going to do a split second before she did it. “No!” I
screamed.
She jumped. Hung there in that magical, weightless way
she had, as graceful as if she was on stage. Her hair
fanned out around her, rising and then sinking in slow
motion….
And then she fell. Down, down, down, her head
disappearing below the roof.
Mikhail cried out and jerked as the handcuffs went taut
and he was pulled off his feet. His shot went high and
he fell back towards the edge….
My heart stopped. I forgot how to breathe.
Mikhail thumped down on his back, still on the stone
walkway that ran around the edge of the roof. Irina’s
momentum had been enough to pull him over but not
quite enough to pull him with her. His arm stretched out
above his head and he grunted as he took her weight. I
could see his arm flex and twist—she must be swinging
from side to side.
I scrambled the rest of the way out of the hatch and ran
along the stone walkway towards them. That’s when I
found that the whole roof was covered in a slick layer of
ice. Towards the center, the fire had melted it away but
the cold stone at the edges was still slippery as hell. My
legs shot out from under me and I almost went over the
edge into the blackness beyond. Shit! I started moving
more carefully, but that slowed me down. Irina and
Mikhail were on the far side of the fucking building. It
was going to take forever to work my way around the
edge.
And I saw to my horror that Mikhail wasn’t just lying
there, supporting Irina, as I’d thought. He was moving,
inch by inch, towards the edge. The weight of Irina’s
swinging body was dragging him over. He was trying to
stop himself, but he only had one hand free to grab with
and there was nothing to hang onto but smooth, icy
stone.
There was no way I could get there in time, not if I
followed the walkway all the way around. The only
chance was to go straight across the middle of the flat
roof, right over the fire.
I changed course and stepped onto the tiles. The
timbers beneath my feet sunk sickeningly, throwing
fresh sparks into the air, and tiles tumbled down into
the fire, opening up holes that led straight down into
hell. Fuck.
Behind me, I heard Luka and then Vasiliy climb out of
the hatch. “Stop!” yelled Luka.
Vasiliy cursed in Russian. I could hear the frustration in
his voice: he wanted to do whatever it took to save
Irina, too, but what I was trying was suicide. “It’ll
collapse, you crazy bastard!”
He was right. It probably was suicide. And I probably
was crazy. But I was crazy for her. And if she died, life
wasn’t going to be worth living anyway.
I stared right at Mikhail’s sliding body, shut out
everything else and ran.
The first few steps weren’t so bad. The tiles sunk and
cracked but I was past them too quickly for it to matter.
But then my weight made one of the big roof timbers
shift and it tipped to the side, tearing a hole the size of
a sedan in the roof. Flames and heat blasted up, so
bright I couldn’t look at them. I fell sideways and rolled.
Shit! The tiles were as hot as a griddle pan! I could see
steam rise from my clothes. I put out a hand to push
myself up and—
Fuck. I actually heard the sizzle. I staggered to my feet
and ran on. The tiles I was stepping on didn’t feel like
they were attached to anything, anymore: they just
pushed down into nothingness as I stepped on them
and I could see the light growing around me as more
and more of the roof disintegrated. Don’t look down.
Don’t look down. I sprinted towards Mikhail. The
bastard’s head and shoulders were off the roof, now,
and he was picking up speed. Fuck!
I felt my feet start to fall through the roof. I launched
myself forward with everything I had and landed on
Mikhail’s legs, stopping his slide just in time.
I lay there for a second panting, clutching at him like a
lover. Then I started to haul him in. It wasn’t easy,
because I was moving his weight and Irina’s, but I
slowly got his shoulders back onto the ledge and then
his head—
He spat at me. I wanted to slug him but I needed both
hands just to stop him slipping off the roof. I wondered
why he hadn’t shot me with his free hand—had he lost
his gun? Why wasn’t he trying to hit me?
Then I saw that his free hand was stretched out over his
head, alongside the one that was chained to Irina. He
was fiddling with something that glinted in the darkness.
A key.
He was trying to open the handcuffs.
58
Irina
Chyort!
It was difficult to think through the pain. All of my
weight was hanging from one wrist and the sharp metal
cuff was pressing so hard into my flesh that I couldn’t
feel my hand anymore. I was trying to keep still
because every tiny movement made me swing, and
when I swung it felt like my arm was being ripped out
of its socket.
Most of the heat from the fire was rising straight up
through the mansion, so now I was completely at the
mercy of the wind. My almost-naked body was
splattered with snow and I couldn’t stop shaking.
Then I saw Mikhail start to fiddle with the handcuff lock.
No! I made the mistake of looking down. The fire was
throwing out just enough light that I could see the
jagged rocks three stories below. Mikhail almost had the
tiny key in the lock: I could see it scraping all around
the dark hole. In another second he’d get it in—
Angelo’s head appeared over the edge of the roof. He’d
thrown himself atop Mikhail’s chest, using his body
weight to try to pin the big Russian in place. Like an
avenging angel, silhouetted by the blazing roof behind
him, his fists swung down in arcs and slammed into
Mikhail’s face: right, then left, then right again. Mikhail
grunted, his head whipping from side to side.
I willed him to drop the handcuff key...but he didn’t. His
head lolled for a second and then he turned to the side
and spat out a tooth. “Fuck you,” he yelled over the
wind. And I saw the key finally slot into the hole. And
twist. The cuff around Mikhail’s wrist loosened, the tiny
click of the mechanism reverberating through my whole
body.
Angelo launched himself forward, scrambling along
Mikhail’s body.
“No!” I yelled. “Don’t!” I could feel Mikhail resume his
slide off the building as Angelo moved. He’s going to get
himself killed!
Angelo ignored me. He was face-to-face with Mikhail,
now, his arm stretching down towards me….
Mikhail shook his wrist and the cuff popped open. I
screamed as I fell into space.
Angelo made a final lunge, his fingers brushed my
wrist...and then that big, warm hand I loved so much
was holding mine in a death grip. But all three of us
were now sliding off the roof: Mikhail’s big body was
slipping on the ice and Angelo was still lying atop him,
riding him over the edge with no way to stop their
forward momentum.
“Let me go!” I screamed, desperately trying to open my
fingers. “You have to let me go!”
Angelo shook his head, his jaw set like iron. “No fucking
way.”
I looked up into those brown and amber eyes and
tightened my fingers around his, my heart swelling. But
Mikhail and Angelo’s slide continued, a slow-motion car
crash none of us could stop. More and more of them
passed over the edge: torsos, then hips, then legs...I