Reach up for the remnant of the wrought iron railing—too far away. Slide down deeper—feel the heat on my boots.
The adrenaline rush of being thrown through the window has awakened me a little—stirred up some panic. Won’t last, though. Poison’s too strong.
Slam my hands into the crooked, wooden balcony. Nails dig in. Heat rises up to my ankles. Tighten pressure on my hands’ grip into the wood and get enough leverage to stop my descent into the rising flames.
Pull myself up to the top of the broken balcony. Grasping the iron rail with one hand, I pat my flaming pants’ legs with the other. Patting hand sears with heat—flames on pants go out.
The entire balcony beneath me is hot—growing hotter. Smoke from the fire makes the night sky look more ominous, and the moonlight reflecting in the smoke makes it look alive. I’d welcome it if it were thick enough to keep me out of the eyes of the mob above me—glaring down at me now, but it’s just enough smoke to be foreboding and choke my lungs.
Well, if I’ve got to die, at least the smoke that will irritate me till my last breath might help cover Ruby’s escape.
Try to pull myself all the way up to the rail—too sore to do it—beat me pretty bad before they decided that throwing me out the window onto a flaming, collapsing balcony was the way to liven up their party.
Cold rush as I hold onto the rail trying to keep myself out of the flames—the adrenaline’s building up—too still—cold sweat at my brow. Only me—swear that only I would end up on a flaming balcony, about to be burned alive, and still have the cold shivers.
Hope Ruby’s escaped—somewhere safe. Knew I probably wouldn’t make it out alive—it’s okay as long as Ruby got out, but I’d go through hell twice to have this end differently. Do it just to be with her. Do it just to surely know she’s out of danger.
Have a beautiful life, my Ruby, far, far away from here.
“You have no earthly idea,” are the words that drop out of his mouth as I kick him with all my might from behind—right between his legs.
He wheezes and drops to the ground—his nails coming out of the wall and taking bits of sheetrock with them.
She saw me creeping in the door quietly over his shoulder. Don’t know how he didn’t hear me coming—must’ve been too focused on what he wants from Ambrosia to have noticed—can’t believe what he was trying to do—so disgusting to hear him talk about it. But, she saw me coming and set him up—distracting him.
I grab Ambrosia by the hand and run out the room and down the hallway toward the stairs. He’ll be after us in seconds. Don’t have much time.
Getting near the stairs—I run toward the upstairs staircase—Ambrosia pulls toward the ones leading downstairs and out of this hellhole. Can see the flames outside growing larger—lighting up the entire length of the front windows that flank the busted door.
“What are you doing?” Ambrosia asks in a panic.
“Upstairs—got to find Simon!”
I can hear footsteps coming down the hallway. See three figures running around downstairs by the flaming front door—look like normal girls—don’t look like vamps—no time to find out.
Ambrosia says, “Simon’s upstairs—told me to get the hell out of here—run!”
Without looking in her direction, I pull on her hand and force her to follow me upstairs, as I answer, “Have to help him—now!”
Halfway up to the third floor, I can hear Edgar’s steps finish running down the hallway and start heading down the stairs to the first floor.
Mind’s growing slow—energy from shock fleeing. Hot from flames—cold from adrenaline, fatigue, and the beating I’ve taken. Burning and freezing. Body’s got to make up its mind—got to fight—not shake. All it does right now is shake and wheeze like a dying man.
Quint jumps down onto the balcony from the hole in the window—the entire broken, crooked platform shakes like it might break free and fall into the flames.
Quint is just one—the other must be coming too. Thud—shakes wildly again. Can see Carvelli.
Quint grabs my wrist that clings to the iron rail—squeezes it tight with both of his hands. Carvelli crowds in—close to the flames—and he presses his foot on my elbow.
Can’t hold my grip on the rail—my hand opens up. They must be trying to drop me into the fire. I pinch Carvelli’s ankle with my knee—squeezing it between my calf and hamstring—trying to make it harder for them to throw me. Slam my other hand back into the wood of the balcony, digging my nails in—may need something to hold onto—may not matter—gotta fight anyway.
Quint puts my hand between the bottom of the rail and the balcony—Carvelli grabs it and holds it there, ignoring my knee squeezing his lower leg.
Try to take in deep breaths—lungs tired—air full of smoke—poison flowing, slowing body down—eyes trying to shut. Shake my head hard.
Eyes spring back open to the sound of pounding and bending metal. Quint kicks the rail—stomping it into the wood—pinching my wrist on the right side.
Struggle to breathe.
Quint kicks the rail down on the left side, smashing the metal tightly into the wood. Trapped. Pinned to a little wooden bit of balcony—fire rising at the sides—beasts of hell looking down on me from the hole in the window, and the two goons climbing back up to them—their heavy bodies now standing on the rail, pushing it further into my wrist as they make their way back to the window sill.
Just wanted to make sure I couldn’t escape from the flames—that’s all. Roderick must be ecstatic with the drama of watching me slowly burn to death—only reason I’m not already dead—only reason they’d come down here just to make sure I couldn’t get away.
Eyes growing black. So drained—body’s struggling to heal wounds—so dry…spent. If I could just catch breath, I could try break free—maybe…jump over fire. Blackness taking over sight—smoke filling lungs—mind shutting down. Awaiting flames to scorch my body, preparing for the end—then, the one sound I prayed not to hear shocks my eardrums.
“Here’s Ambrosia! Come and take her, you miserable, disgusting demon!” I shout, holding her captive at her wrist.
Holes have never been so terrifying. Just came through the hole in the bookcase into the large room with broken furniture, cracked walls, and about seventeen vampires—some bleeding, some just lusting for blood. Then, I saw the hole in the window into the smoky, fiery, black night. Even worse—across the room by the window, Roderick’s eyes look like holes into an abyss.
Ambrosia tries to pull away from me—can’t break free. Not this time—not going anywhere. Maybe should’ve told her this was coming. Too late now.
The vampires part a path between me and the window. Roderick with his hand on its sill—someone trying to climb in from the outside.
“What’s made you bring this little treat back to me, Ruby? Decided Simon’s worth more than a two-faced friend?”
“What are you talking about?” asks Ambrosia with a trembling voice.
“Oh, this and that about you saying Ruby was only man-bait—someone you were using to attract guys—not really a friend of yours.”
“That’s not true!”
“Oh, but you did say it—said she was ‘boring.’”
“No—yes, but that’s not how I meant it.”
“Shut up!” I shout.
Roderick says, “Alright, Ruby, reasons don’t much matter I suppose—Ambrosia’s right here. No reason to keep you from your man any longer.”
“If I let her go, you’ll bring me to Simon?”
“In a room full of vampires, you’re awfully demanding—you humans so self-absorbed, such a sense of entitlement. I could rip her from you right now, and there’s nothing you could do about it.”
“Wouldn’t she taste all the better if her best friend betrayed her?”
“Women—dramatic even till death,” Roderick exhales and smiles, “I promise wherever Simon may be when you let her go, I’ll be happy to send you there.”