The bushes were burning out here too. I made it to the middle of the courtyard, there were stone benches with wooden slats, the paint on the wood smoking. I made myself as small as I could, knees up, my back braced against a bench’s legs. I dug in my bag, got the gun out, and the tears rolling down my cheeks weren’t from pain or fear. It was the smoke crawling around me, thick greasy fingers pressing behind my eyes. Coughing shook me in great racking bursts.
I’d thought I could break through the gallery and maybe find a flame-free part of the school to hide in. Now I was trapped. The vampires couldn’t come in here and get me, but the fire might do their job for them. Still, I’d take being roasted alive over getting ripped to shreds by suckers any day.
Or would I? It was getting awful hard to breathe. I hunched down further, trying for usable air close to the ground. The locket was still oddly cold and buzzing against my chest. Steam rose from my sweater, and the smoking paint on the bench wasn’t too happy either, adding a weird pungent note to the thick vapor. A dead-looking rosebush in one corner of the courtyard blossomed into flame.
Oh wow. I stared at the thin thorny sticks, now alive with crawling orange flowers that fizzed and crackled. The gun dipped. Everything was a wall of flame, and I was beginning to feel lightheaded.
“DRUUUUUUUUUUU!” A long-drawn-out howl. I didn’t recognize the voice, and it shook the streaming flames. I coughed steadily now, choking on the smoke. Everything blurred, the blue wires threading through the stone of the courtyard pressing against the circle of orange around me. The bench was getting awful hot, and I had a sudden terrible mental vision of the gun blowing up in my hand. Ammo could do that, if it got too hot. Dad had told me.
Really not your best idea, Dru, I thought, right before I slid over to the side, my fingers cramping on the gun. A black blot dilated in the middle of the flames. “DRUUUUU!”
I coughed again, scouring my lungs. There was nothing to breathe; it was all smoke. Haziness filled my eyes.
Someone was cursing steadily. At least, it sounded like cursing, but the words were put together funny. They sounded foreign. Fingers bit my shoulder and I was dragged up. I fought feebly, the gun loosened from my fingers. Something pressed itself against my cheek, hard little divots and something softer. Then, movement. The world fell away underneath me.
Falling. A jarring through my entire body. Splintering glass and a roar, and I was on fire, burning, flesh crisping and peeling before we burst out into cooler air and rolled, steam rising in waves, a hissing sound and a scream of pain. Then, more chaos.
“Get the goddamn oxygen!” someone screamed. Hands grabbed me and I fought back wildly, coughing and retching as I struck out with fists and feet.
“Calm down!” Another yell, this one I recognized. “Goddammit, Dru, we’re trying to help!”
Graves? I tried to say his name, choked, tried again. My eyes wouldn’t work right. My skin was still on fire, and I starfished again, throwing out my arms and legs as I tried to breathe. That was my last hurrah. All the fight just spilled out of me.
Something wet and cold wiped at my face. It felt good.
More coughing. They rolled me on my side, I choked up a thick mass of burning snot and spat.
Someone caught my head, something was jammed in my nose, and a flood of something cool hit my burning lungs.
I collapsed again onto cold, hard ground, wet grass poking at my hands. My arms and legs refused to work properly. Someone had their arms around me, and I blinked, gritty stuff filling my eyes the tears flooded.
“Jesus Christ,” Graves whispered brokenly. Someone else was coughing and cursing. There was a crash and a snarl. “Leave him alone, he dragged her out! Leave him alone!”
The last three words hit that rolling-thunder-under-the-surface tone again, and the noise subsided except for the roar of the burning.
“I’ll take care of the oxygen,” I heard Dibs say. “Dial it up as high as it’ll go. She’s almost cyanotic.”
“Never seen a Burner before. I thought they died out years ago.” Someone coughed, a deep racking sound.
“Well, they found one.” It was Shanks. I barely recognized his voice without all the mockery. “Guess they had to, with a svetocha here. Jesus.”
“You’re in my way.” Dibs had lost the squeaking, terrified tone; his voice was cool and professional. “Give me that, you’re not a medic.”
“Can you carry her?” Shanks sounded deathly tired. “They’re going to come back as soon as they regroup.”
“I’ll carry her,” Graves answered grimly. “You okay?”
“Had better days.” Shanks coughed weakly. “I’ll do. Come on.”
“What about him?” someone else asked. “He’s one of them.”
“Bring him,” Graves said immediately. He sounded like he was getting used to this answering-questions thing. “They’ll kill him if we leave him here. Let’s go.”
I was dragged, then. I was too busy breathing to really care. Blessedly cool air touched my soot-stained cheeks, and my feet padded at the ground uselessly. I kept blinking, hoping my eyesight would come back. The whole world was black with smudges of gray. My head lolled drunkenly.
“Is she all right?” A hoarse rasp of a voice, one I should’ve recognized. “Is she?”
I choked, spat another gob of stuff. It splatted dully. Ewwww. Gross. The song of pain that was my entire body hitched up another notch, a choir of pulled muscles and still-burning skin. I couldn’t feel Mom’s locket, and it disturbed me until I retched again and had other things to worry about until the nausea retreated a little.
“She’s fine. Probably a bit stunned.” Graves sounded worried. I was jostled as well as dragged now, one of my arms over someone’s shoulders, the other over someone else. I hung between them like a scarecrow. “She’s still breathing, at least.”
“Let me see. Let me see her.” A scuffing, footsteps. The movement halted, and someone let out a sharp, pained sound. A light feathering touch along my forehead, grit scraping lightly against the skin. A gusty sigh. “God in Heaven, dzia kuja. Thank you.”
“Can we move it along?” Shanks sounded irritated. “I would really hate to fight another pitched battle with vampire shock troops and a Burner.”
“They’ve probably set up a cordon.” The husky voice was so familiar, I couldn’t place it though.
“Do we have any water?”
Shanks actually sighed, an aggrieved sound. “Dylan broke out to the west. They’re going fast and loud to draw attention away from us. Let’s go.” A sloshing sound. “Drink while we run. Can you keep up?”
“The day I can’t is the day I turn in my blades.”
I finally placed the husky, sour voice. My heart leapt inside my chest.
I had to cough and spit again before I could rasp, “Christophe?” The word was a husk of itself, scarring my throat. You came back. Intense relief warred with the fact that I really, truly was not feeling very good.
The person holding up my right side stiffened just a little.
“Right here, malutka.” He coughed again, a deep racking that ended on a choke. “Keep breathing. We’ll handle the rest.”
He sounds really sure. “I’ve g-g-g—” My lips refused to work right. My entire brain had seized up. There was so much to tell him. And so many questions to ask.
But he’d come back. For me.
“Later, moj ptaszku. Later. Focus on breathing for right now.” There was a crackle of undergrowth. We started moving again. “Your guardian angel is here, Dru. Don’t fear.”