Page 83 of Roses & Ruin

I reach sixty again.

When I open my eyes, Hayden’s looking at me. His eyes are a shocking, glistening purple. It takes me a few tries to find my voice.

“Have we ever made it this far?” I whisper. Hayden licks his lips, eyes intense. He opens his mouth, but maybe he can’t find his voice, because he slams it shut and shakes his head.

I turn back out to the view. The snow falls softly. The wind has died down. It even seems like, out on the open ocean, the waves have gentled a little. My vision blurs. I blink, watch as Winston’s ear twitches from one of my fallen tears.

“Did we…did we do it?” I ask.

In a burst of movement and shrieks, a flock of bats swoops at us from above. Hayden and I startle back from each other, and I yelp. Winston shoots out of my arms, landing on the snowy stone, all bottlebrush tail and arched, frightened back.

The bats turn away last minute, disappearing quickly around the bend, leaving us panting and wide-eyed.

“That was weird,” Hayden says, disturbed. After a minute or so of silence, I let my shoulders fall.

Winston only looks more freaked out. His head is twitching this way and that, as if he hears something I don’t. Hayden’s frown is deep as he watches Winston’s movements with sharp eyes. I’m about to stoop to pick him up when he hisses, long and loud, and sprints back into the bedroom and out the bedroom door.

“Winston!” I yell, about to chase after him.

The power goes out. The only light in the room is the dying fire, a weak orange glow. Hayden snatches my hand, pulls me close.

“Grab your go bag,” he says, and dread bubbles like tar in my chest. I slip my backpack on, filled with essentials and, just in case, my ancient copy of Frankenstein from the vault.

“We can’t assume these are coincidences,” he says. “Let’s head to the music room exit.”

“But—”

“Winston’s scrappy. I’ll get you safe, then I’ll track him down. He’ll be fine until—”

Hayden stops, suddenly rigid in the bedroom doorway.

“What?” I gasp. “What is…”

But then I smell it. And as soon as I do, it occurs to me that we’d been so worried about me dying that it hadn’t occurred to me to be worried about this. Why would I have? Because, of course, there are only three things that can kill a vampire: A stake through the chest. Decapitation. And…

A draft cuts through the hall, and I start to cough from the unmistakable smell of thick, black smoke. Hayden sounds like a ghost.

“Fire.”

Chapter 29

Hayden’s grip becomes punishing.

“Run. Now,” he snarls, pulling me out into the hall.

“What about the vault?” I gasp, and I start coughing harder. How is this possible? Where’s the smoke even coming from? “Don’t you want to grab some more—”

Hayden and I are blown back onto the carpet as a column of fire blasts out of our bedroom, shattering the door from its hinges. I watch in horror as flames curl around the doorjamb like fingers, licking out into the open hallway, as if scenting prey.

“Fuck the vault,” Hayden chokes. “You’re the vault.” He sounds terrified, and that’s somehow scarier than this fire. His arms scoop around my middle and suddenly we’re flying down the hall toward the music room, coughing and gagging.

Hayden’s fast. Even for a vampire, he’s fast.

Which is why it’s unbelievably horrifying when we reach the music room and see through the shimmering French doors that flames have already engulfed the room from within. I only have a moment to register that the harpsichord is consumed in fire when Hayden tightens around me.

“Brace yourself,” he roars, spinning us around and shielding me with his body just as the glass doors shatter from the heat, raining melting shards all around us. “Chapel,” he says, and we launch down the hall.

The smoke is growing, our visibility shrinking. Our saving grace is Hayden’s speed and strength, but even that is flagging, the fire and smoke taking a toll.