Page 215 of Love at First Fright

I scooped Charlie into Brad’s strong arms. Feather-light, fragile as glass. His head lolled against my shoulder.

Evelyn stared at her husband’s body, frozen. “But—”

“Walk or burn.” I charged toward the exit, praying she’d follow.

The basement door that Cornelius had resealed was back on the floor. I sprinted past it, past the shattered fuse box against the wall.

What would happen when the flames reached that?

Nothing good.

My feet—Brad’s feet—pounded up the stairs.

The kitchen doorway gaped ahead. I caught a glimpse of the table where Molly had served endless cups of phantom tea, the kettle she’d polished until it gleamed. Smoke already curled along the ceiling.

Down the corridor. Past portraits of people long dead. Grimthornes with their cold eyes and colder hearts.

Into the grand lobby.

The twins’ laughter echoed in my memory—high and sweet and terrible. I could almost see them there: Rosemary chasing Henry around the marble pillars, both shrieking with delight.

All gone now. All at peace.

The front door hung open. I barrelled through it into the garden.

Grey clouds pressed down on us. The storm had passed, leaving everything washed out and colourless. The oak tree where I’d first shown myself to Charlie stood sentinel, branches dripping.

I’d spent half my afterlife wandering these grounds. Thomas’s domain. I could almost smell the phantom flowers he tended, see him bent over rosebushes that no longer existed.

I ran faster. Brad’s body didn’t even strain, his powerful legs eating up the distance.

Evelyn’s footsteps pattered behind us.

We charged towards the black iron gate, not stopping until we’d put a good hundred metres between us and the manor.

I wasn’t even the slightest bit out of breath.

Evelyn stumbled past us, holding her phone high overhead. Searching for signal, her face streaked with dirt and tears.

“All the electricians,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“They all said—” She took a breath. “They all said the manor was a deathtrap. The wiring.”

A sharp crack split the air.

We all flinched.

Something inside the manor had given way. A support beam, maybe. Something surrendering to the flames.

Smoke poured from the chimneys—thick and black, nothing like the gentle wisps from a fireplace. It billowed from the upper windows. Glass shattered somewhere deep in the building’s guts. Orange light flickered behind the library windows.

Grimthorne Manor was burning.

Charlie nuzzled deeper into my chest. His breathing came shallow and quick.

“You can put me down now,” he mumbled.