Inferno (Blood for Blood #2) (36 page)

I squeezed Nic’s hand to try and rouse him. Luca was shouting, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I grabbed Nic’s wrist and struggled to find his pulse. It ebbed faintly beneath my fingers.

There was an almighty smash behind me, and I lurched forwards as a light fixture split in half and came crashing to the ground. Shards embedded themselves in the backs of my arms.

I still couldn’t hear Luca, but I could read his lips. ‘We have to move him!’

I crawled over Nic’s body and grabbed his left arm as Luca took hold of his right. We heaved together, falling on to our haunches and dragging him with us. I gritted my teeth, spluttering as smoke choked the oxygen from our lungs. We pushed backwards, where the flames were charring the presses above the stove. Nic was impossibly heavy. His arms and legs splayed against the floor, lolling over ash and dust as we inched towards the doorway. My eyes were so sore I could barely keep them open, but I could feel the coolness rippling somewhere nearby. We were almost there. If we could just make it to the threshold, my mother would help us pull him outside.

A cupboard burst into an explosion of orange and red and I jumped to the side. Luca twisted and fell against me. Nic’s legs began to twitch. He lifted his head and it fell backwards until he was staring up at the ceiling. He blinked quickly, trying to orient himself. His mouth was falling open, and his chest lurched as he spluttered black mucus on to his shirt.

I could feel the cool air on the back of my neck.
Just five more steps. Ignore the heat. Don’t think about the pain
. And
then we were out, stumbling backwards into soaked trash and splashing puddles. Nic was on his side, his hand pressed against the dirt, trying to steady himself as he retched. Luca had doubled over against the dumpster.

I lifted my head, squinting into the darkness. All I could see was red. The fire had robbed me of my senses. I blinked hard. There was nothing but trash, and me and Nic and Luca. And … there was no one else.

‘Mom?’ I floundered into the alley as I scanned the darkness, the flames still imprinting in my vision like stencils. ‘Mom?’

There was no moisture in my throat, no energy left to move my tongue. She couldn’t hear me, not over the thunder and the fire and … it didn’t matter. Because she wasn’t here – she wasn’t outside. She wasn’t here!

I turned around. The doorway was half-enveloped by flames but I could see a way into the smoke. I was small enough to clear it. I charged, throwing myself into the amber hole and spreadeagling myself across the ground.

Behind me, Luca was screaming my name.

I set my sights on the island in the centre. Hungry flames were choking down its wooden base. There was a narrow passageway but the unlit space was dwindling rapidly. I started crawling towards the island, circling the pocket of fire. Already, my cheeks were scalded red-raw and my eyelids were beginning to droop. My head felt heavy, rolling forwards from my neck. But I could swear I heard a voice, a quiet tinkling amidst the inferno. Was she calling my name?

I forced myself further into the heat. Was that her shoe, right there, through the flames? Had she been wearing
sneakers? I forced my eyes open, searching for the mirage. I was beaten back again, the heat pouring over me like boiling water. The fire was at my elbows, stabbing me.

I reached the other side of the island. Someone was definitely calling my name. Was it her? Was I close? I could only see the floor, tiles mussed with smudges of black. The countertops had collapsed on themselves, shooting splinters of wood into the centre of the kitchen. Knives and forks nipped and jabbed at me as I crawled over them. Trickles of blood trailed down my arms and sizzled in the heat.

There. That foot again
. I was trapped behind the flames, and the spark of white rubber was unmoving.

‘Mom,’ I called out, but there was nothing but smoke spluttering out of me. The room was pressing down on me, pinning me to the floor.

Somewhere over my shoulder, someone was yelling at me. It wasn’t her. It was harder, deeper, further away. I was fixating on the shoe, trying to keep my eyes open. It was impossible. Everything was amber. Searing, white-hot, burning, shrieking amber. I was choking, but if I could just get to that shoe, I could grab her leg. I could wake her up. She would come back to me. We would crawl out of here together.

The shouting soared above the fire. There was so much screaming and it was closer now. Was it coming from me? From her? I could barely tell.

Where did the shoe go?

There!

I lunged but the fire soared, whipping at me, and I collapsed behind the flames. My lungs filled with smoke and I
gasped, my body lurching for fresh air. There was none. I pulled my head up, searching, but it was too heavy. It flopped back down.

Her foot had disappeared behind streams of red and orange. Had it been a foot at all?

Something cracked and I was forced down, my cheeks smashing against the floor. I had lost direction. It hurt to suck in what little air was left. The flames were surrounding me in a circle. Which way was out? I scrabbled across the tiles, shrinking tight into a ball. I could feel the flames licking at my bare skin.

‘Mom!’

Nothing came out.

‘Someone help us!’

Clammy hands grabbed my ankles, pulling me backwards. Was she behind me? I couldn’t remember what direction she was in. Voices surged around me. There was yelling, arguing. The hands didn’t belong to her – these hands were coarse, their grip tight against my seething skin.

I clawed forward again, dropping my body against the floor. The hands were pulling me back. They moved to my waist and then my shoulders. I coasted backwards, my body scraping off the tiles.

‘No,’ I gasped. ‘No. No.’

A sliver of warm air rushed into my lungs, but everything was still glowing. The ground was cool against my cheek. My eyelids drooped. I would rest here, just for a moment. I would let sleep take me from this nightmare. I was in a dream, and the dream was scalding me alive.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

SIRENS

W
ind beat down on my weathered body. I lurched and something rolled down my chin. The air was too cold to choke in. My head felt like it was splitting in two. Aches pulsed through my limbs, sticking me to the ground.

Think. Concentrate
. I tried to switch my brain back on.

The ground was rough beneath my legs. The pressure was gone from my chest. The back of my head was scratching against something. I was on my back. Yes.

The lights behind my eyes were still blazing, but the roaring was somewhere behind me. The heat was close, but not like it was before. Wind was pushing hair across my face. It stuck to my lips. Drops of water pricked my cheeks. It was raining. I was outside. Yes. There was a chorus of new sounds soaring into the night.

Sirens
. I tried to imagine what a siren was.
Ambulances. Fire trucks. Police cars
. We were safe.

‘Sophie!’ That familiar voice, silky like honey.
Nic. Yes, that’s right. Nic is here
.

There was more noise – clanging, shouting. There were discussions – serious, angry discussions. A female voice. ‘Sophie? Sophie, can you hear me?’

My mother?

No. Not her.

There were more words, important words, falling around my ears. I strained to listen. Smoke inhalation. Gas leak. Explosion. One more. One more left.
One more left inside
.

My attention snapped. I was falling away from reality, into something else. My limbs stopped aching. Everything was weightless. The voices were drifting far away from me, the warmth barely reaching me now.

I fell down, down into blackness.

And then light was flickering. My mother’s voice beckoned me towards her. The fire surrounded her, but it wasn’t hot any more.

‘Sophie? Can you hear me?’

I stumbled forwards, falling at her feet. She knelt down to me, her big blue eyes swarming with tears. Her lips were moving but I couldn’t hear her voice. ‘Sophie, can you open your eyes for me?’

She pulled me into her. I wrapped my arms around her neck, expecting the softness of her hair and the gentle scent of her lavender perfume. Her arms were like reeds, slimy and cold. They fell away, withering to the ground. I frowned, pulling back. Her hair was stringy and damp, her perfume like
wet earth. I tasted ash in my mouth. I blinked and her face disappeared. I turned and the blackness engulfed me.

‘Sophie?’

Inside, my body cracked and splintered. Heat surged through me, scalding me. Outside, my arms and legs sprawled in puddles, shaking with cold.

Where was she?

Where was I?

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

TRAGEDY

GAS EXPLOSION DESTROYS FAMILY
DINER; OWNER’S WIFE PERISHES IN FIRE

One person was killed and three more were injured in an explosion and resulting fire that levelled local family diner, Gracewell’s, in Cedar Hill on Sunday night.

Celine Gracewell, wife of owner Michael Gracewell, was present at the time of the explosion, and was pronounced dead at the scene. Her daughter, along with two of her friends, was also inside the restaurant. It is reported that Gracewell’s daughter attempted to go back into the fire to rescue her mother, but was unable to.

Preliminary investigations suggest a gas leak was to blame for the destruction, setting off a fire which spread
rapidly through the rest of the building. Police have yet to determine an official cause for the explosion, and investigations are ongoing. They are also looking to talk to Jack Gracewell, acting manager of the diner, who has been not been contactable since the incident.

Located on the corner of Foster and Oak in downtown Cedar Hill, Gracewell’s has been a favourite family establishment for over fifteen years.

Celine Gracewell, 43, a local dressmaker and part-owner of the establishment, was standing close to the gas leak at the time of the blast, and lost her life on impact, it has been reported. Since the explosion, neighbours and friends have been leaving tributes at the site. As city workers and electric utility experts tore through the rubble this morning, many gathered in the street to pay their respects.

Ursula Nguyen, assistant manager at the diner for ten years, was inconsolable as she laid her wreath among the others. Of Celine Gracewell, she said, ‘She was a wonderful person. Always smiling, always happy. It’s such a loss for the whole neighborhood. I’m devastated for her daughter.’

Rita Bailey, long-time resident of Cedar Hill, was visibly stunned as she visited the site to see the destruction, commenting, ‘I’m reeling. How could anyone have seen this coming? This is such a tragic thing to happen.’

Details of Celine Gracewell’s memorial service have not been released. It is not known whether the diner will be rebuilt.

PART V

‘I come to lead you to the other shore;
into the eternal darkness;
into fire and into ice.’

Dante Alighieri,
‘
Inferno’

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

DARKNESS