“That’ll certainly work,” Collin responds. He flashes me a smile that looks slightly less worried. Hopefully, that’s a good sign.
I get down on my hands and knees and crawl past Rafa and the elf.
“This way,” I say.
They follow without an argument. (Which is good, because I don’t have any good answers for them.) It’s taking almost all my attention just to try to keep moving. My throat is raw. My lungs burn.
Still on all fours, I make it through the narrow hallway into the nave. The fire has already penetrated the cavernous room. It’s licking up the edges of the small stained-glass windows along the sides. Rivulets of now-molten lead trickle down the wall under them. Flames creep along the wooden beams supporting the roof.
But, as I suspected, it’s the front door that’s really cooking. Apparently they put extra fuel on its outside and the blaze is roaring up the frame, hungrily devouring the arch above. A pool of gasoline must have spilled in from under the doorjamb, because a wall of fire stretches across the threshold. The heat of it scalds my face and arms from across the long room.
That’swhat I’m supposed to step into.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say I felt hella scared, but whenever Collin has needed me to do something an incubus shouldn’t be able to do, it’s been about fire, or at least a spark. Each time, he told me to feel an inferno on the inside. To get angry. And when I pushed that Molotov cocktail into Rafa’s Evil Vampire Dad, I got cut, but I didn’t get burnt. And I really should have gotten burnt. I mean, the flaming liquid got on my hand, and I didn’t make any effort to put it out.
I have no idea what my father could be. But if it worked before…
“Rafa,” I say, forcing out breath needed for the words. “I’m going to do something crazy. The Avatar thinks it’s our only option and if I can pull it off, you and the elf should be able to follow. Just… don’t try to stop me, okay?”
The Hunter frowns. “You really sure you trust this spirit, Alvin?”
I look over at Collin, who is gazing back with anxious affection. It doesn’t look like he’s certain this is going to work, but he sure wants it to. He wants me to be okay.
“Yeah. I do,” I say, and I mean it.
I give Rafa and the elf one last glance. Neither one looks happy, but only the Hunter looks worried. “Stay here. You’ll know when to move.”
I hope.
Well. I’ve been wanting to fully embrace some do-or-die moment of heroism for the last two days. Since my vision is legit darkening around the edges—despite the raging glare from all the fire—looks like I’m going to get my wish!
Now I just need to get angry.
Luckily, it’s not hard. In the last thirty-six hours, I’ve been screwed over by an elf prince. (Twice!) Drugged and then attacked by a bear. I nearly violated some random Uber driver against my own deepest wishes. And I blew it so badly back at the Benevolent Society, I almost certainly got a bunch of innocent kids killed. All of which can be traced back, one way or another, to my own stupidity and weakness.
Collin never said the anger had to be directed at anyone else—and seeing how being mad at myself is essentially my default, it’s not difficult to think of all the ways I’m a major fuckup. How I’ve put everyone I wanted to help in even greater danger. How, despite my best efforts, Ialwayssomehow manage to make things worse! It’s whenI’m gritting my teeth hard enough that they begin to hurt that I know I’m ready.
I get to my feet, wrap my arms tightly over the top of my head, and charge full out down the center aisle—and directly into the wall of fire.
4
I don’t knowwhat I expected to feel, but it’s the raw, charring heat that hits me first, even before I’m in the actual flame. It’s grabbing-a-scalding-pot-level pain, except it blisters all my skin. I shriek, but nothing comes out. There’s not enough air in the middle of a fire.
Then I slam into the very solid door. With the extra magic I supposedly was going to get from the flames, I kinda expected to burst through it, Kool-Aid style (“Oh, yeah!”), but no such luck. Instead, I smack against the thick wood, face-first, and bounce back onto the floor.
Now it feels like I broke my nose. And my clothes are on fire. And I’m writhing in agony. From an outside perspective, what I just did was probably comedy gold. Or at least it would be, if the people watching it weren’t engaged in an actual tragedy right now. If they weren’t counting on me to save them…
“Alvin!” Rafa cries out. Worried for me. Somewhere behind.
But I’ll be damned if I just throw in the towel afterone try. I don’t even look over my shoulder. Instead, I lurch to my feet, mid-immolation, and force myself to step back into the blaze in front of the door.
Yeah, I’m scared. But there’s a fine line between fear and anger—and I’m supposed to be angry for this to work. I flash to Collin back in the vampire dungeon and how impatient he got because I wasn’t focusing. He was so mad. He wanted me to picture the inferno in my chest.
So, I look inside. I don’t really know what for. (Thatwould have been a good question to ask! Just more flame, right?) But I’m already burning to death. And the pain and fear are so intense, it’s all I can focus on.
I try to push forward, but instead fall to my knees. Then fully on my side.
No.
