Page 1 of Darkest Magic

ONE

Billie

Mrs. Walker’s screams were what drew me out of the house, and as I crossed the street the sight that met me had my jaw hanging open and my feet picking up speed as her words penetrated the haze of shock in my mind.

“He’s still in there! Davey! Davey is still in there!” Mrs. Walker screamed over and over again as she clutched at her younger children.

Davey was the oldest. I’d babysat him a few times when she was in a pinch and couldn’t find a proper sitter. He was still just a kid though, six if I remembered right. Not that it mattered at that moment.

Other neighbors littered the surrounding area of Calder Street, watching as the flames licked up the windows of the house. No one moved. Not in a situation like this where the math of survival was obviously bad.

The drone of a siren pricked at my ears from somewhere in the distance and just from how far away it sounded I knew it wouldn’t get there in time to save Davey’s life. Not with how the fire was eating the building already.

As I got closer I vaguely realized that fire had a sound when it got that big and it wasn’t a roar like I would have expected. It almost seemed to breathe, like it was a living entity of some kind.

“Billie!” Someone screamed as my feet pushed me forward at an ever increasing pace. Maybe it was Mrs. Walker, maybe it was my own mother, maybe it was just one of the neighbors, no matter who it was I ignored it.

I couldn’t do nothing. Couldn’t let Davey die, not when I could do something to stop it.

So I found myself diving through the front door, which was already hanging open, and landing in a tunnel of heat and smoke. Two steps in and the soles of my boots were already hot and almost burning my feet. Not exactly a good sign.

The heat truly hit me then, like an open palmed smack across the face. Enough to make me stagger back slightly. The smoke clawed at my throat, making it feel like I was breathing in grit. For one stupid second I tried to remain standing, before my brain kicked in.

Down, I thought to myself as I dropped into a crouch and waddled toward the stairs. It wasn’t that anyone had taught me to get low during a fire, at least not outside of TV shows. No, my father had taught me how to jiggle washing machine parts to get them working again, how to stretch groceries past what was reasonable, how to change the oil in the car so we didn’t have to pay someone to do it for us. He’d never taught me about house fires.

A few steps later and I found myself at the base of the stairs. It was late enough that Davey would have been in bed already, so I knew I had to go up.

I grabbed my shirt sleeve and tucked it around my hand as I gripped the bannister and used it to keep myself moving upward. The wood was hot and stung my palm even through the material. Something crashed behind me, but I didn’t turn to look. I was on a mission and didn’t have time to get distracted or scared.

“Davey!” I shouted as best as I could. “Davey-bug!” My voice came out shredded the second time.

For a moment as I kept moving upward I worried that I was already too late, but then a small cough sounded from above me and spurred me on. He might not be able to reply, but he was definitely up there.

The stairs were almost worse then the entry way because the heat seemed to be gathering there and only got worse as I climbed higher. I kept one hand on the bannister and covered my nose and mouth with the other hand as I climbed, leaning against the wall the whole time. My shoulder scraped against the plaster and my knees hit each wooden step, but I didn’t stop. I found myself counting each step as a way to keep calm as the smoke stung my eyes and crept into my mouth, coating my tongue and throat even as I tried to stop it.

Then I was on the landing. I knew Davey’s room was on the end, a small little broom closet of a space that the Walkers had converted into a bedroom for him. I just had to get there.

The small hallway was thick with smoke and I had to keep my hand on the wall otherwise I was scared I would get turned around. The doorframes seemed to come into existence and vanish around me one after the other as I crept toward the little boy’s room.

Finally, I saw the dinosaur stickers that decorated Davey’s door and I made my way inside. His room was lower in smoke because the door had been partly closed, but neither of us would be able to last much longer.

“Davey!” I called out.

A whimper sounded from under the bed, and I dropped to the floor. Of course he was there, that was a good place to hide from something scary. I flattened myself and pulled the bedskirt up, before reaching under and finding a hot little hand with my own.

“Hey,” I said quietly. “There you are, Davey-bug.”

“Billie?”

“Yep. We’re going to play bird and worm, okay?”

His lower lip quivered and his chin creased. “I don’t want to be the worm.”

“Too bad, bud. I’m older so I get to be the bird, but I promise not to eat you this time if you do as I say, okay?”

He nodded. “I don’t want to get eaten.”

“I know, buddy. This bird is going to steal the worm and take him some place safe, okay?”