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But if I can’t break through this illusion, then I’m facing a nightmare that will make me wish I was dead.
TWO
XERO
An alarm rings through my ears, piercing the thick veil of unconsciousness. I jerk awake, my senses assaulted by an oppressive heat and the acrid stench of smoke.
Flames flicker through the haze, accompanied by the sizzle and snap of burning wood.
The crawl space is on fire, but my hair and clothes are drenched. Jynxson must have installed a sprinkler system in the bedroom to stage a prank.
I grope around the mattress, trying to awaken Amethyst, but she’s not there. In a frenzy, I roll off the bed and inhale lungfuls of cooler, more breathable air. The smoke down here isn’t nearly as thick, giving me a view of the fire raging through the door.
After pulling down the bed sheet and holding it over my nose, I crawl around the bed’s perimeter.
“Amethyst?” I yell, my lungs exploding into a riot of coughs.
My answer is the crackling of flames and the popping of burning wood.
Where the hell is she? Did she already escape?
My palm lands on a piece of broken glass, reminding me of the bottle Amethyst smashed over my head. There was no explanation—just a cryptic conversation about a video of us shot in the graveyard.
The dizziness, headache, nausea, and fatigue I’m suffering could be symptoms of smoke inhalation, but the chemical scent hints at chloroform or somnochlorate.
That makes no sense. I’m the only thing standing between Amethyst and her enemies. She wouldn’t set her only protector on fire and escape… unless someone or something affected her mental state.Pushing those thoughts aside, I rush around the bed, checking that she isn’t lying somewhere on the floor, unconscious.
Heat crawls under my skin, and my breath comes in ragged gasps. If I don’t leave this crawl space soon, the flames will overwhelm the room. I grope around in the dark, but there’s no sign of Amethyst. I hurry across the space to the panel by the bathroom door and stand, hoping to hell that the heat hasn’t warped it shut.
The metal lever sears my palm even through the protective sheet, but I force it open just wide enough to squeeze through and tumble into a darkened hallway.
I stagger forward, choking, coughing, groping my way through the smoke-filled enclosure. Up ahead is another hatch that leads to the space beneath Mrs. Baker’s house.
Betrayal burns through my gut, filling the back of my throat with bile. The woman I went to such lengths to protect left me to burn.
She knows too much: our hiding places, our personnel, our plans. Hell, if she told the police I was still alive, or even a fraction of what she’s observed of my operatives, then every asshole with a gun and a grudge against our group will invade the catacombs.
My fingers find the section of the wall that opens into number 15 Parisii Drive, and I push. The small door swings open, letting in a rush of cool air. I clamber inside, cross Mrs. Baker’s crawl space, and continue into the tunnel leading to the catacombs.
Footsteps echotoward me through the dark. I straighten, already on guard for an attack.
“Xero?”
The overhead lights flicker to life, illuminating a small group of people in black. I can’t make out their figures with my vision still hazy, but I recognize the voice.
It’s my hacker, Tyler.
I stumble, only for him to rush to my side and catch me before my knees collapse.
“Your computer system went down,” he says. “I checked the cameras, but there was nothing. What happened?”
My lungs burn, and my throat is raw, but I force out, “The crawlspace is on fire. Amethyst is missing.”
“Were you under attack?”
I don’t know what stops me from saying that the woman I once forgave for betraying me left me unconscious to die in flames. Maybe it’s disbelief. Maybe it’s the shame at having been fooled twice. Maybe it’s the futile hope that this was all just a misunderstanding. Either way, the truth clogs my gorge.
“Evacuate the catacombs,” I say through ragged breaths. “At least until we assess the threat level.”
