Page 71 of Fall into Place

Strange bedfellows, Callum thought as he picked up the jug of kerosene and pile of rags Felix had left for him. He hated Felix Hawthorn, the smug little killjoy—but in this case, they wanted the same thing.

“Konstantin didn’t ask me to come to the club—if I show up there, he’ll know something is off,” Felix had pleaded. “You have to do this, Callum. You’re the only one who can stop him.”

All Callum had to do was start a small fire, set off the club’s sprinklers, and this whole mess would be over before it started. The humans would file into the street, clothes wet and cigarettes lit, and Konstantin and his followers would be robbed of the darkness and tight quarters they needed for their attack.

Callum soaked a few of the rags in kerosene, then pulled a silver lighter out of his pocket. Click, spark, and that’s the end of all this.

But the second the flames went up, Callum knew something was wrong. It was like the whole place was a tinderbox, the walls crackling, the wires sizzling within, the fire moving through the ancient electrical system too fast for anything to stop it.

The smoke was black and thick—Callum’s eyes teared and his throat burned as he tore through the club, telling people to leave, trying to find Konstantin—but it was too late, too late for everything: the vampires already attacking, the fire roaring all around them, and Callum’s sire nowhere to be found.

“Konstantin!” he screamed, over and over, his voice parched and raw. The smoke couldn’t kill a vampire, but the fire would—if Konstantin had passed out from smoke inhalation somewhere in this building, his body would burn to ash.

Callum searched as long as he could—until the walls started crumbling and the blaze was too hot to bear. But he couldn’t go, he had to find Konstantin—he couldn’t let him die, because if he did, it would be all his fault—

“Callum—”

Was that Konstantin? No, a woman. Octavia?

“Callum, can you hear me? Callum!”

Callum forced his eyes open—he was in his rooms at Nantale’s compound, his vision bleary, his body slick with sweat. Tess was there, looking as worried as he’d ever seen her. Why was she worried? She didn’t care if he died.

“Oh god, you have a fever, you’re burning up,” Tess fretted. She rushed over to his bath and ran cold water over a cloth, which she laid across his forehead—it felt cool and smelled of eucalyptus.

“What are you doing…here?” he asked weakly. His dreams—hallucinations?—had been so vivid, he’d felt the fire all around him, the choking stench of the smoke, the panic as he searched for his sire.

“Nantale said I had to take care of you, remember?” Tess looked worried. “Do you want me to go?”

He looked up at her with confusion. His whole body felt swollen and wrong, like the poison was liquefying him from the inside out, heating him until he boiled and burst.

“I feel hot,” he slurred. “Too hot.”

“Okay,” Tess said, as if steeling herself. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to draw you a hot bath—I know, it sounds awful, but it will help break the fever—and I’ll make you that clove tea.”

He shook his head. “You don’t—have to.”

“Don’t be silly,” she clipped, already in motion. “I can’t just leave you like this.”

“You should have left me when you had the chance,” Callum mumbled, his mouth dry and thick. “Then neither of us would have to be here.”

Tess looked back at him for a long moment, but she didn’t respond. Maybe she hadn’t heard him over the water from the bath.

“How is he?” Nantale was stately and reserved as always, but Tess could sense she was deeply worried. They were standing in the hallway outside Callum’s rooms, speaking in hushed tones while he slept.

“I don’t know,” Tess answered. “The fever got a little better after a hot bath, but he seemed very weak. Do you know when Sylvie and the others will be back?”

“Tomorrow, I hope?” Nantale folded her arms. “Unless something has happened to delay them.”

Tess nodded, a knot of dread taking hold in her stomach. She was afraid for Callum, but also for herself—if he died, would Nantale assign someone else to work with Tess to figure out a way off the Isle? Or would she give up hope—and give her clan the green light to use Tess’s blood to sate their hunger? Maybe she’d allow Tess to leave the compound and go home—except the crystal bridge was gone, so Tess couldn’t go anywhere. Tess imagined living out her mortal life in this place, subsisting on whatever food she could find in the northern woods, hoping no vampire came across her. A quick death would probably be preferable.

“I know Callum can be difficult,” Nantale said quietly. “But you must understand, he is my most trusted ally in this clan.”

“He’s a brilliant fighter,” Tess murmured.

“It’s more than that. Do you know what it was like in the early days on the Isle? Does it say this in your books?”

“I know there was a lot of violence, but not much more than that.”