Enticing The Dragon. Jane Godman
above the street. She hadn’t realized, when she checked those things out on her arrival, that she would be putting them to the test quite so soon.
Smoke was already filling the room. Sliding from the bed, she found the T-shirt she had taken off when she undressed and tied it around the lower part of her face. Crawling commando-style in order to stay low, she made her way across to the door. Just as she had feared, one touch told her everything she needed to know. The wooden panels were hot beneath her fingertips. It meant the fire was raging on the other side of the door.
Although the window was her only escape route, she already knew it wasn’t going to be easy. She was two floors up and there was no fire escape. A thirty-foot drop onto concrete faced her. Break the glass and make some noise. That was about the best plan she had as she crawled her way back across the room.
This was no coincidence. That thought hammered through her mind as the toxic smoke stung her eyes. The stench of synthetic carpet burning and electrical wiring melting made her gag. Above the roar of the fire, she could hear the whine of a smoke alarm. But it hadn’t done its job. It hadn’t warned her in time. It was a discordant thought, one for which she didn’t have time. She spent her life fighting fire, but this one was personal. This one was meant for her.
As she reached the window, the noise level changed. There was sound that could have been a roar of fury and the door came crashing in. That shouldn’t happen. Hollie knew how fire behaved. Although it could be unpredictable, it didn’t kick down doors. Through the choking haze, she saw a tall figure, framed by shimmering tongues of fire.
It’s too late. I’ve inhaled too much smoke...now I’m seeing things.
She sank helplessly to the rug, her eyelids drifting closed as the flame-haired figure strode toward her. She was swept up into strong arms...or maybe swept away on a tide of unconsciousness. It was impossible to tell which as she felt the searing heat on her exposed skin and through her lightweight pajamas.
Opening her eyes, she gave a horrified gasp. She was in Torque’s arms, and he was advancing toward the door. He was purposefully carrying her into the source of the fire. Desperately, she squirmed against him.
“Keep still.” His voice was different. Authoritative, slightly rasping. “If you move as we go down the stairs, I can’t protect you from the flames.”
This couldn’t be happening. This man—one of the most famous rock stars in the world—couldn’t seriously think he could get them down that blazing staircase. I am about to be killed by my celebrity crush. Either that or I really am hallucinating.
Unable to fight, she was helpless to do anything except press her cheek into the hard muscle of Torque’s chest as he stepped into the flames. Her job made what was happening so much worse. Hollie had seen too many burned bodies, had attended too many coroners’ inquests on people who had died in agony. This was a first. She had never come across a case in which someone had willingly walked through a blaze.
Yet, as Torque slowly made his way down the stairs, the strangest thing was happening. She could feel the heat of the flames, but it was like getting too close to a roaring coal fire. She was uncomfortable, but she wasn’t being incinerated. Wrapped tight in Torque’s arms, she had the strangest feeling that he was the source of her protection. But how could that be? It was like he was fireproof. She caught glimpses of what was going on around them. Flames were licking at his arms and shoulders, catching the long length of his hair and dancing gleefully like a halo around his head. Torque was on fire...but he didn’t flinch.
As they neared the final step, one of the ceiling beams gave way with a weary groan. Orange cinders rained down on Torque’s head as he reached up a hand and caught the blazing bar. Still holding Hollie tight against him with his other hand, he gave a grunt that sounded like it was half pain, half annoyance as he thrust the beam aside without breaking his stride. Two more steps and he was kicking open the door that led them into the street.
Her last memory before she passed out was of those moonstone eyes glowing bright with concern as he placed her gently on the grass.
* * *
Hollie slowly opened her eyes, hoping she’d been dreaming, fairly certain she hadn’t. Her throat felt like she’d drunk a glass of chopped razor blades and her nose itched unbearably. Her eyes streamed with the effects of the smoke and she smelled disgusting. Lifting a hand, she could see thick black grime coating her skin. When she tried to sit up, everything ached.
A strong arm slid around her waist, and although she wanted to question its source, she was too grateful for the support. Leaning against a broad shoulder, she eased into a sitting position.
“What...?” The word came out as a feeble croak, followed by a coughing fit.
“I got you out before the blaze took hold of the staircase.”
They were far enough away from the burning building to be safe from any explosions or debris, but she could still feel the searing heat of the blaze. When she tilted her head to look at Torque, he took away what was left of her breath. With his hair streaming in the breeze and his eyes glittering with that strange intense light, he appeared otherworldly.
Around them, a fire team bustled into action and paramedics approached. Hollie might be feeling the effects of the smoke, but her memory was clear. Torque was lying about what had just happened. He hadn’t rescued her before the fire took hold. Like a comic book hero, he had carried her right through the heart of the inferno. And he was untouched, completely uninjured by the fire he had just walked through.
They should both have been incinerated. Instead, apart from the effects she was feeling from the smoke inhalation, they were unscathed. And Torque appeared... She searched for the right word. Invigorated. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rush of the rescue, but he appeared energized, his former laid-back manner replaced by restless, flickering presence he presented onstage. Almost as if the fire had entered his bloodstream.
I am hallucinating.
As a paramedic knelt at her other side and placed an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth, Hollie tried to get to grips with her new, alternate reality. An existence that included a superhero rock star. A man who could walk through fire. How the hell was she going to explain this to McLain?
“My laptop.” Her attempt at an exclamation was muffled by the mask.
“Pardon?” Torque leaned closer as he tried to hear what she was saying.
“All my clothes, my purse, my cell phone, my laptop...they were all in that room.” Her voice was still a painful rasp, but she managed to get the words out.
There was nothing left of the top floor of the Pleasant Bay Bar. The roof had fallen in and bright orange flames were shooting into the night sky. It was a pyrotechnic performance of epic proportions, almost as if the fire itself was celebrating.
Hollie’s professional senses got to work, weighing up what had happened. The fire must have started in the upper part of the building. Was it an arson attack? It was too soon to say. But it was an awfully big coincidence that Hollie, the person who was here to investigate the Incinerator, had almost died in a fire. The second thing Hollie noticed was that Torque had gotten here before the emergency services.
He had saved her life, and from that, she might assume he wasn’t the Incinerator. Unless the rescue was a huge double bluff, designed to throw her off the scent? As she turned her head back to look at him again, she had the oddest sensation of her world tilting off balance. Was Torque the Incinerator, and was he capable of such cunning? If he knew she was here to investigate him, had he planned to set a fire and save her from it, thereby lulling her into a false sense of security? Her heart wanted to rebel against such an idea, to tell her he wasn’t behind such deviousness, but her training and her experience warned her to be wary.
Hollie had been part of the team hunting the Incinerator for four years, wondering how the daring arsonist had set increasingly elaborate fires and escaped without injury. She didn’t know how Torque had walked through those flames and emerged