you to take them in the car, drive them away – you don’t need to go far, but I want some safe distance between them and any danger –“

I look him in the eyes and I hope that my expression communicates that I’m putting my entire world in his hands.

He gives me one solid nod, confident. “I’ll take care of them, ma’am. With my life.”

“Thank you, Frank,” I murmur, kissing each boy on the head before giving them a little push towards Frank. Then I pick up Archie too, giving him a little kiss on the nose and pressing him into Frank’s arms as well.

Frank leads the boys away to the Hummer parked out front and I spin back to Victor, running to him.

When I am by his side, we both bolt out the back door and up to the house.

“Is it,” I ask, panting, “is it an attack?”

“I don’t know,” he calls back to me, picking up speed and leaving me a behind. When I catch up to him at the pool, he’s already consulting with his Betas. Burton is there – thank god – sitting on a chair and breathing into a paper bag that someone’s given him, fear all over his face.

I hurry over to the butler. “Are you all right?” I ask, putting my hand on his shoulder. He nods at me, his face covered in soot. “What happened?” I ask, a little frantic, looking up at the house, the roof now smoking with flames peeking through.

“I don’t know,” Burton says, taking the bag away from his face. “I woke up to smoke everywhere –

luckily, I am on the first floor – mademoiselle Bridgette; monsieur Rafe –“

I gasp, looking around for them. “Are they still inside!?”

He nods and I run for Victor, standing just at the foot of the porch stairs. He looks to me, worried.

Apparently he has received the same news at the same moment.

“Evelyn,” he says, taking me by the shoulders, “the fire department is on its way – but Rafe –“

I nod up at him, understanding. He has to go.

Victor pulls me to him in a swift, too-brief hug, pressing a kiss to my head. “No matter what happens, Evelyn,” he says, holding me at arms length, “you stay out here. No one is to enter – the Betas have orders – but especially not you.”

I nod at him as he turns, determined, towards the house, pressing his elbow to his nose as he pushes through the back door. I watch him go – there are no flames in the kitchen yet, just thick smoke into which he disappears.

“We think they’re upstairs,” a Beta says, “in their bedroom.” I nod, thinking, of course, that that makes sense.

I bite my lip, peering into the house, wondering what the hell happened – what started it – when suddenly I notice something. Peering through the back door, I have a very slight view of the living room beyond. And there, on the floor, just by the couch, I see a light curl of golden hair.

And there, next to it, a hand – its delicate fingers splayed out against the hardwood.

“Bridgette,” I whisper, and then – without thinking – I’m in motion.

I hear voices call out behind me as I sprint for the back door, but I don’t process what they’re saying as I push myself over the threshold. The smoke is thick now, roiling above me – and it’s hot, so terribly, achingly hot –

I crouch as I move swiftly towards the living room, coughing as the smoke mingles with the oxygen in my lungs.

The distance isn’t far – I cross it in a few strides to see Bridgette laying on her stomach on the floor, apparently passed out from the smoke. Perhaps she was asleep when it started – perhaps she tried to escape too late and fell down on the floor –

Swiftly, I go to my knees and feel for a pulse at her neck. I breathe out a relieved breath when I feel her life beating below my fingers. And then I move, hauling at her shoulder so that I can turn her over onto her back.

When she’s turned, I hook my hands in her armpits and throw my weight into it, starting to drag her towards the kitchen and the exit there. Her foot gets stuck on the couch and, as I lay her back down to release it, I look around to see flames starting to curl at the base of the wall, on the carpet of the room.

s**t –

It’s time to go, but she’s heavy. We’re not even in the kitchen yet.

I move back to her head, hoist her up again, and begin to pull, coughing as the smoke grows ever thicker, beginning to fill the room. I see something moving out of the corner of my eye, towards the door, but I can’t pay attention to it –

Instead, all of my energy, all of my thoughts move towards my determination to get Bridgette out –

My head is starting to fuzz though and I slip, my body going out beneath me as I fall back on my butt.

s**t, s**t –

I work to scramble back to my feet, but I can’t seem to catch my breath. Suddenly, I look around the room, noting that it’s not just smoke anymore. Instead, flames lick at the ceiling, black smoke roiling over them, coming ever closer.

I can’t seem to catch my breath – panic is in me, and the heat – I cough, putting my face down against my arm, trying to breathe through the fabric of my pajama sleeve, trying to get a fresh breath of air –

just one –

I glance behind me, but the door just looks so far –

Then down at Bridgette, who looks perversely peaceful on the floor, her breath coming shallowly, a light sweat building on her brow –

I start to panic, then, truly panic, and fall back flat on the floor, trying to get as close to it as possible in an attempt to get some air, but the tiling is hot beneath me. Is the fire somehow below us as well? It must be, it’s everywhere –

Every instinct within me tells me to run, to use the last bit of air and energy I have to sprint for the door, to go –

I think of my children, of my dog, for some perverse reason, of Victor – and I let out a little cry, pulling myself just an inch towards the door.

But then I look back to Bridgette, my sister-in-law, this woman, her baby –

And I know I can’t leave her. I can’t leave this house, knowing she’ll die.

So I lay there, on the floor, panicked, stuck – unable to escape, unable to get her out by myself –

Just at that moment, the ceiling starts to come down around me.