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Ripping up the floorboards, I search for a way out, but find nothing but the building’s foundation. I haul the refrigerator away from the wall, searching for more water pipes.
“You have any firefighting powers?” I ask the Nymph. “You guys come from rivers and water, right?”
“No. My mother’s a tree Nymph.” She goes back to huddling the kids close.
“It’ll be all right,” I lie over my shoulder as I continue to pull the place apart. “Help’s coming.” No one will be able to make it through the inferno to save us.
The chandelier in the next room makes ting, ting, pop, pop noises as the once-pretty crystals explode like tiny bombs. Heavy curtains that had graced the foyer, adding elegance and class? They crumple and writhe as though they’ve become living monsters. Flames dance over tabletops in the former café, shattering glassware and melting the silver. We’re trapped inside an inescapable nightmare.
A blast of cold air cuts through me.
“Where’d that come from?” I ask the shaking woman. “And how do we get more?” Enough to put out the flames unless it’s a weird death chill. I don’t want to know if the white-robed Styx have gathered outside to help us cross to the afterlife.
Instead of answering my questions, the Nymph touches the curls of the baby on her hip. “Let’s hope your mommy finally tapped into her power source, little one.”
Frost whips through the walls, and snow mixes with the smoke and ash. The wall over the sink coats with ice and slides away as if made of water.
“Over here,” voices call from outside.
The Nymph and I rush the kids toward the opening. Huntresses aim hoses of water at the hotel’s exterior, spraying with enthusiasm if not experience. A row of Nymphs behind them move their mouths in what looks like a chant, and water rises from the ground to flow our way.
Sadie flies toward me, taking the baby that the older Nymph hands over and handing the child down the line. The smoke presses at our backs, but we work quickly to pass over the kids one by one until I help the tree Nymph up into the sink. Sadie pulls her to safety, and I leap from the building just as the ceiling crashes down behind us.
Another Nymph—a woman about Sadie’s age—flutters white and blue feathered wings in a globe formed of ice. She drops her hands, and snow rushes over the building. “Baby girl.” She rushes forward, taking her daughter from a Huntress who’s treating the kids for smoke inhalation. “Thank you,” she says to no one or maybe to everyone since it took the Houses working together to save us.
“What if you hadn’t gotten out?” Sadie demands, holding my clothes in one hand and hauling me close with the other.
“I’m a marshal,” I say, which should explain everything but from the haunted look in her eyes, it didn’t cover nearly enough. I’ll deal with whatever worry she has later. “Did everyone escape?” I ask, taking my clothes from her and putting them on despite the mess of ash and soot that covers me. I can’t stand seeing the hurt on her face, and I don’t need to risk traumatizing the kids any worse.
“Barely,” she whispers.
I need answers, not the scared sadness rolling through our unfinished mating bond. “What happened?”
Sadie’s Fury sister with the butterfly wings and the mountain lion mate answers when my mate stays quiet. “We don’t know how the fires started, but people nearby said it sounded like bombs.”
“Why were there kids here?” I ask her.
“The Syndicate held a giant pajama party for the kids of House members and staff. With all the awful that has happened lately, they thought it would be a fun time for kids and their parents. Whoever hit the place knew that some of the adults had left on a quick run to pick up gifts that were supposed to be a surprise.” Which explains the sparkling paper, bows, and boxes now half-crushed and covered in mud.
“Smelled like bombs to me,” her mate says. He’s in human form with a cut on his cheek and ash coating his blond hair. “You have training on this stuff as a marshal. What’d your nose tell you?”
I had a few days of classroom training on makeshift bombs and arson, not nearly enough to give an expert opinion, but he’s right. “Someone set off explosives. Smelled like gasoline.
He nods. “Syn City doesn’t allow fossil fuels. It runs on clean tech and magic.”
Makes sense. We shifters believe in protecting nature as much as any of the immortals.
“Why go after the kids?” Sadie asks, her voice small.
“Kids are precious to shifters,” I say, taking a guess. “Our kind has had serious fertility issues since the Witching Wars. Except the rabbits.”
As if she heard me, Bunny walks by with a kid tucked under each arm and two more hanging off her legs.
Sadie’s Fury sister curls into her mate’s side. “Children are sacred to the Houses too. The Gorgons in particular, but all of us really. Once we’re finished with derby contracts and House obligations, we’re allowed to settle down and have families if we want. In deity cities, of course, but still…the choice matters considering some of us had the chance taken away during our first lives.” She glances at her man, and I wonder if all the Furies’ mates suffered the same devastating loss I did when Sadie died. If so, does a new start in this life make up for it?
Shouting erupts from nearby. A group of shifter moms and dads yell at the Houses who hosted the party. Gorgons go after Mad Maes who handed out cookies laced with hallucinogenics to some of the kids. Toddlers scream. It’s a general shit show, and I don’t know how this place operates without any law enforcement other than Furies mean-staring everyone into submission.
“Our one night isn’t going how I’d hoped,” I tell Sadie, taking my hat from her.
