Bound by Flames (Night Prince 3)

Chapter 9

It took several minutes to get from the staircase to the main level of the house. Between fighting my way through the panicked flood of people, I also had to clear out heavy pieces of debris. The second metal door had been shaken right off its frame, forcing those on the stairwell to climb over it until I leaned it against the wall to make more room. The third door was nowhere to be found, probably because that section had crumbled completely, revealing a deep crevasse where the door used to be.

I ended up backtracking to carry the second door over to the crevasse, laying it over the open space to allow the group of traumatized humans on the other side to use it as a makeshift bridge. The dungeon might be blown half to bits, but it was still safer than the rest of the house. I left them with assurances that help was on the way, and then I continued going up.

Once I reached the basement, I had to climb through a charred hole in the ceiling to get to the main level of the house. The hallway ahead had completely caved in, and I tried not to wonder if any of the body parts I glimpsed in the rubble belonged to Marty. When I scrambled up the pile of wreckage and the main floor came into view, my mind froze for a second. This flaming ruin could not be the magnificent grand hall that had so dazzled me the first time I saw it.

The frescoed ceilings were gone, replaced with huge holes that revealed the sky. Napalm continued to eat through debris piles that were all that remained of the upper floors. Whatever wasn’t being destroyed by fire was collapsing as the house continued to pancake under its own weight. When the debris pile next to me began to slide in an ominous manner, I ran through what looked like a charred tunnel, grief and anger quickening my steps. The last time I’d seen Marty, he’d been in the main hall. Now, all that was left here was destruction and death.

Please, let him be alive, I found myself praying.

I cleared the tunnel and found myself standing on what used to be the fancy covered portico. Outside, the full damage from Szilagyi’s attack was revealed.

More than half of the house had collapsed, reducing it to barely more than one story on the north and east ends before the southern side rose up in seeming defiance against the assault that still raged on. Three out of the four towering turrets had been leveled, leaving only holes where black smoke spewed into the lightening predawn sky. The tunnel I’d run through turned out to be the grand entranceway, which now looked like a giant had punched a flaming fist through the debris. Stone chimneys stuck up like lone sentries amid the blackened remains where napalm had eaten through all the wood, concrete, and plaster from the collapsed house. The stone gate was mostly intact, but the manned towers had been reduced to crumbling ruins. From the heavy artillery and anti-aircraft weapons now lying like broken toys on the scorched ground, Szilagyi must have made sure to take the towers out first in his assault.

With their most effective weapons out of commission, the surviving guards were reduced to throwing pieces of the stone ruins at the helicopters that hovered like mechanical demons over the house, spraying fire onto its remains. As I watched, one of them managed to hit a chopper, causing it to careen into the nearby tree line. Savage exultation filled me as I saw black smoke billowing up from the crash site moments later.

Now I knew what I needed to do to help. I started running toward the section of the house where the largest number of survivors had gathered, probably because it had a big pile of stone statues that had broken free when the house crumpled. Then, a sudden blast behind me pitched me forward. I landed face-first in a pile of burnt metal objects that I dimly recognized as coming from the Weapons Room.

Screams jerked my head up. An attack helicopter roared over me, spraying deadly lines of orange at the group of guards ahead. They ran, but not fast enough. At least four of them were coated with that horrible, clinging fire that ate through whatever it touched like a ravenous monster. Before I made it to my feet, they were already dead, their blackened bodies breaking apart over the stones they’d tried to use as weapons.

Rage infused me with fresh strength. I ran toward a pile of large stone pieces, but before I got there, another chopper swooped in, positioning itself between me and the only things I could use to bring it down.

Despite the smoke and thick glass covering the pilot’s cockpit, I could see that his eyes were glowing, vampire green. Then the helicopter’s long cylinders pointed their deadly payload right at me. I braced—and fire blasted into me with the force of a tidal wave. The sheer velocity knocked me over. Cracking, popping, and breaking sounds joined the roar of flames, but the only pain I felt was from landing on something hard as the floor collapsed beneath me. When I opened my eyes, I was looking up at a smoking, glowing hole, napalm still clinging and burning everything it touched.

Except me. I brushed the smoldering remains of falling debris from me and stood up. My jeans and top were ripped, but not burnt. Vlad’s aura protected me just as it did with him. Even my hair whipped around in its usual long, black waves, not a single end singed. Vlad’s aura was still intact, but I didn’t know for how long. It had worn off the last time I’d been exposed to repeated, high-intensity flames.

I jumped out of the hole, noting grimly that the remaining three assault choppers were chasing the surviving guards. I ran over to the pile of fallen stone, choosing the largest, sturdiest piece, which happened to be a gargoyle statue. The pilots didn’t see me when I ran toward where they hovered because none of their helicopters were pointed my way. Why would they be? They thought they’d eliminated the danger on this end of the ruined castle. er 9

It took several minutes to get from the staircase to the main level of the house. Between fighting my way through the panicked flood of people, I also had to clear out heavy pieces of debris. The second metal door had been shaken right off its frame, forcing those on the stairwell to climb over it until I leaned it against the wall to make more room. The third door was nowhere to be found, probably because that section had crumbled completely, revealing a deep crevasse where the door used to be.

I ended up backtracking to carry the second door over to the crevasse, laying it over the open space to allow the group of traumatized humans on the other side to use it as a makeshift bridge. The dungeon might be blown half to bits, but it was still safer than the rest of the house. I left them with assurances that help was on the way, and then I continued going up.

Once I reached the basement, I had to climb through a charred hole in the ceiling to get to the main level of the house. The hallway ahead had completely caved in, and I tried not to wonder if any of the body parts I glimpsed in the rubble belonged to Marty. When I scrambled up the pile of wreckage and the main floor came into view, my mind froze for a second. This flaming ruin could not be the magnificent grand hall that had so dazzled me the first time I saw it.

The frescoed ceilings were gone, replaced with huge holes that revealed the sky. Napalm continued to eat through debris piles that were all that remained of the upper floors. Whatever wasn’t being destroyed by fire was collapsing as the house continued to pancake under its own weight. When the debris pile next to me began to slide in an ominous manner, I ran through what looked like a charred tunnel, grief and anger quickening my steps. The last time I’d seen Marty, he’d been in the main hall. Now, all that was left here was destruction and death.

Please, let him be alive, I found myself praying.

I cleared the tunnel and found myself standing on what used to be the fancy covered portico. Outside, the full damage from Szilagyi’s attack was revealed.

More than half of the house had collapsed, reducing it to barely more than one story on the north and east ends before the southern side rose up in seeming defiance against the assault that still raged on. Three out of the four towering turrets had been leveled, leaving only holes where black smoke spewed into the lightening predawn sky. The tunnel I’d run through turned out to be the grand entranceway, which now looked like a giant had punched a flaming fist through the debris. Stone chimneys stuck up like lone sentries amid the blackened remains where napalm had eaten through all the wood, concrete, and plaster from the collapsed house. The stone gate was mostly intact, but the manned towers had been reduced to crumbling ruins. From the heavy artillery and anti-aircraft weapons now lying like broken toys on the scorched ground, Szilagyi must have made sure to take the towers out first in his assault.

With their most effective weapons out of commission, the surviving guards were reduced to throwing pieces of the stone ruins at the helicopters that hovered like mechanical demons over the house, spraying fire onto its remains. As I watched, one of them managed to hit a chopper, causing it to careen into the nearby tree line. Savage exultation filled me as I saw black smoke billowing up from the crash site moments later.

Now I knew what I needed to do to help. I started running toward the section of the house where the largest number of survivors had gathered, probably because it had a big pile of stone statues that had broken free when the house crumpled. Then, a sudden blast behind me pitched me forward. I landed face-first in a pile of burnt metal objects that I dimly recognized as coming from the Weapons Room.

Screams jerked my head up. An attack helicopter roared over me, spraying deadly lines of orange at the group of guards ahead. They ran, but not fast enough. At least four of them were coated with that horrible, clinging fire that ate through whatever it touched like a ravenous monster. Before I made it to my feet, they were already dead, their blackened bodies breaking apart over the stones they’d tried to use as weapons.

Rage infused me with fresh strength. I ran toward a pile of large stone pieces, but before I got there, another chopper swooped in, positioning itself between me and the only things I could use to bring it down.

Despite the smoke and thick glass covering the pilot’s cockpit, I could see that his eyes were glowing, vampire green. Then the helicopter’s long cylinders pointed their deadly payload right at me. I braced—and fire blasted into me with the force of a tidal wave. The sheer velocity knocked me over. Cracking, popping, and breaking sounds joined the roar of flames, but the only pain I felt was from landing on something hard as the floor collapsed beneath me. When I opened my eyes, I was looking up at a smoking, glowing hole, napalm still clinging and burning everything it touched.

Except me. I brushed the smoldering remains of falling debris from me and stood up. My jeans and top were ripped, but not burnt. Vlad’s aura protected me just as it did with him. Even my hair whipped around in its usual long, black waves, not a single end singed. Vlad’s aura was still intact, but I didn’t know for how long. It had worn off the last time I’d been exposed to repeated, high-intensity flames.

I jumped out of the hole, noting grimly that the remaining three assault choppers were chasing the surviving guards. I ran over to the pile of fallen stone, choosing the largest, sturdiest piece, which happened to be a gargoyle statue. The pilots didn’t see me when I ran toward where they hovered because none of their helicopters were pointed my way. Why would they be? They thought they’d eliminated the danger on this end of the ruined castle.