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As we pulled up toward her house, fire trucks came roaring in, sirens blasting, and I swerved to the side, letting them pass. Marion struggled with her seat belt, unfastening it and jumping out of the car before I could stop her. She raced down the street toward her house.
Menolly and Camille were parked behind me; they’d swung in right behind us. As I unbuckled my seat belt, Menolly streaked by, on the heels of Marion. Camille came running by as I hit the pavement and we followed. We passed two houses and then I skidded to a halt. The next house—Marion’s home—was blazing, flames shooting up into the air. The fire trucks were there but having a hard time controlling the blaze.
I glanced at Camille. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Sorcery? Yes. Shamas just pulled up. He can tell better than I can.” She hailed him as he and Yugi ran down the block to us. “Shamas—can you tell if those flames are magical? If so, we’ll need you to help calm them so the firefighters can put them out.”
“Douglas! Douglas! Are you in there?” Marion was hysterical, fighting to run toward the house, but Menolly was holding her back, her arms tight around Marion’s waist.
As Shamas headed toward the fire, I hurried over to help Menolly with Marion. She was struggling, trying to break free.
“My husband is in there—he took a sleeping pill. He always takes a sleeping pill!” She tried to break free again, but Menolly held on tight.
I shook her by the shoulders. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“Downstairs—toward the back.”
I took a long look at the building. The fire was on one side so far, flames shooting out of the upper floor. I raced over to Shamas and grabbed him.
“Come with me. We’re going in to see if we can rescue her husband.” Ignoring the firefighters who shouted at us, we dodged our way in through the front door, which was standing open.
Shamas turned to me. “Let me go first, I can hold back the flames to a degree and hopefully, if they’re magical, calm them.” He moved into the front as I took the back.
Marion’s house was lovely—walls a pale shade of gold, trim dark brown. Décor was a mix of northwest and southwest Native American, with terra-cotta urns filled with pampas grass, Northwest art—wood burnings of Raven and Salmon, of the Great Trickster Coyote.
The smell of smoke was thick and beginning to drift down the stairs. Shamas motioned for me to move past him, toward the back of the building. He held up his hands and started up the stairs.
I raced down the hall, listening to the roar of the flames from the floor above. The timbers groaned and creaked, and I glanced at the ceiling. I could see soot marks—black. Only a few minutes and the flames would eat through and it would be too late to attempt a rescue.
I slammed open doors as I went and then stopped. A bedroom, and there was Douglas, asleep on the bed. I’d seen him once, at the diner, with Marion. He was sawing logs. And a cat was curled up on his stomach. I shut the door behind me so the cat couldn’t escape and glanced around the room. There was a laundry basket near me, with pillowcases and sheets in it. I grabbed one of the pillowcases and then, as the tabby woke up, I scruffed her and shoved her into the makeshift bag before the princess even knew what hit her. I tied the bag with a loose knot, setting it on the floor, then dragged Douglas out of bed and threw him over one shoulder.>“It is.” I paused, waiting. I knew the guards had searched them, so there shouldn’t be any danger, but given the events of the past few days, I was leery.
“My name is Amanda Flanders, and this is Neely Reed and Carlos Rodrigues. We’re from the United Worlds Church. I’m sorry we’re late, but we had another meeting to attend. We have a proposition for your members.” She pulled off her gloves and stuffed them in her pocket.
Everyone was leaning forward, listening. FBHs usually weren’t invited into our meetings, but I motioned for them to approach the microphone. Menolly cocked her head, giving me a quizzical look, but I just gestured for her to wait.
Amanda stepped up to the microphone and cleared her throat. “Hello. We are members of the United Worlds Church, and we’d like to bridge the gap between Supes and FBHs by forming an anti-hate organization called All Worlds United in Peace. It will be a secular group focused on working together to promote understanding between the races. Many of us come from families who suffered intolerance and prejudice. It’s time to turn Seattle back into what it once was—one of the most friendly cities in the nation.”
She passed me one of their pamphlets, and I glanced through it. The premise looked good, and they seemed sincere. I nodded for them to hand out their brochures to the audience.
As people flipped through the pages, I glanced at their mission statement.
The goal of AWUP is to promote harmony between the races sharing this world, whether human, Were, vampire, Fae, or otherwise unknown. We seek to create and implement a vision for the future that is inclusive, rather than exclusive. We seek to lobby for the rights of the entire Supe Community, and to act in unison. When one member of AWUP is harmed, all members come to harm.
As I looked up at the audience, I saw people nodding, and then, slowly, excited whispers began to fill the room. As people moved forward to chat with our guests, I moved back beside Menolly.
“You think they’re on the up-and-up?” I was surprised that the thought of duplicity even occurred to me. I was the optimist of the group. But I’d seen too much lately and realized I’d never be naïve again.
Menolly, the one usually quickest to jump to conclusions, paused, watching the interaction out on the main meeting floor. After a moment, she cocked her head.
“You know, I think they are. I have a good feeling about this. We’ve been needing something to pull everybody together, and the fact that FBHs are extending a peace offering may mean we pull some people off the fence. We aren’t out to win over the haters. We need to focus on those who haven’t made up their minds—the ones who don’t take part in the hate crimes but don’t do anything about it.”
“Good analysis.” I paused as Neely tapped me on the arm. She was a pretty black woman, short and curvy, with short curly hair.
“Excuse me, but the Regent told me I might want to talk to you.”
“What can I do for you?”
“May we speak in private?” She looked around, a little nervous.
