Time to go. I crawled along the wall toward the metal door at the end of the hall. Saturday-morning public-service announcements had told me that I would find clean air at knee level, but I coughed and hacked on the stink of burning polyester. Just as I reached the edge of the door, it swung open.
Two firefighters rushed by me. They wore helmets and bulky masks, and I suspect they didn’t even see me there on the floor. I slipped into the stairwell and let the door close behind me.
The stairs were difficult. What smoke had gotten through rose up to the top of the stairwell, making the air breathable, but my legs did not want to move. I didn’t know how I was going to get to my car, or what I would do after that. A sudden wave of nausea almost made me slide down the final six steps.
On the ground floor, I fell against the door and went out into the sunlight. The heat of the day was raw against my burns. I didn’t look down at them, though. I didn’t want to see how bad they were, because then the pain would hit me like a tidal wave.
Not that it wasn’t already coming on. I tried to breathe slowly to control the pain, but every breath caught in my throat. I circled around the back of the building, leaning on parked cars while I passed between them. A firefighter yelled at me to get out of there, and a slender black woman in gray pinstripes rushed by me with car keys in her hand.
Suddenly, Bud was beside me. “Hey there, Ray.”
I staggered away from him and fell against the hood of a Lumina. “Damn,” I said, my voice slurred. “Scared me. Give me a hand, Bud.”
He laughed. Summer was standing beside him. She never laughed. Neither moved to help me. “You said you were going to save us, Ray.” There was a touch of contempt in her voice. “How you gonna manage that?”
I didn’t have the energy to spar with them. I was helpless, and that made me furious. “Vanish!” I shouted. The word made me choke. “VANISH!”
Summer sneered at me. Bud smirked. Both of them turned their backs and walked away.
I didn’t care, because my anger had given me focus and I’d suddenly remembered what I’d done with my spell.
I’d thrown my ghost knife but hadn’t called it back, not through those flames. It should have passed through the wall, but I didn’t know how far it could go. I staggered toward the far end of the building—the south? I was all turned around—determined that I would not leave a magic spell lying around for anyone to find. I had to get it back.
At the far side of the building was a narrow alley with a high fence. The chain-link fence had plastic slats threaded through it, so I couldn’t see what was on the other side. The pain grew stronger, stealing my life force away.
There was not very much trash in the passageway, but I didn’t see my ghost knife anywhere. The only places left to go were back into the building and out to the front, where the fire trucks had gathered.
I didn’t need to do that. I closed my eyes and reached for my ghost knife. It was nearby—still inside the building and above me, and as I focused on it, I felt myself wavering. My body wanted to shut down, and I was barely able to feel my spell and call it to me. The world seemed to be growing dark, but I did see the ghost knife slice through the wall to land in my open palm.
I slapped it against my chest and fell against the side of the building. Whatever it was and whatever it wanted, it was part of me, and I was glad to have it close. I slid it into the back pocket of my pants, miraculously hitting the target on my first try.
I was about to fall when I felt a pair of hands grab me roughly. Damn, I had been caught by one of the firefighters, which meant an ambulance, then cops, then jail. I tried to convince myself it was better than dying, but I couldn’t make those thoughts come together in my head. The hands were strong; they lifted me and propped me against the fence.
I looked up but didn’t see a firefighter’s jacket and helmet. It was the guy in the red T-shirt and the camo pants.
He seemed happy to see me. “Hey!” he said. “Here you are!”
I punched him in the mouth with all my strength, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough. The whole world turned dark, and I went down into it, knowing that I might never see daylight again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Pain woke me. I was lying on my stomach in a darkened room; my legs were stiff and my back felt like it had a turtle shell attached. I put my arms underneath me and raised myself slowly—I couldn’t see any people, but if Camo Pants was nearby, I wanted him to think I was fall-down weak right up to the moment I jumped him.
Unfortunately, I was weak. My back and legs hurt beyond belief. Every movement I made was like being burned all over again.
Still, I had to move. I didn’t know anything about this place except that Camo Pants had brought me here, but that was enough. I had to get out.
Most of my burns were below the knee, so I lifted my feet off the bed and did my best to roll over into a seated position.
I didn’t make a sound. It took every bit of restraint I had, but I didn’t make a single sound.
When the spots faded from my vision, I looked around. In the dim light from the window, I could see a little lamp on a table by the bed. I snapped it on. I was in a little room—a hotel room, by the look of it—with white paper on the walls, gleaming silver in the fixtures, and pale, ghostly furniture.
I wasn’t wearing a shirt. My clothes were gone and my lower legs were covered with gauze and gauze pads. Now that I was finally ready to look at my burns, they were hidden. I glanced around the room again and saw burned, ragged black cloth on the little table by the window. My pants.
My head was pounding and my mouth was parched. I peeled the edge of the gauze away from my leg just enough to peek underneath. It looked red, swollen, and wet. Had they smeared some kind of gel on me, or was that a huge blister? I hoped it was gel.
I stood. The pain was blinding. I gritted my teeth to hold back a scream and dropped back onto the bed. God, the power of it made me nauseous. What the hell had I done to myself?
I had only walked a few steps through a fire. A magic fire.
Dammit. I was out of commission. How was I supposed to help Arne and the others with these drapes on them? How was I supposed to find Wally again? How was I supposed to find out what happened to Mouse?
I put my feet on the floor. They felt swollen and the pain was agonizing, but it was only pain. Only pain. I staggered to the little table and searched my pants pockets. I found my wallet, my keys, and my ghost knife. The wallet even had my money inside. What this said about Camo Pants, I didn’t know and didn’t care.
I put my wallet in my teeth, biting down hard on it to distract myself from the pain. I slid the key ring over the little finger of my left hand and used my ghost knife to cut the corner of the table. The table leg came free, with enough of the top still attached that it made a dull wooden pick. I stared at my ghost knife for a few seconds, wondering how I was going to take it with me. Eventually, I slid it inside my wallet and put the wallet back in my mouth. It didn’t fit but I didn’t care. I just needed to get to a place where I could call an ambulance.
I used the table leg as a cane while I crossed the room, then I pushed the door open and staggered through.
It was a hotel suite, as I’d thought, and an expensive one. There was more white, silver, and platinum out here. My feet felt like they were soaking wet through the gauze, and I was sure I was seeping onto the snowy carpet.
A gleaming silver phone sat on a tiny table at the far side of the suite. My original plan had been to get out of the building to get help, but suddenly I wasn’t sure I could cross the room. My vision was swirling and my head throbbed. I nearly lost my balance, which would have gotten me off my feet, but I didn’t think I could get back up.