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“Everything’s probably okay, but we’ll run you home just to make sure. Come on. Let’s go.” I motioned for Shamas and Yugi to follow us, giving them Marion’s address on the way out. Marion rode with me, while Camille went with Menolly. We left Camille’s car for the guys to drive home.
We were within two blocks when we heard the sirens. I sped up while Marion clutched her purse. She leaned forward as far as the seat belt would allow, trying to get a good view out the window, but it was so dark that all we could see were a few sparks flying up into the sky above the roofline.
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.
Like most coyote shifters, he was lean. For me, the weight was a burden but not unmanageable. Using my right hand to steady the sleeping man on my shoulder, I opened the door, grabbed the bag in my left hand, and staggered out.
“Shamas! Shamas! Come help me.” The cat was struggling, making it hard to hold on to both bag and man.
As I stumbled forward, Shamas came clambering down the stairs. He took one look at me, grabbed Douglas off my shoulder, and carried him to the door. I followed, the sack-o’-cat in my arms. As we exited the house, an explosion reverberated down the stairs; the shockwave sent me sprawling forward.
I landed chin first but managed not to fall on the cat. Scrambling up, I ran like hell. The flames were engulfing the bottom floor now, roaring down the stairwell. Shamas laid Douglas down by Marion’s side. The coyote shifter fell to her knees, sobbing into her hands.
“Douglas…Douglas…” She began to cry as he opened his eyes, blurrily shaking his head. “Wake up, Doug.”
As he sat up, coughing, I moved over to her side. “Marion, I rescued your cat.” I held out the struggling feline in the bag.
With tears running down her face, she gathered the sack in her arms, crying even harder. She glanced up at the house, then back at her husband.
“Damn you…damn it…I don’t know what I would have done if you died.” And before she could say another word, he groggily wrapped her in his arms, cat and all, and kissed her.
In the background, the flames lit up the night as they gobbled up what had been Marion’s home and life.
Chapter 15
Marion crouched, her arms wrapped around her husband, as we watched the firefighters try to beat back the flames. Shamas had managed to remove the magical energy from the fire, but he couldn’t put it out. The arsonists had also used gasoline. The smell was thick in the air.
I ran over to my Jeep. We always kept a cat carrier in each of our cars, just in case I turned into my Tabby self somewhere and had to be contained until I was ready to change back. I pulled it out and took the pillowcase from Marion, gently easing their cat out of the bag into the carrier and then locking it firmly. I set it down next to her and she smiled, weary and worried, but looking grateful.
