Chapter Sixty

B RITTANY TOSSED THE phone to the side, the device clattering across the tile and sliding underneath the sink.

"Fire," she shouted to Travis, which wasn't exactly necessary now that Travis wasn't really part of the present goings on any longer. The beautiful man had basically shut off, and was just slumped on the floor.

Brittany grabbed Travis under the shoulders and hauled him into the bathtub.

"This won't be fun," she said.

He didn't respond.

Brittany hadn't brought her bag with her, the bag that all BEA agents carried with them at all times. Well, at least, the bag they were supposed to carry with them at all times. The one that had all the little tricks and weapons to be used against the creatures that weren't supposed to be, the bag that had the ancient tomes to fight eldritch horrors, and the bag that had all the fire-starting bits and bobs one could hope for. That's the bag that Brittany didn't bring with her because she figured the interview wouldn't be the kind of thing where she'd need such weapons.

Oops.

The creature slammed against the door again, and the door, thankfully a solid piece of wood, strained and creaked. But it wasn't going to last much longer.

Brittany had to act, and act quickly. To the left was the exterior of the apartment, and a tiny window. To the right was the kitchen. Of the two, the kitchen was the far more likely spot where fire could be started.

She pulled out her gun, and made a quick judgement as to the placement of the studs, looking at where the mirror was hung. Then, plugging her ears as best as she could with one hand and her shoulder, she fired a few shots into the wall.

Plaster flew everywhere, and her ears rung.

She slipped the gun in the holster, and grabbed at the holes in the wall, making them bigger as fast as she could, hoping she could—

It was quiet outside in the apartment.

Brittany stopped tearing at the wall.

She stopped everything and just listened. Well, she tried to listen, hoping to get some outside sound around the ringing.

Nothing.

Just as she was reaching for the plaster, a tentacle came through the hole.

Tentative. Feeling around.

"Shit," Brittany said softly.

The creature's tentacles grabbed hold and pulled. The wall crumbled quickly under the creature's onslaught. It was pretty clear this thing was stronger than Brittany.

But that meant the door was unguarded.

Unless another creature had come out of Kerri Dove's corpse , she thought. But that's unlikely, right?

"Taking the chance," she said to Travis.

Travis offered no reply beyond a bit of a snore.

Brittany opened the door to the bathroom and bounded into the apartment. She had her destination in mind: the bar. She felt sure the late Miss Dove would have an overproof alcohol of some sort. Miss Dove had had a drink from something pretty stuff, highly flammable booze was the trendy thing, right?

The creature was still in the kitchen, tearing away at the wall. Either it didn't know Brittany left the bathroom or it didn't care. The creature didn't seem to possess much in the way of smarts; it seemed to be acting more on predatory instinct rather than any tactical strategy.

Britt snuck over to the bar and looked over the bottles. Not being much of a drinker, she didn't really know what to look for. She picked up a bottle of whiskey and tried to read the label, but her heart was thudding so hard, her vision was shaky. She couldn't quite get the words in focus.

Frustrated, she unscrewed the top of the bottle, and set it back on the bar cart. Then another bottle, and another, until all the bottles were unscrewed.

She looked up to see the creature watching her. Well, the creature was turned in her direction, tentacles waving in the air. Brittany still hadn't figured out where its eyes might be, or even if the creature had eyes at all.

Britt gave the thing a bit of a smile and then tipped the cart over.

The liquor poured across the floor and rushed into the kitchen.

The creature brought its head down, seeming to sniff at the new liquid.

It recoiled.

Brittany had her gun up, and aimed.

She fired behind the creature, at the gas stove.

Round after round went into the stove, and, for the slightest heartbeat, Brittany heard the swoosh of gas. Then a bit of a boom, and a gout of flame erupted out of the range.

The alcohol caught fire immediately, and the kitchen became an inferno in seconds.

The fire licked up the creature's skin as if it were paraffin soaked. The thing made some horrific screeching noises. The keening seemed to reach deep inside Brittany's skull, to the point where she had to drop to her knees and sink her head between her legs.

Then, abruptly, the noise stopped, and all she could hear was the crackling of the fire in the kitchen.

Brittany saw a tiny fire extinguisher under the sink once the cabinet door burned off, but she knew it wouldn't do any good, and she'd probably get scorched just trying to get through the kitchen fire. She knew the apartment was going to burn. Likely, the building would burn. But, well, that was just part of the business of the BEA.

She realized a problem: Brittany wanted to see what might be hidden under the bed, and yet, she could already see the fire spreading into the bathroom and the unresponsive Travis. She took one moment to look from the bathroom to the bedroom, then shook her head. It wasn't exactly a real choice.

She ran into the bathroom, hoisted the limp form of Travis over her shoulder, and struggled to her feet.

The ceiling was covered by smoke, and Brittany's eyes stung and began to water.

Travis was heavy and Brittany was small, but impending death is a very powerful motivator. She struggled out of the apartment, and then leaning against the wall, made it down the stairs.

Bo was running up the stairs to the front door, three cups of coffee tossed to the side, still steaming on the sidewalk.

Brittany pushed past him.

"Where the fuck were you?" Brittany asked, eyes wide and more than a bit crazy.

"Getting coffee from Lenny's, and—" Bo said, moving out of her way before taking Travis from her.

She coughed several times, deep, from the very bottom of her lungs.

"What's going on?" Bo asked again.

"Fire," Brittany spat out between coughs. "Good coffee?"

"I didn't hear shit," Bo snapped in response.

"Maybe you should have stayed and actually watched out for shit going down, partner ," Brittany replied, looking at the smoke pouring out the windows upstairs. "Time to go."