Page 102 of Glasshouses

Something crashed, a loud cry.

I lifted the bedside table, holding the top towards the window like a battering ram, and forced it into the glass which shattered, sharp shards cascading outside and in, onto my clothes and shearing my skin.

Footsteps running on stairs, more shouting and a cacophony of noise outside, birds disturbed by the sounds coming from a house that had been frozen in silence.

“Don’t, Stefan, you shouldn’t do this!” Lily’s voice carried on the disrupted air.

I knew what was coming.

How would you prefer to die – in a fire or drowning?

It wasn’t a question I was currently dwelling on.

Footsteps grew closer, a whiff of smoke coming from somewhere, or maybe it was my brain conjuring up phantom smells as it tried to process what to do next. The room was at the front of the house, tucked away in the eaves, but there was thick ivy growing next to the window and adjacent to that, a drainpipe.

I stood near the window, listening to the crackle of fire, watching for cars coming down the drive. I checked my phone; one bar of signal. Freezing, I called Vinny.

“Mac, where are you?”

“In the house. Top front bedroom, and I’ve been locked in. Stefan Taylor and Lily Mayhew are here and they’ve set fire to the building. Call the fire brigade.”

He barked orders at Lachy. “Can you get out?”

“I’ve broken the window. It’s a big drop.” And I didn’t have Taz with me to help me down.

“We’re fifteen minutes away.” I heard sirens. “I’ll be faster than that.”

I heard someone at the door, a key in the lock. I pressed loudspeaker, needing Vinny to hear whatever happened next.

Lily was there, a cut on her face, her hair dishevelled. “Mia, you need to come with me.”

I rushed for the door before she could think of closing it, then I saw smoke snaking upwards, heard wood snapping and something smashing, creaks were coming from everywhere.

Lily grabbed hold of me and pulled me away from the stairs. “Not these. They’re not safe.”

Bannisters crashed, something exploded. Whatever accelerant Stefan had used was helping the fire to travel hot and fast. I followed Lily, not sure if she was leading me into a premature ending or a safe haven.

The room at the back had a small door with a set of stairs leading down, narrow and steep, and made of stone. The servants’ stairs; designed so they could move around unseen.

We almost fell down them, smoke swelling up them, hitting the back of my throat and making my eyes feel gritty, breaths coming in short and harsh bursts.

“Where’s Stefan?” I spat out the words.

“Don’t worry about him.” She grabbed my hand, pulling me down the last few steps and pushing open a door into a room I couldn’t identify.

I pulled her down to the floor with me, keeping us low like training and common sense had taught. More crashing, the noise deafening, the house collapsing around us and I feared that Lily was trying to kill us both.

“This way.” She was somehow on her feet, pulling me. “Nearly at the doors.”

Later, I’d have no clear memory of those next couple of minutes, the fumes and the smoke and the heat clouding every one of them. There were flames and pieces of falling wood, a wall of fire behind us and then there was air and water and stinging eyes, and we were running away from the house, dragging our legs, holding hands as we reached the glasshouses, the sound of sobbing being heard by the birds who stood silently in the trees.

We sat, arms wrapped around each other, watching the flames shoot their fiery tongues through the windows and lick the blackened stone. Part of the roof collapsed, tumbling down in slow motion, the sound lagging by a split second.

Lily coughed violently, her body wracked by the motion. There was nothing I could do, too weak and shaky to do anything other than be there and watch. I could hear sirens coming closer, but I felt nothing apart from air filling my lungs.

Lily stilled, leaning against me.

“What happened to Stefan?”