For all you know, she healed up fine and isn’t even mad at me. You’re probably the only one she’s after. You—”
Cooper yanked me against him, spilling hot tea between us, then pivoted to push me back against the brick wall of the building behind us, shielding me with his body from whatever had spurred him into action.
Which turned out to be fire.
Specifically, a gigantic wave of flame surging out my apartment window as it shattered. Glass and sparks rained down on the street below. Fire raged behind the one intact window I could see from the street. My whole apartment was in flames.
For a second I just stared stupidly. Then something about the scene clicked. Not something I saw, but something I didn’t.
Cooper was already on the move. “She can’t have gotten far,” he said over his shoulder, then grabbed my arm when he noticed I was running straight for my building. “She won’t be in there anymore!”
“My neighbor’s car isn’t there,” I said.
“So you’re worried because your neighbor is not home while the building is on fire?”
“He has a dog! Go after Kestrel, I’ll be right behind you.”
Cooper looked inclined to argue, but there was no time. “Be careful!” he yelled, and took off down the street.
I wasn’t much of an animal person—wasn’t much of an anything person, when it came to connecting with other living things—and I’d never had a pet of my own. But the Mount Phearson Hotel had been haunted by the ghost of a sad little boy who carried a leash. I’d first seen him when I was three, too young to understand death, but able to understand heartbreak just fine. Growing up, I’d tried a few times to help that poor kid find his dog. But ghosts can’t talk, and it was an impossible mission.
Thanks to that little boy, I could never stand the thought of a lost or abandoned pet. Ugly, yippity thing though it was, there was no question of leaving my neighbor’s dog to die.
I rushed up the stairs and banged on the second floor apartment door, then took a chance and found it unlocked. That only added to my considerable dread. New Englanders aren’t generally the trusting sort.
“Hello?” I called out as I hurried inside, hoping at least the dog would hear me and come running. “We’ve got an emergency.”
Nobody came running. My neighbor was lying on his couch, the little dog curled up at his chest. They looked like they were watching TV, although the set was off.
Both had blood seeping from their eyes, noses, and ears. Both were dead.
I didn’t even know the guy’s name.
But there was no time to think about it. The noises from above, and even, I thought, behind one of the walls, suggested the fire would be upon me any second. I ran back out.
I banged on the door of the first floor apartment on my way by, too, but I didn’t waste a lot of time. Those people lived in Boston and were only there occasionally. Then I went out to find Cooper.
Thankfully, my phone had been in my coat pocket when I brought the tea outside. (Even more thankfully, its case doubled as my wallet, something I suspected was about to come in handy now that all my worldly possessions were in flames.) I called 911 to report the fire, but hung up when the operator told me to stay on the line.
I hesitated on the sidewalk, looking around at a loss. Then I saw someone rounding the corner, onto the busier street that crossed mine.
I ran after them, but not fast enough. As I came around the corner myself, all I saw was a couple coming out of the pizza place down the street. I headed that way, peering into the alleyway between the restaurant and the convenience store next door.
It was too dark to see anyone, but I thought I heard an exhale.
Turning on the flashlight on my phone, I took a few tentative steps forward, trying to remember any simple protection spells I might be able to cast without writing them down. But my thoughts were sluggish in my panic. It was like the faster my heart went, the