Page 84 of Roses & Ruin

And no matter how fast Hayden has been—the fire has been faster.

I’m half sprinting, half carried around the corner. Hayden brings us to a stop as we face the long hallway lined with stained-glass windows. The air shimmers with heat, smoke curling like a snake against the walls. A sinister glow lights the hall, the roses shivering.

But where’s the fire?

I look up at Hayden, find him gray faced, the shadows beneath his eyes sharp. They fly wide, and I look back to the chapel doors in time to see a plume of fire burst from them like a dragon’s mouth. All at once, the glass roses melt down the wall, the petals liquefying into bloody, viscous red before shattering into a million pieces. The burst windows suck at the smoke and fire, giving us just enough time for Hayden to dash back the way we came.

“The kitchen,” he gasps, ragged, as I hang on to his neck, squeezing my eyes shut against the thickening smoke. He scoops me up and we’re on our feet again, flying down the stone hall that leads to the kitchen.

The air is caustic with smoke. Even with the scarf pulled up over my nose, with my eyes half squinted, every breath makes me gag and choke. Coughed-up phlegm and spit coat my chin and neck, my eyes soaked with vinegar tears. Hayden stops us just outside the kitchen galley.

“I don’t need a break,” I rasp. “I can keep going.”

Hayden doesn’t respond. Just sags against the doorjamb. That’s when I realize: We’re stopping because he can’t keep going. That’s when the cold, true fear enters me. I can die now and still come back.

But he can’t.

I grab the lapels of his jacket. “Hayden,” I plead, looking up at him, sensing his face in the dark.

A column of flame bursts out of the ceiling. I see it before Hayden does. My body knows what to do before I do: With all my might, I shove Hayden hard into the kitchen and launch myself backward just as the ceiling collapses, sending several sharp wooden beams down to impale the spot where Hayden stood a heartbeat before.

“Fuck. Rose!” I hear Hayden call from beyond the debris.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” I scramble to my feet. I feel the kiss of something fresh and cold against my cheek. I look over, see the ceiling collapsed all down the hallway, and there, possibly big enough to crawl out of, is a hole in the wall. “I think I see a way out!” I call.

“Take it. I’ll use the kitchen tunnels!” His voice sounds weak.

“But—”

“Rose. Go. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” There’s a terrible pause. “I will find you.”

“I love you,” I gasp. “Don’t say it back until you can see my face.” I whirl around, press my scarf to my nose, and hunch against the blast of smoke and heat.

I follow the blissful ice of fresh wind, catching cleansing sips of it every so often. There’s another blast of flame, a crash behind me, and I fall to my knees, narrowly avoiding getting my head taken off by a careening beam of steel.

I crawl on my hands and knees toward the hole in the wall, the hallway shrinking with debris. I’m so close, so close.

You’ll survive this, I tell myself. You can do this.

I’m ten feet away from the exit when I hear it.

A feeble meow behind me.

I whirl around, see nothing but a wall of flames, piles of broken rock and drywall, shattered beams of wood and rebar.

“Winston?” I croak. There’s another pathetic meow.

I only spare the exit a single glance before tightening the scarf around my face and doubling back.

I reach the pile of meowing rubble and dig feverishly, splitting my nails against shards of concrete, splinters embedding in my finger pads. I lift up a piece of plaster and find two wide, scared eyes blinking up at me.

“Oh, Winston,” I sob, picking up the quivering kitten and tucking him inside my shirt. I crawl back toward the exit one-armed, holding the little shivering body tight against me. I got you, I think. Hayden’s gonna make it. I’m gonna make it. You’re gonna make it.

Ten feet away. Six feet away.

The air is colder and fresher at my front. I can feel the rubber of my shoes melting from the flames behind.

Two feet away. My palm sinks onto a nail, and I scream, but keep going, keep going.